Game of Destiny, Book I: Willow

by J Seab

  Willow and Geldane rocked gently in the big pirogue while Rengade, refusing any help, paddled tirelessly behind them. Willow sat on the bow deck facing Geldane, her hand idly swirling the water. Geldane, sprawled on the seat astern of her, gave up batting at the hordes of insects buzzing around his head. At least the ointment Art had given them kept most of the little beasts off his face and hands. He glared again at Willow, annoyed.

  “What?” she asked, noting his stare.

  “Why aren’t you plagued by all the bugs?”

  “I guess they must like you better than me,” she suggested lightly.

  “Sure,” he murmured, “a fine entry I can write into my Scription, the legacy of Geldane Farlow, loved by bugs.”

  She laughed. “Better than eaten by bugs.”

  “Har.”

  Geldane shuffled closer to Willow and scrunched in the bottom of the pirogue next to her feet. Softly, he asked, “Can we trust this Rengade fellow?”

  “I think so,” she said hesitantly.

  “But he’s so weird.”

  “Weird doesn’t mean bad,” Willow admonished.

  “OK, if you think so,” he said, shelving the subject for the time being.

  A few minutes passed, the only sound the swish of water passing across the hull. Dolfina Beach was lost in the distance behind them. Ahead, to the southwest, they could barely make out the hump of one of the many islands that comprised the Dolfina Isles. Nobody lived on any of them. This was considered dolfina territory so people stayed away. The fishers claiming Dolfina Beach as home confined their activities to the mainland’s coastal waters. There were always plenty of fish to share.

  “Why do you suppose the dolfinas were fighting among themselves?” Geldane asked.

  “I don’t believe they were.”

  “What? You heard what Art said.”

  “Art said there was fighting but no one ever got close enough to see who was fighting. In fact, as soon as the fishers saw what was happening they turned around and fled in the opposite direction.”

  “But, the dead?”

  Willow shifted, entwining her fingers in her lap. “We don’t know what killed them or even how many died beyond the one that washed ashore…and Swiik,” she added sadly. “But it wasn’t another dolfina,” she continued, sounding as if she was attempting to convince herself of the truth of that statement.

  “How do you know?”

  “First, from Gorge. The creature that attacked him was much larger than a dolfina. Secondly, from Swiik. That was no dolfina bite. It was too big, too deep. I don’t understand how another dolfina could have inflicted such a wound even if it did turn rogue.” Her eyes grew unfocused. “Furthermore, it isn’t natural, dolfinas acting so aggressively.”

  “If the dolfinas weren’t fighting among themselves then what were they fighting?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible it was a big predator. That was the impression Misti got.”

  “You mean a shark?”

  “Possibly.”

  “So you don’t think something was specifically after Swiik to stop her? It was just her bad luck that she ran afoul of a hungry shark?”

  “Possibly, but I don’t much believe that either.”

  Exasperated, Geldane said, “Then what do you believe? Nobody reported seeing anything but dolfinas thrashing in the water. Maybe there was a shark beneath all that thrashing. How much does it matter? All we need do is find this Bathus Pod. If something gets in our way I’ll deal with it.”

  Shaking her head, she placed a hand on Geldane’s shoulder. “I’m saying, let’s keep an open mind. We don’t know exactly what happened or why. We need better information before we draw conclusions and choose our path. Alright?”

  “Sure, better information.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “Do you suppose Rengade back there might have some of that better information?”

  “Geldane, please,” Willow said, her voice calm. “I understand you’re the heroic type, you want to take up your bo and sally forth with fervor, smashing any evil that stands in our path. Maybe that’s necessary, sometimes. More often every evil that you eliminate spawns two more. There’s always another vat of monsters brewing in the darkness fueled by your violence.”

  “What are you suggesting, passivity?” he said, his voice rising. “That we sit back and let the monsters overrun us? Or that we ask them to, pretty please, go terrorize somebody else?”

  “Passivity is also a choice with consequence,” she said. “Doing nothing out of apathy or fear leads to mental and physical degradation and acquiescence to manipulative power.”

  “You’re a bundle of inspiration,” Geldane said, snorting. “What’s left? Fall on my sword and let someone else handle it?”

  Deflated, Willow slumped. “I can’t answer that, Geldane. I don’t know.”

  “You’re full of don’t knows today,” Geldane shot back. “And the rest of the time you sound like those highfalutin books you study—I can hardly understand what you’re saying half the time!”

  Stung, Willow turned away. Speaking to the swirls of water sliding beneath the bow, she said, “I’m sorry, Geldane. There’s a lot more to making smart choices than book learning. This conversation has run off course. Let’s drop it for now.”

  Grunting a reply, he said, “Fine, it’s dropped.” He looked toward the stern where Rengade continued to paddle, apparently impervious to fatigue. It almost looked like there was a hint of interest marring his stolid features. Geldane returned to his seat and brooded.

  By lunchtime, they were well into the Dolfina Isles sprawled to the southwest of Dolfina Beach. Rengade was steering them toward a rocky shore on a big island that thrust upward in broken and weathered stair steps. Scraggly bushes clutched the cliff face with tenuous fingers and a few sparrows flickered within their foliage.

  Willow stood as the bottom of the pirogue scraped into the shore. She jumped into the shallows. Geldane climbed over the side and helped her pull the boat onto the bank. Rengade stowed his paddle, glided to the front, and joined them on shore.

  The semicircular clearing was small and showed signs of having been used as a campsite before. There was plenty of room to tend to their needs and pump some blood back into their legs.

  Rengade squatted off to one side, eyes busy. Being Rengade, he had nothing to say.

  “How about some lunch?” Geldane asked as he rummaged in a pack.

  “I’m all for it,” Willow answered. She turned to face Rengade. “Lunch?”

  Rengade stood and held out a hand.

  “That apparently means yes,” Willow concluded.

  Geldane unwrapped a hefty chunk of cheese and three rounds of trail bread. He handed a share each to Rengade and Willow.

  Rengade smiled. Geldane gaped. “Wow, did you see that?” he asked Willow.

  “See what?”

  “He smiled,” Geldane said, flapping his hand. “A real smile.”

  Willow studied Rengade a moment. He was squatting again, his head swiveling slowly about between bites. “Looks the same to me.”

  “He did, I saw it.”

  “I believe you, Geldane,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Let’s eat.”

  “He did, smiled.”

  Lunch was over too quickly. Rengade waded into the water, rolled into the pirogue at the stern, and then took up his paddle.

  “And that,” Willow said, “means it’s time to go.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting the hang of communicating with him,” Geldane stated. “I haven’t understood a word he’s said.”

  Together, they pushed the pirogue back into the water and climbed aboard. Willow took the bow seat, facing forward; Geldane nestled in among their gear amidships. Rengade backed them into deeper water, turned the pirogue to the west, and resumed paddling.

  The sun drifted to the west. A variety of islands, big and small, bare and bushy, drifted to the east. A few gulls paced them overhead for a while, “begging for a morsel to feed their
starving kids,” Geldane complained to no one in particular. He waved his bo at them, shooing them off.

  Rengade hummed along, his paddle dipping silently into the sea, pulling back, propelling them forward like a West Warves lectric engine. Geldane, bored with sitting all day, tried to entice Rengade to let him take a turn at paddling, tried asking him for a second paddle so he could help push them along a little faster. Rengade refused. At any rate, Willow told him that Rengade refused. It looked more like he was simply ignoring Geldane.

  Regardless, the day waned. There were no threats, no frothing tangle of dolfinas or monsters challenging them. Not even the hint of a storm. The sky remained clear with a gentle breeze pushing across the pirogue. Even the bugs thinned out. Geldane almost wished something drastic would happen just to break the tedium. Willow, on the other hand, seemed relatively content. She had brought along a book to study. He tried to chat with her a couple of times but she seemed withdrawn, deep into her own world of healing craft and lore, he figured.

  Rengade paddled them to another flattened cut on a rocky island shortly before nightfall. They bustled about: set up camp, cooked dinner, ate, washed up; exciting things, Geldane thought sardonically. Wasn’t adventuring supposed to be more exhilarating than this? Challenging? Calling forth great sacrifices and hardships? He watched as Willow practiced finger wiggling with Rengade much in the same manner as Art. Snorting, Geldane rolled out his blanket and went to sleep.

  Next morning, they got up and did it all over again.

  By the third day, Geldane was getting antsy.

  That was what saved them.

  They had performed the same ritual that morning: breakfast, breaking camp, setting out. Rengade sat in the back of the pirogue, paddle propelling them rhythmically west, his face stoic and inscrutable as usual. Willow leaned over the gunnels, her book abandoned for the moment, and stared into the clear green waters, watching a school of colorful, striped fish dancing just beneath the surface.

  Geldane twitched and shifted among their packs amidships, alternately glaring at Rengade then at Willow. His muscles felt flabby from the lack of exercise, his brain was dissolving from the lack of stimulation, and his attitude was scraping bottom.

  He kicked aside a pack and stood, daring Rengade with a hard stare to comment. Rengade said nothing. Willow glanced up and then returned her attention to the fish.

  Geldane stretched, balancing on the balls of his feet, knees flexed, arms reaching high. He then laced his fingers behind his head and twisted his torso left, then right, and again, warming his muscles, working out the stiffness.

  Suddenly he stopped mid-twist and then shaded his eyes with a hand, his gaze fixed far behind them. Something was out there. He saw a splash glitter in the bright sunlight, then another. The splashes were getting closer.

  Rengade stopped paddling and turned to study the horizon. Then Willow sat up, alarmed.

  “What do you see?” she asked Geldane.

  “There’s something back there,” he said, pointing. “It looks like it’s heading in our direction.”

  “Another boat?”

  “No, it’s not a boat. Could be a couple of dolfinas but I don’t think so, too big. Hard to tell, though. They’re still far away.”

  “Are they hostile?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know they’re heading right for us.”

  Willow looked back at Rengade, questioning.

  He stood, searched the horizon, turned back to Willow, shook his head, and shrugged—voluble.

  “Geldane has the best eyes in the country,” Willow said. “I think we better assume the worst.” She scanned ahead. “There,” she pointed off the port bow, “an island. Let’s make for that just to be safe.”

  Rengade nodded in agreement and sat back down. He rummaged beneath the stern deck, pulled out another paddle and reached it forward to Geldane.

  Geldane scowled at him, grabbed the paddle, and stooped to move forward. “We need to switch places,” he instructed Willow with a stab of his arm. “I need to paddle from the bow seat.”

  Willow moved.

  Rengade began to pull the pirogue forward with powerful strokes, turning it to point toward the island. Geldane joined in. The pirogue leaped ahead, skimming the water.

  Geldane, paddling furiously, kept his eyes focused on the island as it grew larger, hoping that whatever creatures chased them were friendly, that they were only coming over to say hi.

  The island they raced toward was bigger and flatter than the rocky nubs they had passed previously. It was also heavily forested. A cloud of seabirds swirled over the shore, glinting against the calm sea and sky. The scene seemed unreal, serene but posed on the edge of violence.

  Willow turned to look behind them. Geldane glanced back also and missed a stroke. The pirogue wobbled. “Getting closer,” he panted. “They’re huge, two of them.”

  Two thick black and white shapes undulated through the water, intent on the chase, drawing closer.

  “Orcs,” Willow immediately identified them.

  “Orcs?” Geldane asked.

  “I don’t know much about orcs,” Willow responded, apparently fighting her panic. “I’ve only read a reference to them in one of my books. It’s said they are distantly related to dolfinas but are aggressive meat eaters, creatures best avoided.”

  Geldane glanced back at the island and his fear exploded. They weren’t going to make it to shore in time. Furthermore, it became obvious that the pursuing orcs weren’t coming over for a nice chat.

  “Is there another paddle?” Willow asked, her voice too loud.

  Rengade shook his head.

  “They’re catching up,” she said, growing frantic.

  Geldane, with a worried glance at Willow, pulled the paddle harder, faster.

  The pirogue sped ahead.

  It wasn’t enough.