Game of Destiny, Book I: Willow

by J Seab

  Willow fought against the bonds that snaked around her legs, dragging her back, inexorably, into the maw of swirling blackness.

  Sweat poured in glistening rivulets from her naked body and broken rock slashed bloody rents into her feet that slicked the rock as she scrambled for purchase.

  She fell, screaming and clawing as her body was raked across sharp stones that tore long gashes into her thrashing body.

  “Willow...Willow!”

  Suddenly she was staring up at a dark sky full of stars.

  The gashes in her body faded into sharp pokes against her back.

  She turned her head and saw Geldane’s anxious face peering at her.

  Her heart slowed. It was just a dream.

  “You OK?” Geldane asked.

  Embarrassed, she sat up. “Sure, I’m fine. Bad dream.”

  “Sure?”

  “I’m fine, Geldane. Thanks.” She looked up. Night had returned. Clouds knotted with darker swirls sheeted off in the west, and a scintillating display of stars twinkled overhead. A diffuse glow from the moon high in the sky cast shortened shadows onto the ground. Suddenly anxious, she turned to Geldane and said, “It’s past midnight! Any sign of pursuit?”

  “Don’t know. You just woke me up with all your thrashing and moaning.”

  She stood, her body protesting with clusters of aches. There was just enough light to make out Rengade’s outline. He stood near the glint of waves breaking across the rocks at his feet staring out to sea. She picked her way to him. He turned and signed that they must leave now, a storm was coming.

  “How? Geldane can’t swim that far,” she said, sweeping an arm toward the dark island barely perceptible in the distance, “even with the log float.”

  Rengade pointed to his right and then pointed back at Geldane.

  “We’re going somewhere? I need to dress his wound first.” Willow returned to Geldane. “Rengade says a storm is coming. I need to treat your wound then we have to leave.”

  Geldane looked at the brilliant mass of stars overhead, looked back at Willow, and, evidently deciding not to argue the point, stood. “OK, have at it.”

  They joined Rengade a few minutes later. He turned and glided into the gloom. Willow and Geldane followed.

  They spotted Rengade a few steps along the shore pushing something into the sea. It was a raft large enough to accommodate all of them. It even had a short mast mounted toward the front and a crude rudder notched in the stern. A rectangular sail, tightly woven from vines and long grass blades, lay folded at its base.

  Willow didn’t even wonder at how Rengade had managed that feat with only a knife working on a deserted island in the darkness of night. He was proving resourceful beyond wonder. She had already lost her amazement that he had survived the orc attack without a bruise or scratch. That was a story she still wanted to pry from Rengade but that would have to be on another day. She simply didn’t have the energy now.

  Rengade stood waist-deep in the swells, steadying the raft. Geldane shrugged off Willow’s helping hand, limped out to the raft, and climbed aboard. Willow followed. She smiled gratefully at Rengade as she settled on the deck near its centerline. Geldane rested opposite, his head propped on one hand, examining Rengade with a grudging respect.

  Rengade pushed their craft out to sea and then climbed aboard at its stern. It rode low on the water, wouldn’t handle a rough sea, but it was certainly a huge improvement over swimming.

  Rengade crawled forward, raised the sail, and secured it at the top of the mast. It flapped loosely in the intermittent breeze. He picked up several thick vines trailing from the sides of the sail and then moved aft. He pulled the lines tight, angling the sail to propel them around the distant island, and secured the vines to a couple of pegs mounted on the deck. He lashed the rudder and sat at the stern, folding his legs beneath him. He then picked up a small paddle he’d carved and fitted from a pine log and began to paddle.

  The raft moved sluggishly forward. A few waves washed over its leading edge but they were on their way, slow but sure. Willow’s heart lightened. Maybe they’d survive after all.

  They sailed for the rest of the night. Willow rocked with the gentle sway of the raft, hands behind her head, legs splayed to steady herself against the roll. Geldane lolled close by, snoring softly. She dozed off and on most of the night, lulled by the rhythmic swish of Rengade’s paddle and the swirl of water lapping about their craft, her mind relatively untroubled. No vicious orcs attacked. No horde of sword-wielding soldiers descended on them from huge warships. No black maw of death, she shuddered.

  It was, actually, a rather peaceful trip.

  The clouds continued to thicken, partly masking the diffuse glow from the stars and moon, and the wind freshened. A good thing, Willow thought. It added a little speed to their ungainly craft and removed some of the load from Rengade. She suppressed a twinge of guilt that he was doing all the work but he wouldn’t have it any other way. No sense fretting over that. Nothing to do but rest. The hardest part was not thinking about her empty stomach and dry mouth.

  By morning the situation changed.

  “Willow, wake up!”

  Willow opened an eye, noted Geldane’s agitation, and quickly sat up.

  “A ship, there,” he said, pointing. Rengade paused his paddling and turned his gaze in the indicated direction. A mast sporting a large, gray sail emerged into the murky morning light far to the west. At its current course, it would draw close enough to spot them easily. There was little doubt: it was the ship from the rogue encampment. Equally frightening, a dark mass of cloud rolled over the horizon beyond the ship, pulsing with purple and green coruscations.

  They were in trouble.

  Rengade untied the lines securing the sail, realigned it so that the raft turned toward the east, and resumed paddling, more vigorously now. With the sun still glaring behind them and their profile low against the surface, they might escape unseen. Maybe they had time to slip away, make landfall, and hide until the ship left. And maybe they could outrun the approaching storm.

  It looked good for almost an hour. The sun, poking through a rent in the gathering gloom, cast long streamers that tinted the bulbous masses of cloud with an orange glaze.

  Geldane, now kneeling on the deck, scanned the seas with his sharp eyes. The rogue’s ship sailed to a position abreast of them, drawing closer, but a shallow spray, whipped up by the rapidly approaching storm, obscured their view. And with luck, the ship’s crew was too focused on the approaching storm to notice the vague contours of a tiny raft fleeing through the mists.

  They now noted activity on the ship. The sail was shortened and it was turning to race with the storm, turning to race toward them. Willow was losing hope that they wouldn’t be noticed. She turned her gaze northeast. A large island, half shrouded in mist, lay ahead. All they needed was another hour to reach it, she judged. They’d make it, Willow promised herself.

  Thunder boomed across the sea, jerking Willow’s eyes around. Lightning forked within a roiling bank of black and deep-purple clouds charging toward them. The leading edge quickly masked the sun. The morning grew dark and a chill gust whipped past, violently rocking their craft.

  Conditions deteriorated rapidly.

  The seas rose into long swells that rocked their fragile raft and crashed over its surface. A brilliant streak of light sizzled into the sea. A moment later, a loud boom rattled their teeth and a ferocious wind roared in, inundating them. There was a tearing sound as a rent opened in Rengade’s carefully woven sail. It snapped sharply as the increasing gale thrashed it.

  The skies darkened further as undulating sheets of rain pelted their bodies. They clung desperately to the now spinning and bouncing raft, the peril of discovery forgotten. Rengade cut the vines holding the remains of the sail, letting it fly free.

  Willow clung tightly to the mast, Geldane hanging on beside her. Rengade crouched at the stern, fighting the rudder, trying to keep their craft steered toward the islan
d, but it seemed to do little good.

  They were helpless within the fury of the raging storm.

  Somehow the raft held together, giving them enough buoyancy to stay above the raging sea.

  But Willow didn’t think it could last much longer.

  With each passing moment, the ravaging waves grew larger and more frequent. Stinging rain and crushing waves pummeled them. The deep growls of thunder shook their bodies and flashes of lightning imprinted eerily blue images of the frothing seas on her eyes.

  The disintegration of their raft could only be moments away.

  Something bumped sharply against the side of the raft. Startled, Willow jerked her head around, felt another bump.

  A dolfina bobbed in the waves next to her, twittering. She thought he said, “ride, hold fin,” but she couldn’t be certain, not with the roar of wind and water pounding into her face.

  The dolfina turned, pushed close to her, his dorsal fin within easy grasping distance. A hint of hope welled within Willow. She reached over to Geldane and shouted into his ear, “Hold on to my waist.”

  Geldane gave her a questioning look, his face contorted and his eyes slit against the rain.

  “Dolfina,” she shouted, “we’re going to ride a dolfina. Hold on,” she demanded as the raft pitched and tossed, some of the vines holding it together snapping against the strain.

  Geldane complied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  Willow let go of the mast just as it cracked. She grabbed the dolfina’s fin and wrapped her legs around his body. She felt the pull as the dolfina surged away.

  A second dolfina appeared beside her, told her he would carry Geldane. She shouted back at Geldane but didn’t know if he heard. A moment later he released his hold from around her waist. Willow hoped he was alright. She worried for a moment about Rengade but decided that he would survive this as easily as he did everything else. She already had more to worry about than she could handle. She closed her eyes and concentrated on getting a breath of air between the onslaught of sea and rain.

  Willow was exhausted when the dolfina finally scraped bottom. She rolled off and paddled in the rough swells until she gained her feet. She turned to thank him but the dolfina had already swum off. She hoped to get a chance later to thank him for saving her life. Geldane waded over, his dolfina had also gone back out to sea. Rengade waved from farther down the shore.

  Everyone had made it safely.

  She took Geldane’s hand, more for the added support than anything else, and pushed her way to the pebbled beach.

  The squall was already abating, its angry rampage receding to the northeast. She sagged to hands and knees, head hanging, hair dripping. How did my life turn so tumultuous? she thought wearily, breathing deeply. “This is getting repetitious,” she wheezed, glancing at Geldane.

  “Maybe, but the storm did save us from discovery,” Geldane offered, standing next to her, scanning the horizon. “I don’t see any sign of that ship. Maybe it sank.”

  “Not likely,” Willow said, pushing to her feet, her body aching anew. Rengade waved, signed to her. “Come on, let’s get off the beach,” she told Geldane.

  They huddled together among a pile of loose rocks well up on shore. The sun lanced down through rents in the trailing edge of the storm but the air was once again oppressive and sodden, plumes of vapor rising from numerous puddles and the rain soaked ground.

  “Maybe we should get some fresh water before it all evaporates,” Willow said, squinting at the rapidly clearing sky.

  “Good idea,” Geldane agreed, rising. “There’s a shallow pool on top of this rock,” he indicated as he climbed to the top. He put his lips to the pool and noisily sucked up several swallows.

  “Hey, leave some,” Willow exclaimed, joining him.

  After satisfying her immediate thirst, Willow looked over to speak with Rengade. He was gone. “Rengade,” she called, searching.

  “The inscrutable Rengade fades into the bush once again,” Geldane said wryly.

  “Don’t mock him,” Willow said disapprovingly. “Without him, we’d be orc food.”

  “Or skewered by those soldiers.”

  Settling back into the rocks, Willow asked, “So, you think they were soldiers. Why?”

  “They carried swords and knew how to use them. They wore some kind of hardened leather armor. There appeared to be a command structure. What else could they be?”

  Willow, frowning, said, “Have you heard about rogue soldiers living anywhere in Etus? Perhaps in the Wastes?”

  “Never.” After a moment, he said, “I think we need to get a move on. There’s no guarantee that their ship won’t return. We don’t know for certain that they didn’t spot us.”

  “You are right,” Willow agreed, rising. “Let me look at your leg, then we’ll find Rengade.”

  Geldane’s wound was doing nicely. She washed it, rewrapped it, and then went in search of Rengade. They found him a few minutes later. He had pulled the raft far up on the pebbled beach and was strengthening it with fresh vines cut from the forest edge. A heavy branch lay nearby to replace the broken mast.

  “Seems our resourceful companion has once again beaten the odds and salvaged the raft,” Geldane said as they approached.

  “Do you suppose that’s how he got to shore?”

  “Knowing Rengade, I expect he stood up on the waves, hoisted the raft to his shoulder, and ran it ashore.”

  “Either that or, once our weight was off, there was enough buoyancy for him to steer it in. The storm was pushing in more or less the right direction,” Willow said, smiling.

  Rengade pulled a vine tight and tied it. He twisted, thrust a finger at Geldane, handed him the knife and a short length of vine, and then thrust a finger at a thick stand of trees inland. Geldane simply took the knife and vine and headed for the trees. Turning to Willow, Rengade pointed to something bobbing in the water offshore and then returned to his work, reaching for the new mast pole.

  Willow turned her gaze out to sea, shading her eyes with one hand. “There,” she said, eager. “That must be the dolfinas who rescued us.” She waded out to talk with them.

  Willow returned after a long conversation and squatted next to Rengade. He had finished lashing the new mast to the raft and had cut the remains of the sail from the old mast and was repairing it, weaving in new blades of grass from a stack he had gathered earlier. Willow helped as best she could but mostly felt that she was in the way. A few minutes later, Geldane shambled back, dragging long sections of woody vines. He plopped down next to the raft, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

  “Getting hot,” he said to no one in particular.

  Rengade finished the sail and attached it to the new mast. He walked over to fetch the vines Geldane had brought.

  “Rengade, wait,” Willow said.

  He stopped and faced her.

  “The dolfinas, they said that ship is anchored near the mainland to the west.” She took a deep breath. “And the orcs are patrolling all along the shore, all the way up to Dolfina Beach.”

  “We can wait until nightfall, slip past them in the dark,” Geldane suggested.

  “You can’t slip past orcs in the dark,” Willow said. “Orcs are like dolfinas. They’ll see you with sound.”

  “Oh, yeah, guess you explained that,” Geldane said, picking up pebbles and tossing them down the beach.

  “What, then? Do we head east, island hop around them? Pick up the mainland closer to Oak Cove?”

  “I’d be afraid to try that. The orcs are probably patrolling that area too. Besides, there are few islands once you get deeper into the Knok Gulf.”

  “What choice do we have? We can’t stay here. Can’t the dolfinas drive them off?”

  “No, much too dangerous. There is another possibility. We can head west.”

  “West?”

  Willow turned back to Rengade. “The dolfinas say that we are almost level with a long peninsula that extends from the mainland. If we head west
, past that point, then cut to the north, we can make landfall there. From there, it’s only a couple days to Dolfina Beach. Is that true?”

  Rengade thought for a moment, and then signed a question.

  “How close is the ship?” Willow repeated. “The dolfinas say that it’s close enough to see once we get back into the sea.” Willow’s eyes brightened. “But they volunteered to tow us. Without the sail, we’ll be next to impossible to spot in the choppy waters.”

  Rengade nodded agreement. Willow looked to Geldane.

  “Yup hup,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  They set to their task, weaving the vines into a pair of harnesses that would accommodate the dolfinas without restricting their movement or injuring them. Willow, for once, felt useful as she directed its construction. She coaxed Geldane to give up his shirt, which she tore into strips to pad the yoke that would slip around the dolfinas’ heads. In short order, it was done.

  Rengade began tying the leads from their harness to pegs near the fore end of the raft. Willow waded back into the surf to update the dolfinas. There were several others splashing about in the deeper waters offshore. Two large males waited for her. After a short exchange, she waved at Rengade and Geldane to bring the raft. It took only a moment to loop the harnesses over their heads. The humans climbed aboard and laid flat against the rough logs. Rengade had lashed the mast horizontally across the raft to serve as a handhold. They rode slightly aft, tilting the craft up at the bow.

  And they were off. It’s like riding a sled, Willow thought, surprised by the speed at which they moved through the choppy seas, whitecaps splashing all around and salty spray blowing into their faces. “Blink, the dolfina on the right, said that the other dolfinas are heading into the inlet, past the ship, to create a distraction.”

  “I don’t suppose we got lucky, that this is the Bathus Pod?” Geldane offered.

  “No, but I did ask Blink. They know the pod, he said it had moved far off to the south, away from the threats that have appeared around here. He was puzzled by all the activity and didn’t understand why the orcs were challenging the dolfinas. Most of the area’s dolfinas left, too dangerous.”

  Geldane mulled that over for a moment. “That means that we’ve failed in our mission?”

  “Doesn’t look hopeful,” Willow said.

  “All this was for nothing?”

  “Not at all, Geldane, dear,” Willow said, suddenly feeling better than she had in days. Maybe it was the swift ride, jouncing over the wave tops, maybe it was the prospect of getting back home, or maybe she had just had enough fear and was going to make the best of things. “You did complain about how dull our adventure was early on. You’d have to say, wouldn’t you, that things have improved considerably?”

  “Sure, yeah, sure,” Geldane mumbled, and then grinned in spite of himself. “An adventure worthy of great tales of perseverance and heroic deeds.”

  They fell silent. Rengade didn’t say so but it looked like he was enjoying the ride too.

  An hour later, they slowed. The rogue ship was visible in the distance but they saw no signs of orc activity. Intermittent, puffy white clouds broke the heat of the sun beating down on their backs. Geldane’s back was reddening, Willow noted. She wished she had her medkit. She had just the right ointment to prevent that.

  It took them another hour to move out of visible range of the ship, apparently undiscovered. Willow, sighing, sat up and stretched cramped muscles. Geldane rolled to his knees, wincing from the sting of his sunburn. He shaded his eyes from the glare and searched ahead. Rengade was already busy replacing the mast, securing the sail to it.

  “We’re close,” Geldane said. “We’ll be on dry land easily before darkness falls, probably by mid-afternoon.” He looked toward Rengade. “Would you agree?”

  One of Rengade’s eyelids twitched.

  Willow crawled toward the dolfinas who were still pulling them along. They must be tired, she thought, grateful for their assistance. She called to them. “Thank you,” she told them when they swam up, the harnesses loose about their heads. “We owe much to you.”

  Blink twittered a reply. “We know of you. You Willow. You the one, the promise of great tide of renewal. You we thank, that we help. We find Bathus Pod, tell them Swiik dead and you search for them. In this way we serve.”

  Willow fell back on her haunches, stunned. What did Blink mean, that she was the one, the tide of renewal? She leaned forward to ask for an explanation. Rengade, edging past, interrupted her. He reached down, removed the harnesses and took them back to the mast.

  Before Willow could ask Blink what he meant by tide of renewal, the dolfinas dived and quickly disappeared beneath the water.

  Her thoughts confused, Willow eased back to her position near the mast. Rengade finished cutting the harnesses into shorter lengths. He attached them to the sail, raised it, and set their craft heading toward the distant shore. Geldane asked what the dolfina had said but she didn’t respond, her mind in turmoil. What did Blink mean? Why did it seem so many were looking for her to be something she was not?

  The sun was about halfway to the horizon when they pulled their craft onto shore. Rengade signed that they would travel until dark, make camp, and then set off early. If they hurried, followed the trails, they could make it to Dolfina Beach before the following nightfall. Willow simply nodded, relieved that she had no responsibility other than to follow Rengade. He was the trekker and he knew the route. Geldane glanced at her frequently, evidently concerned about her reticence but knew Willow well enough not to interfere while she worked things through her mind.

  Night was well along when they finally dragged into Dolfina Beach the next day, at least, when Willow and Geldane dragged in. Rengade had skipped ahead, heading for Art’s shack, acting as if he’d just been out for a short holiday stroll around the town green. By the time they arrived, Art had a pot of crab stew and rice warming over a fire. He hustled them over to the long bench, served them each a big, steaming bowl and a mug of ice-cold honeyed lemonade. They polished that off in record time and begged for more. Bellies full, thirst quenched for the first time in a week, they drooped. Art laid out a couple of rush mats, insisted that they sleep. “We’ll chat tomorrow,” he told them. “Get some rest.”

  “Before we do that,” Willow intervened, “I need some medication and a suture kit to treat Geldane’s leg.”

  “Of course. I’ll get it.” He returned shortly with some salve and bandages.

  Willow treated and dressed the wound, feeling better now that Geldane’s wound was properly medicated and patched. They both then fell onto the mats and were instantly asleep.