by Aldrea Alien
Authril eyed the cup as if it might savage her. “That you formed out of nothing.”
“Not nothing. Out of the water in the air.” He flung his arm wide, slopping water. “The same water that makes our rain, that fills lakes and the river.”
She screwed up nose. “I refuse to drink it.”
“Leave her be, Dylan,” Tracker said. The hound had halted behind him and now gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “She will not be so easily swayed. And since someone is feeling so very precious…” The man snatched up a couple of the waterskins.
Authril frowned at the hound, but whatever opinion she was about to voice was swiftly overrun as Tracker continued to speak.
“I believe we might have passed a suitable place just a little ways back. A stream, perhaps. Dylan and myself should be more than capable of refilling the waterskins and returning before dusk.”
“See?” the warrior snapped. “There’s water nearby anyway.”
Marin shrugged. “All right. Take the lines, too, see if you can’t catch something whilst you’re there. And shout if you need help.”
“I doubt you will be able to hear us, my dear hunter, but I shall certainly seek your aid if it comes to that.” Jerking his head at Dylan in a silent order of follow, the man set out towards this stream.
They walked through the forest in silence with Tracker picking their way carefully, although the lack of talk wasn’t through any choice on Dylan’s part. Whenever he opened his mouth to ask where they were headed—for they certainly hadn’t come this direction earlier—the hound would press a finger to his lips.
Eventually, a low hissing greeted Dylan’s ears. The sound grew, putting him in the mind of a stream falling over a lip of rock in its path. Only on a far bigger scale. Had Tracker been listening for it?
Tracker picked up the pace, aiming for the sound and Dylan followed. The noise continued to get louder.
The shimmer of light caught Dylan’s eye. He thought little of it at first. There was often a multitude of fantailed birds flitting through the undergrowth at this time of day, especially when they disturbed the insects. Upon the fourth little gleam, Dylan gave in to his curiosity and pushed aside the low branch of a willow in his path.
A stream, shallow and translucent, trickled through the undergrowth. He halted at where the water looked deep enough to dip their waterskins into. “Guess we can forget about fishing, huh?” When he was greeted with no answer, Dylan glanced up to find Tracker still walking upstream towards the unending hiss. “Track?”
The hound only ushered him to keep up.
Dylan followed, a little apprehensive as the sound began to drown out the insects and the bird calls, both of which he now realised he’d rather grown used to. “What is it?” he whispered. Had the hound spotted something dangerous? More bandits? A boar? A bear? Tirglas had bears. He didn’t think they’d venture halfway across the continent, but with his luck…
Chuckling, Tracker patted his arm. “Do not look so frightened.” He pushed past a rather large fern and seemed to disappear for a moment. “Come.”
The trees opened out as Dylan joined the man on the other side of the foliage. A cliff stood proud on the opposite side and from it streamed a waterfall several horse lengths wide. The water pooled before them, taking up much of the clearing. Ferns and bushes crept up the cliff face, framing the cascading water in lush greenery.
Dylan halted at the water’s edge. The pool was wide enough that he was safe from the spray. He breathed in the refreshing scent lingering in the air. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. He’d read about waterfalls, even seen a few sketches in the tower library, but no mere image could compare to the raw power flowing before him.
Feeling watched, he turned from the sight to find Tracker’s gaze on him and a soft quirk to the man’s mouth.
Tracker jerked his head around the moment their eyes locked. Clearing his throat, he hastened to unwind the fishing line. “I do not fancy our chances of catching anything big enough to bother with, but…” One by one, he cast the lines, securing them to a tree branch overhanging the river. “Perhaps we will get lucky, yes?”
Dylan grimaced at the thought. Whilst his stomach hadn’t objected to the eel they’d caught a few day’s back anywhere near as violently as it had to fish, his mouth was in no doubt about never trying it again.
They picked their way around the water’s edge, Tracker taking the lead, until they came across a shallow spot. Tracker dumped his burden of waterskins near the edge and immediately set about refilling them with Dylan lazily following suit.
He eyed the hound as the man corked the last one. They were perhaps truly alone for the first time since searching the tower. Now would be a good time to mention the chink the man’s magical defence.
Or was it? He knew little of how the hound’s natural protection worked. And whilst the pebbles and leaves had indeed struck Tracker, they clearly couldn’t have hurt him. He’d done nothing that could be construed as dangerous. Perhaps it was time to increase the strength of his so-called attacks.
Dylan turned his attention to the water. He’d never manipulated any large bodies of water, or done it much at all beyond a few small funnels, but surely doing so couldn’t be much harder than manipulating bathwater.
He pushed against the pool’s flow. It was a gentle trickle, no doubt feeding the stream further back, but it fought him nevertheless. Still, he eventually coaxed a wavelet in their direction. A hump formed on the surface, leaving tiny ripples that could be mistaken for a large fish just under the surface. The water hump rushed towards where the hound was still squatting near the water’s edge.
One final shove of his magic was all it took to have the hump rear out of the water and splash over the hound. Dylan maintained the funnel for as long as he could before his laughter got the better of him. He clutched at his sides. He’d hoped to remain innocent-looking in the face of this, but witnessing the usually graceful man flailing as he fell flat on his backside was too much.
Tracker jumped to his feet, spluttering and dripping, the very second that the water stopped. “Dylan!” he growled, whirling on him. His braid snapped around, smacking him in the arm. “That was a foolish waste of—” His eyes widened in shock. “Oh… It has finally occurred to you, yes?”
Still doubled over, his sides hurting, Dylan tilted his head to get a better look at the man’s face through all his hair. Finally? “You knew?”
The hound waved his hand about before he started to undo his belts. “Somewhere, deep in the past, it was discovered and subsequently hushed by eradicating any spellster who knew. We are taught that, if we must engage when dealing with one of you, we are to make it quick. No goading, no taunts. Just… quick.” His jerkin hit the ground with a slap and he started to wrestle with the laces of his trousers. “We are not meant to give you a chance to figure it out.”
“So, now that I have?” Dylan took a hesitant step towards the man. His gaze flicked to where the majority of Tracker’s weaponry lay. Surely if the hound was supposed to kill him, he’d be dead by now. “What are you going to do?”
Tracker abandoned his trousers to pull off his sodden undershirt and wring out much of the water. “I would recommend you do not let anyone else know.”
“You’re not going to reprimand me, then?”
“I could think up a suitable punishment for you later, if you insist, but other than that, no.” The hound smirked. “Unless, of course, you intend to persist with your little game of irritating me. You are to blame for the multitude of tiny annoyances I have suffered today, yes?”
Dylan bowed low. “Guilty.”
“And you are also going to dry my clothes.”
He started nodding when an altogether wickeder thought came to mind. “Or you could walk back to camp naked?”
In one swift movement, the hound wrapped his arm, still clammy from the drenching, around Dylan’s waist and pulled them tight. “I could also throw you in the water.”
<
br /> Dylan glanced out to the pool’s surface. The main body of it looked deeper than he was tall. “I’ll pass.” When he turned his attention back to Tracker, he found the man staring out at the waterfall, his expression vacant. “Something on your mind?”
Tracker visibly started, releasing him. “Huh? Oh, I was just thinking. I do not suppose you know how to swim?”
“I’d say the answer to that was pretty obvious.” Before their stint in the tavern bathhouse, the deepest body of water he’d seen had been the knee-deep tubs in the tower that everyone bathed in.
The hound pointed at the falling water. “See that dark patch under the jutting rock? Where the water falls straight down?”
Dylan immediately identified the piece the man spoke of. Unlike the rest of the waterfall, which ran down the cliff side in little steps, there was a portion that ran relatively straight. He nodded.
“That’s likely to be a cave. I was thinking we could investigate before it gets too dark.” He shrugged. “If you do not mind trying?”
“You really think that’s a cave?” He grinned. “This is an excuse to have me strip, right?”
Tracker laughed, the sound light and merry, as he hauled off his boots. “I need no excuse for that.”
Dylan eyed the water and its gentle current. Like the stream, it was clear. Nothing seemed to lurk in it beyond small fish. Still… “Shouldn’t we be wary of things in the water?”
The hound paused in pulling down his trousers. “You are afraid the fish will nibble your toes?”
“Actually, I was thinking something bigger. And reptilian.” There’d been several large volumes in the tower’s library dictating the dangerous creatures that lurked within places just like this, the most notable being big lizards with sharp teeth that dragged hapless victims to a watery grave.
Tracker shook his head. “If the land was further south, perhaps. There is nothing in Demarn waters but fish and eels.” As if desiring to prove his point, the hound ran at the pool, leaping into the water with a mighty splash.
Not wanting to be outdone, Dylan quickly stripped himself of his clothes, tossing them far from the water’s edge. He walked to where the land sloped into the water and dipped a foot in. Coolness soaked his ankle. He shuddered, hedging back. “Maybe another time.”
The hound laughed. He swam closer, beaching himself on the pebbles near the edge. “Are we afraid of a little cold water?” Tracker slapped the surface, sending up a frigid spray.
Dylan flinched, summoning a small shield to ward off the droplets.
“You have to get wet sometime.” Tracker smirked, one brow twitching. “I could always steal your clothes. Make them as damp as you made mine, yes?”
“Fine,” Dylan muttered. “I’m coming in.” He stepped into the water, shuffling his way along the ground. A muddy cloud grew in his wake.
Tracker slid back out into the middle of the pool.
Slowly, the water level grew deeper, running further and further up his skin. It hit his groin, the coldness tearing a gasp from his throat. He held his breath, waiting for his body to become acclimatised.
Eventually, he stood shoulder-deep in the pool.
The hound bobbed ahead of him, smiling. His feet, not quite touching the bottom, moved in a lazy walking motion. One long finger crooked, beckoning Dylan onwards. “Come on.” Tracker offered his hand. “You are perfectly safe with me.”
Dylan took another step. His head disappeared under the surface. He popped back up, gasping and flailing. Strong arms grabbed him, keeping him from submerging again.
“Easy,” Tracker murmured into his ear. “Thrashing around will only make you sink faster. Put your feet down and stand up.”
Dylan obeyed and rose out of the water by a foot. “Oh.”
“It will be deeper by the waterfall. We could make it if you stay close to me, but if you would prefer not to, I will understand.”
He eyed the shadowy area. Now that they were closer, it definitely looked like there was space behind the curtain of water. “No, I…” He scrubbed his face and spat out the slight grit that covered his teeth. “I want to try.”
“Then I will begin teaching you how to swim.” Warm, wet hands clung to him. “Which will first require you to float. I need to tip you on your back, all right?”
“I’m not sure that’d be a good—”
“You are scared, yes?” He caressed Dylan’s face. “You must let go of these fears or they will drag you under. Relax and trust me. I do not intend to let you drown, I swear.”
Dylan let himself go lax in the man’s arms. Tracker moved him slowly, tipping his shoulders back. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, prepared for the inevitable slip beneath the surface. His head sunk partially until water filled his ears and threw the world into a murky, echoing realm. Hips, chest, thighs, arms… they surfaced, balanced as the hound moved around Dylan, adjusting as he went.
Finally, Tracker’s touch withdrew, leaving Dylan cradled by the water.
He’d only been taking shallow breathes, now he slowly let it all out in one long sigh. He drifted on the lazy current with Tracker bobbing at his side, helping whenever Dylan felt himself sinking. It took a few tries, but he eventually managed to stay afloat on his own.
Tracker swam a lap around him. He moved as if born to the water, his passage kicking up very little disturbance. “See?” His voice was muffled, the words just understandable. “Not so difficult once you get the hang of it.”
Dylan lifted his head to watch the man, instantly regretting it as his backside sunk. “Where did you learn to swim?”
The hound halted at his side, gently guiding him back to being horizontal. “The sea. In my youth, I harboured fantasies of joining a Talfaltaner crew and sailing the ocean. Perhaps even becoming a pirate.”
“Did you ever try?”
“No.” Even with the water in Dylan’s ears, the word was harsh. “Now, seeing I cannot float you to the waterfall, try kicking your legs.”
Dylan did. A few strokes and his lazy drifting travel suddenly became a little faster. A small smile tweaked his lips, quivering with more than a sliver of fear. He was swimming. Actually swimming. He kicked a little harder, flinging water everywhere but also increasing the speed in which he drifted.
His legs objected after a short while, forcing him to resume floating. He lifted his head, trying to spy the hound and finding the man bobbing in the water not too far away. “How’s that?”
“A little inelegant,” Tracker replied as he swam up to Dylan’s side. “But I would certainly class it as a start. However, we cannot be about this for too long if we want to be back at camp before sunset.” The hound slowly tipped him upright. “Let us try something a little more advanced.”
Dylan shook his head to clear the water from his ears, then slicked his hair back from his face. He eyed the waterfall, his heart racing at the thought of venturing out into the deeper section of the pool. “I’m ready.”
Keeping his chin above the surface, Dylan splashed and kicked his way through the water. Whilst he’d been fine with Tracker holding his hands and gently tugging him forwards as Dylan kicked, swimming on his own was a lot harder than the hound made it look. The timing of his breathing was always that little bit off, leaving him to either swallow a mouthful of water or hold his breath until he exploded to the surface gasping.
Eventually, he forwent putting his head under the surface and opted to attempt mimicking the same arm movements as the man only to end up clawing across the pool. His feet kept kicking just beneath him and water sprayed everywhere, but he moved forwards.
At his back, Tracker laughed. “What is this? I told you to keep your body flush with the surface. Not whatever you are doing.” There was a flash of bronze as the man sped by to pop up closer to the waterfall. “You look like a dog.”
“It works, doesn’t it?” Dylan shot back, spitting out mouthfuls of water. “Do you want to show me this cave before sunset or not?”
&nb
sp; Shaking his head, Tracker swam a little closer. “At the speed you are travelling, it will be night before you get there. Come.” He clasped Dylan’s hands and towed him. “Just keep kicking.”
Biting back the flare of defiance welling in his gut, Dylan allowed the man to escort him across the pool. The closer they came to the waterfall, the harder it became to focus on staying afloat. A deafening roar filled his ears. The spray all but blinded him.
Tracker released his hold, leaving Dylan to tread water. “Wait here!” he yelled, his voice barely audible.
Dylan nodded. He threw up a dense shield and realised his folly as the current pushed him further from their destination. With a little extra attention, he turned the usually complete ball into a hemisphere. It was harder to hold and he had to constantly adjust it whilst trying to stay in the same spot, but it kept much of the chaos surrounding the waterfall at bay whilst he waited.
Hardening the shield slightly muffled the waterfall’s roar. The spray already coated the barrier, turning the view filmy. How did it look from the outside? Would anyone stumbling upon this place see a man floating in a strange bubble? Or was there enough water that they’d not even notice him?
Tracker bobbed up next to him. “So—”
Dylan jerked back, almost losing his hold on the shield as he flailed ineptly in the water. It wasn’t long before the hound grabbed him, steadying him enough to right himself.
“Sorry,” Tracker said. “Are you certain you can manage all right?”
Spitting out a mouthful of water, Dylan nodded. It wasn’t as if they could come back another day, or even a little while later. If he was to see this cave, then it’d have to be now.
“Very well. We are going this way.” The hound cocked his head, indicating to the left of the waterfall, before once again taking up Dylan’s hands and towing him. “There appears to be an entrance of sorts. And an old path. Submerged, of course, but…” Tracker’s voice became lost to the roar of the waterfall as they neared.
