Tarah Woodblade

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Yeah, might be a little too late for that, she replied.

  Grampa Rolf had taught her to show off her tracking skills to clients whenever possible. That was how she grew her reputation. But they had both agreed that it was best to keep the magic ability of her staff a secret. If people found out that her prowess was due to a magic item, her mystique would fade. People might even try to take the staff for themselves. As a result Tarah often found herself walking a tight line between showing off too much or too little.

  Still, she decided that it would be best to keep theatrics to a minimum with Djeri. He was too observant and if he suspected anything magical about her abilities he might talk. Dwarves had a reputation for being loud mouthed and from what Tarah had seen it was well-deserved.

  They increased their pace along the riverbank and to Djeri’s relief Neddy was well behaved, keeping up without complaint. As a result, the sun was just beginning to set when the river widened and the shallows came into view. The light caused the river to gleam with a red hue, making the waters look a lot warmer than Tarah knew they were.

  “The bridge is still here!” she looked back at the dwarf, a smile on her face.

  Djeri squinted at the water. “I don’t see it.”

  “It’s right there,” she said, pointing. “See that first board right off the shoreline?”

  “That’s your ‘bridge’?” he said, with a frown. The board extended from just above the waterline and ended at a wide flat rock. Another board continued from there to the next rock and so on across the shallows. From their angle it looked like there was an unbroken line across.

  “It’s a board bridge, like I said,” Tarah explained. “It’s just there so we don’t have to wade across. My papa and I built it years ago with treated boards we got in trade from Pinewood.”

  “Treated boards . . .” He eyed the construction distrustingly. “Even if these boards can hold my weight I don’t see how we’re getting the mule across.”

  “He’ll be fine wading. The water might be deep enough to reach his belly at times, but nothing so deep he’ll get our stuff wet. The bridge is for us.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or more specifically for you. You’re tall for a dwarf maybe, but belly high to a mule is chest high to you. And in that platemail-.”

  “I understand you,” Djeri interrupted. He was glaring at the boards now.

  As if in response to their conversation, Neddy walked to the waterline next to the first board and bent to drink. After one swallow it shivered and took a few steps back, giving them a derisive snort.

  “You’ll cross!” Tarah barked, shaking her staff at the mule. It shivered again and looked down in acquiescence. Tarah felt a little guilty about bullying the beast, but reminded herself that it knew very well when it wasn’t doing its job. “That’s better.”

  You should always be kind to beasts, Tarah, said her papa’s voice. Tarah pursed her lips at the admonition. She resolved to make it up to the mule later assuming it behaved.

  Tarah walked across the pebbled ground to the first board plank. The wood had grayed with age and greenish algae clung to the edges. She nudged it with her foot and smiled when it didn’t budge.

  “See, Djeri? Treated lumber. Pinewood’s finest!” She stepped onto the board and strode confidently up its angled surface to the first large rock. The board gave only the slightest of creaks.

  “What’s to keep it from sliding off the rock?” the dwarf asked.

  “Papa anchored each board into the rock with heavy steel spikes.” She knelt down and touched one spike, focusing on the power of her staff. Many years had passed and yet she was able to just faintly feel the purposeful thought of her papa as he had driven the spike in all those years ago. A lump grew in her throat as the memory of that day rose in her mind.

  It had been the fall of her fourteenth year. Her papa had picked out the site over the summer, choosing a place just north of where the Pinewood folk sent their logs downstream to the sawmill in Sampo. He had traded several large furs and deer skins for the wood. It had been a few months before the rot hit her father hard and he had been as hale and strong as ever. She remembered the ease in which he had dragged the heavy load through the forest.

  At the time, Tarah had felt the board bridge to be a waste of time. Sure the trip to the Sampo bridge from their home was a tough one, through thick undergrowth and the edges of the dark forest’s taint. But that was nothing she couldn’t handle. Her papa had been insistent, though. He had been watching the increase in the size and strength of the moonrats as well as their numbers and had wanted an easy escape route in case there was ever a need to flee.

  In retrospect, his forethought seemed almost prophetic. The bridge had saved Tarah’s life multiple times in the last few years. She thought back to his behavior that week and wondered if he had already noticed the first sign of the rot. Had he foreseen the possibility of his death from the disease?

  “Are you sure about leaving that thing to cross without us? What if it bolts and takes our packs and supplies with it?” Djeri asked, still standing at the shoreline. He was eying the mule warily. “Look at the way it’s hesitating at the shoreline.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Tarah assured him. “I trust him.”

  Djeri’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t trust that thing further than I’d trust a turd in the hands of a monkey.”

  Tarah turned and pointed her staff at the mule. “Go on, Neddy. Cross! Show the dwarf!”

  Shuddering, the beast stepped into the shallow water and began its way across, picking out a path among the rocks. Tarah could almost sense its discomfort as the icy water deepened, but soon it was half way across.

  Djeri rested one hand on his helmet and shook his head. “You surprise me once again, Tarah Woodblade. How did you make it do that?”

  “I didn’t do nothing. I told you he was well-trained,” Tarah replied. She started across the next board. It was just as firm as the last, even if a bit slick. She glanced back at him after reaching the next rock. “What about you, Djeri? Too scared to cross or are you as well-trained as that mule?”

  The dwarf let out a low chuckle, then took a deep breath and stepped onto the first board. When it didn’t immediately buckle under his weight, he continued along, shuffling his feet sideways. The wood creaked, but held and he made it to the first rock. He stayed there for a moment as if taking strength from the solidity of the rock before shuffling onto the next board, his arms held out in an attempt to steady himself.

  By this point, Tarah was moving with confidence. Soon she was half way across and paused as she watched Neddy reach the far shoreline. She had been fairly accurate with her estimate of the water’s depth. The mule’s belly was wet and dripping with slushy water, but their packs and supplies were dry. He stood on the bank and looked back at them, miserable but relieved.

  “Good boy!” she called and started across the last stretch of boards.

  This was where the crossing got a bit tricky. A tree had fallen into the river just south of the bridge, changing the course of the current. The water here had deepened and two of the boards sat just an inch or so above the water line. The water churned and swirled around the anchoring rocks causing occasional spray to coat the boards with a fine sheen of ice.

  Tarah didn’t notice just how slick the boards were until her feet began to slide out from under her. She reacted quickly and contorted her body, her staff held out to help her regain her balance.

  “Woah!” she said, her heart racing as she navigated the last slippery board. She was now nearly at the shore’s edge. “Watch your step, Djeri.”

  “What’s this you say?” said the dwarf in a panic and Tarah realized that his crossing had not been going as smoothly as hers. He stood at the half way point with his arms held straight out and quivering. His face was pale, his teeth clenched in an anxious grimace. “It gets worse?”

  “A little further down it gets a bit icy,” Tarah admitted with a wince. She had crossed this bridge so ma
ny times in the past that she hadn’t considered that the dwarf would find the crossing difficult. “But don’t worry. I’ll let you know before you reach that part.”

  “I hate to tell you this,” he said, slowly edging out onto the next board. “Dwarves aren’t made for this kind of bridge.” He swallowed as the board let out a loud creak. “We need a bridge made of stone or one with-!” Djeri gasped, windmilling his arms a bit. “One with at least a railing of some sort.”

  Tarah put her hands on her hips. “How can you be afraid of heights after working the Mage School wall?”

  “It isn’t heights, Woodblade,” he snapped. “This isn’t high! My problem is with these narrow blasted boards!”

  “Well it’s too late to do anything about it now,” Tarah replied. “You should’ve said something to me before now. I would’ve made you cross on the mule.”

  His fear turned to a frown as he made it to the next rock. “I would much rather swim this river than ride that beast.”

  “He’s already on the bank waiting for us,” she pointed out.

  He eyed the next two boards with trepidation. “Taking the Sampo Bridge would have been the better route.”

  She could see that now. “Okay, you’re at the slick part now. Just keep your feet squarely in the middle of the board and shuffle sideways.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing the whole time!”

  “Good. Then you’ve got practice,” she said. “Just know that now there’s a real reason to be careful.”

  “Shut up!” he said, edging onto the icy board. It bowed a little under his weight and water lapped around his boots. “This isn’t a bridge anymore. Dag-blast it! What am I saying? This never was a friggin’ bridge!”

  “Now you’re sounding like a dwarf,” Tarah remarked. “There. You’re at the rock now. One more board and you’re out of the slick part.”

  “One more board?” He stepped onto the rock and turned his glare on her. “Who told you you were a good guide? I see four more boards until I’m off this ri-!”

  He lifted his right foot to step onto the next board and his left foot slipped out from under him. His back struck the icy rock and he slid head first into the slushy water.

  “Djeri!” Tarah jumped onto the board sliding across to get to him. The dwarf came up briefly, sputtering and scrambling to find a hand hold, but the current pulled at him. The weight of his platemail and great mace drug him under.

  Tarah thrust her staff into the water. “Grab on!” The back of the dwarf’s hand brushed the staff, but he couldn’t latch on. Tarah froze, her eyes wide. He was right. What kind of guide was she? “Come on!” But his hand didn’t come back up.

  “Papa! Grampa!” She begged, but no advice was forthcoming. The dwarf was going to die and it would be her fault. “Oh blast it all,” Tarah said with a growl and jumped in after him.

  Chapter Eight

  Tarah gasped as the freezing water enveloped her, but this wasn’t her first time in the currents of the river and her papa had taught her what to do. She ignored the shock of the cold and found her footing quickly. The pool created by the downed tree reached half way up her chest. The swirling current pulled at her and Tarah dug in with her feet as she searched for the dwarf.

  He found her first. Djeri’s powerful hands latched onto her legs, threatening to drag her under. She grit her teeth, straining against the current and Djeri’s weight as he pulled himself out of the water using her armor as handholds. He wrapped his legs around her in his haste to get to the surface and her armor threatened to tear at the seams.

  “Just a blasted second!” she shouted and thrust her staff into the river bottom for extra leverage.

  The dwarf’s head broke the surface and he sputtered, “C-cold!”

  “No kidding! Just stop struggling or you’ll pull me under with you!” She glanced around. They had been pulled out towards the river’s center and there weren’t any large rocks for her to grab onto. She had to get the dwarf thinking instead of reacting. “Listen, we’re gonna have to let the current bring us back towards the shore. Can you see the way the water’s flowing?”

  Djeri turned his head and looked at the surface of the pool, gauging the circular pattern of the water’s flow. “Y-yeah. It could pull us that way if we don’t d-drown first.”

  Tarah grunted. “We’ll be fine. Just . . . for nature’s sake, put your feet down! It ain’t that deep where we’re standing!” Djeri’s legs became untangled from hers and he found that he was able to just barely keep his head above water. “Good, now work with me. We’ll make our way there one step at a time.”

  It was slow going and the intense cold made it seem like it took forever. Tarah’s limbs were numb by the time they reached the pool’s edge and they weren’t finished yet. There was still a quarter of the shallows yet to go. They continued on, dragging themselves through the last stretch. Finally, they collapsed onto the pebbled ground of the shoreline, icy water pouring from their armor.

  The dwarf turned pained eyes on her, his beard coated in slush. “I’m c-colder than a witch’s tur-tur-tur-!”

  “Yeah-yeah. I get it,” Tarah said, breathing heavily, her eyes closed. Oddly, the air entering her lungs felt warmer than her internal temperature. So tired. It would feel so good to sleep. Yes, sleep would be nice . . .

  Get moving or the cold will have you, her papa instructed. His voice was forceful, just as it had been on the day he first said the words.

  Tarah’s mind drifted into the memory. She was little then, but she couldn’t remember how old. She was kneeling by the river’s edge, one small hand plunged into a gap in the ice just as her father had instructed. The pain had been excruciating. Her papa stood next to her and as she looked up at him pleadingly, his expression had been kind, but amused.

  “Just leave your hand in a moment longer, Tarah” he said, his voice encouraging.

  Tarah grimaced. She could barely feel her hand anymore, but the cold had turned into a deep ache that ran up her arm towards her shoulder. It was as if her very bones were turning to ice. She fought back tears. “It hurts, papa!”

  “Yes, the cold hurts, Tarah. Remember that,” he said. “You can take your hand out now.”

  Tarah removed her hand from the water and stood. She stared at her hand, expecting her skin to be blue, but it was flushed red. It was difficult to move her fingers.

  Her papa knelt beside her. He had seemed so huge to her then; a hulk of a man. He was wearing his enchanted leather armor, left over from his academy days. It consisted of a leather breastplate and shoulder pauldrons, but left his muscular arms bare.

  He reached out and took her frozen hand in both of his. His hands felt like hot coals as he looked at her with serious eyes. His eyes were so blue. His familiar voice was deep and comforting. “If you ever fall into water cold like this, your whole body’ll feel like your hand just did. If that happens, get out quick as you can. Just keep your head. Swim the same way you would if the water was warm. Lots of folks panic and drown in the cold. That ain’t happening to you.”

  “Yes, papa,” she said.

  “Good. Now get up and get moving,” he said, giving her an approving smile. “Come on. You can’t lay there and expect to survive.”

  “What?” Her nose wrinkled. What was he talking about? She was standing already. Or was she? She felt hard earth beneath her back. When had she laid down? Her papa’s face began to blur. The world around her faded until all she could see was his blue eyes.

  Get moving, Tarah. Get warm! Her father’s voice commanded, but it was as if he were far away. What was wrong? Something wet and hot slid across her face. It hurt. Was her face on fire?

  Her mind was jolted back to the present and her eyes fluttered open to see the mule’s breath steaming in front of her face. “Gah, Neddy!” He licked her again with his fire-like tongue and she frowned at him, sensing his amusement. They had made him wade across the cold river, but the people were the ones that laid frozen on the ground. �
�It’s not funny.”

  She struggled to sit up. Her papa was right. She needed to get moving. Her limbs protested, but she forced her body to stand, using her staff to keep herself propped up. Blast, but her armor was heavy!

  She looked back at the dwarf. He was lying on the bank, still breathing heavily, his eyes droopy with exhaustion. She didn’t blame him, but he needed to get moving too.

  “You strong enough to get up, dwarf?” Tarah asked. “Or do you need me to toss you on Neddy’s back?”

  Djeri scowled and rolled over. “I’m fine,” he said, his lips pressed to the mud. He slowly shoved against the pebbled ground and pushed himself to his knees. “I’m a dwarf. I’m finer than fine. I could carry that mule if I had to.” He winced as he stood, then folded his arms and gave her a firm look. “How about you, Woodblade? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  “Tarah Woodblade doesn’t fall over,” she replied and at just that moment her legs wobbled. She clutched her staff, hoping fervently that the dwarf wouldn’t end up having to carry her. She told herself it would be okay. Surely her blood would warm once she started walking. “Come on. There’s gonna be a freeze tonight and we need to get dry. I know a good spot close by.”

  Close by was a bit of an exaggeration. The sun had slipped below the tree line and the spot Tarah hoped to reach was almost a mile away, which in her condition might as well have been ten. She started down the narrow trail she and her father had used so many times over the years, grateful that this part of the forest was so familiar to her, because it was hard to think. Neither of them bothered to lead the mule anymore. Neddy followed behind them on his own.

  Tarah’s boots sloshed as she led the way. Djeri walked right behind her, grunting, his suit of armor sounding like it was full of water instead of a dwarf. Tarah shook her head. She could only imagine how much heavier his armor had gotten with all the padding soaked. Her own armor felt like it had absorbed half the river. She kept a steady pace and some strength began to return to her limbs, though she was shivering uncontrollably.