The Southern Trail (Book 4)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Argen was furious with his parched state, and furious with Marco for forcing him to continue to struggle along after dark. Their progress was slow, and Marco finally called a stop when they reached a small stream. It was the first surface water he had seen all day long, and he was as thankful as the others for the opportunity to pull off his pack and his boots and splash water over his feet after he had drunk the cool, slightly bitter liquid.

  “We must be close to the river,” Marco said after everyone had cooled their sore feet in the water for several minutes. “Let’s move away from the spring for the night.”

  “Why not stay right here?” Argen asked.

  “We don’t know who or what will come to the spring tonight, but I’m sure something will come here. I’d rather be some place that will draw less traffic,” Marco answered. He stood up, and Ellersbine stood up as well as moment later.

  “Come along, my count,” she urged Argen. “Marco is right; we don’t have a troop of men to protect us.”

  Marco led the pliant princess and the grumbling count into a dense thicket not far from the spring, where he cut through brambles to create a small central opening, protected by the thorns all around. They settled in without a fire once again. Marco assigned Argen to take the first shift of guard duty, and let the princess have the last shift, then he settled in to rest after the long day that had seen them pass from dry plains to river valley, and seen him and the princess pass from close companions to fellow travelers once again, at least from her perspective.

  Argen awoke him as clouds started to roll across the nighttime sky. He felt a strong desire to get out of the small campsite, and immediately walked away from the brambles and back to the edge of the spring. A deer-like animal was barely visible, standing at the water’s edge, and it skittered away as Marco snapped a branch he stepped on while sitting down.

  The river valley held numerous noises, as nocturnal animals went about their lives in the dark, and Marco listened for any that might hint of danger.

  “What troubles you, favored one?” a girl’s voice suddenly sounded in the darkness.

  “Who said that?” Marco asked, standing and turning to look around. He could see no one else in the vicinity.

  “I did. Here, in the water,” the voice answered. “Come look in the water,” he urged.

  Marco stepped over, then looked down. He saw no one.

  “Turn on that magic light. Diotima says that Ophiuchus says that you can make light with your hand,” the voice told him.

  “You know Ophiuchus?” Marco asked in an excited whisper. He had not thought of the lovely spirit in a long time, as his journey had become bogged down with so many mundane and necessary activities.

  “No, I don’t know her. I’m just a small spring far away, but I know Diotima. I’m excited to find that you’ve come to me!” the girl’s voice told him.

  Astonished by the beginning of the conversation, Marco raised his ungloved hand and caused it to glow, then looked down in the water. To his wonder he saw a girl’s face in the water, seeming just below the surface. He couldn’t help himself from gently poking the fingers of his left hand into the water, but he met no resistance, touched no flesh. He withdrew his hand a second later, and then closed his eyes as the spring spit a short stream of water back at him, striking him in the face.

  “Diotima said that I should do anything I can to help you, Chosen One. What can I do to help, even though I’m just a small spring?” the girl asked.

  “Can you tell Diotima where I am?” Marco asked. “Please tell her to tell Ophiuchus, and ask Ophiuchus to tell Iasco. And tell them that I know who I am, I know what I am, and I’m going to Foulata to do whatever Lady Iasco needs done.”

  The spring was silent, as Marco watched the features of the girl’s face puzzle over the request.

  “I can deliver your message to sweet Diotima, but it will take some time,” she finally answered. “The way is very indirect, as I must find the ways that our waters flow with the waters of others who tend the waters between us in this season.”

  “Thank you; that’s all I ask. What is your name?” Marco responded.

  “Quonna,” she responded, a shy expression on her face.

  “Thank you for your help, Quonna, and thank you for quenching our thirst today,” he added.

  “Does your water have any properties? Does it do anything to those who drink it?” Marco asked suddenly, belatedly wondering whether the presence of a spirit would denote anything unusual about the water at a spring.

  “It does,” she said, “well, it can,” she stammered as she corrected herself. “A drink from my waters can make people very nice and friendly for a while.”

  “Just for a while? Does it work on everyone?” Marco asked.

  “It can work on anyone. I just don’t let my natural magic into the water all the time,” Quonna explained. “It wouldn’t be good for an antelope to become friendly and try to play with a lion,” she told Marco. “I didn’t let you and your friends taste the magical waters earlier because I didn’t realize who you were at first.”

  “You say the friendliness doesn’t last permanently?” Marco quizzed.

  “It lasts until the next full moon,” Quonna answered. “That will be several days from now,” she answered. “The last full moon was just a couple of nights ago.”

  “So you can really make people friendly? Do you get many people visiting you out here?” Marco asked, still skeptical.

  “No, not very many,” Quonna answered. “But I don’t get lonely. I love the animals that come to see me.”

  “It seems like a waste of your talents to have you here where so few people can find you in the wilderness,” he commented.

  “If I was easy to get to, some people would use me all the time, perhaps too many. I don’t think that people are made to work with one another

  “If I brought my companions back here to drink tomorrow morning, you’d make them friendlier, especially the man? That would help me a great deal,” Marco requested.

  “If you, the Golden Hand, need me to do that, I certainly will. I’ll be so glad to help you!” she replied immediately.

  “Thank you,” Marco said happily.

  “Well, I hate to chase you off, but some of my pets are waiting for you to leave so they can come visit,” the girl in the water told him.

  “I understand,” Marco told her as he darkened his hand. He stood upright and let his eyes adjust to the night’s darkness again. “Good night my friend. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised, and then he made his way through the undergrowth and returned to the campsite, satisfied that a better trip might lie ahead.

  He judged it was time to turn the watch over to the princess, but he was reluctant to awaken her. He walked around the perimeter of the camp, then sat on a fallen tree near where she slept, and looked at the dim shape of her profile in the darkness.

  “Is it time for me to get up?” she asked. “Is that why you’re sitting there?” she asked.

  “It may be time, but I’m not sleepy yet; you go ahead and rest,” Marco said softly, feeling very drowsy after all the travel and stress of the trip.

  “I like laying here, knowing that you’re standing guard over me. You make me feel very safe,” she said with a smile in her voice.

  “Like you felt when your daddy killed that wasp in your nursery?” Marco asked in return.

  She was still, and then she sat up. Marco couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was staring at him.

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  Marco realized the story was one she had told him before she had taken the potion to erase her memories; she wouldn’t remember having told him the story. He felt both a greater closeness to her, and a distance as well because of the night she would never remember. And he suddenly felt a greater sense of protectiveness, of a wish that he could be that father-figure who gave her such absolute comfort.

  “You told me once, but you probably don’t remember. I thou
ght it was a touching story,” he answered.

  “I don’t remember,” she said, but there was a touch of suspicion in her voice. “I’m awake now. You can go to sleep and I’ll watch the camp.”

  With a sigh, Marco stood and walked towards his pack. “Good night, Ellersbine,” he said regretfully.

  He lay down by his pack and fell into an uneasy sleep, aware that the princess was scrutinizing him.

  “Get up,” was the next thing he heard, and he looked up into morning light, and saw that Argen was walking away from him.

  He sat up, and wondered why he always volunteered to take the middle shift of the night watch, the shift that split sleeping into two short, disjointed sections. He shouldn’t always try to be so noble and take the tough assignment, he told himself crossly.

  Ellersbine was eating some of the dried meat from her pack, looking dirty and bedraggled in her confiscated clothing. Yet she was still a pretty woman, and Marco knew that there was spirit and liveliness and a sense of honesty and justice underneath the appearance that far outweighed the cosmetic matters in assessing her as a person.

  Argen was chewing on food as well. Each of the three still had enough food in their packs to last for several days, though Marco hoped they would find a town or outpost before the food ran low. Having reached the river, the possibility of finding such a settlement seemed to rise, and his spirits were higher as well. The only problem down the road was that all progress simply led towards arrival at Foulata, and the unknown dangers and expectations that he would face there.

  “Since the food is so dry, let’s go get a drink from the spring before we get going,” Marco suggested innocently. Argen stared at him suspiciously, as though something in Marco’s tone alerted him to a plot in the suggestion, but then he shrugged and continued to eat.

  Minutes later they all stood up, and strolled single file back to where the spring was. Marco heard an abrupt splash as he passed into the opening of the spring, then turned aside to take his pack off and get out of the way so that the other two could reach the water’s edge. He held his position behind them, and watched as they each knelt in a portion of the perimeter of the spring, then cupped water and drank it.

  Marco watched them closely, and it seemed to appear that a momentary wisp of fog surrounded their heads. They each paused, then drank more, and cupped more water to their mouths.

  “That is the most refreshing drink I’ve ever had,” Argen said as he stooped over the spring. He took one more handful of water, then stood.

  “So, is today the day we make more progress?” he asked Marco.

  Marco looked at his with one eye, trying to detect sincerity in the question, and found none. He looked over at Ellersbine, who smiled at him.

  “Today is hopefully another day we make progress,” Marco affirmed.

  “I guess that’s true; we’ve been making progress every day, haven’t we?” the count asked. “Well, lead on and show us the way to get home.”

  Without comment, Marco turned and led them away from the spring. Just as he left the clearing, he softly said, “Good bye Quonna, and thank you.”

  The sound of a splash followed them out of the clearing, and then Marco picked his way along game trails and so came to the open banks of the river just a few short minutes later.

  The river was not large, perhaps thirty feet wide. There would be no boat ride on a river that size, he could see, unless it was in a canoe, spoiling his hope of finally riding on some easy form of transportation after having walked across more than half a continent. A path wended its way along the top of the river bank; Marco and company turned and followed it as it traveled westward.

  They walked all day, then moved back from the river bank as the sunset, and set up camp on a sandy dune, where the river landscape felt more like a beach than the middle of a savannah, with sand and scrubby bushes and piles of driftwood.

  “Can we have a fire tonight?” Ellersbine asked Marco as they shrugged off their packs.

  “We might draw visitors,” Marco declined.

  “It would be so cheerful,” Argen agreed with the princess, causing the two to smile wistfully at one another.

  Marco considered the request. They hadn’t seen another person since chasing away the ambush on the savannah. “If we keep it small, and put it out before we go to sleep, I suppose a fire would be fine,” he agreed, wanting to reward the two travelers for their good cheer throughout the day, though he knew that they didn’t have any choice. Traveling with a pleasant Argen had been a revelation, as the man had volunteered to do things and made compliments throughout the day. It had been disturbing as well, seeing the man be so pleasant to Ellersbine, and to see her so happily reciprocate the friendliness. The repartee between the two hadn’t made Marco feel like an outsider, but it had made him uneasy.

  He gathered together stones for a fire ring, and filled the ring with small, dry sticks for tinder. He checked to make sure that the other two were paying no attention to him, then pulled the glove off his right hand, and made a spark flare from one of his golden fingertips, setting a smoking, small tongue of fire aflame. Once the glove was again covering his hand, he fanned the beginnings of the fire, added some larger tinder, then sat back.

  “The fire’s going,” Marco stated the obvious as he stepped back from the fire. He looked over to where his two companions sat together.

  “Come join us Marco,” Ellersbine urged, patting a spot on the driftwood where she sat.

  He complied, grateful for the friendly request, even though he knew that the princess was friendly under the spell of the spring water.

  He sat down close to her, their legs touching, and he felt a thrill of happiness when she smiled at him.

  “So, we don’t know where we are, and we don’t know where we’re going, and we don’t know when we’ll get there?” Argen asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so carefree!”

  Marco smiled at the man’s unbridled pleasantness. If Argen could continually drink from the spring, he would be a man with many friends, Marco thought to himself. He could drink the water for a longer time, Marco realized, if they had filled a water skin at the spring. The result of the thought was a sigh of regret about the opportunity squandered.

  They sat around the fire and talked, as the burning wood settled into a pile of coals that became a red glow while time passed. After a while Marco made assignments for their watch duties, and they turned in.

  They walked for the next five days, making progress along the river route, fording one deep stream that joined the river on their side of the river. The conversations were light and friendly, and they all stuck to the pace that Marco set for them. Marco listened to the lilt of Ellersbine’s voice, and he admired the sparkle in her eyes and the bloom in her cheeks, and he knew that he was increasingly, hopelessly infatuated with the girl. On their seventh day of following the river they found that the trail grew wider, and moved up away from the river bank to follow the widening waterway at a greater distance.

  “We’re approaching a town, aren’t we?” Argen asked as the character of the trail became more of a road.

  “I’d say so,” Marco agreed. A half hour later they say a cabin sitting atop a knoll.

  “A house! That means we’ve reached people!” Ellersbine shouted with delight.

  “We can have a cooked meal!” Argen said exultantly.

  “And a bath! We can take baths!” Ellersbine chimed in. “You two are nice fellows, but you’d be so much more pleasant to be with if you were clean.”

  “And who’s to say the same doesn’t apply to you?” Argen retorted.

  “Not me!” Ellersbine laughed. “To think that six months ago I wouldn’t have been happy if I didn’t have at least two perfumes to choose from, and now I just want clean water to wash in.”

  With such bright spirits they hastened their journey even more, and by late afternoon, as they walked, hot and sweaty in the sunshine, they saw a small city arise on the horizon as they approache
d.

  The city was set at the confluence of two tributaries, and the resulting joining of the waters produced a waterway deep enough for shallow boats to sail on, as evidenced by the wooden docks that sprouted from the city into the water.

  There was a wooden palisade around the settlement to provide a sense of security. Marco and his companions stepped onto a wooden bridge that spanned one of the rivers to reach the city, and they discussed their next steps as they walked across the rough cut planks.

  “What should we do now to get to Foulata?” Marco asked.

  “We can go to the local governor or military commander and they should provide us with transportation to the capital,” Argen replied.

  “Where are we?” Ellersbine asked.

  “I would say we’re at the very end of the empire’s control, but I don’t know where specifically,” Argen answered as they arrived at the gate to the city. There was only one gate apparent for traffic in and out of the palisade wall, and it faced towards the docks and warehouses along the river bank.

  “Is there a governor’s office in the city?” Argen asked one of the guards who stood and passively watched the flow of people in and out of the gate.

  “In the middle of the city, facing the square,” the man replied. “Just go straight ahead.”

  “Is there a hotel?” Ellersbine asked.

  “There’re a half dozen inns,” the guard said. “Depending on what you’re looking for, the Doxie has the best entertainment, and the Restful has the best food,” he grinned.

  “Which one is the cleanest?” Ellersbine asked primly.

  “I couldn’t tell you that,” the guard answered, clearly not interested in any further conversation on the subject.

  The settlement they were in was named Bunda, and the governor of Bunda refused to believe that a princess, a count, and a soldier had walked into the settlement from the empty savannah.