Silversion

by Rick Johnson

  “What happened?” the three beasts said almost together.

  Looking around, Tē’d’Tē cried, “ThunderUp! He’s not here.”

  “Oh, I’m here, all right,” the huge Badger said, with a chuckle, as he stepped out of the shadows. “I had a little work to do.”

  “What happened?” Helga repeated.

  “Well,” the Badger said, “I’ve always had this thing about snugs—and when I saw a bunch of them stacked by the dragon-train, I just couldn’t resist taking a few with me when we left. Good thing, too, as it turned out.”

  “You’re pretty good with those things,” Christer said.

  “Glad you enjoyed it,” ThunderUp smiled, “you won’t get another chance—I threw every one I had just now.”

  “Good,” Helga said. “I’d glad you didn’t come up empty too soon. Now, let’s get going. They’ll be back.”

  “I noticed something about the scrawns,” Tē’d’Tē said. “Did you hear how their yowling seemed to echo in one direction, but not on the other? I think that means there might be a valley over that way.”

  Moving through the dense woods, they soon found they were at the edge of a bluff overlooking a river. Shimmering below in the moonlight, the river beakoned to the harassed beasts as if it were home.

  Finding their way down from the bluff, they stepped into the river and began walking downstream, hoping to hide their tracks. Walking the rest of the night, they slipped ashore on a rocky outcrop just before dawn.

  “We can’t stay here,” Helga said. “They may, or may not, come after us. Maybe they have more important things to do then hunt us down, but we can’t take chances. What should we do?”

  “I think we should keep following the river, staying in the water,” Tē’d’Tē said. “If they track us, they’ll be looking for places we came ashore. We’ll find rocks to sleep on in the river, and not come ashore again until we’re sure they aren’t following us.”

  Agreeing to Tē’d’Tē’s plan, they stayed in the water, or rested on rocks in the river for the next two days. Seeing no signs of pursuit, they decided it was safe to go ashore. From that point on, they doggedly followed the river for the next several weeks. Day after day, they walked, swam, waded, and climbed their way downstream. The hideously rugged terrain made the going slow. Without a boat, or even a raft capable of surviving the rapids, they sometimes made only a few miles a day. Never seeing another beast, it sometimes seemed that they were lost in an alien world, where they were the only inhabitants.

  “If we stay firm in foot and fixed in heart,” Helga said, “this river will eventually take us to the sea.”

  “Yes,” Christer laughed, “and then the question will be, ‘where are we?’”

  One afternoon, a heavy storm blew over them, and the cold, soaked beasts came ashore to dry out and rest. Finding a small cave in the side of a cliff, they set up camp for the night. Then, as was their now long familiar process, ThunderUp and Christer went off with the crude tools they had fashioned to dig mussles, catch crawdads, and spear fish. Tē’d’Tē gathered berries and wild herbs. And, striking sparks with stones, Helga soon had a fire going.

  Tending the fire, Helga was surprised to find that the smoke, instead of being pulled out of the small cave by the wind, seemed to be pulled deeper into the cave.

  “Why would smoke flow deeper in the cave, I wonder?” she thought. “Could there be some outlet to the outside?”

  The thought crossed her mind, but she gave it no more attention until, awhile later, she heard voices.

  “Well, all I can say is that smoke’s coming from somewhere,” one voice said. “And, where there’s smoke, there’s likely other beasts!”

  Sensing nothing sinister in what she heard, Helga waited curiously to see what would happen. In a few minutes, a group of Miner Bears stepped out of the darkness. They were so dusty and covered with dirt, that Helga had to laugh. “You look like dust bunnies from under a chair!” she laughed. “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Boss, and these are my Miner Bears, Ma’am,” one of the Bears responded. “Sorry we kinda just walked in on you.”

  “Oh, no!” Helga laughed, “I’m glad to see you! You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

  It took only a few minutes for Helga and the Miner Bears to realize that they indirectly knew of each other, and that their stories crossed.

  “Bem! Why of course I know Bem!” Boss exclaimed, as Helga recounted her story. “We’re up here now, cleaning up the mess from an explosion—that’s the last time I saw Bem. Good to hear that she’s O.K.”

  When ThunderUp, Christer, and Tē’d’Tē returned, the Miner Bears were invited to join in the traveller’s simple meal.

  “No, can’t stay now,” Boss replied. “Would love to talk some more, but we’ve got to get back. Work’s pretty much done up here, and we’re due in Hadst at the end of the next week.”

  “Hadst?” Helga said, “That’s were Bem is headed. Do you plan to meet her there?”

  “Oh, no,” Boss replied. “I didn’t even know where she was. My Bears have been hired to remove rock and push the cliffs back at Hadst. The harbor’s not big enough to take Battle Stallion cruisers—so we’ve got to enlarge it.”

  “Battle Stallion cruisers!” Tē’d’Tē exclaimed. “What are they doing in Hadst?”

  “Don’t know exactly,” Boss replied, “that’s not my business, but I hear the new council over in Walloper’s Hold is sending cruisers over to stop the slaving that’s been going on over here for years.”

  “Who told you that?” Tē’d’Tē asked excitedly. “That’s great, if it’s true!”

  “Oh, I reckon it’s true, all right,” Boss replied. "My Miner Bears have a contract for the work on the harbor, with a deadline for use by the cruisers. The council has shifted its priorities away from escorting silver shipments, to rousting the slavers out. They’re going to double the number of cruisers patrolling over here.”

  “Well, it’ll be good to end the slaving over there,” Helga said.

  “The harbor expansion is about more than pushing the slavers out,” Boss said. “The Master of the Fleet, Davison, is also going to base some of his trading ships in Hadst. He’s originally from Norder Bay, just up the coast a ways from Hadst. He built his business there, and all his family was there. He lost touch with them when he was arrested. He’s going back to find them and pick up his life again. He’s bringing some of his ships over to Hadst when he moves. He’ll base the rest at Norder Bay.”

  “That’s great!” Tē’d’Tē chuckled. “When they talked about him being made Admiral of the Battle Stallions, I thought he’d blow a cork. ‘I’m no Admiral!’ he said. ‘I did what I set out to do, and it’s time for me to get back to my family—it’s been too long. I’ve given a lot of years to helping Hedgelands make a new start. It’s time for the Hedgies themselves to carry on from here.’ I knew they’d never keep him in Walloper’s Hold. But they’ll sure miss him.”

  The Weasel was silent for a moment, looking off into some memory. Then she added, “What if we go through the caves with you to Hadst? That’ll be faster than continuing to follow the river.”

  “Fine with me,” Boss said. “But it’s pretty rugged in there. If you’re coming with us, it’s probably best to go ahead and eat all together, then leave. We don’t have enough grub for all of you. Better eat up while you can.”

  Helga buried Rock Trout and Crawdads under embers from the fire to bake, while Christer and Tē’d’Tē crushed herbs over the fresh berries she had gathered. Soon the beasts were lounging around the fire, laughing and talking as they waited for their meal to cook.

  Wrackshee Attack

  “They’ll be no way to hide from them,” Bem observed.

  “Yes, we should expect an attack,” Klemés agreed. “I’ve asked around in Viper’s Hive—”

  “You’ve been back to Viper’s Hive?” Bem exploded. “What were you thinking? You might have blown our cover and ruined everything!” />
  “Whoa there, Bem,” Klemés laughed. “I haven’t left the boatyard any more than you have. There’s a worker here I’ve been friendly with. A cousin of his is an old shipmate of mine from years back. I trust him completely. Like most honest beasts around here, he’s just tryin’ to put bread on the table. I put a little silver in his pocket, in return for some information. I asked him what to expect from a Wrackshees attack.”

  “And what did you learn?” Bem asked.

  “They use a swarming-style attack,” Klemés answered. “Send dozens of kayaks at you from all directions, in absolute silence, throwing snugs by the hundreds. It’s unneaving. They try to frighten you into surrending. They only board a boat if it doesn’t surrender and they think it’s valuable enough to be worth a boarding attempt. A swarming assault requires daylight, so they never attack at night. Just at dawn is their favorite, but they’ll attack anytime it’s light.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Bem said, knowing that anytime the old Wood Cow had facts, he also had a plan. They were discussing what to do when they set out from Rink’s boatyard. With the work on the galeswabes finished, it was time to finalize plans for running through Wrackshee country.

  “There’s a full moon this week,” Klemés said. “That means we can keep running on the river at night. We’ll set shifts—half of us sleep by day, the other half sleep at night."

  “What if they attack us at night?” Bem said. “Full moon helps us run at night—might help the Wrackshees, too.”

  “Same as if they attack us in the daylight,” Klemés answered. “All hands on the oars and we row like lightning. But I don’t think they’ll risk it at night. Even with a full moon, it’s not like daytime. They use hand signals as they attack, so their prey don’t know what they’re planning to do. Even with a full moon, that seems a little tricky in bad light.”

  Upon agreeing to this plan, Bem and Klemés called together the Musterteers and explained what would happen. Then, with a unity of spirit now long tested by common dangers and shared labor, they began loading provisions onto the galeswabs.

  Two days later, at dawn, the Free Musterteers set out from Rink’s boatyard, Bem’s galeswab in the lead, and Klemés’s bringing up the rear as before. The river was now deep and broad, its rust-colored water growing increasingly red as the journey wore on.

  For three days, they proceeded down the river without incident. As dawn was breaking on the fourth day, they were suddenly assaulted by Wrackshee kayaks. Racing at them in numbers greater than either Bem or Klemés had imagined, the attack was eerily quiet. Instead of screaming and hollering, as they had always experienced before in an attack, the Wrackshees came swiftly, but in complete silence. Using only silent signals to communicate, the attackers came from all sides at once. Crossing and recrossing each other’s path, the onslaught of kayaks was dizzying to comprehend. The seeming jumble of kayaks, attacking without a predictable pattern, combined with the eerie silence, caused panic among the Musterteers. Then snugs came flying by the dozens.

  Thunk! Thunk! The razor-sharp throwing lances slammed into the galeswabs’ hulls. At the first sign of trouble, however, the fishnet hoods were dropped, and snugs that would have hit the deck instead became tangled. Although the barrage of snugs caused little damage, they did increase panic.

  “We’re had! It’s a flyin’ fit of demons on us!” came the cries. “They’ll cut our innards out!”

  “To oars! To oars!” Bem cried. “We’ll leave them hell’s west and wondering, if we’re firm as iron, and don’t hesitate a moment! Pull with all you’ve got! Don’t think of giving up; only the strength of all of you can save us!”

  Frightened, but tolerably steady, beasts held to their posts. Snugs continued to fly every which way as the Wrackshee kayaks circled and wove among the fleet of galeswabs. For a few moments, chaos held sway as panic-eyed Musterteers found their courage and began to pull on the oars. Beasts groaned. Oars creaked. And, as if moved by a common urge, every Musterteer cried, “YAAAARRRRR!”

  “Here comes the boarding attempt!” Bem yelled. Like a flock of birds in flight, the zig-zagging swarm of kayaks suddenly formed into coherent waves aiming straight at each galeswab. They came on with such furious speed that Bem thought they intended to crash into the Musterteers’ galeswabs. But a few yards off, they swerved aside, and when nearly parallel, the attackers threw grappling hooks, trying to hook themselves to the galeswabs and pull alongside.

  “Our blood is up now!” Bem shouted. “Now, Wittover! Now!”

  Wittover and the other ’rang throwers, scattered on every galeswab, began slinging boomerangs. With deadly accuracy they began picking off attackers. Whop! Thwack! Clunk! One by one, ’rangs found their mark, leaving a litter of injured Wrackshees floating in the river, or slumped in kayaks. The ’rangs, had greater range than the snugs, and the attackers abandoned the boarding attempt and fell back.

  The lull in the attack allowed Bem to take stock of the situation. The clothers of Wittover and several other ’rang throwers had been torn to tatters by near misses of snugs thrown at them. Although their bodies apparently had not been nicked by poisoned snug tips, they were removing their shredded clothes and tossing them over the side of the boats. Until that was safely done, they were in no condition to provide ’rang defense. Bem also knew that the journey ahead was long, and who knew what lay ahead? Better perhaps to reserve the remaining boomerang supply.

  “We have one advantage,” Bem thought, “speed and surprise. It’s time to push our way through.” She moved quickly around the lead galeswab, shouting encouragement and calling for speed. “Now! This is our chance! Give it everything we’ve got!” The already straining beasts leaned even harder into the oars. The boat leaped forward.

  Seeing Wittover pulling on fresh clothes, she went over and said, “Good work. Take a rest. Save your remaining ’rangs. We won’t be throwing any more now. Signal to the others to hold their fire. We’re going to rely entirely on speed now.”

  With the kayaks holding their positions just out of range, the Wrackshee Bozz saw the galeswab fleet speeding forward. Realizing that the opportunity for victory was racing from his grasp, he rallied his forces with furious signaling. Quickly the kayaks returned to their swarming attack. Weaving and dodging, the remaining Wrackshee kayaks now were focused on trying slow the fleeing galeswabs, and getting into position for another boarding attempt.

  The renewed Wrackshee assault was too little, too late. Gaining speed rapidly, the galeswabs stormed through the Wrackshee attack like monsters set loose. In the end, nearly thirty galeswabs, racing at full speed, caused much more damage to the Wrackshee kayaks they smashed into, then they sustained from the attackers’ snugs and attempts to board.

  Before the unexpected power of an entire fleet of much larger, faster boats, the Wrackshee attack crumbled. The shock of the usually victorious slavers seemed to resound from shore to shore. The grim silence with which the attack had begun, gave way to wild cries of dismay, as kayaks were crushed and scattered by the slicing prows of the galeswab flotilla. When it was over, the triumphant Musterteers hooted and hollered gleefully as they continued to pull full strength at the oars.

  Reunion

  Waiting for the food to cook, ThunderUp was standing at the cave entrance watching the river flow by. Suddenly he howled: “Boats! Boats! Dozens of boats coming down the river!”

  Rushing to the cave entrance, Helga and her comrades hooped and hollered with joy! It was none other than Captain Bem Madsoor standing in the prow of the lead boat!

  “Bem! Bem! Over here!” the happy beasts yelled.

  Seeing her friends yelling and waving, Bem signaled the boats behind her to pull over to the bank.

  Leaping from the boat, Bem ran to embrace her long missing comrades. Looking at Christer’s shaggy hair and ragged clothes, she raised an eyebrow, and laughed, “Helga, how do you stand this dirty, unkempt fellow!”

  “We sleep outdoors, and dunk him in the river every d
ay,” she chuckled.

  “Good to know,” Bem smiled. “It’s hard to tell if he’s a Wood Cow, or just some collection of hair and dirt you’re dragging around.”

  “I think of him more as a friend that is always there, no matter what, and a heart that’s never shaken,” Helga said, smiling.

  “And I see a bond developing that no beast can sever,” Bem said.

  “Time will tell,” Helga said quietly.

  “I think it has already told,” Bem replied. “Now we’ll settle in for the night, and tomorrow you’ll go with us in the boats.” Looking again at Christer, she added, with a smile, “Klemés has a razor. Get a haircut and clean up before you board my boats!”

  There was merry-making that evening, such as the lonely river had never seen. Smoke from many fires, as beasts roasted Sweet Milk Honey Bread on sticks, and crunched baked crawdad. Wild flowers were hung as garlands and Klemés taught the beasts to dance as he used to do on long sea voyages. And Captain Madsoor, seeing that this long journey was nearly at an end, pondered the news that a fleet awaited her in Hadst. Her spirit felt lighter than it had in many months.

  When the fire burned to embers, and rowdy happiness gave way to sleep and low voices, Helga and Bem slipped away. Finding a large flat rock along the river, a little away from the camp, they sat under the silent stars, and talked far into the night. About the changes in Hedgelands and how there was much yet to do; how the Bozz More and Owner Two would have to be dealt with and Silversion stopped; and how, now that Bem would soon rejoin BorMane in Hadst, she would begin her voyage to rescue Captain Gumberpott.

  “And how, Helga, will we get news of all that has happened to the council in Walloper’s Hold?” Bem asked.