They rowed as fast as they could. The orcs kept up with them even though it was risky. Finally, the clouds swallowed the moon; the night went black. Saxthor steered the boat hard to starboard, heading west. They were all silent, slipping away, hoping to lose their pursuers. When the clouds parted once more, the light revealed the orc boat was farther away, but still following on a direct course.
“Somehow, they know where we are even in the dark,” Saxthor said.
In the moment of light, Saxthor saw something else. The exile was again hunched over and muttering. That seems odd, he thought. That man isn’t muttering to himself. He’s somehow signaling the orcs. That can’t be. Could the orcs be controlling the poor man? There’s no other explanation for the orcs' ability to track us through the dark all night.
As Saxthor watched the exile, realizing something was wrong, the man seemed to sense it. The pitiful creature jerked his head up and saw Saxthor watching him.
That was a red gleam in his eye for just an instant, Saxthor realized. As he bent over to grab his satchel for his wand, the exile jumped up. He shot a bolt of wizard-fire at Saxthor who dodged it.
“Cripes!” Tournak said.
Delia went crazy.
Though shocked, Bodrin snatched out his sword. He jumped to attack the exile when the creature shot another bolt of wizard-fire. The bolt deflected off Bodrin’s sword as Bodrin stepped between Tonelia and Astorax, slashing at the man/wraith.
The creature jumped overboard as the sword grazed him. He made a desperate effort to swim to the orc boat, but the reptilefish, following the boat, attacked him in the water before he got very far. The wraith attempted to free himself from the man’s body, but a water-dragon shot flames across the water vaporizing the wraith, escaping its human shell. The water-dragon and reptilefish fought over the remains as the skeleton sank in the black water.
“That’s gruesome,” Tonelia said.
“Be glad it isn’t one of us,” Bodrin replied. He stood, staring at the frenzy, his sword, hanging in his hand.
“Why didn’t he attack us on the island?” Bodrin asked.
“Too many of us, he wanted the crown’s jewels. He probably expected the orcs to take us alive.” Tournak said.
“The orcs are catching up,” Saxthor said. “Sit down and row, Bodrin.”
As the bones of the exile sank, an orc threw a spear at the voyagers’ boat. Saxthor looked up to see Tournak grab the airborne lance. Without even thinking, Tournak hurled the spear back at the orcs. Not being as proficient with the javelin, the missile went high and came down at the stern. The orcs jerked aside, avoiding the spear, but it struck beside the keel, punching a hole. Water spouted up like a fountain.
If it had hit the front of the boat, the orcs could’ve moved to the back, raising the hole out of the water to prevent sinking, Saxthor realized. From the back, they can’t get the hole out of the water and still steer.
“The boat is sinking,” Bodrin said. “Good shot, Tournak.”
“Those water-dragons and reptile fish sure know when there’s an easy meal coming,” Tonelia said. “Look at them circling the boat anticipating an easy meal.”
The boat sank by the minute. One orc hurled his spear at a water-dragon, who dodged the spear and snorted fire back at him. The clouds rolled forward, drawing night’s veil over the scene. The adventurers heard yelling and thrashing for some minutes as they rowed on. They sailed southwest in silence.
At dawn, the exhausted adventurers saw their first sighting of land in days. It wasn’t another island, but the mainland. Inspired by the view, everyone took turns and extra effort at rowing all morning. Just after midday, the water became too shallow to row in, so they poled through the thick, black ooze toward the reed-covered shore. Their progress slowed, but they still moved forward. All afternoon they poled through the thickening mud.
The muck slowly gave way to tall horsetails and reed beds that seemed to go on forever. Ahead, a redwing blackbird, hovered in the reeds uncertain of its footing on the swaying cattail.
“It should have gone south for the winter, but it stayed in Dreaddrac’s marsh too long,” Saxthor said. Just then, the bird toppled into the mud.
“We should rescue the poor bird,” Tonelia said.
No sooner had it fallen than foot-long worms wiggled from the ooze and bit at the dying blackbird. About a dozen such leech-like worms crawled over the bird with teeth chewing, jerking the carcass still alive. On the boat, they could hear grinding of teeth and crunching feathers.
“I can’t believe it,” Tonelia said. “What are those things?”
“Another of the Dark Lord’s experiments, I suppose,” Tournak said.
In half a minute, the bird disappeared. Black ooze swallowed the skeleton, and the worms disappeared as quickly as they had surfaced.
“It was a lucky warning,” Saxthor said. “That’s what it was. Had one of us jumped out into the ooze to pull the boat on shore, he wouldn’t have made it back in the boat.”
“It’s too dangerous to land here,” Tournak said.
The crew poled backward to get to open water, and they rowed along down the edge of the reeds and horsetails the rest of the afternoon.
“It’s late,” Tonelia said. “We need to land, stretch our legs, and get a hot meal before dark. Who knows what will be on this shore. We need to prepare ourselves before dark.”
“Astorax, you sit in the bow since you have the best eyes?” Saxthor asked.
The others poled through what looked like the shortest expanse among the horsetails to land. The going was rough. It took them to dusk just to get to the shoreline. When they were about to get off the boat, voices stopped them dead.
“Look! There’s a deer in them reeds,” the voice said.
“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” another said.
Saxthor’s companions took a second to register the speech before ducking down. Astorax didn’t.
Astorax is twitching, Saxthor thought. The orcs see his antlers. It’s another lucky warning for us and a scary shock.
Saxthor could only see one tree near the edge of the swamp. The conical branch structure of the big cypress had a crippled look. One large branch twisted down. Being early winter, the delicate fern-like foliage had turned brown, and most had fallen off.
“Climbs up in that tree and see if yous can see him again,” the second voice said.
“You know I can’ts climb,” the first voice said. “My legs is too short.”
“Yous can climb up far enough on that there limb to see them antlers. We needs to know which way he went,” the second orc said. “I’ll shoot an arrow in there. Maybe that‘ll scare him out of the weeds.”
“I’ll try,” the first voice said
Saxthor tapped Tournak and pointed to his bow and arrows. Then he pointed at the tree. Tournak took the idea and readied the weapon. The orc climbed up enough for Tournak to see him through the reeds. “Astorax,” he whispered, “raise your antlers just a bit for just a second.” When Astorax raised his head, the crew ducked.
“There he be,” the orc in the tree said. He pointed to the antlers.
The orc by the shore shot his arrow. As it flew through the reeds, Tournak shot the orc in the tree.
“You stupid moron, you shot me!” the orc in the tree screamed.
“I didn’t do that, I shot into the reeds,” the second orc said.
The orc in the tree fell. There was a thud, then silence.
Hendrel and Saxthor poled into the reeds again just far enough for Saxthor to slip his pole through the horsetails and see what was happening.
The second orc rushed to his companion, who was on the ground, dead. The second orc was distracted, scratching his head, apparently worrying how he shot his companion, and what to do with him.
The crew on the boat pulled themselves closer to shore using the reeds, careful not to attract the orc’s attention. The tops of the horsetails waved as the boat passed among them, but the orc was preoccupi
ed.
“Sorry, but I’m gonna dump you in the swamp,” the second orc said to the dead one. “I don’t wants them others to know I done missed the deer and shot you. I gotta get rid of you and tell them others you run off.”
The troupe froze, then gently backed out beyond the reeds.
A rotting log stretched from the shoreline through the reeds. The orc picked up his dead companion and hoisted him over his shoulder, careful not to get blood on his uniform. He climbed up on the log, and holding onto the twisted branch stubs, edged his way out to the deeper water. There he dumped the dead orc into the swamp.
The body bobbed in the black water. A reptilefish chanced by and began to bite chunks out of the orc with its razor-sharp teeth. The surviving orc looked at his companion one last time as the worms began attacking the remains. The second orc turned to work his way back along the log.
“Orcs are too muscle-bound for delicate footwork or balance,” Tournak said to Saxthor. He suddenly jumped up in the boat and shouted at the orc while waving his arms. The other crewmembers realized what he was doing and joined in.
Caught out on the fallen tree without his bow and arrows, the surprise commotion startled the orc, who lost his balance. He fell backward into the water, where the ooze ended, and the deeper water began. The orc struggled to climb back on the tree trunk. The swamp worms, waiting at the water’s edge, wiggled out from the ooze and chewed off small chunks of the struggling soldier.
“That’s sickening,” Tonelia said. Fascinated, her grimaced-face watched spellbound.
“The orc’s short, stocky legs are keeping him from getting back up on the log,” Hendrel said. “His thrashing and struggling are exciting the swamp worms, triggering a feeding frenzy.”
“Here come the reptilefish,” Tournak said.
“The dead orc’s blood had already drawn them,” Saxthor said. “More food will be welcome.”
Within minutes, both orcs were gone, leaving only a skeletal hand on the log. The crew worked their way over to the tree trunk and walked along that to land without having to step in the dark ooze, where the worms had just feasted.
“Bodrin, climb up in the tree and keep an eye out for more,” Saxthor said. “The rest of you take short walks, but keep a sharp eye out for more orcs looking for the missing pair.”
After eating and cleaning up the site, they climbed back aboard their boat and backed their way out of the horsetails to deeper water.
“Be careful to close the reeds as we pass back through, so there’s no sign of our landing,” Saxthor said.
When dusk turned to night, they were again out on open water. That night they rowed along beside the weeds for cover.
“It’s a long cold night, but at least we ended another orc encounter without discovery,” Bodrin said to Saxthor. “This swamp is infested with evil.”
“The invasion of the South can’t be long in coming,” Saxthor said. He leaned forward and tapped Tournak on the shoulder. Tournak leaned closer. “Good shooting this afternoon.” The others nodded agreement.
Next morning Hendrel, who was steering, noted a bit of a current. Off in the distance, the two sides of the broad swamp converged to form the unmistakable beginnings of the Akkin River. Hendrel shook Saxthor, pointed to the sight, and dropped a leaf in the water. The leaf floated in the new current.
“We’ll have to be especially careful now,” Hendrel said. ”There’ll be Dreaddrac orcs, Prertstenian border guards, and Heggolstockin soldiers – all watching this three-way border junction.”
Saxthor nodded, then turned to look at the beginnings of the Akkin and his first sighting of Prertsten. He put his hand in the water to enjoy the current, but Hendrel jerked it out. A huge fin sliced the water, and a wake boiled up, where his hand had been.
2: Feldrik Fortress and Heggolstockin
The boat picked up speed when caught in the current moving toward the Akkin River at the junction of the three states. Saxthor grabbed the tip of a submerged tree branch just beyond the reeds, stopping the boat’s progress and swinging the stern around with the current.
“We need to appraise the situation,” Saxthor said. “How’s the best way to slip by the heavily watched border junction without being caught.”
“We need to eat, too,” Bodrin said.
“I have to stretch my legs soon; they’re cramping,” Tonelia added.
As they spoke, an orc arrow flew over the reeds.
“Stay clear!” the orc voice said. “That be the onliest warning you’re gonna get.”
Saxthor heard the muffled thud and looked to see what the arrow struck. Bodrin’s white lips pinched shut locked in silence in his drained face. He bent over, gripping his leg with both hands. The arrow’s shaft protruded from his right thigh above the knee.
The crew froze and remained silent, so the orc couldn’t get another fix on them. Saxthor pointed to the opposite shore, Heggolstockin, and at the steering oar, Tournak nodded. Saxthor released the tree branch. Tournak steered the boat into the current and across the open water to Heggolstockin.
“Who goes there?” a guard said. “You can’t land here.”
“The warning not to land is serious,” Hendrel said.
“No one wants us to land.” Tonelia was tightening a tourniquet on Bodrin’s leg. “Well, we have to get help for Bodrin – we’re not equipped for this.”
“We’re men from the South,” Hendrel called out. “An orc shot one of our crew, and he needs immediate attention. We seek refuge.”
They heard the guard talking with his comrades: “Orcs are nasty creatures. Their arrows are no better, and a wound from an orc arrow is likely to fester. You may land, but don’t touch your weapons.”
When the boat broke through the cattails, the soldiers saw the Astorax and whipped out their swords.
“What’s that?”
“I’m the Astorax,” Astorax said, in language peculiar to the mountains of Heggolstockin. Some guards recognized it.
“It’s not from Dreaddrac,” a soldier said. He kept his sword drawn and watched the deer-man.
Bodrin drifted into shock, lying on his side, shivering with Tonelia wrapped around him to keep him warm. She rocked Bodrin as if a baby.
“I brought you to this, my best friend,” Saxthor said.
When the Heggolstockin guards saw the sailors’ plight, they decided to lend a hand. Using the staffs from the boat, the crew made a litter and carried Bodrin up the hill to Feldrik Fortress, Heggolstockin’s border castilyernov. In their infirmary, Tournak took charge. “Bite down on this stick, I have to get the arrow out,” Bodrin nodded his understanding. Tonelia held Bodrin’s hand, Saxthor restrained his arms and Hendrel lay across Bodrin’s lower legs. Tournak gripped the arrow and looked at Bodrin. Bodrin’s twitching wide eyes looked from Saxthor to Tournak - he nodded.
Tournak held Bodrin’s knee down and jerked out the arrow. Bodrin’s bite snapped the shaft. He doubled up in pain, then fell back, unconscious. Tonelia wiped the blood from the wound with a clean wet cloth. Tournak sewed up the wound to stop the bleeding. Tonelia knew herbs, and Tournak knew medicinal magic, so the two of them dressed Bodrin’s wound and cared for him for the next week. Saxthor maintained a vigil beside his friend while he was recovering.
“I feel responsible for Bodrin. It should have been me,” Saxthor said. “The journey has been longer and more dangerous than I wanted to face. Only luck has saved us from serious injury before now.”
Tournak stopped Saxthor, faced him, and put both hands on his shoulders, making Saxthor look him in the eye. “It’s not your fault. We all knew this was a dangerous undertaking before we came along of our own free wills.”
*
“How’s your leg feeling?” Saxthor asked on the second morning at Feldrik. “Tonelia’s herbal poultices have prevented it from festering.”
“It’s much better,” Bodrin watched Saxthor. “I’m going to be fine.”
“I know. We’ll have to go fishing on the Nhy, wh
en we get home,” Saxthor said, staring at the floor. He turned to Bodrin, hesitated then spoke. “I should have sent you home and not dragged you along on this dangerous journey.” He forced a smile.
“Stop worrying. You’re looking at the danger as an adult, maybe for the first time. All of us accepted the risk when we came along.”
Saxthor nodded and looked away. All his friends were here with him. I exposed you all to hazards that could, and most likely will, get you killed, he thought.
“Stop blaming yourself. I can see you’re hurting as much as I am,” Bodrin said. “It upsets me to think you’re taking it all on yourself. We chose to come with you. I’m going to recover and kick your butt if you don’t let go of that guilt.”
“I know you volunteered, but I don’t think you realized what you were getting yourselves into. I should make you all go home,” Saxthor said, his boot scratching at sunlight on the floor.
Bodrin laughed, and Saxthor looked up at him. “And now you think you’re big enough to make me go home?” Bodrin asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Look, they might have killed you! Prertsten is loyal to Dreaddrac, and if Prertsten’s Prince Pindradese captures us, he’ll have us killed. I’ve no right to let you take a chance like that; you’re my best friend. What kind of a person would let his friend be killed wandering around on a hopeless mission?”
Bodrin sat up on his forearms, “What kind of a friend would let his buddy go off to Prertsten without him?”
“I can’t bear being responsible for your getting hurt.”
“Life is a journey, Saxthor. You think I want to sit home safe, while you have the adventure of a lifetime. I’d resent your preventing me from sharing this journey. Whatever happens, it’s an experience we’ll share and relive in our old age around the fireplace. You can’t deny me the experience and memories. Understand this; adventure gives life its richness. It paints the color and texture of life’s pattern. It’s the risk that adds the depth and brilliance to that pattern.”
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 67
