Captain Trendmore, who had been checking on the men, returned. “It would seem our plans have changed,” he said.
Captain Brodst shook his head, at times it seemed as if Captain Trendmore could read minds. “No, nothing has changed.” He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation, so he spoke tersely.
“With Princess Adrina in such a state—”
“—You are forgetting one thing, we haven’t even reached Fraddylwicke Castle yet. For now, I will change no plans.”
“The Prince’s party will not leave Quashan’ until the Seventhday, that gives us a week to reach our destination. A day’s rest will be good for everyone.”
“Less than a week. At the rate we are traveling, we are already a day or more behind schedule. We will obtain as many fresh mounts as we can and continue south in the morning as planned, unless I decide otherwise.”
“Surely you do not intend to leave the Princess and continue on.”
Captain Brodst turned away, ending the conversation.
Father Jacob finished his examination of Adrina. He told Captain Brodst her condition had not worsened. After more blankets were wrapped around her, Captain Brodst gave the order to prepare for movement.
Before Father Jacob went to his mount, he told Captain Brodst, “Try not to jostle her so. I know you wish to move swiftly, but you must exercise caution. I do not know what bones she may have broken.”
“Thank you, Father Jacob, I will try to remember that.”
Captain Brodst waited until Jacob was in the saddle then called out, “The princess’ condition has not worsened. There is still hope, but we must move swiftly. Pray to Great-Father, all!”
With renewed vigor after the short reprieve and the captain’s enthusiastic words, the riders began anew. The ground did not level off immediately after the last of the hills were left behind. Instead it seemed to slope gradually downward, its base enveloped in a bank of swirling mists.
Captain Brodst passed a warning along to the riders at the fore. “Watch the trail before you carefully!”
With great reservation and careful hesitation, they entered the gray veil of dense fog a second time. He hoped it would last only until they crossed the shallow point at the bottom of the long downgrade. For an instant he turned his eyes to look down upon Adrina to make sure his heavy woolen cloak was still pulled tightly around her.
“Soon,” he said, “soon, we will stop. Rest, princess, rest.”
Suddenly, the crying whinnies of a frightened mare broke the air followed by the frantic yelling of the lead rider as he jerked harshly on his mount’s reins. “Captain Brodst, captain! Quickly!” the rider shouted.
The others behind him came to a similarly abrupt halt. Captain Brodst urged his mount faster and raced to the front of the group. He was amazed at what he saw as he approached the first rider. Ahead in the distance he could see nothing but water and loose patches of dense fog. The road was gone, apparently washed away. His fears rang true.
A voice reached out into the darkness seeming to stir even the hidden creatures of the mire. “Bring up torches!” Captain Brodst cried out. “Hurry, you louts!”
A large gaggle of men stormed toward the captain. They raised their fiery brands high into the air. The only response to this was a scattered reflection off the water, a dingy yellow mirror of dull orange torch flames.
“It is only an illusion of the fog. The road is washed out at the bottom of the trail nothing more. You there, and you, move out!” He ordered.
Those he pointed to shrank back and his scowl deepened.
“Mount and ride out into the water,” he ordered again, this time he pointed to two palace guardsmen and made sure he had eye contact with them. “The trail must be there. Find it and be quick about it!”
The chosen two entered the dreadful darkness of the lurking waters with reverent care. Movements of their horses were slow and sluggish as the animals fought for every step through the sticky goo of the mire.
They passed through layer upon layer of swirling gray. It seemed dark waters stretched on endlessly before them with no hope of an end. Their mounts began to sink deeper into the muck with each step. Soon the animals, having better sense than the riders, refused to move further without constant coaxing and even then, they became disquieted and whinnied their disapproval.
The chosen two respected the keen sense of their mounts. When the yearning for a retreat out of the gloom became stronger than the urge to continue, they came to a frustrated halt.
They puzzled for a moment over possible solutions, then attempted to maneuver in different directions but to no avail. Their mounts only got more bogged down. Soon they would not be able to escape the mire’s yearning grasp. And if strong beasts could not break free neither could simple men. The road simply was not there.
“Cap-tain… Cap-tain Brodst,” screamed one of the men. “Sir, there is only water ahead. We are sinking into the mire… We cannot continue.”
“You must continue. We must reach the castle… There is a path, find it!”
“But Captain,” said the other rider, “we cannot go any farther. We will be lost.”
“You must try, there is hope. Do not give up so soon. Push forward!”
The two bravely forced their mounts into movement. With each step the animals sank deeper and deeper into the mud. Soon cold waters lapped at the riders’ boots and then there was no retreat backwards or forwards. They were completely stuck.
Kicked, swatted and cursed at, the horses felt the frustration of their riders and it caused them to panic. The scene quickly turned to turmoil, with neither rider retaining a clear mind capable of rational thought. Desperation fed their frenzied movements and their crazed thoughts.
Panic-stricken screams reached those waiting behind and created an alarm. No one knew what caused such desperation. Had something as black and as grim as the mire found the unsuspecting two? Was it waiting for them all out there in the swirling gray mists?
Captain Brodst called out, “What has happened? Do you need our assistance?”
He paused for a moment waiting for a response. The shouts continued unabated. He quickly dispatched two additional riders to tread into the murky waters and assist the others. They did as ordered, but with great reservation.
“Try to remain calm,” shouted Keeper Martin—he sensed the cause of the panic. “Aid is coming to you.”
Captain Brodst nodded in agreement as he also realized what had occurred. He began passing out orders. He told the riders to wait, ordered several squads to come forward and passed the princess into safe hands.
“Ropes,” Captain Brodst shouted, “Ropes!”
He untied a rope from around his saddlebag and, after he secured it, threw the coil to the closest rider. “Tie it to your length.”
Then he turned to one of his sub-commanders. “Captain Ghenson, throw your rope to the other rider!”
Captain Brodst continued to pass out orders, his mind quick and calculating under pressure.
“I need two more lengths of rope,” he said.
Another man handed two ropes to Father Jacob, which he in turn gave to Captain Ghenson and Captain Brodst to add to their lines for additional distance.
When all was ready, he turned back to the two riders who were awaiting his orders. “Take up the slack, move with caution. When you reach them, toss each a line and tell them to tie it off securely. I pray we can provide them the extra strength necessary to return safely. When you are ready, yell loudly. We will begin to pull on a three count…”
One of the trapped guardsmen had lost his torch in the frenzy. The other’s had expired and now only darkness remained to add to the worries of their already troubled minds. Slight shifts in the air around them caused their minds to flee in all directions. What could be out there lurking around them unseen and unknown?
Alone and isolated, they searched for any sign or source of light to pierce the blackness. A barely audible splashing, slurping noise crept into range of
their listening ears. One of the guards drew his blade and, after a brief moment, the other did the same. In the stillness of their surroundings, the sound seemed to grow in intensity until it became an unnerving clamor.
Two tiny points of light pierced the darkness as a glowing pair of spheres—eyes to the beholders—that grew in intensity with each passing moment. A shrill voice cried out and without heed to the message the trapped two prepared for the end, for they knew it came.
The voice cried out again. “Where are you? Say something, are you there?”
A moment of realization passed between both men. “Over here, over here! Here we are!” they cried.
The rescuers homed in on the direction of the voices. They saw only darkness and proceeded cautiously. The endless spans of the darkened mire pulled and played upon them, and took them deep into its folds. Soon they too could barely coax their mounts through the muck.
“We cannot reach you!” shouted one of the approaching riders.
His frantic partner screamed, “Where are you? We are sinking!”
Panic spread also to their thoughts. They didn’t want to be stuck like the others. They had to escape before the mire swallowed them like it surely would the other two. After they had ensured their own ropes were properly secured they began to shout wildly. Several sharp tugs at the lines caused those waiting to quickly pull them back in.
Not entirely pleased with the performance of the two before him who he now considered cowards, and nearing the end of his patience, Captain Brodst began a thorough chastising. His anger forced him to become irrational. Sword withdrawn, mount turned, eyes glaring, he stared down the first, while he waited for the second to emerge fully from the darkness.
With his free hand, he motioned for them to dismount and step forward. They did so reluctantly.
In a series of lightening swift slashes, he lashed out with his blade, and cropped the lapels from their shoulders. The guardsmen had not flinched at the sight of the captain’s blade, yet they had felt its wrath as if it had pierced their hearts.
Pity entered the thoughts of the onlookers, for they all understood the sign and knew it could have just as easily been their own fate. Even Keeper Martin, who was not an initiate, understood the unspoken meaning of the captain’s gesture. The two were no longer members of the elite palace guard.
Stripped of the privileges of their rank and all its entitlements, the two nearly wept as they withdrew. Failure was not an easy notion for Captain Brodst to swallow. He had no regrets for his actions.
“Give me a torch!” He yelled, his voice boomed. “Tie these ropes off and prepare for my signal… Father Jacob, keep Princess Adrina warm. We are going to get her to the castle if it requires my last breath to do it… Keeper Martin, can I have your long walking stick?”
He took the keeper’s walking stick, then mounted. “Hold on, keep talking so I can maintain a bearing on you,” he yelled out.
He drove his stallion onward in the direction of the screaming voices.
“Where are your torches?”
“One is lost and the other is burnt out.”
“If you have some flint lay a spark to it. It may yet burn.”
Even in the fog, he saw the light the tiny sparks afforded as they were struck and knew he was close. Progress was becoming arduous now and he had a difficult time persuading his mount to move ahead, but he did not retreat like the others. Inch by inch, his mount crept closer to the trapped riders.
“Find a dried cloth in your bags. Anything dry. Tie it to the top of the torch. Then lay a spark to it!”
He waited for a response. A shout of hooray erupted from the two as they managed to light the torch at long last and confidence began to replace their unease.
He now had a beacon to follow toward the two. He changed his harshness to gentleness, and soothed his horse while he urged it to trudge through murky waters. The stallion, responding to his master’s faith, pushed onward using its powerful legs to advance slowly and methodically.
He readied the rope as he approached. An ecstatic cheer erupted from the hapless two as the first line was caught in yearning hands.
He untied the rope from his saddle horn and tugged the line sharply three times to signal those waiting to start pulling. The slack was quickly taken up as the rope went taunt, the initial strain audible in the air as a loud twang that continued as a stretching noise caused from the heavy tension in the line.
Horse and rider strained as one, yearning to be free from the unwanted grasp. Instinctively, the horse fought to be free as much as the rider wanted to be free, its heavy breathing and the painstaking plodding of each step it took clearly audible.
Sufficiently free, the first man untied the line and pulled it in several yards to throw it back to Captain Brodst who was now fixed approximately midway between the two. It took several attempts before the rope reached the captain and when it finally did, he relayed it to the second man.
Knowingly, Captain Brodst kept his mount moving so that it would not sink too far into the muck of the mire. Once the second rider was at a safe point, Captain Brodst instructed him to make a loop and throw the line back. He secured it tightly to his saddle horn and then to the astonishment of the receding two, who were moving back to the safety of firm ground, he turned and plunged deeper into the quagmire.
Defeat was another word he frowned upon.
His scowl was now plastered to his face in thick folds. “Think lightly,” he whispered to his mount, “we will find a way.”
Initially, he tried to circle around the area where the others had been stuck. Unfortunately, he was caught up in the same sinkhole they had been stuck in. He probed with the keeper’s long stick. The search for a spot that was not excessively soft told him he had to retreat in the direction he had come from.
Undaunted by the small setback, he made the detour and then pushed on. He attempted to go around in the opposite direction, and moved outward laterally to the right until he found a spot where he could press forward.
Much to his relief he came upon a tiny spot of land, an island in the middle of the muck, a minute area a mere five feet across and three feet wide, but it was a hard surface from which he could maneuver. Hiding his elation as reservation returned, he stifled a shout for joy. His exhausted steed was rewarded with generous strokes and a brief reprieve.
One last time, he plunged into the muck of the mire, and after only a short struggle again to the right across a small patch of dank swamp, he found the road. In a soft, steady voice he whispered, “Hold on, young princess. I promise you’ll soon rest in a warm, warm bed.”
The captain started to call out to those behind. “A warm bed awaits!” he intended to say, but a faint sloshing, slurping noise caught his trained ear, and no words escaped his lips.
He turned in time to see a dim figure emerge from the gray of the fog. Instinctively he dropped the walking stick, his hand going to the hilt of his long sword, and his heart skipping a beat before he recognized the once grim shadow. He raised a hand in confused salutation.
“Captain, why did you leave ranks?” he asked.
Chapter Two:
Past Thoughts
Hot, it’s so hot…
Endless waiting played heavily on Seth’s faith. Yet he knew it was faith that he must maintain, for there was nothing else. Only Mother-Earth would carry them to safety or deliver them from life.
Ah, please… please… make the sun go away… make it end…
A full day sun blossomed overhead. The struggle to keep squinted eyes open was borne. Once closed under the beating sun, blisters would return and with them infection, and then eyes might open no more. The ruinous combination of sun and salt water had already desiccated and blistered his body, yet it was his eyes that seemed his most sacred pride.
Seth struggled to his knees. He tested the strength of the pieces of ropes and tattered clothing that held the raft together. Salt water despoiled them. Still, they held well. Thank you…
He perceived no return response, though he could feel the other’s anguish.
Oh please… please, hold on…
He carefully removed the cap from the last water bag they possessed and put a single droplet to his own parched lips.
Give me strength… He wanted more, he wanted every drop the bottle contained. Give me strength…
The water’s caress as it moistened his lips caused a shiver throughout his body. The yearning for more increased, yet he could not, would not, allow himself to partake of it.
His hands were shaking. Give me strength… He implored.
He lowered the water bag. He reached over to where Br’yan lay, and cradled his companion’s head upward. Slowly and painstakingly, he dropped the precious liquid to Br’yan’s lips, and savored every drop as if it touched his own lips. He continued to drop the water to Br’yan’s lips, drop by precious drop, until the brother could swallow. Afterward, he did the same for Galan.
Br’yan’s and Galan’s faces were covered with sun blisters, as was his own, but his thoughts were only for his fellows. Two must survive no matter the cost, he whispered to himself, two must survive—Queen Mother’s last words of warning to him. Delirium enveloped his thoughts and the words echoed through his mind. Somehow he must shield them, somehow they must all survive…
More long hours under the burning sun did little for Seth’s clarity of mind. He was nearing total delirium. The only thought that kept him near sanity was the one single thought that had kept him through the last three hours. Two must survive, two must survive no matter the cost, went the echo in his mind. Surely some time ago he had ceased thinking it, yet the echo still clung to his mind.
Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle Page 19
