by D A Godwin
Suddenly, they were flying down a funnel, with Quinten’s curses doing more to control their path than the rudder. Helpless in the clutch of the churning water, the boat rose atop a submerged rock, then plunged down so sharply that water crashed over the bow.
With a final splash, the rapids spat them out, and the boat slowed.
Kataria directed a questioning look at Quinten.
“That’s it.”
They heard a loud splash as the second boat shot out of the rapids behind them. Thom gave her a happy wave, just as soaked as she was but as cheerful as ever.
Kataria forced her grip on the rope to loosen and worked the numbness from her stiff fingers.
The river seemed equally exhausted by the rapids and became lazy once more as it widened. The shore, however, remained much too rocky to put in, validating Quinten’s earlier decision to wait until the morning to leave.
“Pokes,” Quinten called.
Out came long poles, one on each side of the boat, and the men began pushing to maintain their speed.
After a time, Tormjere relieved Evert and took a turn shoving the pole against the rocky bottom.
Evert spent his break trying to sneak glances at Kataria, though he still refused to speak, and she made a game of trying to catch him looking. Her clothes finally dried out, but the aroma of wet fur drying in the sun was enough to make her gag.
Eventually, Evert spelled Walish, who later took over in turn from Tormjere. Their steady pace down the river continued well into the afternoon. The shoreline changed from rocky to muddy, but little was different about the thick forest on either side.
Kataria’s daydreams were interrupted when the steady rhythm of the pole tapping against the rocky bottom was broken by a quiet squishing sound. Walish gave his pole a tug, but it remained stuck, and he stumbled back over the cargo, still holding the pole as the boat continued moving with the current. Evert chuckled from the other side of the boat, and Kataria smiled as well, but only until she noticed Tormjere’s face. He was tense, and his dark eyes stared at the water as if he was trying to see into its murky depths.
“You let that go and I’ll make you swim to shore and get another one,” Quinten threatened.
Walish planted both feet and yanked hard on the pole, twisting it loose, and the river exploded in a great fountain of water. Huge wet arms reached from the spray, dragging him screaming beneath the surface.
“River trolls!” Quinten shouted. “Get to shore! Get to shore!”
Kataria scrambled atop the furs, as far from the edge as she could get.
The boat tipped dangerously to the side as a large, slimy hand reached over the edge, followed by a brownish-grey, muck-covered head. The creature’s eyes were round and black, bulging from its streamlined face like those of a fish but displaying a cunning unlike any sea creature she had ever seen.
Tormjere’s sword sliced across it, and the troll released its grip and sank back into the water.
The moment the bow jammed against the rocky shore, Evert jumped from the boat and tied it off around the nearest tree. Everyone followed him off and stood facing the water, weapons at the ready.
They watched helplessly as a frantic battle unfolded on the other boat, which was also trying to reach the safety of the shore. A troll was clambering aboard, nearly pulling the bow underwater. Gavin set to it with a hand axe, but it clung stubbornly before being forced back into the water. No sooner had it slipped beneath the surface than two more trolls began pulling their way up.
The boat lurched, and Thom screamed in pain as his legs were cut from under him by another troll climbing up the rudder.
Chon turned, aimed his pole like a lance, and planted it squarely in the troll’s chest. His muscles bulged as he strained against the larger creature, trying to force it back. The pole bowed, then snapped, leaving its splintered end impaled in the troll’s chest. With a gargling cry the creature rolled off the side and splashed into the water, taking the shaft with it.
Kataria’s attention was drawn back to the shore as a pair of the creatures sloshed their way out of the water and advanced on long, webbed feet. Each was a head taller than any of the men, with heavily muscled arms larger than Chon’s. They spread apart as they plodded towards the two boatmen.
Quinten stood his ground with an axe in hand, while Evert literally shook in terror at his side. Kataria waited behind them, her small warhammer out, somehow aware that the weapon would do little against the troll’s squishy skin.
“Eluria protect us,” she whispered, clutching her symbol.
Tormjere jumped in front of a terrified Evert.
The nearest troll reached for him, and he hacked at the arms defensively. His blade struck more cleanly than Kataria would have expected, severing an arm below the elbow. The troll made a sucking sound as it stumbled backwards. Tormjere pursued the wounded creature. His next strike took it in the throat, and it flopped to the ground.
The other troll twisted an eye around and saw its companion’s fate. With a swipe at Quinten, it turned and ran for the water.
Tormjere raised his sword but the troll didn’t slow, and he dove to the side to avoid its lumbering retreat. He regained his feet quickly, but the creature had already disappeared beneath the surface.
Quinten looked from Tormjere to the dead troll and back. “Thought you were just good enough.”
“Help!” came a cry from the river.
They spun to see Chon and Gavin struggling to bring their drifting boat to shore with only one pole. Thom lay in the boat, writhing in pain.
“Throw us the rope!” Quinten shouted, running towards them.
Someone did, and with some effort the boat was pulled tight against the shore.
Chon lifted the old sailor gently in his big arms and carried him over to Kataria. Blood ran from Thom’s legs where the troll’s claws had raked across them.
Kataria froze in panic as the old man was laid at her feet.
“Can you heal him?” Quinten asked.
Her stomach turned over as she looked at the deep gashes torn through his leg. Could she? She’d been incredibly fortunate with Tormjere, but…
A soft warmth stirred on her chest. She had to help—no one else here was capable. Taking Eluria’s symbol into her hand she sank to her knees and placed a hand against his damaged leg.
Unsure if it would work the same way, she looked into Thom’s eyes, searching. She found pain there, just below the surface, and her doubts fled. A whimper made it through Thom’s clenched teeth as she felt her way around the edges of his pain like it was a physical thing she could touch, but he didn’t look away. Her prayer came quickly to her lips, and she spoke with strength and conviction.
Soft silver light slid down her arm and over Thom’s leg, slowly closing the wound. A pleasant tingle passed through her as she finished.
Thom took a deep breath and looked hesitantly at his leg. “Bless you, m’lady,” he said, clutching at her hand. “I’d never have thought it possible.”
Chon looked at him and motioned his head towards Kataria, as if reminding him of his manners. Thom winced, then reached into a pouch and withdrew a coin.
“There is no need,” she said. “But perhaps this evening we could hear another of your stories?”
“As you wish it,” Thom said, his eyes regaining their usual sparkle. “I’ll tell you a tale so grand you’ll feel yourself a princess in a castle.”
Kataria’s smile didn’t waver. “I would like that very much.”
Ever Closer
The peaked roofs of Sandenmill were a welcome sight for everyone as they drew near. The riverbanks rose steeply on either side as they had for miles now, forming a shallow canyon. A bridge of stone and wood spanned the divide, high enough for them to pass beneath without ducking. Tormjere saw no apparent reason for the town to be located here until they had passed under the bridge. There the water on the north side swirled around a stone bluff and into a circular pool perhaps sixty paces across.
Docks had been constructed in the natural harbor, with steps leading up the steep slope.
Though he had never been there before, he could tell something was wrong. Dozens of boats, most still laden with cargo, were packed two- and three-deep against the piers. It was crowded, but there was little activity beyond a scuffle, which broke out between boats trying to tie up at the same place.
“What a bloody mess,” Quinten cursed. “Won’t make anything off this float with so many pelts sitting here in the water.”
“There may be a more agreeable market downstream,” Kataria said.
“If so, why’s everyone piled up here?” Quinten pointed to one of the boats. “That’s Samr. He’ll know what’s going on.”
Evert and Tormjere poled their boat alongside the one Quinten had indicated.
“What’s this mess?” Quinten called as they drew close.
Samr spat into the water. “Halisford’s under siege. Any boats as are tryin’ to get in or out are being taken. Nothin’s come upriver for a week now.”
Quinten swore.
“That ain’t the half of it, either. Word is the Gold Road’s been cut too. Makes you wonder if there’ll be some new high-and-mighty soon.”
“Who cares? One lord’s as good as another.”
Kataria’s knuckles turned white as she clenched the side of the boat. Tormjere could feel her distress at the casual indifference of these men to her family’s fate, but, from their perspective, it probably made little difference who sat on the throne in far-away Merallin.
“Can we tie off your boat?”
“Yeah, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Quinten signaled to Thom, who brought the second boat in close.
Once both boats were secure, Tormjere turned to Quinten. “What now?”
“Now I figure out what to do with all my furs, just like everyone else here,” Quinten grumbled.
“How much farther can we go?”
“If you’re thinking to go on, you’ll be walking. I’m grateful for your help with the trolls, but this is as far as I’ll go until things sort themselves out.”
“We understand,” Kataria said. “Thank you for bringing us this far.”
It was Thom who spoke next. “Take care of yourself, m’lady. I’ll not forget what you’ve done for me.”
Kataria touched his cheek. “May you be safe as well. Blessings of Eluria be upon you.”
Thom looked as embarrassed as Evert, who gave her one last furtive glance.
Tormjere stepped across the rocking boats and onto the dock. Kataria followed, with a polite nod to Samr who sat sulking at his general misfortune.
They made their way along the crowded pier and climbed a flight of steps up the retaining wall. No sooner had they reached the top than a warning tingle slid across the back of his mind, as sudden as it was unexpected. He turned sharply to look across the tangled glut of men and boats, but saw nothing.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He scanned the docks again. “Let’s keep moving.”
They hurried up the stairs, and upon reaching the top found themselves in a large market teeming with people.
“What shall we do now?”
“Eat,” he replied, following the aroma of fresh bread to a cart positioned in the shade of a striped awning.
They bought bread and cheese from a smiling woman and devoured it as they walked.
“I think I saw a temple of Eluria on the way in,” he said. “We could visit and get you—”
“I would rather not.”
“Why? Wouldn’t they help you?”
“When we stopped here last year, I… spent some time there. It is a small shrine, with only a handful of followers. I would be recognized.”
“You don’t trust the other members of your order?”
“Not here,” she said, looking uncomfortable.
“Well, with the river denied to us, it’s going to be difficult to reach Halisford, if that’s still where you want to go.”
“It is.”
Tormjere thought for a moment. “Does Toush have a monastery here? They always have room for those in need and ask little in return.” It would be amusing if, by chance, his brother Eljorn was there, and he showed up with a princess looking for a bed.
“I believe there is one not far from the city, but it might attract attention were I to visit there and not my own temple.”
“You keep ruling out our best options. We could both use a good night’s…” He trailed off as he felt it again—the prickly sensation crawling across his neck.
She noticed his reaction and glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Are we being followed again?”
Tormjere searched the crowds until his gaze settled on two men who seemed to be watching the passersby with more than idle interest. “You see that pair over there?”
When she didn’t say anything, he looked at her again. There was a hunted look in her blue eyes that exposed the terrifying thoughts running through her head.
“Come on, let’s get off the streets and rest for a bit.”
Kataria caught his concerned tone and suddenly realized how tired she was. It would feel so good to close her eyes for an untroubled night’s sleep. There were beds at the castle—surprisingly comfortable ones stuffed with feathers and draped by canopies.
“You know, as a Ranger, I could check at the keep. I’d at least be able get some supplies from—”
“No,” she interjected. “I would still like to avoid… If we must walk, we should return to the woods.”
“We won’t find your uncle in the woods.”
“We will not find him here either,” she snapped, then instantly regretted it. “I am sorry. I am… I just want this to end.”
“It will. There’s a road from here that will take us generally east, right?”
Kataria nodded.
“As we get closer, we’re bound to discover more. There’s a city at the next major river crossing, but the name escapes me.”
Kataria hesitated. “Bexville.”
“Some better opportunity may present itself there.”
“What if whoever is watching for us finds out we were here, and which way we went?”
“We could try following someone else out of town, but if you want to be certain, we’ll take the bridge south over the river, and hopefully they’ll think we’ve turned south towards your home. Then we’ll cross downstream and make our way back to the road.”
She frowned. “How are we to cross the river?”
“Can you swim?”
“I would rather not.”
“Quinten said something about another narrows not far from here. We’ll try to find that.”
She paused to consider, then nodded and began walking back the way they had come.
The evening shadows followed them out of the city and across the bridge. No sooner had they set foot onto the road beyond when half a dozen riders came barreling around a bend at full gallop.
“Make way!” one of them cried at the last minute.
Tormjere and Kataria leapt off the side of the road as a noble in pristine armor, surrounded by half a dozen men, rode past. Kataria was quick to avert her gaze, but the man was in too much of a hurry to pay them any mind. Other travelers in the road were forced to scramble out of his way as well.
As the clatter of hooves faded, a woman’s wail carried to their ears, coming from somewhere further down the road.
Seeing that the guards at the bridge were in no hurry to move, Kataria hurried towards the sound.
A woman sat on her knees by the side of the road, cradling a limp child in her arms while an older boy looked on in anguish.
“What has happened?” Kataria asked as she knelt beside them.
The woman’s hysterical voice poured out. “He’s always liked horses and he just wanted to see them up close and I couldn’t stop him he just stepped out too far, too far. I was right here but he was too quick. One of the horses stepped on
him and they didn’t stop. Why didn’t they stop?”
Color came to Kataria’s cheeks. She looked at the boy’s foot, which was now a mangled mix of purple and black. His eyelids fluttered as she ran her hand gently across his forehead, and he moaned in pain. She didn’t hesitate this time—her hand was already wrapped around Eluria’s symbol when she felt its warmth.
“What is his name?”
“Turnin,” the woman said.
She leaned close to the boy’s ear. “Turnin? Turnin can you hear me? I am Shalindra. Open your eyes.”
The boy did, and as their eyes met the pain in his body erupted into a burning, incomprehensible torment that lashed at her from every direction. She sucked in her breath and fought to keep her eyes on his. Her own leg went numb, then turned to fire. Had she not been on her knees already she surely would have fallen.
It hurt so much that she couldn’t speak. She placed her hand on his leg as she forced her way through his tortured feelings to find what was damaged. Reaching it, she prayed silently to Eluria.
The silvery coolness of Her power flowed through her, and the pain in her own leg subsided to a burning itch as she felt the boy’s shattered foot mending itself slowly back together.
The child cried out, and she was dimly aware of Tormjere grabbing him tightly as he squirmed. She fought to keep her eyes locked on his. At last, it was done. She removed her hand and Turnin smiled at her as only a child can.
“You must take care around such large animals,” she said, feeling the last of her own discomfort vanish.
“I want to ride one,” Turnin said. He looked at his mother. “I wanna run. Put me down.”
The woman put a hand to her mouth and choked back tears as Turnin began playing with a nearby stick. She reached into her neck purse.
“It is not necessary,” Kataria said. “His joy is payment enough.”
“Bless you, my lady. Bless you.”
The woman gathered her children and resumed their journey towards the town.
Kataria got to her feet. She didn’t have to look at Tormjere to know his thoughts. “We could have used the money, I know.”
“I was thinking something along those lines,” Tormjere replied with a wry grin.