The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey)

by Martin Gibbs

  “I’m…going…to try something…” Torplug said. “Zhy, get out of the water, I can hold Qainur for now.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, do it.”

  Zhy complied, pulling himself from the water. The entire slope of the cave seemed to bend toward the pool, and his hands slipped on the wet and slanted rock, but finally he hauled himself out and collapsed on the stone.

  The mage must have been all muscle, Zhy noticed, for he swam holding Qainur with one arm and with another, reached up and out of the water. Green light blinked into existence between his fingers. Suddenly, Qainur shivered violently and the light blinked out. “Qainur!” Torplug barked... “Never mind, never mind! Zhy, get over here!”

  Zhy edged close to the edge and reached out for Qainur. The man was wet and heavy, his gear soaked through with icy water. “I can’t…” he grunted, as his grip slipped. Qainur’s big head slipped under the water. “Sacuan be—” Zhy cursed, hands reaching blindly into the murk.

  “Let him be for a second,” Torplug said, his chin vibrating with the cold. The small-man swam furiously to the edge and hauled himself up.

  Zhy stared. “He’s going to—”

  “No, he’s not,” Torplug snapped. The green light burst into being again, and Torplug stretched his hands toward the water. Zhy swore he heard the energy sizzle as it entered the water. The colors faded, and the shapes bent strangely as the mage force his spell down into the depths, and it looked like an oddly glowing fishing net as it descended into the black water. As it descended, the light disappeared, leaving behind small steaming tendrils on the surface of the water.

  “What are you—”

  Torplug only cursed as he worked the energy There was a splash and a loud hiss as a log-shaped web of green light emerged from the water. Inside the net of light was the still form of Qainur. Torplug’s neck was a net of rope itself, with every vein extended in obvious effort, as he moved Qainur’s form down onto the stone.

  “Is he—?”

  “No, he better not be,” Torplug said, letting go of the light. He moved to Qainur and pushed his strong hands on the mercenary’s chest.

  Nothing.

  Torplug pushed again, and only a small trickle of water dribbled from the corner of the mercenary’s unshaven mouth.

  “Is there any magic...?” Zhy wondered.

  “Nothing that can bring back the dead, Zhy.” The mage was shaking. He reached up to push down on Qainur’s chest, and Zhy heard him mutter, “only the dead can do that.”

  “Come on, you massive beast,” Torplug muttered, slamming down his fist again. Nothing. The mage cursed and summoned a small web of yellow light, then cursed again, letting it dissipate. Instead, he pounded Qainur’s chest again and leaned closer to the man’s mouth. “Come on!” He leaned back on his knees and swore. “I’m…sorry, I—” The small-man scrubbed at his soaked head, muttered another curse and finally generated a small ball of white light. He raised his arm, and the light drifted high above Qainur before screeching down atop his chest with a loud whoosh. Nothing. “Don’t you die on us, here!” Torplug swore. “Great grinding—” Zhy swore the mage sniffed away a tear as he collapsed back to the cold and wet stone, eyes closed, hands on his knees.

  Zhy opened his shaking mouth to ask if there was anything else that could be done when a gush of water burst from Qainur’s mouth, and he rolled to his side, heaving. Water poured out of his mouth in a heaving torrent.

  “Thank Sacuan,” Zhy muttered.

  “Don’t thank him,” Torplug said softly. “Thank yourself. You saved us.”

  “I? I did nothing.”

  Torplug sniffed. “We’re out of the water, but we’ll still die in these clothes. Quick, let’s get a fire going—Zhy grab as much wood as you can, and I’ll start the blasted thing with magic.”

  Zhy nodded and padded off to find more wood, while Qainur continued to heave the contents of a small stream onto the cold rocks. He would stop and try to offer his own thanks, but each time he opened his mouth, more water would pour out; Torplug admonished him to let it all out.

  Most of the wood was wet, but not soaked through, and would work.

  It took a good day and a half to dry their clothes and their gear. The sun that filtered in was warm, and there were no more blizzards. Though there was a snow cover beyond, and the visible fragments of trees were still clothed in their powdery blanket, the cave was no longer blocked. But they would have surely died of exposure in their water-logged equipment. With care, they could keep a very small fire going, and the rock soon dried, leaving the small lake at the back of the cave; when they inspected it again, it had drained to half its depth.

  Qainur took every spare minute to thank Torplug, who finally tired of the attention. “You are welcome, but mention it again and you’re going right back in there!”

  At that, the mercenary laughed. “Maybe someday,” he said with a smile, “I can use that magic and just get myself out! Zhy told me how you did it…”

  “Maybe you just need to learn to swim!” Zhy said around piece of bear meat.

  Qainur laughed again.

  Once they felt they had sufficiently recovered from the deluge, they started out on the trail. Every square inch of equipment and clothing was inspected to ensure it was dry.

  “Unbelievable!” Torplug chirped as he stepped out into the snow.

  “What is that?” asked Zhy.

  “Look! The snow on the trail. It’s exactly as deep as it was before.”

  Qainur drew his sword and glared at the snow.

  “Ah, Qainur, what are you doing?”

  “I do not know. Something is wrong, very wrong.”

  Zhy sighed. “That is an understatement. We just survived a blizzard. I, a southerner, survived it! And we almost drown in a cave. If the warlock did this, are you sure you still want to go to see him?”

  “We need to let him know we are friendly and mean no harm,” Qainur answered.

  “And that is best done with a drawn sword?”

  The mercenary coughed, then sheathed his sword. “Aye…Aye…Let’s keep moving. Watch out for any more—traps.”

  “Sacuan’s scrotum,” Zhy spat. “Sacuan’s massive scrotum!” He threw up his large woolen gloves and turned back, retracing his footprints in the snow. He hazarded a brief glance down to the vast chasm to his left. Any real trap would have sent us down there, he reminded himself. With a wave, he motioned Qainur and Torplug forward on the trail and said nothing more, except to remind them of that fact with each step.

  As the white pines whistled in the wind, his nervous glance went up to the massive trees that grew there against all reason and understanding. The tall tops bowed and swayed, sometimes clacking noisily against one another. As the branches swayed, Zhy jumped a little, afraid one of the evergreens would come crashing down upon his companions, either crushing them or launching them onto the rocks below.

  Chapter 21 — A Wet Fire

  Magic offers many opportunities to us: hunting, fishing, and a smattering of healing. Mostly, though, it is but a show of lights and flashes and impressive explosions. I wish, though, that the magic-wielders would seek more productive means to their magic. A mage can create a fireball the size of an orca, but cannot ever create a roaring fire from a stack of wet logs.

  Cleric Hrozon, Order of the Knot

  My son and his companions are very close to you. Follow that deer path until you come to a door. It will lead inside the castle. I want you to make someone go to sleep before he reaches my son.

  I was cold. Did Zhy’s Fa know how cold it was? He talked a lot about Zhy. The mountains were tall. But the path I took was not steep. It was very small. I almost fell many times with my pack. Lyn kept talking about Zhy. And about the bad man we had to make go to sleep…but he made me bring a sword. Would a sword make you sleep? I think it would hurt, but Lyn said he had to help Zhy. I wanted to help him too.

  I was cold. There was no wood to make a fire and t
he snow was deep. Zhy’s Fa told me where to go, but I did not see any houses or birds or people. There was no sun. The snow fell a lot. I could not see my trail behind me. I sat down on a rock.

  Why are you stopping?

  “I’m cold.”

  You are near the top of the world where it never really warms up. It will be very cold, but I can help you stay warm.

  “There is no wood for a fire. I want to be warm. I want to sit with Fa at the fire. And play my sutan. And drink the spicy drink.” Something wet was freezing my eyes shut.

  Don’t cry, son. Look, get up and go a bit longer…I think you can find some wood.

  “No!”

  You have had no fire in several days. But we will find wood. We will! I promise. Keep moving, you will be warm soon.

  “You promise?”

  I promise. Look, the trail is starting to descend! You are past the top!

  I was sad and cold. But he promised. He promised. I got up and almost fell over. But I got up and I walked. He did not lie. The trail started going down. My pack pushed me fast. I tried very hard not to fall.

  Steady, steady, you can do it.

  I did not look up as I kept walking. Fast. Not too fast. It got dark very fast here, and I had to spend another night in the cold. Lyn told me to get my sleeping bag out. I did. Then he wanted me to put my boots in the bag! Why?

  You will have dry boots in the morning and they won’ be so icy cold.

  I put my boots in my bag. I had to move my feet around them. I was warm for not having a fire.

  My boots were warm in the morning. They were in the bottom of my bag. I liked having warm feet. I had to go down the hill again—it kept going down and down and down. Six-hundred-four-hundred and three turns.

  “When will it stop going down?” I bumped my foot on a rock.

  You’re reaching a height where we may see some trees…let’s hope we find some wood…something not frozen solid or rotted through. We can’t cut down a tree.

  “I could cut it with a sword.”

  I thought he laughed. No, that wouldn’t work! But nice idea, Bimb.

  I walked more. I almost fell and my knees and toes hurt. There were small holes in the rocks—Lyn called them caves and said I shouldn’t go in, because they might not have a bottom. No bottom! I would not want to fall into that. I wanted to be warm. It would be night again. I did not want to sleep in the bag again with my boots.

  Then I saw the wood. “A lot of wood!” I tried to jump but my feet were cold. The wood was by the trail. In a nice pile. Someone was very nice to have left it. But I was worried.

  “Someone would be mad if I used their wood.”

  They won’t be mad. I’m sure they are long gone.

  “Gone?”

  Dead. Probably left by an explorer who wanted to come back, but never did.

  I was sad. “Is Fa dead?”

  No, he is assuredly not.

  I looked at the wood. The pile was large and stacked nicely.

  “Who put it here? There were no trees.”

  Perhaps it was hauled on a sled, or there was a tree that was cut down…It is indeed a lot of wood, but it is all wet. Soaked through with years of snow. It won’t burn easy.

  “I want to go home! I want to go home! Eight-seventy-six-twelve-fourteen! Home! Home!” My eyes were freezing closed again. I sat down. The snow was cold. It was wet. I wanted to go home.

  Snap out of it! Get up. I said it won’t burn easy, but it WILL burn.

  “I want to go home!”

  Did you hear me?

  “W-what?”

  It will burn. Not easy. Now listen.

  “I will.” I wiped the ice away. My eyes hurt.

  Now follow my instructions exactly. First, is there any wind?

  I put my hand up. “No.”

  Take your gloves, off, Bimb, then try…He sounded sad.

  I took my gloves off.

  “Yes, there is wind.”

  Turn until it is blowing at your back.

  I turned.

  Do you have any wax?

  “Wax?”

  Yes, wax. Candles, preferably. I suppose you could make do with earwax, but we’re not yet that desperate. You packed candles, right?

  I didn’t understand. Why candles? They would not warm me up. I wanted a warm fire. A candle would not make me warm. I would be cold. My eyes hurt. I took out a candle. It was thick, but it would not help me stay warm.

  “Now what?”

  Do you have any paper, or thin cloth—

  “I don’t—yes, yes I do... but it’s my drawings.”

  Drawings? I thought you couldn’t write?

  “I draw. I draw pictures... they are of my home. Do I have to burn them?”

  Yes, you—you have to burn them... I’m sorry Bimb.

  Keep your back to the wind. Do you need to build a lean-to out of snow real quick? Just in case?

  I was very cold. I did not want to start another snow-house. But maybe just a part of one. It would make me warm. Lyn always said that. Work would make you warm in the cold and snow. I put the candle and paper back and made a small wall. I sat down and felt no wind. Then my eyes were wet and cold again. I had put the wall behind the wood. It was a lot of work to move all the wood to the front of the wall.

  Now listen carefully. Take the paper and tear it in pieces... yes, Bimb I know. Tear it and wind the pieces up against each other—make a wad that looks all jumbled, but still a big piece. Understand...yes, like that!

  I stared at the big piece of paper. I did not think it would light the wood, either. There was not enough! I was cold and my eyes kept hurting.

  Set the wad on your pack. Close it up first…good. Now light the candle and let it burn, but drop the wax all over the paper wad until it is covered in wax.

  Ouch! I burned myself. The flint was not working, but I got it after a while—the flint had never worked, but I got it, and got the candle lit. “Why can’t the candle start the fire?”

  Don’t want to waste the wax. Plus, you may need to do this again. Now, blow it out. That is enough wax. Good work!

  I blew out the candle. Wait a second until the wax goes solid. It won’t take long. There. Clear a space of snow and set the wax paper down. Put the large logs down first, one on each side of the paper. Now the ones that are a little bigger…put those the other way. Great. Like building a log cabin. Keep that up, but now add the very small pieces.

  Soon I had a small cabin. He told me to light the paper. I knew he would. There were forty-seven hundred pieces of wood. More if the smallest twigs were counted. I lit the paper. Black smoke went up into the air.

  The wax will burn slowly and begin to dry the wood around it. Soon the small branches will flicker to life and you will have a fire. It will be smoky and wet and smell bad, but it will keep you warm.

  He was right! After a long time, there was a fire. I coughed and my eyes hurt. It was warm. I was warm! I wished I had my sutan to play! The logs could sing me to sleep. The fire made noises. Like the ocean, Fa said. Fire is like the ocean, it puts you to sleep.

  * * *

  Wake up, Bimb.

  The sun was not up. There were clouds. It was still a little dark.

  You are almost there. This trail will lead you to the door.

  I wanted to sleep longer. I was tired. But I was close. “No more sleeping outside?”

  No, with any luck, you are free and clear. The others were stopped by a snowstorm—I see their route now. In any case, for some reason, the snowstorm did not come this way. Must be the mountains. Only a few more miles.

  I put my pack together. I ate more food. It was almost gone. I saved one small piece of meat. The snow tasted good, but I wanted water. And the spicy drink. And to stay by a fire and Fa.

  “I miss Fa.”

  He is safe.

  I went along the path. It was very small and hard. I went up and down and around. Up. Then down. My legs hurt. They hurt a lot now.

  “I want to sto
p.”

  You can rest now. You’ve gone about five miles. Nice work! Rest…for this will not be easy at the end.

  * * *

  Take the short sword out from its case. And the small packet I told you never to open.

  “The one that has the goo?” He made me make goo from some berries. And some of Ma’s powders. I added a turnip leaf to it, too. He said it would be bad if I ate it. It was poison, he said.

  Yes. The only way to deal with this warlock. You have no magical ability and he is a master swordsman. Remember how you snuck up on your Fa and Ugly Nose—how they didn’t see you?

  “Yes. I can sneak very well.”

  Indeed you can, Bimb. You will have to do that here. Do not be seen!

  “Right now?”

  No, but soon. You are very close.

  There was only snow. And rock. It was easier. Downhill, he had said. My knees hurt from going downhill. Ahead I saw trees. Were those trees?

  They can’t…they can’t be. Yet, yes! There they are! We have made it! There are trees in that valley by the castle, although I don’t know how.

  The trail stopped at a wall. It was stone. Not a mountain. A big wall. I looked up. I could not see the top. To the right and left was a wall. It looked like a castle. Lyn said he could see it, but not clearly. I described it. I used a lot of numbers—there were many pieces of stone, Fa read to me about castles. They were big. Like this. Was this a castle? How did it get here?

  It took a long time to build. But it is a castle. You have made it, Bimb! You made it! Still, there is more to do and not much more time. But you can do it. Soon you will be warm!

  Warm? I wanted to be warm. I was so cold. The wall hid the sun. My fingers hurt. How do I get in?

  Look a few hundred feet to your right. There! See it? A door. Some sort of service entrance. Sacuan help us that it is open. You may have to work a lock if there is one, have you never done that?

  “No. I don’t know. You mean break it?”