Rivers Run Red (The Morhudrim Cycle Book 1)
Page 44
It wasn’t really Morten’s fault but that didn’t stop her anger at him, Stama and Lucky too. Why had they let that…that…well whatever the hells he was… past. It didn’t make sense and they had no explanation for it. Mercy did though; she had an explanation for everything. Compulsion she called it; a spell of some type. But Nihm didn’t want to hear that either; she didn’t want excuses.
Ma was gone, her anchor, one of two fixed points that had shaped her life, given it meaning and context. Everything, Marron was everything to her and she hadn’t even realised it, not really. Just took it all for granted.
A sob escaped her. She gritted her teeth knowing Morten was aware of her distress and worried for her. He didn’t look but she could tell by how he sat and the tension in his body. She didn’t want his sympathy. By all the gods why did it hurt so much?
Sai must be learning she thought, he didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure when she started to think of Sai as a he, probably from the start. Sai seemed amused at the idea or puzzled; it was hard to tell sometimes. He explained that the male/female convention was not relevant and to gender stereotype as such was needless, Sai was neither. Not knowing what gender stereotyping was Sai had explained it in different ways at different times and Nihm understood it, really she did but still couldn’t bring herself to think of Sai as an it; it just felt wrong somehow. So arbitrarily Sai was a he whether he liked it or not.
Gods why was she thinking about this shit, she should be thinking about Ma. But she couldn’t, not all the time. Her sense of loss was mind numbing. It left her feeling wrung out. And Da, he wouldn’t know she was gone. Nihm’s hand rose, covering her mouth as she bit into her lip. Gone and he didn’t know, the thought reverberated around her brain, the empty ball of numbness in her chest spiralling down crushing her spirit. Another thought, illicit, cruel; maybe he’s dead and gone too. Maybe she was all alone. It was there, unbidden and in her head before she could stop it. She screamed inside. She was so tired.
She didn’t reply, she didn’t have the energy and Sai didn’t press her. Ash and Snow padded along next to the wagon. They were all she had left of home, that and the trunk in the back and what did a trunk matter.
Lucky and Stama had buried Thunder's body. They didn’t ask, just knew it had to be done whether for her or to take them away from their own failure to find Marron, who knew. Nihm didn’t care. She sat with Thunder’s head in her lap stroking his face as the two men dug. In death he looked smaller, as if some essence had gone leaving the body behind to fall in on itself.
They hadn’t found Maise either, though they’d looked hard. She was gone with no sign. Nihm knew she was dead too, gone to join Marron. Her Ma had both Thunder and Maise from pups, Maise wouldn’t leave her. Not like me Nihm thought bitterly a tear falling slowly down her cheek.
An image sprang to mind then, a memory of Bear lying dead, Marron and Darion laying him in a grave much like the one they had just dug for Thunder. Only Bear's had been under the shade of an apple tree back at home.
Nihm was five. Bear had been fiercely protective of her, big shaggy and formidable. She had cried her eyes out, sobbing uncontrollably. Bindu, Bear's pup, sat at her feet whining her distress. The memory was so clear. “It’s good to cry Nihm.” Marron said hugging her. So vivid she could feel her Ma’s arms around her squeezing gently and stroking her hair. “Bear’s spirit will be looking down at you now and will be sad. She loved you and would be upset to see you so distraught, don’t you think? Be sad for a while but don’t carry it with you too long. Bear wouldn’t want that. She lived a good life and you would honour her to do the same.”
Looking up she saw Mercy and Lucky riding ahead and could tell even from behind that Mercy was exhausted. The weary slump of her shoulders, the head drooped forward and the almost languid way she sat her horse was evidence enough.
Nihm didn’t need to look behind to know Stama trailed the wagon. If she concentrated, she could hear the tread of his horse and the creak of his riding leathers. And behind Stama the wheeled passage of the red priest’s carriage and further back still the rattle of the blacksmith’s horse and cart, a small disparate convoy travelling under a sombre cloud. It amazed Nihm how sharp and clear her hearing was. Whatever Sai had done had been profound.
A distant roaring of thunder became apparent and grew steadily louder. As their wagon rounded a bend buildings appeared in the distance. Fallston lay ahead, where the Oust plunged to the lake below.
Morten explained earlier, in an attempt to draw Nihm out of her dark mood, that Fallston marked where the river fell away dropping down into the Reach below and that Fallston itself was a large settlement split in two.
The smaller sat atop the falls and housed the docks and stores for handling all the river freight from Redford and Thorsten in the north. It was rather unimaginatively called Upper Fallston although the locals just called it the Uppers.
The main settlement, where most lived and worked, stood at the base with their own set of docks and warehouses. Morten, thinking Nihm disinterested, hadn’t explained further.
It was true she had been unresponsive, but Nihm did hear even if she wasn’t listening. Could recall every word if she wanted, Morten’s tone and the inflexion in his voice even the disappointment at her lack of interest. She heard it all, remembered it all but just couldn’t find it in herself to care.
Drawing near they could make out several floating docks abutting the river bank with piers jutting out into the river. A large flotilla of boats and river craft were tied alongside, all empty given how high they rode in the water. There was no activity on any of them.
Shore side were a plethora of buildings, mostly homes, although there was a wooden palisade near the docks and larger buildings that must have been warehousing.
They followed the road between the loosely organised rows of houses and into town. Many people were milling about and most gave only a cursory glance at them as they trundled past.
At the palisade they were stopped as a guard signalled them and wandered out to block their passage. The man looked lean, old and gnarled but despite that moved easily enough.
“Hail folks,” he croaked voice like gravel. Probably too much drink if his red veined cheeks were anything to go by, Nihm observed.
“Hail yourself.” Lucky said. “Looking for an inn for the night. Are there any you recommend?”
“You’ll find nought in town,” the old guard said wandering to the side and looking past them, back down the road.
“You with them Reds?” he asked. With a hoick he spat a fat wad of phlegm onto the ground then cocked his head waiting for an answer.
“Nope, just travelling in the same direction is all.”
“Pity for you then; the Red Father has lodgings at the Angler’s Reach. Ain’t nowhere in town with any room. Whole place is packed to bursting. Folks’ve come from the north constant like fer two days. Black Crow putting fear of the seven hells in them it seems to me.”
“Aye, with good reason,” Mercy said. “Found evidence a few leagues back of people butchered on the road. How many guards do you have here?” she asked.
“Butchered ya say? No doubt by these yurak folks is speakin’ of.” Nihm heard the scepticism in his voice. “You best speak to Lord Menzies. Be in the town hall this time a day. He’ll answer you or no ‘bout any questions ya may have. Follow the road round. It’ll take you down into the town proper,” the guard waved them by.
“Thank you,” Mercy replied. “Keep your sword sharp and your eyes peeled to the north, best prepared for nothing than not at all.”
“Eh,” he responded, a hand idly scratching his arse. But Mercy had moved on, her horse stepping past him and through the gates.
“She means keep careful watch to the north.” Lucky offered. “Peace to you friend.” He moved off following after Mercy.
“Aye you too,” the old guard said before muttering under his breath. “Keep watch he says? Bloody idiot, what does it look like I do eh?”
With a snap of the reins, and a click of his tongue Morten urged the horses on and the wagon lurched into motion. They followed the road through the warehousing and loading docks and out the other side of the palisade. After a short time they started a gentle descent, the wagon swinging around as it followed the road away from the river and down into Fallston.
Mercy checked her horse allowing the wagon to draw alongside. “We’ll ride through town and make camp outside since there are no rooms to be had. We can buy provisions on the way through.”
Nihm gave no acknowledgment, staring straight ahead. Her speech had improved to the point she could make herself understood, but to her own ears she sounded like a simpleton and she was in no mood to talk.
“Sure, may as well get more feed for the horses if we get the chance,” Morten said seeing that Nihm wasn’t going to reply.
Mercy glanced to the sky and the grey leaden clouds slowly filling it from the east. A freshening breeze tugged at her hair.
“Rain is moving in again.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Nudging her horse's flanks she re-joined Lucky on the road up ahead.
There were few houses on the descent between the Uppers and Fallston but as the road curled back around on itself they became more frequent. So it was that as the road levelled off into Fallston proper it was hard to tell where the township started. Fallston was a good sized town, its streets full of people, most of them appearing to be travellers and refugees.
It should have excited Nihm’s natural curiosity but it didn’t. Instead she was eager to leave the press of humanity behind, finding the streets crowded and oppressive. It was hard to think with so much noise.
It’s difficult to wallow when you can’t hear yourself think. The thought came unbidden and was so unexpected she wasn’t sure it was her own. She said nothing, couldn’t argue the sentiment whether it came from Sai or not.
Mercy led them on a slow journey through town. The influx of refugees fleeing the north packed the streets and there was an underlying panic that permeated the place. At one point, they passed the docks and were held up by the sheer press of people. The atmosphere was thick, the mood depressed and angry with too many people trying to barter passage on the few boats that remained.
“What’s wrong with that one?” Nihm heard a cry and watched a man jab his finger at a large skiff lying in a cradle on the dockside.
“It’s holed, ain’t been repaired yet and not likely to neither, shipwright left this morning,” replied a stout man. He looked harried. “Best advice is walk to Longstretch. You may find passage there if you’re lucky or you can wait till the morrow and hope the boats from Longstretch come. Personally I’d use me feet and walk. Start early you should make Longstretch an hour after nightfall. That’s what I be doing.”
A space opened up before them and they moved off, leaving the two men behind.
It was with darkening skies as the sun fell to the horizon that they finally cleared the town’s eastern limits. There was no wall or guard station delineating the town's border; just a gradual dwindling of houses giving way to fields and grasslands.
Even here Nihm couldn’t escape the press of humanity. Camps had been set up with makeshift awnings and tents. A few wagons and carts were spread amongst them but the majority of people had travelled from the north by river or simply on foot with whatever they could carry.
"It’ll be a long walk south for most of them," Morten commented.
Mercy led them further east as the road followed the Reach, its waters a dark turquoise in the failing light, until the meadow fields cleared of people.
Pulling off into the long grass they made camp. They had travelled for three days together and had settled into a routine with it which helped, since given the subdued atmosphere no one was minded to talk. Once the camp was set, Mercy called them together.
“I’m heading back into town. See if I can’t find this Menzies,” Mercy announced. A part of Nihm admired her tenacity. The mage looked tired, dark circles blackening her eyes, her dirty face accentuating her scar. There was a time Nihm would have begged to go with her. Was that really only a few days ago? Instead she watched silently as Mercy rode off, Lucky at her side.
A cold nose brushed against Nihm’s side. Ash whined and looked up with big amber eyes, nudging his head under her hand. Nihm scratched his scalp and pulled his big soft ears. Snow, sat on her haunches directly in front, looked expectantly at her. It was like Nihm’s heart suddenly sighed.
“Coome om ten,” she stuttered. Their simplicity was compelling, their need and love so fundamental and unconditional that she had no answer to it. It just was.
Gripping Morten’s staff Nihm turned slowly and methodically shuffled her way to the back of the wagon. The tailgate was lowered. Morten it seemed had anticipated her need or maybe the dogs for he had left the sack bag on the gate board. He’d taken to feeding the dogs since she wasn’t able to and it had allowed Marron more time with her.
The thought of her Ma made her pause in melancholy. Was it always going to be this way? It was crippling. The camp seemed so empty without her. It wasn’t though. A whine at her side from both dogs wouldn’t let her be. They’d smelt the bag and knew what it contained.
Leaning against the wagon for support she fumbled with the bag, her fingers struggling with the tie. The dogs drooled at her feet, tongues lolling in anticipation. Ash unable to sit still turned in circles, excited and Nihm couldn’t help the crooked smile that came unbidden to her face.
Snow ever the more patient of the two dogs was more contained but her eyes never left Nihm, following her hands and fingers as she struggled. Finally, loosening the tie Nihm pulled the sack open, immediately screwing up her nose. The smell was… pungent. Inside the remains of yesterday’s meal, two large coneys Stama had taken with his bow. There was some meat left on the bones but that was it, the offal having already fed the dogs the previous evening.
Pulling the carcasses out Nihm dropped them on the ground. The dogs snapped them up one each and wandered off in different directions with their spoils.
Nihm watched them go, pleased at their simple joy, and jealous of it at the same time. For herself she just felt empty.
Chapter 63
: Goodbyes
Renco rose before first light as was usual, to carry out his forms alongside Master Hiro. His head still smarted, aching with a dull persistence that he struggled to shake off but he made no mention of it. Complaining about it to master was akin to arguing with a rock, totally pointless. A lesson he’d learnt the first week of his apprenticeship.
Renco found his forms oddly compelling. He could lose himself in them, his body knowing the movements and flowing into each without thought. It allowed his mind to clear which helped his focus and promoted inner calm. He often found solutions to problems his master had set him after practising his forms, even if he wasn’t consciously thinking about them.
The forms were a solitary experience, mi
nd and body working in synchrony. He felt completeness and at peace with himself. It allowed him to leave any worries and just exist, if only for a while. Master called it finding your centre, a concept most found strange or struggled to understand. The forms were more than that though. Performed correctly they taught control of the body, not just movement but breathing and heart rate, thought and mind. It allowed the senses to grow and expand, crucial for opening up and connecting to the flow.
Renco was just a small boy who had lost everything when Hiro saved him. Broken and traumatised he'd clung to Master Hiro like a drowning man to a piece of flotsam in a flood.
At that time all he wanted was to please Hiro, scared the old man would discard him if he didn’t. He hadn’t though and Renco had felt his master’s ire enough over the intervening years to know it had been an unfounded worry. It took him many years, a lot of frustration and much ire of his own to fully grasp what master taught of the forms and the flow. And the first time it had happened, the first time he had snapped had been surreal. It was the happiest he could recall ever seeing Master Hiro who cavorted about like a little boy.
For Renco it was bittersweet. Sweet, because when it happened it was quick, effortless and natural. His world changed in that instant. It was like seeing the entire cosmos in the brightness of day; awe inspiring, humbling and scary as fuck. Bitter because it was gone too soon, slipping away as quickly as it had come.
Fuck. It was the vulgarity of that simple word that brought him out of his exercise. It was incongruous and out of place for him. Lett’s words of the night before sounded in his mind. “You don’t have to stay with that vicious old goat. Fuck him.” He found it strange that her words gave him such a warm feeling, even if she was wholly wrong about Master Hiro.
Renco went for a swim to wash his body and clear his head. It helped immensely, the cold water invigorating. Lett followed him down to the river but declined when he signed for her to join him. It was the first time he’d seen her blush and it took him a slow minute to realise why. Grinning to himself Renco dunked his head beneath the water to hide his own glowing cheeks.