As the Crow Flies: An Epic Fantasy Adventure

by Robin Lythgoe

  The dragon, who had been sleeping on the bed beside me, yawned. After a moment he got up and stretched, catlike, then sat down and licked his snout while watching us blearily, tail curled neatly around feet. He had a considerable appetite and was already growing. Providing enough food to keep him happy had proven to be a challenge. In the first place, we weren’t certain what it could eat, and so tried to stick to soft things, at least for now. In the second place, we had to keep its presence a secret and so had to sneak in meals. The captain laughingly asked if we had stowed away a midget, to which I replied by patting my belly and telling him I had been ill and once I’d started eating again, I couldn’t seem to get enough, though I was beginning to wonder if I would ever attain my former stature, which just made him laugh more and made Tanris roll his eyes. Luckily, we only needed the deception for a few days. Lucky, too, that the dragon didn’t roar, but slept most of the time.

  Beside me, he made a funny little noise in his throat, then belched a spurt of heat that put a burn mark in the sleeve of my tunic. “Hey! Ow!” I slapped at the scorched spot lest it turn into a conflagration, and the dragon looked back attentively. Girl clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter.

  “Not funny,” I grumbled, and shook a warning finger at the dragon. “Do not do that again, you hear?” He opened his mouth and creaked. It wasn’t a croak, and it certainly wasn’t a growl. I glowered pointedly, then went back to instructing Girl in coin tricks.

  Only a moment later, her eyes widened and she pointed. I looked back to see the dragon chewing contentedly on my cards. The last of one rectangle disappeared with a flick of a long tongue and he held another, already missing half, in a tiny claw. I opened my mouth to protest, and he paused, looking at me questioningly, the very picture of innocence. With a sigh, I picked up the rest of the cards and put them away in my pack. “I think it’s safe to assume he wants to eat something more substantial than soup.”

  Without warning, the boat lurched and there came a grinding noise and then an audible crunch that did not bode well for buoyancy. The dragon flailed wildly, which would have been funny if Girl hadn’t fallen on me. Instinctively, I put an arm around her to balance her, and the boat rolled and crunched the other direction, sending all three of us tumbling to the floor. I pushed the pair of them off me and struggled upward, bracing myself against the pitching. Our packs had fallen to the floor, and some of Girl’s things had spilled out. I shoved them back in and thrust the bag against her chest even as I hauled her upright. “We’ve hit something. Get up on deck. Now!”

  I had never seen her move so fast. She pushed the bag’s flap closed, threaded the belt through the buckle, and ran out the door before the next surge sent her skidding sideways.

  I threw my own bag over my shoulder. Scooping up the frantically creaking dragon, I tossed him into his crate and smacked the lid down, only to be thrown back onto the crazily tilting floor. It took far too long to get the clumsy oiled canvas around the crate and cinch the rope gathering the corners together, and I feared the dragon would drown if we went in the drink. My efforts were orchestrated by crashes and scraping, thumping and yelling from overhead, not to mention the screaming and pounding of the frightened horses.

  By the time I got out into the corridor, the boat had stopped bucking so violently, but tilted at a severe angle. I clambered up the companionway and nearly fell right back down when the boat rolled again. One arm through the steps saved me, and then I found my footing and sprinted up the remaining distance. Chaos ruled the deck. Crates and barrels had been torn loose of their moorings and the smaller mast had snapped, leaving lines everywhere. A partially unfurled sail dragged in the water. Escaped chickens flapped to higher ground, squawking and leaving trails of feathers. Girl hung onto the rail on the upper side and I hurried toward her.

  “You all right?” I called over the noise, and when she nodded I looked around for Tanris. At the other end of the boat, he hacked at something with an axe. All around us muddy river water roiled wildly. Trees floated past us, part of a roof, and someone’s cow, lowing mournfully. There was much shouting and pointing going on. Tanris’s end of the boat had become fouled in a partially submerged tangle of trees and the vessel was taking on water. “Stay here,” I told Girl, handing her the canvas-wrapped crate. “And don’t lose this.”

  I danced and slipped my way to the other end, grateful for years of practice that had taught me how to run over uncertain surfaces, leaping away from one unsteady perch to the next before I could get in trouble.

  “We need to cut her free!” one of the hands shouted.

  “We do that, we’re going to swing right into the bank!” the captain yelled back. The bank at that point had an unappealing pile of boulders lining it.

  “If we don’t, we’re going to go down!”

  “Can we tie it off so it stays steady?” I asked, sizing up the situation.

  “Got no way to get to the shore. If we put a rowboat over the side, it’ll get caught in the undertow.”

  From the top of a wooden box, I looked over the arrangement of boat, rocks, trees and shore. “I can do it.”

  “What?”

  “Get me a line.” I dropped down to the deck and unslung my pack. From it I withdrew a lightweight cord and the grappling hook.

  “Crow, it’s too far.” Tanris’s face was creased in worry, his clothes soaking wet. It didn’t take too long for mine to achieve a similar state. The water ran so hard and fierce that as it hit the boat it splashed upward a good ten or fifteen feet.

  I refastened the pack around my waist and braced my legs wide. Looping one end of a cord through the railings, then through an iron ring in one of the hatches, I shoved some of the cargo over the door itself to hold it down. The other end was attached to my hook and I looked around. “Back off, and where’s that bleedin’ line?” I didn’t have a great deal of room to swing the hook. The first few times around were to let out the cord as far as I dared and find my balance. Crewmen yelled and ducked and scattered as the hook whistled overhead. Two more turns at speed, and then I let fly. It arced across the water and clattered against the rocks. I yanked back hard, and when it stuck I gave a few more pulls to test the hold. Keeping the cord taut, I went to the hatch ring to tighten my line and knot it securely.

  A crewman skidded toward me dragging the requested rope, a thick and heavy thing far more suited for the job of mooring a boat than my slender cord. He dropped it to the deck. I grabbed an end and jammed it through my belt, gave it a turn, and pushed it through again. “I’m going to take this over there,” I pointed to the shore. “Make sure it doesn’t tangle or get snagged. When I get it secured, you boys know what to do.”

  “We’re going to need two. Three, if there’s time,” the captain pointed out, shoving wet hair out of his face and looking toward the other end of the boat with a worried expression.

  “Fine, then get more rope. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Tugging my gloves on, I went over the railing, dragging the heavier rope along with me. “Tanris, make sure I’ve got plenty of slack, and keep an eye on that cargo door.”

  “Crow—”

  Ignoring him, I slid my hands out along the cord, leaned out over the raging water, and then swung away from the boat just as it gave another groan, slipping and jerking. There was no looking back and no looking down. Hand over hand I went until I had sufficient space to swing my feet up over the rope without hitting the rail. I missed the first time—how long had it been since I’d done this, and how much time had I spent riding and being sick instead of practicing? Shouts of alarm punctuated the air, but I didn’t know if they belong to Tanris or the others. Another swing and I was up, ankles locked together and dangling upside down. I let out a hoot of laughter, then shimmied toward the shore.

  Twice the boat shifted, each time carrying me close to the churning flood. Someone bellowed a warning, and the water in my eyes nearly kept me from making out an obstacle bobbing at me from upstream. All I could do was tu
rn my face away and hug my line. Branches from an uprooted tree scraped at me and sought to drag me into their embrace. The rope snagged and I let go with one arm to grab for it. More branches scratched at my arm and threatened to tear the rope away from me, and me off my cord, but I held on tight. I won the brief tug-of-war, though it was a near thing. It took several moments to work the rope back into place, and then I had to go more slowly, for it was not as secure as it had been when I’d started out. My arms and shoulders ached already. Tipping my head back to check the distance, I was delighted to find land close by.

  A fierce tug came on my cord and it strained beneath my hands, relaying the boat’s movement. Tanris was out of view, and then suddenly the cord came loose. With a startled yell, I twisted my body hard to meet the rocks feet first. I didn’t hit too hard, and then the slack in the cord was taken up again, but I had already reached my destination. Pulling myself to safety, I sprawled on hands and knees for a moment, panting and uselessly wiping water off my face with a wet sleeve.

  In order for our plan to work, I had to make my way up the shore a short distance. Where the original shore had been I had no idea, but boulders formed part of a longish ridge, and at the upper end trees marched right down into the water. The rope secured over one shoulder, I dragged it against the current to where I could wind it around the bole of one of the trees. I fumbled several times before managing a satisfactory knot in the wet, heavy rope. I waved at the crew, watched them fasten their end, then hurried back to where I’d left my grappling hook and line. Much to my astonishment, Girl was on her way over from the boat.

  My heart somersaulted.

  It was one thing to do it myself, knowing that I had done similar things hundreds of times before. It was quite another to watch her—untried and so prone to tears—determinedly making her way across the chasm between boat and rocks. The river was so rough and so wild! All kinds of flotsam littered its churning, seething waves. Some of the lighter stuff merely floated past; more substantial branches and refuse beat at the boat, and it would beat at Girl if she lost her grip or if the constantly assaulted vessel moved too far. I scrambled down the rocks and braced myself, reaching out for her.

  She inched along, her progress a painful misery of stopping and starting. When she caught sight of me, her thin, terrified features lit.

  “Come on!” I called to her. “You’re nearly there.”

  She nodded and went back to creeping slowly along. I kept looking up the river, searching for the next disaster, and I almost wished I hadn’t. There was another roofed something, banging and spinning off the rocks that made the new shore.

  “Girl!” She paused to look at me, and I shook my head, gesturing for her to come, come! “Hurry. You must hurry. Now!”

  She froze.

  I swore.

  Looking across the water, I saw Tanris watching helplessly. “Cut the cord!” I hollered at him, and made a chopping motion, the edge of one hand against the palm of the other. He spun away, and I half fell, half scrambled downward, glancing up every few steps to eye the length of the cord between Girl and the rocks. “Hold on tight!” I shouted at her.

  The Voices chittered wildly, the strangely familiar chill of them whisking around me. “Hush,” I demanded. “Unless you can help, just hush.” I had to go into the water. It was cold and strong, and my foot slipped, dragging me down until my knee slammed into something, stopping my sudden descent. I floundered upright and looked up at Girl just as Tanris cut the cord. She didn’t even have time to scream as she crashed into the water, instantly dragged under and swept right toward me.

  I grabbed her with both hands, hauled her into the air, and promptly discovered that the second rope was knotted around her waist. The gods of quick wits did not desert me. Dumping her unceremoniously on the rocks at my feet, spluttering and coughing, I yanked my knife from its sheath and sawed madly through the rope. I did not look at the oncoming roof, for I could not afford the distraction.

  Girl tried to hold onto me. “Let go! Let go of me, let go of the rope!” I barked at her, and my knife bit through the last fibers. I had no time to sheathe the blade. I clamped it between my teeth and yanked the cord out of poor Girl’s hands to tie it around the larger rope. “Out of the way.” The knife distorted my words, but an ungentle shove got her moving. I ran back the way I had come, to where the remains of my cord still dangled from the grapnel lodged higher up in the rocks. Leaping as high as I could, I caught hold and half pulled, half ran up the rocks. Throwing myself over the top edge of the ridge, I rolled and sat up, hauling my cord—and the attached rope—up after me.

  The broken roof crashed against the rocks, crunching and grinding, grabbing at the rope, dragging relentlessly. I put all my strength into pulling harder. It freed suddenly, and I fell over backward. Unbridled cheering floated across the waves. I would have cheered, too, but my work was not yet done. Hoping I wouldn’t snap my blade against a rock, I jammed my knife into a patch of dirt. When it held, I wrapped the cord around the hilt to secure the rope, then made my way back to the edge to look over the side.

  Girl sat below, out of the water, her head in her hands, visibly shaking.

  “Girl?” I called out, drawing her attention. “You all right?” She nodded, and I grinned. “We did it.”

  She pointed up at me, brows knit.

  “I’m fine. Can you make it up that way?” I pointed back upriver, where I needed to go tie off the second rope properly. At another nod, I went to it and my gear, then jogged toward the trees again. I chose one standing a good twenty feet from the first to help balance the load, waved at those still aboard the River Star to signal success, then picked my way to dry ground. The sides of my mouth hurt where my knife had nicked them, and I explored the damage with my tongue. It stung, but so did numerous scratches on my face and wrists.

  Girl met me, running the last few yards. She stopped just short, dismay in her eyes. Her trembling fingertips touched her lips and she looked like she might burst into tears again. “Don’t cry,” I ordered gruffly, and instead she reached out to touch my mouth, then my cheeks and one eyebrow. Her fingers came away bloody. She pressed her lips together, gave a noisy sniffle, then threw her arms around me to hug me tight.

  With two ropes to hold the vessel steady, the men on board made quick work of fastening a third, lowering a small boat over the side to ferry the crew back and forth to the shore. They rigged up a pulley system, cut the River Star free of the snag, then dragged her to the edge of the river where they proceeded to unload her. Our animals came first, and I had a serious fright when I realized that the dragon had been left unguarded. Tanris brought the canvas-wrapped crate off with some of our other things, thumped it unceremoniously on the ground, then stalked off again. While he fetched the remainder of our gear, Girl and I proceeded to set up a camp and attempt to dry out. Again.

  Within the confines of a makeshift tent, I unwrapped the dragon and found him curled up in the corner of his crate, wide-eyed, shivering and utterly miserable. In pathetic relief, he climbed right up the wooden walls and anchored himself with his claws in my clothes. “Ow ow ow…” I complained, and he licked me. “No, don’t do that! That’s disgusting!”

  Trying to peel a clinging, licking baby dragon off oneself is more difficult than it sounds, and Tanris didn’t help matters by standing in the doorway, managing to smirk and look disgruntled at the same time.

  “You could help me out here, you know.”

  He stepped inside, tweaking the tent flap closed behind him. “The boat’s ruined,” he said without preamble, taking a seat on an upturned cask.

  “Oh, what a surprise. More riding.” Freeing one set of claws from my coat had no real effect; there were still three more. The daft creature even tried to wind its clumsy wings about me, creaking softly and licking everything it could reach. His happiness confounded me, but then, I’d be really relieved to escape drowning and be freed from a dark box, too. I gave the beastie a little pat of reassurance a
nd tried to pry him off again. “Have I expressed yet how utterly weary I am of riding?”

  When Tanris didn’t answer, I had to look up at him. He wore a very strange expression, and more emotion than I could decipher clouded his aura.

  He shook his head. “No, you haven’t. Not in so many words.”

  “That bothers you?”

  One finger rubbed his eyebrow, and his mouth curled in a grimace. “No, I suppose not.”

  Ridiculous if it did. “Then what’s the trouble? Do you want me to complain? I can complain. I can do a fantastic job of complaining. I can complain day and night until we stuff Duzayan’s smug face down his throat, and then I can complain a little more. Will that make you happy?”

  Some of the confusion faded and disgust snuck in. I could see it in his eyes, feel it in the air surrounding him. “You make it really hard to offer a compliment.”

  To say I was surprised would have been an understatement.

  Tanris slipped out the tent door. “I’ll go see if I can rustle up some food.”

  “Wait,” I called after him. “You were going to offer a compliment?”

  “You’ll never know, will you?”

  — 28 —

  Aplomb Restored

  We spent the night in modest comfort. That is to say that it didn’t rain, we weren’t wet, and the temperature was almost bearable. Lying with the dragon curled up against one side of me, Girl against the other, and Tanris beside her, I felt almost warm. I didn’t sleep particularly well, even so. When I finally had a bed to myself (and no life-threatening injuries), would I be able to sleep at all? I spent the better portion of the night considering how we might travel through the city with a real, live dragon, and how to get the antidote from the wizard before I killed him. I was plagued, too, by the puzzle of how I would safely accomplish his murder. The Voices finally lulled me to sleep, and I had unsettling dreams of a doorway glowing with an unnatural purple light through which paraded a host of shadows.