by Aaron Hodges
Gabriel nodded. “We’ll make up for it at lunch I guess. Lead on.”
Enala checked the sun, then pushed her way into the undergrowth. The bush grew thick here, the branches interlinked to block their passage. She forced her way through the spiky seedlings that tore at her skin and hair. Thorny plants were common on the floodplains, their only defence against the large flightless birds that roamed here.
It was past noon when they finally reached the river. By then they were both sweating in the tropical heat and stinking as though they had not bathed in weeks. Mud stained Enala’s blond hair, and her clothes were reduced to tatters.
They had heard the roar of the waters from a long way off, but the river still took them by surprise. The trees stretched right to the riverbanks, their twisted branches hanging out to conceal the dirty water. Unaware, Enala strode right over the edge, her feet sliding towards the raging current. She flung out her arms, her desperate grip finding Gabriel’s hand. Her shoulder jolted as he yanked her back to safety.
Enala rubbed her shoulder and moved back to firmer ground. The narrow river was running high from the recent rains, its waters racing past at a frightening pace.
“We need to cross that?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes.”
“How do you plan to do that? Can you swim?”
“I didn’t live in Chole my entire life. Yes, I can swim. And I think I have a plan.”
She moved back into the forest, searching for branches. Her parents had never crossed with her when the river was this high, but she knew how. It would be dangerous, but not as dangerous as staying on this side.
Enala returned to Gabriel carrying two heavy tree branches, one over each shoulder. Each was around the length of her body, heavy and half-rotten. Nevertheless, they would float, which was all they needed.
Gabriel relieved her of a branch when she walked up. “What are these for?”
“Think of them as life savers. They’ll keep us afloat in the river,” she sat down and started taking off her boots.
“Are you insane? Those currents will drag us under in seconds.”
Enala grinned. “We have two choices: cross, or wait on this side to be caught. You can stay if you want,” she tucked her boots into her pack. “But I’m crossing.”
Gabriel sighed, shaking his head. He sat and took off his boots, placed them in his pack and tied it closed with his sword belt.
Enala hoped the leather packs would keep most of the water out. They would need dry clothes when they reached the other side. She lashed her bag to the branch and glanced at Gabriel. “Ready?”
“Oh, absolutely. This should be a ball.”
Enala laughed and threw herself into the water. The river caught her and for a second the wood sank beneath the surface. She started to panic as the muddy water closed over her head, cutting off the world above. Then the wood rose beneath her, hauling her back to the surface. Taking a deep breath, she looked around and kicked for the opposite bank. A splash from behind told her Gabriel was following.
The river raced around her, dragging her downstream. Trees rushed past on either bank. The water swirled around her clothes, icy from its mountain source. Her arms grew numb and the currents threatened to pull her from the log. She took a stronger grip and kicked harder.
Enala had travelled a long way downstream by the time she washed up on the far shore. She clambered up the bank, gasping from the cold, and dumped her pack to the muddy ground. Turning back, she looked for Gabriel.
He was still some distance upstream, struggling with the current to reach her side. He held his branch out in front of him like a kick board, feet churning the water behind him. However, his progress was slow. He looked exhausted.
An ear-splitting roar came from above. The hackles rose on the back of Enala’s neck. She shrank against a tree, peering up through the leaves of the canopy. Red scales glittered in the sunlight as the dragon dropped from the sky. The earth shook when it landed, shattering trees like toothpicks. Slitted nostrils widened as it sniffed the air. The great yellow globes of its eyes searched the trees.
Enala slid around a tree trunk, still watching the water. Gabriel had stopped kicking, caught in the depths of the current. Their eyes met.
Go, he mouthed.
Enala shook her head. She would not abandon her friend. The rumble of the dragon’s breath came closer.
Go, now!
Enala could see his fear, his desperation. Ignoring him, she started to slip back into the water, prepared to follow him further downstream.
“No!” Gabriel shouted. He started to thrash, sending up a spray of foam.
Enala shrank into the shadows, her eyes drawn to the dragon. Its head had whipped around, eyes locked on Gabriel’s floundering figure. He was still in the middle of the river, the open water offering no cover from the dragon’s glare. Trapped in the currents, he had nowhere to go.
Tears ran from Enala’s eyes. This could not be happening, not again. She stood paralysed, powerless to help. Her hands clenched to fists, her mouth hung open. Cracks spread through her fragile mind, madness threatening. She could not take her eyes from Gabriel.
The dragon took to the air, broad wings carrying it towards her friend. Gabriel watched it come, eyes grim, silent now. With a scream that made her blood freeze, the dragon dove. Its bulk smashed the water, sending a wave rolling across the river. The dragon thrashed in the murky waters, jaws gnashing, claws slashing. Then its great wings began to claw at the air. It climbed above the river, circling still, before it finally disappeared behind the treetops.
Its roar slowly faded away.
Enala watched the roiling waters for a long time, but there was no sign of Gabriel. She sank to her knees. The cracks grew, spreading, and something within her shattered.
Darkness swallowed her. Enala opened her arms to embrace it.
Twenty
Eric watched the river race by. Leaves floated in the current, while larger objects slid by beneath the murky surface. A cool wind blew off the water, a welcome respite from the humid valley air. Silt and dead leaves hung suspended from the trees on the riverbanks, left behind by the high waters of the past few days.
He shifted in his saddle, aching from the hard ride. The sun was behind them, fading into the afternoon. The stitches pulled tight against his side. His wound was healing well, but Michael insisted they stay in place for another week yet. Inken had done a good job stitching him back up.
He glanced across to where she sat on her horse, eyeing the water. He felt a familiar fluttering in his stomach. The last few days had passed in a daze, leaving him wondering at times whether he was dreaming.
Memories sprang into his mind, too vivid for fantasy. The taste of her mouth, the soft caress of her lips against his. Her hair tickling his cheek, filling his nostrils with her fragrant scent. Her hand on his chest, his own behind her head as he kissed her harder. When they finally separated, he felt as though the earth had shifted on its axis. Inken had smiled at him and winked, then moved away.
When the sun rose, Inken had led their weary party across the desert. She had spotted where Enala and her companion had left the northern road and searched out their tracks east across the sand and stones. It was no easy task. The hard ground left little sign of their passage. It took all of Inken’s expertise to follow them across the barren earth and up into the mountains.
Eric paid little attention to the rest of their party. Balistor’s wound was not as bad as Eric had thought, for he now rode straight in his saddle. Michael said his shoulder blade had prevented the arrow from penetrating deeper. The doctor himself was quiet, clearly uneasy in their presence, while Caelin rode with Alastair. There was little conversation, the air taut with tension.
A distance loomed between himself and Alastair now. Eric had already forgiven the blow; Alastair had done too much to hold it against him. But he would not be the first to break the awkward silence.
They had not made it far into the forests o
f the Onyx valley before the gloom forced them to make camp. The trip had been silent and miserable. The gloom was wearing, feeding his doubts as he wondered about his kiss with Inken. They had hardly spoken that first day, too preoccupied by the chase. He had noticed her watching him though, and each time his heart thumped harder.
When their camp was set, Alastair had come and offered to join him in meditation. The darkness masked his face, but Eric had read the apology in the soft-spoken words. He was eager to accept the truce.
Though too exhausted to touch their magic, the meditation gave them both a chance to regain their composure. They moved away from the others, leaving them to themselves. Balistor sat with his back to a tree, eyes closed. The other three sat speaking in soft tones.
Eric crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Slowly, he sank into the familiar trance. His tension began to fade away, as he attempted to set aside the shock and hurt of Alastair’s blow. He soon found other thoughts struggling for his attention: Inken’s smuggled glances, the soft caress of her lips, what she was thinking now…
He heard Alastair move away, but he remained, struggling to reach an inner calm. It continued to elude him, until at last he opened his eyes, defeated. Inken sat across from him, her hazel eyes watching him with interest. She shot him a mischievous grin when she saw his eyes open. The sight sent his mind spinning, lost in the fiery tangles of her hair.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Eric stretched his neck, loosening his shoulders in a transparent attempt to appear relaxed. “It’s called meditation. Alastair is teaching me to use it to reach my magic, to control it.”
Inken leaned in closer. “Can a normal person do it?”
Eric pulled back. “Aren’t I normal?”
She gave a wry grin. “Hardly. Most people don’t control the weather,” she reached across and pulled his head to hers. Their lips met and he could scarcely believe they were kissing again. Her touch was gentle, her lips yielding against his. The sweet tang of orange lingered on her tongue.
“And I don’t do that with most people either,” she whispered as she drew back.
Eric laughed, his heart still pounding from the kiss. His doubts dissolved and summoning his courage he leaned across and kissed her back.
When they finally drew apart, he furrowed his brow, thinking of her question. “I’m sure there’s nothing stopping a ‘normal’ person from meditating. Come on, I’ll show you.”
For the next hour, they sat together in the peace of the forest. The exercises were light hearted and playful at first, the two of them sitting close, embracing one another’s quirks. Eric forgot about their companions, the past, his quest. Sitting with Inken, he did feel almost normal.
As the night grew later they quieted, each slipping into a more serious trance. Inken had closed her eyes, her breathing slowing. Smiling, Eric did the same, seeking the inner calm that had eluded him earlier. This time, with his doubts crushed, the task was easy. They sat in silence, together but each in their own private sanctuary, beneath the forest roof.
When Eric finally slipped from the trance, Inken was staring at him again. There was a softness to her eyes. “You were so peaceful. The sadness on your face was gone.”
Eric shifted, uneasy with her stare. “You should have roused me. How long was I out?”
“Long enough, but it’s okay. It was relaxing to watch,” she paused. “Eric, I have a question.”
“What?”
“Who is it we are tracking? Why does Alastair want to find her so much?”
“That’s two questions,” Eric teased.
“I’m serious.”
Eric sighed. “I know, but I can’t give you the answers. It is Alastair’s secret to tell, though I can tell you he means her no harm.”
Inken frowned at him. He noticed a leaf had caught in her hair and reached across to pick it out before continuing. “I swore to keep this secret. I cannot break that promise, not even for you. But without you we would never have gotten this far. You deserve to know; I’ll make Alastair tell you if necessary.”
“Now?”
He nodded. They moved back through the forest to where the others sat. As they joined them, Eric noticed Balistor and Michael had already retired. Caelin and Alastair were speaking softly but broke off when they appeared.
“Ah, the young couple returns,” Caelin grinned.
Eric flushed and Inken shot Caelin a warning glare. Ignoring the exchange, Eric moved across to Alastair. “Inken wants to know who Enala is.”
Alastair nodded without surprise. “I was wondering how long it would take. Inken, your aid has been invaluable. If it weren’t for your skills, we would have been killed in Chole. And we would never have found their trail. You have a right to know, as does Michael.”
He moved to the doctor and shook him awake. Michael grumbled at the disturbance, but his complaints trailed off when he saw the others waiting. Alastair sat back down, and without embellishment, laid out the tale. Eric was surprised at the casual way Alastair put his faith in the newcomers. He felt a pang of jealousy, his own frustration at being kept in the dark was still all too fresh.
His thoughts soon turned to fear though, the story an unwelcome reminder of the stakes of their quest. He watched Inken for her reaction. Archon was a nightmare whispered of by old men whose grandfathers had fought in the war. Only the Gods rivalled his power. If they failed, if Enala died, they would pay for their defiance. He could not blame her if she turned back now. To stay was to be hunted, to face almost certain death.
Michael’s shock was obvious, his mouth hanging open in fear or anger. Inken’s expression did not betray her thoughts. She stood, silent, and offered Eric her hand. Drawing him up, she led him into the trees. As they passed beyond sight of the camp, she turned and threw herself at him.
Stunned, Eric almost lost his feet. Pain lanced through his side, but then her mouth was hard against his and it no longer seemed to matter. She kissed him with a new found, almost violent, passion. Eric lost himself in the moment. When at last they broke apart, they stood staring at each other, breathless.
“You’re either brave or insane, Eric,” she told him.
Eric could not help but smile. “I know. Maybe you could tell me when you work out which it is, because I’m still undecided. Will you help us?”
Inken tilted her head, laughter on her lips. “The other hunters will be looking for me as hard as they are you now. There is nothing for me to go back to. Even if that weren’t the case, I could not leave this girl to her fate. She had no choice in any of this,” she paused. “And I will not abandon you either.”
Then they were in each other’s arms, lips locked, tongues tasting, her body pressed hard against him. She groaned and a shiver ran through his body. His arms encircled her, his blood throbbing to the racing thud of his heart. They fell, down, down, down…
Eric sat staring at the river, his face growing hot with the memory. They would have to cross the icy waters. Enala and the man had entered here, of that Inken was certain. There was no sign they had come back out on this bank either – they had to have crossed. He could only guess how they could have done so without horses. Eric prayed they hadn’t drowned.
Even if they had survived the swim, the Onyx River marked the Plorsean border with Dragon Country. Few travellers came this way and even less returned from adventures across the border. This was the last territory where the dragon tribes still roamed free and most were not friends to humans. The Blues and Browns had no fondness for people, and Reds were berserkers with no regard for life. The Golds were the only tribe who would not kill them on sight, with some even honouring the ancient alliance made to the kings of old.
Enala had charged headlong into this perilous land, where even armies might have given pause. They had to catch up; every minute that passed was another in which the beasts might find her.
Inken edged her mount into the river. Eric came close behind, bracing himself against the glacia
l cold. He guessed the waters had fallen since Enala crossed with her companion, receding with the passing of the storm.
Briar carried him deeper and water rushed into his boots. A shiver ran up his legs as it climbed higher, drawing level with his waist. He tightened his grip on the reins as Briar’s feet left the riverbed and he began to swim.
There was little he could do but trust the horse to reach the other side. Briar snorted and shook his head, the whites showing in his eyes. Eric patted his neck and willed him onwards, pushing down his own fear. They surged after Inken.
The powerful waters raced around them and even faithful Briar struggled in the current. Eric braced himself; sure the river would pull them under. But the horse prevailed and they reached the other side in one soggy piece.
Eric let out a long breath of relief when he dismounted on solid ground. He led Briar up the bank and began to towel the horse dry with a blanket from the leather saddlebags. Quietly, he whispered his thanks to the horse as the others joined them.
By the time Eric looked up from his task, Inken had vanished. He opened his mouth to call for her and then shut it again. This side of the Onyx was fraught with danger; there was no room for risks. Inken would be checking for Enala’s tracks and any noise would only draw unwanted attention to them.
Still, Inken should not have gone alone. It was reckless. The dragons were just as much a danger to her as Enala. He could only hope her skills would be enough to go undetected. Clenching his fists, he waited, anger and fear waring within.
An hour later, Inken had still not returned. Squashing his pride, Eric begged the others to go after her. They waved off his concerns with grim smiles.
“She knows what she’s doing, Eric,” Caelin told him. “And none of us have the skill to follow her tracks out here anyway. Better we wait another hour at least, instead of getting ourselves lost.”
The hour was almost up before the wisdom of Caelin’s words were proven correct. Inken appeared from the trees with hardly a sound. Relief swept through Eric, though he struggled to keep it from his face. Time and worry had fed his anger and he wouldn’t let her absence go so easy.
