One deft thrust consigns the creature to its afterlife. As its fellows on the outside of the craft slip slowly back into the sea.
And the ocean glows silver along a narrow lane trailing westward.
Mei-o-Peia quickly checks the pulse of each of her sisters. All are breathing softly. All appear to be asleep.
But try as she will, she cannot awaken them.
Sensing no immediate danger from her sisters’ steady breathing, she seizes a flanged pole. Using it as a rudder to keep the craft on a westward course. Propelled by the cross-current.
The next morning, the ecru cliffs have disappeared into white mist behind the drifting craft. With the sisters sleeping peacefully, Mei-o-Peia throws open the aft hatch and jettisons the stiffening corpses of the slain sea-wolves.
Then, she settles down to her post at the rudder. Keeping the craft on its westward course. Frequently checking on her sisters, confident each time that they are breathing easy.
On the morning of the third day, Mei-o-Peia is awakened by the soft sighs and unsteady movement of six feline forms stretching into wakefulness. Overjoyed, she hugs each waking sister in turn.
As two suns rise across the sea behind them, the morning rays reflect off the riverine sparkle of a broad delta on the starboard side of the craft.
The seven sisters are famished—hungry and dehydrated—and rejoice at the prospect of fresh water and game.
In this first sighting of level, boundless land after their peril-fraught journey across a savage sea.
Chapter 13. Separated
As night falls over the fens, so does the flood around the hammock of stone trees.
Exhausted from their encounter with the storm, and reassured by the steady retreat of the water, the seven brothers settle in for their first uninterrupted sleep in days.
They awaken, hungry but refreshed, to the dawn of a crisp, clear day. As bright sunlight shimmers off the placid surface of the floodplain. Winking back at them in lively reflections of silver and gold.
During the night, the water has receded nearly to its former level, and the river reclaims its contrast with the shallow floodplain that flanks its banks.
Leaving the hammock, the brothers resume their trek south along the western bank. Following the clearly defined waterway.
“This river is rushing with much greater urgency,” Adam points out to his brothers as they gather under a thick willow tree next to the wide stream. “Even the character of the land is changing.
“They may be signs we are nearing the end of the Great Northern Fens.”
Anxious to explore and learn what lies beyond the fens, the brothers eagerly resume their course southward and, with lances in hand, they joyfully follow the river through this beautiful, shaded landscape.
It is a journey that will lead to a destination they cannot suspect. To the precious prize that will renew a world.
The river continues to widen as the brothers follow it south. Marching along its western bank while the two suns yet ride high in the sky.
But the margins of the river are awash in shallow water, and they must keep a sharp eye on the submerged ground to avoid slipping into the main channel’s depth.
Without pause, they slosh along until they reach a narrows bridged by a great, fallen tree. The rushing river’s waters are being forced through a tight space, turning it into a raging, whitewater rapid.
The fallen tree’s branches are on the western riverbank, while its trunk is anchored by roots in the eastern bank.
“We best cross here,” Adam tells his brothers. “Our destination lies to the unexplored east, so we must gain that side of the river. This tree, lodged across these narrows, may be our only way across.
“I will cross first, to test its stability. Then, you may follow.”
As he crosses, the angry water is eating away the soil around the roots. And the tree is sucked into the torrent as he leaps onto the far bank.
Thus is Adam separated from his brothers!
Hailing them from across the impassable river, he urges his brothers to continue south. Hoping to find another narrows where they may cross.
It is a fateful choice!
Chapter 14. Land’s End
Instead of thinning to a narrows they might safely cross, the river continues to widen. Fed constantly by the many shallow streams and rivulets the brothers wade through in their trek south.
Many leagues farther on, the river has broadened so much the brothers can barely make out Adam pacing them on its eastern shore. Until it forks into two rivers—one continuing to flow south while the other branches farther west.
Stranding Adam on the eastern bank of the river coursing south. While his brothers remain on the western bank of the other.
Meantime, both channels are deepening as the roots of tree-lined banks shackle the fierce current.
Making the water angrier and angrier!
Both rivers become boiling cauldrons of rushing rapids as their embankments push back against the swift flow of water coursing through the constricted channels. Between natural levees reinforced by the rooted, bent and weeping trees lining their elevated bluffs.
Soon, the fading figure of Adam is lost to his brothers as they continue to follow the western branch in search of a place to cross.
It is a forlorn and exhausted Adam who, reaching the limit of his endurance, stops beneath a spreading willow to rest. While two suns cast the fading shadows of his brothers as they disappear into the distance to the west.
He is alone. Traveling to a region undiscovered and unknown.
His only consolation is the abundance of silver-sided fish, which he deftly spears with his lance for supper.
∆ ∆ ∆
On the far distant, opposite shore of the western branch, Shem, second eldest, calls a halt to the day’s march. Posting sharp-eyed Japheth to keep watch, he tells the other brothers they will sleep here before taking up the journey in the morning.
Like their separated leader across two rivers, the brothers are able to dine on the small silver fish shoaling near the foot of the steep embankment. As full bellies allay concerns for what awaits them the next day.
With the arrival of dawn, the brothers resume their march along the river that is inescapably leading them west. Drawing them farther away from Adam with every step.
Hope grows ever fainter with each passing day.
∆ ∆ ∆
Meantime, the other branch is drawing Adam nearer to the eastern sea as the ocean shoreline gradually begins to veer west. Toward the northern hinge of the gateway leading into the great, unexplored bay.
Adam enters a different, unfamiliar world as he continues his long trek along the eastern, windward bank of the river. And the terrain changes dramatically.
Gone are the bent, weeping trees. Replaced by tall reeds marching across the landscape to the west. Ruffled by gentle winds that bend them down in waves that snap back up with the passage of every zephyr breath.
Gone are the black mire along the riverbanks and the watery bogs of the floodplain.
The earth changes to sand. Shape-shifting to conform to the contours of solid substrate beneath. Swept by the prevailing easterlies that kick up sand as they blow in from the ocean.
Traveling ever southward, Adam is overcome by the unsettling feeling that he marches not alone.
Far to the east, through the salty air carried by the offshore wind, is a column of snow-white mist dominating the horizon. While he cannot see the ocean, Adam knows it is there. What he cannot fathom is the ghostly curtain of mist where the sea should be.
Each travel-day, the phantom-white shadow haunts his vision as it marches in lockstep with him to the south. And with each step, he yearns to reach the shore of the eastern sea. Across the long spits of sand that stretch continually southward separating him from the ocean beyond.
South toward a chain of small islands rising above the waves. An archipelago anchored by a larger, barb-shaped island. Casting pale gray
, yellow and green reflections across the water.
Even the river is changed. Growing calmer as the quantity of streams feeding it lessen and then disappear altogether. Leaving a single, uninterrupted flow of water steadily southward. While the banks on both sides gradually become more shallow. Until sweet water mixes with brine as the river empties into the gulf of the eastern sea.
It is here Adam’s journey ends. At the shore of the great bay. On a barrier island flanked by the waning river on one side and the ocean’s shore on the other.
It is here the chain of offshore islands sweeps westward. Following the shoreline. Only to disappear in a ghostly white fog to the south.
And it is here the offshore bank of snow-white mist ends.
Standing alone on the windswept beach, Adam realizes he has reached land’s end.
Except for the offshore islands and the landward sea of grass to the west, it is a world of water.
Waves lick at the southernmost spit of sand on the barrier island, where he stands, spinning off white-crested rollers racing westward. Nothing but ocean appears on his horizon between the small islands of the archipelago to the east and south into the fog and the reedy flats along the shore of the delta to the west.
Never has Adam felt so alone. Separated from his brothers. Cut off from their world.
After eating his fill of silver fish, he curls up on the riverbank next to the sandy beach. Reassured by the dramatic slowing of current along this final stretch of the waterway, he resolves to swim across before the current can wash him out to sea. He is confident he can make the crossing with room to spare.
He drifts asleep with the hopeful prospect of gaining the far shore of the river and then striking west to rejoin his brothers.
What he does not know is that all hope will abandon him when he wakes up to unexpected horror in the morning!
Adam’s eyelids flutter as shades of grey, yellow and green flood across his vision. Urging him to wakefulness.
When his eyes do open, they look out upon a startling scene!
The twin suns are just beginning to rise. And the snow-white mist has returned to dominate the southern sky.
The small gray islands remain visible several leagues offshore. But as the white mist departs under the heat of two suns, it reveals a larger land mass to the south.
Towering cliffs of greyish-yellow, tinged with a greenish glow. Closer inshore than the archipelago to the east.
So enthralled is he, Adam does not comprehend the sinister form rising out of the brackish depth of the river behind him!
Chapter 15. The Riverine Delta
This day finds Adam’s brothers many leagues to his north. As the western branch forces them ever farther from the eastern river.
Like the rivers themselves, the headwaters of the Great Northern Fens bleed into a very different world on the coastal plain.
While Adam has followed the dry, sandy barrier island between the eastern river and the sea, the brothers are entering dense forest. Leaving the sunlit fens behind.
The narrowing river is the only break in the closely clustered trees. And it runs even deeper and swifter as it is forced through the ever constricting channel between elevated banks.
Like a chained monster, it vents its wrath in roiling, swirling eddies threatening to suck in and drown whatever it can reach.
Hurrying southward in its swiftly flowing haste. Making up lost time. Carving steeper embankments out of the land. Gnawing at the roots of the weeping trees that grow along them.
“Stay to the tree-line side of the bank,” Shem warns.
“The river here is hungry and will swallow us at any misstep. We best keep an eye on the trees as well, for we do not know what manner of creatures may dwell among them. Make every step a caution.”
The thick trees are but a narrow belt of forest, separating the Great Northern Fens from the riverine delta to the south. And, while the trees reverberate with a distant and growing roar the farther they go, the anxious travelers traverse the dense wood in the full light of day.
Emerging from the forest, they are awed by the immensity of the delta landscape dominating the coastal plain.
The brothers find themselves on a high ridge. Beside a crashing cataract as the river plunges downward. Into a foaming pool that drains into a broad, placid river meandering southward across the plain.
Even the violent crescendo of hammering waterfall cannot distract from the breathtaking grandeur of the riverine delta.
In the far distance, the brothers see a diamond-studded counterpane of ocean. Winking back at them in facets of silver and gold. As twilight enfolds this magical world.
“We will make camp here,” Shem decides. “We dare not hazard a descent in darkness. When full light returns, it will show us the way down the escarpment so we can continue our journey to the sea.”
Chapter 16. The Sleeping Death
Landing their craft on a spit of silt reaching into the bay, the sisters retrieve their lances and water-gourds and step boldly onto solid ground. Dragging their battered wicker craft across the beach, they tether it to the stoutest of the reeds growing along the shoreline.
The thick reeds fringe the silty alcove along the beach to the bank of a narrow stream to the east. Leaving an open strip of sandy shoreline at the edge of the bay in both directions.
The small stream is choked with reeds. They grow like mangroves rooted in the shallows and covering its banks.
While it appears to offer no portal out of the alcove, it brings fresh, sweet water. And for that the sisters are thankful.
“None of the wolf-like creatures appears in the swift current along this shore, where whitecaps are what they seem,” Mei-o-Peia observes. “There is fresh water here, and silver fish near the shoreline. It grows dark, and we need rest.
“We do not know what creatures the darkness may bring. We will sleep this night in our craft.”
With that, the sisters set about catching their evening meal, wash it down with water from the small stream and file into the wicker shell that carried them across the savage sea to this unknown shore.
On-o-Peia is the first to awaken to the dawn of a new day, crisp and cool. Adventuresome and curious by nature, she slips quietly through the aft hatch into a bright new world.
The twin suns are painting the eastern horizon in broad, level strokes of red and violet. The silty ground is looking up through polished facets of silver. The sea is glowing a brilliant sapphire. And the tall reeds are glistening deep emerald green.
The youngest sister is enchanted by the surreal beauty and calm of this place, and she wonders if they are a harbinger of even greater magic in this new world. So different from the reef-locked isolation of her much warmer island home that is no more.
“We cannot remain here long,” Mei-o-Peia tells the sisters after a leisurely breakfast of silver fish. “There are too many unknowns. There is much to learn, but this much is certain:
“This is not our destination. The Earth Spirit has sent us on a quest, and it does not end here.
“We must complete our journey, wherever it may take us.
“I will follow the shoreline east. Lin-o-Peia will lead the rest of you west. When the suns rise twice more, we will backtrack and meet here again before dusk on the fifth day.
“Then, we will know in which direction our destiny lies.”
Hefting their lances, six sisters take the narrow shoreline west. Walking Indian file along the bay.
While the eldest wades across the shallow stream and takes up her path to the east.
∆ ∆ ∆
Adam’s fascination with the mysterious cliffs rising through the dawn of the following day is interrupted by a soft snarl.
Whirling around, he is confronted by a great dire wolf pulling itself onto the shore with long front legs!
The lupine monster is the very incarnation of its high plains cousin—long fangs and claws, lanky grey-furred body, glowing-ember eyes—but with a crucial disti
nction.
It has flukes in the place of back legs, making it slow and unwieldy out of water and sparing Adam the few precious seconds required to defend himself against lethal attack.
While, across the river, a most unikely witness arrives upon the scene. Her emerald eyes, widened in amazement, peering through the dense wall of reeds.
Jumping back, Adam raises his spear just as the creature is upon him. But it bats the weapon aside while its open jaws descend on its defenseless prey.
As an airborne lance soars across the river to still the wolf’s beating heart.
But the lance is too late, and the monster manages to nip Adam as it falls, lifeless, to the ground.
Swooning from the effects of the neurotoxin, he also slumps to the ground.
And lies there as still as death.
Chapter 17. The Seekers
Approaching the seemingly lifeless figure of the fallen stranger, Mei-o-Peia pauses only long enough to make sure the wolf is dead before kneeling next to its victim.
Indeed, she knows this wolfish creature. She has met its like before.
Tracing her fingers across the man’s robust chest, she feels an electric jolt of yearning crackle through her body on contact with his hot skin. Smiling with relief at the labored but steady rise and fall of his diaphragm.
While she shakes him gently, he does not wake. He remains as still and unresponsive as a corpse.
But Mei-o-Peia does not abandon hope. She has been witness to the same deep, coma-like sleep. She knows he will recover from the sea-wolf’s bite. And she resolves to stand guard against other threats for as long as he remains in this helpless state.
First, though, she proceeds to perform a thorough inspection of the stranger’s bronzed skin to locate the site of any bites and assure they are free of infection.
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