by Bob Blink
Several days later, they cleared the last of the mountains. The jungle became the dominant feature, and the river widened. As it grew wider, it slowed considerably.
“We are moving far slower than I would like,” Burke complained, after the first day of travel.
“We are moving faster on the water than we would trying to cut our way through the jungle,” Major Loum pointed out. They both knew from word passed back from Sedfair that’s what the other team had been doing for a number of days. The jungle was filled with its own dangers, and the other team was moving slowly now, and had found nothing of interest.
There seemed little they could do. It was even harder for the wizards to accelerate the boats without the rocky cliffs to use for leverage. Pushing on water, even with magic, didn’t work very well.
It was Jorg, who came up with a surprising solution. They were drifting down a wide and slower than usual patch of the river when he suddenly sat up and made a Bypass a short distance ahead of his boat and off to one side. The exit point was a mere fifty paces ahead of the boat. As his boat approached to one side of the arch that seemed to float upon the water, sharp hisses of steam as the splashing water struck the glowing portions of the arch, he tossed a bucket through the opening. He watched as the bucket appeared in the air ahead of them and fell into the water just beyond where he’d made the exit. Burke had watched this with interest.
“Why can’t we drive the boats through just like that?” Jorg asked in all seriousness. “We could jump quickly down the river rather than this slow floating that is going to take us forever.”
Burke didn’t know. He’d never known anyone to make a Bypass on the water. Now that Jorg had done so, it seemed an obvious thing to consider. Burke wondered about the bottom of the arch. He knew that encountering the edges could be dangerous, but no one ever talked about the bottom. On land, the bottom, assuming there was one, was under the ground. Yet, if it was there, and posed a problem, one would think it would have exhibited itself in some way. The water of the river had flowed along and hadn’t reacted to the arch Jorg had just produced, other than the steam produced by the water that struck the sides. It might just be an answer.
“Let’s ask Daim tonight,” Burke suggested. “It looks like a good idea, but why hasn’t anyone thought to try it before?”
“Probably because there was no need, and no one can create a Bypass large enough for a ship to pass through,” Jorg suggested. “I want to try it.”
They argued about the risks for the next half glass, but when a rocky beach presented itself, Burke relented and the expedition pulled over to shore. As others weren’t as confident as Jorg appeared to be, he set off in his boat alone, and as they watched, he created a Bypass a short distance in front of himself, and jumped to a spot a hundred paces down the river. After he appeared back on the river at the exit, he turned and waved at the group on the beach, his smile apparent even at this distance. About the time Burke was starting to wonder how they would get the boat back up to the beach, Jorg disappeared into another Bypass, and suddenly appeared fifty paces back upriver of the beach. Smiling, he guided the boat into shore.
“It works,” he said proudly.
“What’s it like?” Burke asked.
“A slight bump, almost like you are passing over something, but that’s all.”
They pulled the boat out of the water and checked the bottom for any sign of damage. It was unmarked.
“Let’s stop here today,” Burke decided. “I still want to discuss this with Daim. If he agrees, tomorrow we can make meaningful headway.”
Daim admitted he had never known of anyone to attempt using a Bypass on the water. There had been projects where a fixed Bypass was created below a stream and the water directed into it so it could be transported to another location where it was needed, but to jump on a river was an idea he’d never heard of. He could think of no reason it shouldn’t be safe, and given the success of Jorg’s experiment, approved them to attempt it the following day.
After that, the days were more productive, and they moved much more swiftly down the river. As they moved into the jungle they saw creatures and vegetation they had never encountered before. There were dozens of strange fruits on the trees, which looked appealing in some cases, but Burke wasn’t about to allow anyone to try anything at this time. The land was filled with strange creatures. In addition to the worms and ever-present birds, they saw vipers of multiple colors, herds of the strange mounts the Baldari rode, and several much larger creatures. Burke saw a tan creature that reminded him somewhat of one of the Jurten he’d once seen in Sedfair, although this one was sleeker and moved faster. It was hunting some of the six-legged dog-sized creatures that moved so effortlessly through the trees. There were also many creatures that were heard and not seen. What they didn’t encounter was any sign of the Baldari, or any sign that any human had been in the area. There were no villages, no foot trails, and nothing that looked as if a human had ever walked this land.
Finally the Great River emptied out into a massive lake. They could barely see the distant shore. While the jungle was thick up to the water in many places, there were also open meadows and large expanses of rocky plains along the shore. Uncertain which course of action might be best, Burke called a halt when they found a suitable beach. The soldiers pulled the boats from the water, and Jorg opened a Bypass back home, bringing the boats with them as they always did. Even though they were metal on the outside, they feared that leaving them overnight they would find the worms would have gotten at the inside and destroyed them. The worms had been less common of late, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking somewhere unseen.
Chapter 14
The sun was high in the sky when the well-traveled old wagon rattled its way up the rutted dirt road that led to the orphanage in middle Kellmore. The once bright colors that adorned every part of the wagon were faded and worn. This wasn’t the first time that one of the Wanderer wagons had made the journey to this place, but it was the first time that a lone old woman had done so. The wagon was seen long before it could be heard, despite the rattle of the contents as it bounced over the rough pathway and the shuffling of the horse’s feet. One of the older boys who was out riding was the first to spot it, and he rode over to see what the traveler might want. There weren’t that many who came down this road, and the opportunity to speak with an outsider who might have news of the world was always a treat.
“I wish to speak with Nuiz,” the old woman said when the youth had asked her what she sought.
“Who?” he asked, frowning at the unusual name. He wondered if the old woman knew what she was saying. Her Wanderer clothing was very unlike the standard dress of the region, and she looked decidedly odd. He couldn’t believe she had traveled this far alone. The nearest village was a considerable distance away. He would have been shocked to know how far the small gray haired woman who had lost more teeth than she had retained traveled in a typical year, driving the wagon alone since her consort had died more than a decade earlier.
“There’s no one here by that name,” he said finally.
The old woman frowned. She knew Nuiz often used other names. She had never paid any attention to them. She was Nuiz, the frightened young girl who had sought refuge with the Wanderers, later to grow into one of their most celebrated heroes. She didn’t want to use the name of the person who struck fear into the enemies of the Wanderers. That wouldn’t be wise, and might reveal secrets Nuiz wished kept.
“Nuiz,” the old woman repeated clearly once again. “She is the one who runs this place.”
“You must mean Daria,” the lad replied, still wondering where the woman might have come by the strange name. “She and Kaler are the owners.”
“Whatever name she uses,” the woman said, not knowing if that was the proper name or not. If someone else came, perhaps she could point her to Nuiz. “I must see her. I have come with urgent news.”
“Follow me,” the boy instructed. He had decide
d this was best handled by one of the adults. Maybe the woman was crazy, and maybe there was something here he didn’t understand. As old and strange as the old woman looked, he’d heard of the Wanderers and knew that Daria had some connection with them. Something in the woman’s eyes told him she wasn’t as daft as she appeared. He turned his horse and led the way up to the main house, an immense structure that served as the central gathering place and mess hall for the many youngsters who called this place home. More than a dozen other buildings served as dormitories and classrooms for those fortunate enough to have been selected to live here.
At the main house, he slipped off his horse and waited while the old woman slowly, but confidently stepped down from her wagon. Then he led the way inside. It was apparent this was an unusual situation for him and he was clearly uncertain if he should escort her back into the depths of the facility, or leave her waiting near the entrance while he went off in search of someone. Finally he came to a decision.
“Wait here,” the youth instructed as he pointed to an old but comfortable chair in one corner by a large fireplace. There was no fire in it at the moment, but it was large enough to heat the large room even in the middle of winter. Then he hurried through the door to the dark interior.
The woman was left alone for the moment and she walked around the room, noting the simple nature of the furnishings, but sensing quality and durability of the materials that had been used. Never having had a fixed house of her own, she nonetheless could tell when someone had been careful in their choice of items. She was examining a large painting that accurately showed a caravan of traveling wagons much like her own, when she heard the voice of the boy returning. He was talking to someone, although the woman could barely hear the footsteps of the second person. She was certain who it must be.
Daria stepped into the large room just ahead of the youth who had gone to find her. Her eyes quickly sought and identified the person who had sought her by a name that was seldom spoken and which she no longer used. She looked well, but instantly recognizable to the old woman, despite the fact the years had matured her face and figure somewhat. Her hair was long as she’d worn it as a girl in the caravan, and not cut almost to a man’s length as the woman had seen her several times.
“Nuiz,” the old woman said, greeting her one-time ward.
Daria would have known Nadine even if she hadn’t used her birth name to trigger her memories. Nadine had always used the name, at least when they were alone, claiming it was important to recall one’s beginnings. It had been far too many years since she had seen the woman, something she should feel embarrassed about, but despite the even whiter hair and the thin arms and gnarled hands, those piercing gray eyes were the same as she recalled. Daria had planned to visit the annual Gathering this year. She had avoided the Gathering in recent years since Marti, her stepmother, had died just over five seasons ago. With the wizard’s healing capability her death could have been avoided, but the Wanderers were far from civilization when the problem struck, and by the time they reached a village with a wizard capable of seeking help, Marti had passed. The Gathering was still several months away, but there were others she had neglected for too long, including her stepfather. He was getting older as well, and one never knew when the chance might be taken from her.
“Nadine,” Daria said welcoming the woman who had helped make her welcome in the caravan of the Wanderers so many years ago when she was running from those who had killed her family. The two embraced, and Daria could feel the fragile bones beneath her hands as she hugged the woman. She remembered the woman as strong and energetic. It was disquieting to sense what time had done to her. It was a harsh reminder of what eventually waited for them all.
“Please. Come inside where we can talk.” Daria turned to the youth. “Go fetch Kaler for me,” she asked him.
Satisfied his task here was complete, the young man quietly disappeared out the front door on his new mission, as the two women headed down the wide hall.
“No one followed me,” Nadine insisted. “No one knows I am here or that this is the home of the KalaBhoot.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Daria replied. “I am retired, and there are few who still live who have reason to wish me ill. How did you get here?”
“I traveled to one of the villages where it is known that a wizard lives. He was able to make one of those portals and took me to Kellmore’s capital. From there I came alone, not telling anyone who I was or who I sought. I asked about the place for children. Your orphanage is known throughout the region. That was enough to get me here.”
Daria realized that Nadine must have traveled for days on her own. She led Nadine by the hand deeper into the house. Daria was surprised and delighted to see Nadine after all of these years, but she was immediately aware that for the woman to have come this far alone meant some kind of trouble. Even if she hadn’t seen the pain in the eyes of her old minder, she would have been anticipating some kind of bad news. She wanted to drag the information from the woman, thus ending the uncomfortable anticipation, but knew it was best to let the woman catch her breath, and tell her in her own way.
Daria led her to the kitchen, and saw her seated at the table. Pouring a large mug of tea, sweetening it with cinnamon and sugar as she knew the woman liked it, Daria carefully sat across from her and met the wise old eyes with her own.
“Tell me,” she begged, despite her intent to be patient.
Nadine looked suddenly uncertain, as if after all the time and trouble to get here, she didn’t want to reveal her secrets. Then, taking a breath, she said. “They are dead. All of them.”
It was worse than Daria had feared. “Jurde?” she asked, naming her stepfather. She knew before the other could respond. Something inside her tightened against her heart and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Not again! She had lost her family again. She had foolishly believed the hardy Wanderer that had replaced her murdered family would live forever. She fought back tears. She waited expectantly for confirmation, knowing her voice would be hoarse if she tried to speak.
A tear trickled down the old woman’s cheek as she nodded. Then she named others, names that Daria knew well. More than fifteen of those Daria had shared her life with in those troubled years so long ago. People who had replaced her birth family. Nadine also mentioned a number of other names that Daria didn’t recognize. The extended families of the Wanderer’s grew and changed over the years. Many married and moved to another caravan. Others joined the family. Often they traveled in a much larger group, hundreds strong, as many of the traveling families joined together for security and companionship. This must have been one of those times where those she had loved had set off on a mission of their own.
“What happened?” Daria asked with difficulty, forcing out the words, her eyes hard and intent. She knew the tears would come later, but for now she needed intelligence. She already knew this hadn’t been an accident. Nadine would not have approached it as she had if that were the case. Someone was responsible. Someone who would have been very nervous if they could have seen Daria’s face at that moment. Especially if they knew who Daria really was and what it meant to have her displeasure directed at them.
“The Families were in eastern Lopal,” Nadine explained, speaking of the Wanderers with whom she traveled. “We were in the central regions, in an area we seldom visited. So much has been changing in recent years, and Torusk, our current leader, wanted to explore places we had never been before. We traveled for many weeks, finding those who were happy to take advantage of our services. One week we came upon a village named Mith’re. It is a small place, deep in the mountains. It was a pleasant place, and we stayed for an extended period, coming to know the people and being treated well.”
“But something went wrong?” Daria asked, eager to know the fate of her family. She wasn’t normally impatient, but today she found herself bursting with anticipation.
Nadine shook her head. “Not while we were there. The problems came later, but Mit
h’re is crucial to the story. Very old ruins had long existed a half day’s ride outside the village. It was a place held in some awe by the locals, who believed it was a place to be avoided. Torusk, of course, had to see it.”
Nadine checked to see how Daria was reacting, knowing she was impatient, but intent on telling this properly.
“The buildings were of stone, surprisingly well preserved, although the roof and innards were long rotted away. As Torusk and several others explored, they discovered a large basement that opened into an underground chamber that had been carved into the very rock of the hillside. It was there they found the artifacts.”
“Artifacts?” Daria asked.
“Many strange objects,” Nadine explained. “Some scrolls, although they were sealed behind a clear material that no one could open. Most of the objects were covered in strange symbols, and some were plated in gold, or made completely of gold. Torusk and your father decided they might be from ancient wizards, and they should be brought back to the wizards at the Outpost. The intention was to bring them to you here in Kellmore, as the Wanderers know of your relationship with the wizards and none knew exactly where the Outpost is actually located.”
“The locals in Mith’re were agreeable to your leaving with the things that were found? They sound valuable. Perhaps they weren’t pleased with your plan?”
Nadine shook her head. “The Wanderers are not thieves. Torusk explained what he had found. He offered to let the villagers see what was there, and even brought several of the more valuable items back to the village to show them. They wanted no part of what had been discovered, considering it cursed, and happy to have it removed. Even after all the years that magic has been shown to be a natural part of the way of things, there are those who look upon it, or anything unknown, with fear.”