Time passed. The sun seemed to wither and weaken Seth even more this day. The dryness and excruciating pain of his throat aroused him to its swelling—it was nearly swollen shut. He attempted to squeeze down a lump of dry, pasty spittle, and cried out in a muffled whimper as he did this.
So much water around me and none to drink.
Their small supply of fresh water was nearly exhausted and this was now the only concern in his frazzled mind. Sea water, it was all around him and he could drink none of it.
Why can it not rain, Father?
Still unconcerned for himself, Seth first touched a few precious drops of moisture to Galan's lips then covered her face and arms again with the tatters of his robe. He drank then, a little more than he should have, barely getting the drops to slide down his aching throat. He gave Bryan the last few drops the water bag contained.
Is it all for nothing, Father?
The day turned to night and back again to day. Seth felt the vitality within him ebb. His consciousness fell to total decay. He could no longer focus his will to maintain him, which frustrated him utterly. The forces of nature were all around him, yet he, Seth, First of the Red, could not touch them. He was losing himself and his center. Soon he would slip away to a peaceful bliss that he would have welcomed only a few short days ago.
He had struggled too long to give in, fought too hard to give up. Great Father, is that you? Have you come to gather me home? What did I do wrong?… I do not wish to go… I could not have stopped the ambush… I cannot fail. I must think. I must focus…
Adrina approached the low portcullis that separated thick walls midway along the castle's southerly bastion. She continued past it to the stables where a stately wagon was being prepared. The Lord and Lady Fraddylwicke had chased after her every step of the way from the inner courtyard to the wall, but neither the baroness' "Your Highness, please, the tea is ready," or the baron's "The wagon would have been ready in another hour," would slow her down.
Yesterday it had been the baron who had convinced Father Jacob that they should not leave the castle until this morning. It was true that by the time preparations had been made and they were ready to leave it was late afternoon, but there still had been a few hours of daylight left. What harm would a night in the swamp have brought?
This morning, the baroness was dead set on having tea after breakfast. Who drinks tea at daybreak?
Adrina cast a glum stare behind her. Father Jacob hurried along beside the baron and Adrina heard him again speaking an apology. "It seems we must leave at once on an urgent matter," Father Jacob was saying. "Please give the message I left for Captain Brodst as soon as he wakes. You have been most gracious hosts. His Majesty will surely hear of this."
"Raise the portcullis," Adrina screamed to the guards inside the gatehouse.
"The wagon is most splendid," Jacob said, seemingly to drown out Adrina's words.
No doubt, Lord Fraddylwicke had chosen the stately wagon with its four-horse team with clear purpose. Adrina knew this was meant as a symbol both of his wealth and of his generosity, which he hoped would be relayed to King Andrew. She didn't find it odd that she could so intensely dislike a man who she had only met yesterday evening.
Behind her, Adrina heard men shouting, she looked back to the outer courtyard to see a small contingent of foot soldiers mustering. Adrina stopped and whirled about to face the baron. "A gaggle of foot soldiers will only slow us down. We need the wagon and the provisions you promised, nothing more. Tell them to return to their duties."
"Your Highness, I must object," Baron Fraddylwicke said. "I must see to your protection. The swamp is no place for a lady such as yourself to be alone."
Adrina started respond, but Father Jacob spoke first. "He is right, Princess Adrina. It would be best to have an escort."
"Fine, if they are to come along, have them mount up. They can ride, yes?"
"I am afraid—" Adrina held her breath. The baron was fond of those three words. "—that the scant few animals that remain are ill-fit for riding. Your Captain Trendmore took every horse in Fraddylwicke. I told him I needed mounts for the King's messengers—you see, usually we trade out on a one-for-one basis—but he said he wanted them all and would keep his. Even sent men about the countryside. He left nary one behind. It is only by the grace of Great Father that my personal team remains."
Adrina started to say something but then realized that it was fortunate the baron had hidden the animals away. Her irritation with the pompous baron decreased. She bit her cheek. "That was a wise decision," she said, "my father, the King, will surely hear how you have helped me, for I will tell him personally. The foot soldiers stay here, however."
Baron Fraddylwicke's face suddenly seemed to glow and the baroness touched her kerchief to her eye. "As you wish," the baron said.
Father Jacob nodded approval and helped Adrina climb into the wagon.
The sun was midway in the sky before Seth finally came back from the endless world of gray delirium and dream. Visions of ships sinking into the dark, waiting waters that surrounded him even now, slowly fell from his eyes. It seems so much needless loss.
A light breeze played soothingly across Seth's tormented skin. Hidden behind a murky cloudbank a pale sun looked so distant and harmless, yet its ill effects had whittled away his body and his strength slowly and effectively.
Rain may come, Seth mused. If rain came, it may just save them. Then again, the storm unleashed with the rains could drown them just as easily.
Hours diminished to the slow pace of the passing of minutes as time slowly plodded on in agonizing increments of seconds and heartbeats. Ignoring the hunger pains in his clenched and swollen stomach, the brittle dryness of his lips, and the tremendous aching of his brutalized body, Seth attempted to center his thoughts.
He knew somewhere in his teachings there must be an answer to their dilemma. He searched the indexes of his mind. A wish sprang to the fore, a wish that he had learned more about seamanship from Cagan, the crafty sea captain whom he had known since childhood and who since his childhood had commanded the Queen's own fleet. Such learning would have proven a worthwhile investment, yet then he had not had time for such foolish endeavors.
Seth felt a faint prick of pain in his mind. He strained to focus his thoughts. As he did this, sadness swept over him and in an unexplainable way Seth knew something was wrong. Is someone in my thoughts?
A gentle whisper entered Seth's mind.
Yes? he answered.
If I told you I was afraid, what would you say? asked Galan.
Seth reached out for Galan's hand and took it in his. We all have our fears, Brother Galan. It is not wrong to fear what we do not know.
I fear death, returned Galan sending feelings of hopelessness along with the words. I fear in death I will find only longing and emptiness.
Great Father will not forsake—Seth felt another prick of pain in his mind. Is that you, Brother Galan?
The voice nearly inaudible in their minds and edged with bitterness was Bryan's. You are wrong. For those who have failed, there can be no joy in the next life.
Seth disagreed. While blood courses through your veins it tells you that you live.
I died long ago, returned Bryan.
Bryan's sadness flowed strongly to Seth. It encompassed him and the whole of their bantam raft. Seth felt pain again. What are you doing in my thoughts?
I'm dying Seth.
Dying? Seth wheeled about the raft wildly. Frantically he searched for the precious water bag. His aim was to pour its every drop down Bryan's throat in the desperate hope that it alone would keep him. It was then Seth remembered they had no more water. He had used the last of it.
No Brother, said Seth. It is not time, it is not your time! You must hold strong. You cannot desert us. We need you. I need you. There is so much, so very much…
Bryan didn't or couldn't answer.
Seth's eyes flashed to his wrists. The blood coursing through his veins gave
him life; it would give Bryan life.
Go ahead Seth, whispered the voice, Bryan's voice in his mind. Two must live. It is your fault I die. You owe me your life. You bring shame and dishonor to our kind.
Paralyzing anguish shot through Seth's mind. Galan told him No, Seth, it is his time. Our time is yet to be destined.
Galan cried out in pain. Hands suddenly gripped Seth's throat. Bryan, what are you doing? Remember, you pulled me from the water; you saved my life. Galan, he's choking… me. Bryan, are you mad?
Bryan squeezed harder. You still don't understand.
The hands still at his throat, Seth struggled wildly to his knees. Galan made her move and hit Bryan from the side.
Seth found Bryan unexpectedly strong and only with Galan's help was he able to break the hands from his throat. Together, wobbly and barely able to keep their feet, Seth and Galan fended off Bryan's blows. Seth ducked to dodge a blow. Galan lunged at Bryan, and knocked him off his feet. Together they fell into the sea.
Seth let out a high-pitched cry of anguish. He scrambled to the edge of the raft.
Galan and Bryan broke the surface. They were still struggling. On his belly now, Seth reached out to Galan. He felt the tip of her fingers touch his.
Bryan pulled Galan under with him for what seemed the final time. Seth lay still. He stared into the dark waters through red and burning eyes. Despair ravaged his heart.
Chapter Nineteen
The four-horse team eagerly responded to Jacob's guiding hands. At first the gentle countryside that encompassed Fraddylwicke Castle greeted them, but this was a short-enjoyed oasis in the midst of surrounding mires, and after only an hour of riding the roads began to slope gradually downward to be reclaimed by the wetlands.
Instantly Adrina and Jacob felt moisture in the air and smelled pungent odors of stagnant waters. Fortunately the roads leading away from the castle in this section of the lowlands were well reinforced. The main road was built up a full three feet above the waiting waters. Adrina marveled at the feat of ingenuity and determination it had taken to build such an access way.
A dreary haze hung over the mire, giving it unparalleled uncanniness. This when added to the sense of foreboding Adrina felt, put her at considerable unease. She puzzled over a great many things, especially how Prince Valam fit into all this. To be sure, they must reach Alderan before her brother's arrival. They also needed to catch up to the column and warn them, but what would they tell them to watch out for and what of Prince William? If his ship had not arrived in Alderan, why had no messages been sent north?
As she tried to think about all this, Adrina's head began to throb, the pain becoming so intense that all her thoughts eventually fell away. Ahead in the distance lay disparate crossroads, which led to tiny villages whose buildings dotted the landscape. Mounted on top of tiny cross-sections of land that were barely habitable, the villages seemed much like the swamp's scattered weeping willow trees, waiting to be reclaimed someday by the dank surrounding waters.
Hoping to rid herself of a throbbing headache and troubled thoughts, Adrina turned to Father Jacob. Although he seemed deep in his own concerns, she endeavored to spark a conversation with him. "It all looks so lonely, does it not, Father Jacob?" said Adrina, her voice mixing in with the thump-roll, thump-roll of the wagon's wheels. "I'm curious about Lord Fraddylwicke, such a grand castle in the middle of all this waste. Everything so well maintained. These roads as well. The villages we pass are impoverished. With tithing to the temples there can be little wealth left to tax. Does the Baron tax in blood?"
Jacob was slow to reply, but it seemed clear as he began that he grasped Adrina's intent, which was to rid their minds of troubled thoughts for a time. "I find these lands curious as well. Only the southern portion of the mire remains populated, you know. During the Great Wars the castle was a major strategic point for King Jarom the First, but now it serves no useful purpose. Other safeguarded passages to the southlands are available."
Adrina listened to Father Jacob talk as the thump-roll of the wagon's wheels lulled her.
Father Jacob took a drink from a water bag and then continued, "In a way I pity them and not only because the desolation and isolation they endure seem overbearing. Generations of war and life in such a place left behind a bitter and superstitious people. Their ancestors were King Jarom's Blood Soldiers. Too brutal and uncivilized for the civilized world that emerged after the Great Wars and too many to exterminate, they are all but forgotten about by both the kingdom that gave them birth and the kingdom that conquered them."
"Blood Soldiers, why have I never heard about them?" Adrina asked.
Father Jacob whipped the reins held tightly in his hands. "You won't find anything I've just told you in any book in Imtal, this I assure you, though Keeper Martin would verify the history. It is perhaps best they remain forgotten."
Weariness swept over Adrina like a storm. Her face turned pale and though she fought to stay awake, sleep came.
The wagon continued to speed along the trail. Jacob's thoughts were on the wagon and the trail ahead. It took great care to hold the trail steadily at the increased speed. He was so engrossed in his concentration that he did not notice Adrina's state. He only heard the horses' hooves thundering along the trail.
The sky above grew overcast as the winds began to pick up. An ill feeling intensified in Father Jacob's gut. His intuition told him a heavy storm was approaching. He cast silent prayers to Great Father to protect them from the rains and to allow them to complete their journey unscathed.
A losing affray was being conducted against the squall in the good priest's mind. The clouds overhead turned dark and callous quickly. Jacob felt their presence as an evil spirit invading his privacy.
The air turned cold. The first droplets of rain fell. Jacob beat at the reins with increasing ferocity matched by the increasing fury of the wind. Sprinkles of rain thrashed against them, then the downpour began.
Jacob secured the top button of his cloak and turned up the high collar. "There are extra blankets in the rear." Jacob stopped cold, the words frozen on his lips. Suddenly he saw Adrina, her face colorless, deathly pale, and fear entered his thoughts and took control. He commanded the horses to halt.
With trembling hands, he reached out and touched Adrina's face. It was cold, sticky wet with perspiration and rain. He removed the extra blankets from the rear of the wagon and bundled Adrina in them. He drove the horses onward then, faster and faster. Somewhere ahead he hoped to find a crossroads that would lead to a village.
Anxiety swept over him as they sped along the road. He chastised himself in his mind. Rain began to fall in mighty torrents as the storm engulfed them. Wind, rain and diminished visibility made the road treacherous but Jacob did not slow the horses. He continued to push the wagon to its limits.
Lost to the frenzy of the moment, his mind stressed and incapable of clear thought, Jacob panicked. Frantically he scanned ahead, his thoughts running in a hundred different directions and many times he glanced worriedly at Adrina.
Jacob drove the team on, urging the animals still faster. The dirt trail quickly turned to mud and it was only the high sides of the road, thankfully packed in a precisely built wall of rock on either side, that held the mud in place. The horses raced through this muck, kicking up a splatter of mud and small stones. The droning thunder of hooves and the racing of wheels rose above the clamor of falling rain and mounting winds.
Soon Father Jacob gave up hope of finding a village ahead. Recalling the villages behind them, he now sought a place to turn the wagon around. Again and again his eyes darted to Adrina's still form. A relieved sigh came as he finally reached a spot with an adjacent path where he could turn the four-horse team and wagon around in a tight circle.
Jacob reined the team in and with a pair of leathers in each hand, guided the horses quickly through the twist. A sudden creaking of the wagon's wheels whining above the sound of rain and wind startled him. He pulled the reins in the opposit
e direction. The team turned back, but his reaction came too late. The axle was surely cracked. The left front wheel was out of kilter and it would only be a short time before the wheel broke free.
Jacob shook with dread. Still, he forced himself to think through the situation. Alone he couldn't fix the wheel should it snap. He would have to seek shelter from the storm and attempt to repair the damage later. He didn't move for what seemed a long time. He just sat there, eyes wide, searching. He wanted to see a village along the horizon. The last village they had passed was quite a distance behind them. Perhaps he could reach it if the axle held long enough.
The air around him, which was already cold, grew icy as the storm raged on. Father Jacob wanted to curse, wished his vocation would allow him to curse. To scream aloud just once would have satisfied all his pent up frustration. Instead he found the wisdom of his faith and prayed to Great Father for guidance. Briefly afterward, the will of the Father flowed strongly through him, but then it was as if the storm sucked away the renewed vitality as readily as rain and wind beat down upon him.
A portent of evil filled his mind like a sickness, yet even in this Jacob attempted to find good. The will of the Father had found him even in this hellish squall. Faith maintained, he continued his scan of the area, his eyes wandering along the adjacent trail while the heavy downpour obscured his vision.
Abruptly he stopped. He squinted, and strained to fix his gaze ahead in the distance where he thought he saw the outline of some low structures. Were they dwellings or was he imagining them?
At a careful gallop, ensuring his pace did not upset the wagon too much, Jacob ushered the four-horse team on. The tiny road was no more than a raised path but it did appear to lead toward a village of sorts. Jacob held his breath with each bump, and prayed the axle would hold, and each time it did, he released it in a heavy sigh.
The mighty structures he envisioned were no more than a collection of thatched huts clumped atop a mound of dirt, but in his mind Jacob was sure he and Adrina would find warmth inside.
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