by A. K. Wilder
“We have to ride, and fast.” I go to Rita as Piper hoists herself behind Marcus.
“There’s no escape,” Samsen says. “This road leads straight toward the enemy.”
“Not that way.” I indicate the cliff. “Take the trail down to the Ferus River.”
“What trail?” Piper peers into the ravine.
I point to a deer track snaking over the edge. “At the bottom, there’s a path through paperbark trees. If the river runs high, we can board the ferry and haul ourselves across.”
“What keeps the Aturnians from following?” she asks.
“Once on the other side, we cut the ferry loose.”
Piper nods. “And if the water’s low?”
“We ford the river and keep running.”
“Do it,” Marcus says through his tangled hair. Piper throws her weight back as far as she can and urges Echo down the cliff. I watch until the mare’s black rump fishtails over the edge.
“Belair, you take Frost,” Samsen shouts above the downpour. “Ash, grab the extra saddlebags.”
Ash slings them over Rita’s shoulders as rain pounds her head, parting her hair down the middle.
“Ride, lass.” I boost her into the saddle.
“What about you and Samsen?”
“We’ll catch up.” A spear zings in and lands an arm’s length from us. Foot soldiers charge up the road with blades drawn. “To the river!” I shout and slap Rita on the rump. The gray mare leaps over the cliff, Ash clinging tight to stay in the saddle.
With her away, I turn to face the enemy, a grin bursting free. My blade! I spot it in the wreckage and sweep it up. Ah, but the sword feels good in my hand as Samsen and I meet the attack. There are only ten in total, but not far behind are a score more on horseback. I cut the last of the ten down and Samsen and I sprint away. The cliff is slick but the rain a blessing. I slide down and hit the trail at high speed. The rain plummets in sheets, and I can see only a few lengths in front and to the sides.
Ash, I think to myself. The distance stretches out between us and I can’t quite steady my feelings. But then she appears, waiting for me, halfway to the bottom of the ravine.
“I said to run, lass.”
“Just jump on the horse.” She has her foot out of the stirrup, holding Rita on the muddy slope. Samsen swings up behind Belair, who waits as well.
I sheathe the blade and vault into the saddle, my arms going around her tight. “To those scrub oaks.” I lick the fresh water off my lips and speak into her ear. “Thank you.”
Her breath comes in a gasp, and warmth spreads up her neck to her face.
For me, the sensations are all-consuming. Who is this wordsmith from Baiseen? I will make it my calling to find out.
We take off, slowing only to negotiate the narrow turns and rain-slick drop-offs. Again, I wonder how I have come to be on the back of a horse, my arms around this brilliant scribe, my sword singing with enemy blood? It’s not a question to answer but to relish.
I check over my shoulder as mounted Aturnians spill down the cliff behind us. Their horses don’t hesitate, so we’re barely in the lead.
Ash’s heart pounds through her sheepskin coat. I close my eyes for an instant, shutting out every other sound in the world but her racing lub-dub, lub-dub. I deliberately draw in a single breath and with it comes her scent. I can taste it on my lips, ocean and lilacs and a drop of blood. I savor her nearness for a moment more, then jump off the horse.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes are wide, rainwater running down her nose and spilling from the corners of her mouth.
“Slowing them down.” I hit the ground hard and turn to face the enemy. “Ride, Ash. I’ll meet you at the river.”
She hesitates as a spear flies straight toward my chest. I swerve to the side and grab it out of the air. The friction burns my hand, but I hold on and dig in my heels, sliding with it. In one quick snap of my wrist, I reverse the weapon and hurl it back at its owner. It goes right through the lead Aturnian. His horse careens in another direction as the rider falls to the ground. “Ride, Ash!” I draw my sword and charge. “All of you, ride!” But I’m not alone. The eagle phantom flies above, and the healer’s serpent streams behind.
I’m impressed by the raptor. It fights well as it breaks necks with a quick twist of its powerful talons, rending its victims like down-stuffed pillows. The healer’s serpent bites its prey half a chain away, injecting venom, dropping horses and then the riders. As more Aturnians attack, I slash and stab, taking an Aturnian blade in my left hand as well, cutting down the enemy.
“Tutapa!” I let loose my home island’s battle cry. As I stand at the bottom of the ravine, rain-soaked and flinging blood from my blade, the road above shakes with more and more galloping hooves. I signal the raptor phantom, then turn to the snake. “Go!”
The serpent disappears into the ground and I know Piper has received the message. Now it’s just dodge the arrows flying at my back and make it to the Ferus River, to my lass, ahead of this mob. The rain falls in buckets. With any luck, the river runs high.
22
Ash
“Where is he?” My pulse races as Samsen and I wait a short distance from the river, the horses’ sides heaving, their sweat washing off with the rain. I peer up the trail. It’s lined with wet paperbark trees, their mushroom-colored hides peeling away like layers of old snakeskin. The drooping leaves slash about in the wind, and on high branches sacred ibis ride out the storm. “We shouldn’t have left him behind.”
It happened so fast. One minute, Kaylin is behind me on Rita and the next he hits the ground and catches a spear midair. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“Here he comes!” Samsen says over the sounds of the rushing river and driving rain. Behind us, the banks of the Ferus barely contain the raging water. It splashes out of the swollen riverbed, mud brown with frothy whitecaps.
“We’re trapped!” I call to Kaylin as he runs to me. I kick my foot out of the stirrup and he swings up behind. “Ferry’s on the far side and it won’t budge.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We gallop back to the river and slam to a halt at the dock.
Once again, Kaylin hits the ground running. “Be ready to board!” He bolts down the dock, soaked to the skin, his white shirt saturated to transparency. He strips it off without breaking stride. His sword hits the dock, too, and he unsheathes a buck knife. With it gripped between his teeth, he throws his hands over his head and dives into the torrent.
It’s a moment before I can slide off Rita. I stumble to my feet and gaze at the river where Kaylin went under. My heart tightens, air hardly able to escape my lungs. Slowly, I lead Rita to the pier where fringing trees toss wildly in the wind. Weak branches snap and crash into the water where they are quickly swept away. “Kaylin?” My eyes lift to the far side of the shore.
Piper stands beside me. “He’s a strong swimmer. He’ll make it.”
I watch the roiling surface and wait.
“There he is.” Samsen points across the river, shielding his eyes from the downpour with his other hand. “He’s shouting something.”
Pull the cable. I hear it loud as sanctuary bells. “Pull the cable!” I repeat.
Samsen and Piper rush to the connecting cable and haul on it with everything they have. The ferry is set up with a simple pulley system, and even in the raging current we have it snug against the end of the pier in no time.
“Load the horses,” Kaylin hollers as he unlatches the tailgate.
Piper leads Echo aboard first, but Marcus is so weak we leave him secured to the saddle. Next comes Belair, on Samsen’s Frost. The river continues to rise, splashing over the dock. I can’t see my boots or Rita’s hooves as we step onto the ferry. Bless the bones, the horses are well trained, loading reasonably well even as the raft rocks and plunges and strains agai
nst the cable.
Kaylin retrieves his sword and shirt, belting on the weapon and stuffing his shirt into his back pocket as far as it will go. “Haul!” He jumps back aboard.
Piper and Samsen pull hand over hand. I join in, but the ferry’s load is heavy and we’re not moving fast across the wild current.
“Let me, lass. And keep an eye on the riverbank. Our enemy has bows.” Kaylin hauls on the cable and the ferry cuts across the current toward the other side.
I tie the horses with a quick-release knot, in case they panic midstream, all while watching the shore. “Marcus? Can you hear me?” I grip his calf, noticing his restraints slipping.
He rouses, looking up long enough to nod before slumping back down on Echo’s neck. I attempt to retie the straps, but my hands are numb. The ties slip through my fingers, and Marcus falls onto the deck with a grunt. He tries to pull himself up between Frost and Echo. The horses snort but are careful not to tread on him.
I squat and do my best to haul him forward, yanking on his arm, but he hollers.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry.” I push a mass of wet hair from his face. “You must have injured your shoulder in the fall.”
“There’s not much I didn’t injure in the fall.”
“But you saved us, Marcus.” Warmth spreads through my chest.
His grin is equal parts pride and grimace.
“Come out from under the horses’ legs.” I try to guide him. Their bellies drip mud and sweat and rainwater. The ferry bucks and plunges, water washing over the deck. With his cooperation, I drag Marcus in front of the horses and lean him against the center post. “Stay put.”
“Where would I go?”
A cheer rises from Piper and Samsen. We are nearly to the other side. But the revelry cuts short when an arrow flies toward us and thuds into the post over Marcus’s head.
“Stay behind the horses!” Kaylin yells.
I make a face at him. “Horses aren’t shields.” As I speak, two more thuds sound out. Belair screeches and Frost fires both iron-shod hooves into the tailgate. It splinters and sails off its hinges, the river sweeping it away. The ferry bobs, straining to follow.
“Belair!” I go to him, finding an arrow deep in his left shoulder. The white horse has one in the rump, blood running dark down her hind leg. “You have to get down.” More arrows come at us. I haul on Belair and he tumbles out of the saddle then hits the deck hard. I clamp pressure around the wound as blood rises through his sheepskin coat. “Piper, help!”
Belair grits his teeth and pants, cursing me in Tangeen. “Tell Piper to wait and see if we survive the crossing. No point in wasting her time if I’m about to die.”
“You’re not about to die.” My hands are drenched in his blood.
“Don’t be too hasty to judge, lass.” Kaylin points to the shore.
I turn back to see a wall of Aturnians skidding to a stop at the edge of the river. “C’hac no.” The riders dismount, drop to their knees, not to raise phantoms, but to fit their bows. Belair is right. We’re all going to fall from the path today.
Kaylin draws his sword. “Stand clear!” To me he says, “Hold on tight, lass.” He raises the Aturnian blade high over his head.
“What are you doing?” Samsen shouts as the Aturnians release their bowstrings. A slew of arrows streams toward us like a swarm of hornets.
At the same moment, Kaylin’s sword slices the cable clean in two. “Watch your heads!”
The line snakes through the pulley at lightning speed and flies free. The ferry careens downstream, arrows missing us by an arm’s length. My stomach slams into my mouth as I grip the railing. By the time the archers reload, they’re too far away for another shot. Meanwhile the raft races over the rapids.
Samsen clings to the narrow railing. “You’re mad!”
“And you, my good savant, are alive.” Kaylin slides by the horses to reach me.
“Where are you going now?” Samsen demands.
“Not far, I assure you. This vessel is small.”
“It is also without a rudder. You can’t just let us speed down the river.”
“Aye, but there are no true rapids, yet. We’ll see them when we near the falls.”
Samsen wipes water from his face and pushes back his hair. “Falls? How soon?”
Kaylin tilts his head, listening. “About two minutes. We best tend to Belair. That arrow has to come out in case he needs to swim.”
“Swim?” Samsen cuts loose a stream of curses, which, under more serene circumstances, would impress me. As it is, we’re all swearing up a storm.
“I take it we’ve had a change of plans?” Belair opens his eyes.
I grip the rail with one hand and press his shoulder with the other.
“Not to worry, though,” Samsen says as he squats down on the other side of the Tangeen. “Apparently, we have two minutes.”
“One and a half, now,” Kaylin says casually.
“Then what?” Belair asks.
“Rapids.”
Belair groans.
“Shouldn’t we remove it under more hygienic conditions?” I ask, trying to digest everything that’s happening.
“Not with an Aturnian arrow. They do like their poisons.”
Belair groans again.
Kaylin straddles him, grips the shaft with both hands, and puts one bare foot on the Tangeen’s chest. “Exhale, mate.”
“Wait!” Belair protests.
Samsen grabs his shoulders and Kaylin yanks.
The squeal out of Belair’s mouth is ear-piercing. It rips through the rain, the rapids, and the roar of the Aturnians shouting on the distant bank.
Kaylin gestures at the horses’ hooves. “Clay from the riverbank. Quickly now.”
I know what he means before the words are out of his mouth. I lean against Rita’s shoulder and grip her shaggy fetlock. She takes the cue, braces her other three legs, and lifts her hoof. “Good girl.” Rain washes the mud off her iron shoe, and sure enough, her frog is packed with clean red clay. I unsheathe my belt knife with one hand and pry out a gooey chunk, handing it off to Kaylin.
He packs the wound and does up Belair’s coat just in time for us to hear a roar above the churning water.
“Hold on.” Kaylin can’t quite hide a smile. “It’s a bit of a ride.”
“That’s all we’re going to do?” I say. “Hold on?”
“No. We’re going to untie the horses, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“The ferry splinters into a hundred pieces and we all have to swim for it.”
The ferry pitches and drops, whitewater rapids closing in on both sides. The horses are petrified, tails tucked, heads high, and eyes rolled into the backs of their skulls. Piper and Samsen cling to the port railing, but as we crash into a standing wave, their rail rips away. Kaylin reaches out with both hands and pulls them back from the edge. They transfer their grip to Echo’s saddle and tail, while the mare stands quivering.
How the deck is in one piece, I don’t know. I lose my footing when another wave washes over us, but I have one arm wrapped around the center piling and anchor to it. When I think we have made it, the raft free-falls for several seconds then smacks down with a bang. The deck submerges, water up to my waist, before it buoys to the surface again.
And then, as if it had belonged to the raging rapids, the wind drops and the downpour fades into a drizzle.
The ferry drifts silently on a wide lake while the fading rain makes dimples in the otherwise calm surface. We’re all panting, hearts pounding. The horses gingerly shift their weight to a narrower stance and flutter out soft breaths. “We made it?” I swipe water from my face and rub my eyes.
We continue to float down the middle of the expanse, far from the misty banks and overhanging trees.
Forest birds call, like whips cracking in the distance, and bullfrogs moan on either shore, stopping abruptly when we approach only to start up again once we’ve passed. The rain trickles away to nothing, and a light fog rises from the water like steam.
“We made it,” I say, more confident this time.
Samsen slaps Kaylin on the back. “That was some ride, sailor.”
When I look down at Marcus and Belair, I realize what is gone. “The saddlebags?”
“Couldn’t hold ’em,” Marcus says.
“Our gold? The records? Everything?” Not to mention clothes and supplies and map. Piper’s healing kit.
I look to Kaylin, but he’s busy tying rope to a ring in the center of the ferry. I drop to my knees and check Belair. His eyes are round as an owl’s.
“You all right?”
He gives his head one quick nod, but I’m not sure which of us he’s trying to convince more.
I turn to Marcus. “You?”
“Sorry about the records,” he says.
“We’re alive. That’s what counts.” I rub the circulation back into his arms then suddenly stop to listen. “Do you hear that?”
His eyes close. “My heart pounding in my throat? You hear it, too?”
“No, the humming.” It grows louder and turns into a rumbling drone. I tug on Kaylin’s pant leg and he kneels beside me, eye level. His face is very close, so close I can see gold flecks embedded in the dark sea green of his eyes. “Kaylin, what am I hearing?”
He ties a thick rope around his waist. “The falls.”
“Behind us?”
“In front.”
“The Capper Point Falls?” I stand up, going on tiptoe, but can’t see beyond the calm and the mist.
“Best untack the horses, everyone, fast as you can.”
“What now?” Piper asks.
“We’re all going for a swim.” The look on Kaylin’s face makes us spring to action. Buckles and straps are hard to undo with cold, stiff hands, but I have Rita’s saddle and bridle off in good time. The others are untacked as well.
