by Dave Skinner
“I’m sorry, Reese. I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”
“No problem, Nails. Now calm down, you’re starting to spark. Help me up will you, and stop apologizing, I’m fine.”
Nails helped her stand and then swooped her up in his arms.
“Put me down,” she said. “I’m not that hurt.”
He continued to hold her, and she stopped struggling. Feenatay came running up.
“Are you all right, Reese?” she asked.
“I have a little burn,” she said, “but this big oaf is insisting on carrying me.”
Chapter 42
Two mornings after the fight, Nails had just finished carrying new barrels of water onto the barge when the townsfolk came to see them off. The procession was led by the innkeeper and a grey-haired man who was introduced as the mayor. Andoo met them at the wharf as the others were all onboard the barge. Reese was the only one who had been hurt. Andoo had treated her burn the night of the fight and said it was minor. Nails had continued to apologize to her, Reese had not spoken to him since he had carried her to Andoo the night his magic had hurt her. He swore to himself that he would not use his magic ever again when his friends were around. When they returned to the lakes, he would ask Ran to give him a job building boats. He liked that idea when it came to him. Of course, if Reese never spoke to him again, he might have to leave and go live with the goblins. He was sitting on a water barrel thinking glum thoughts when Feenatay sat down beside him.
“You look terrible,” she commented.
“Reese is mad at me because I hurt her,” he explained quietly. “She hasn’t talked to me since it happened.”
“She is not mad at you,” Feenatay told him. “She is conflicted.”
“What does that mean?”
“What do you see when you look at Reese?” Feenatay asked after a few moments of thought.
“A wonderful, capable woman.”
“Do you remember when I told you she has never had a boyfriend?”
“Yes, but I still find it hard to believe.”
“Look at her,” Feenatay said. Reese was standing with Shawn and Brayson on the wharf, as they waited for Andoo. “Shawn is not a small man. He is about a head shorter than you, but Reese is taller. She is taller than most men, and she is stunningly beautiful. You have met Ran. You must have realized he has a glow about him. My mother calls it his hero look. She said he always looked like that, but Andoo enhanced it when they were in Waysley and the pirates were going to attack the city. Andoo made him look even more of the hero to help the mayor recognize his worth. My mother said as they walked away from Andoo’s place that day, people stopped and stared at him. Reese inherited some of that look.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Most men do, and it makes them stupid. It ties their tongues in knots. I have seen boys approach her and just stammer like idiots when they try to talk. Some are brave enough to start a conversation, but then they have to deal with the fact that they must look up to her. I am not talking about just her size either. She is stronger and better with a sword than most. She told me once that she sails in regattas because it gives others a chance to overcome her natural abilities. Unfortunately, she is also a terrific sailor, so that really has not worked out for her.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with being conflicted.”
“You are taller than she is. Until you came along, the only people she literally looked up to were her father and goblins. You are stronger and better-looking than a goblin.” Nails wasn’t sure that was a compliment. “So, the queen of competence is lying in the dirt, hurt for probably the first time in her life, and along you come, pick her up and carry her away. She was telling you to put her down, but I saw her smile and the look in her eyes. She was impressed. Finally a man has lived up to her expectations. She does not know how to handle it. She is not mad at you Nails. She is enthralled.”
“But I could have hurt her badly, or even killed her.”
“True. Until you learn to control your gift completely, there is always a chance of something going wrong. That is why we train. It is also why few wizards have families. Now, it looks like we are getting underway. We must get ready to push off.”
Casting off took Nails’ thoughts away from his problem, but once they were sailing again he had little else to do besides think, and his anxiety returned. He had sworn to never use his magic while his friends were around, but was that enough? If Reese forgave him and they became close again, how was he going to make sure he didn’t hurt her unintentionally? He worried at that thought all day, thinking through possibility after possibility. If he was in a situation where magic was the only option open to him, he knew he would use it. What if it meant sacrificing one friend to save the others? That thought stopped him. Could he do that? He chewed on the thought for hours and took it to bed with him. Finally, in the black of a moonless night, he decided on a direction. He would try not to use his magic while any of his friends were around, but to make absolutely sure that his magic would never hurt Reese again, he would suppress his feeling for her. She would be safer if they were just friends.
***
For the next seven-day, life returned to the routine of sailing all day, followed by stopping for an evening meal on the shore. Brayson noticed the gradual change in the country they passed through. The occasional trees he normally saw along the shoreline grew fewer in number. Those that remained were stunted, and eventually, they disappeared completely. The lush, green grasses became scrub brush, and sandy beaches seemed to take over. Halfway through the second seven-day, they strung a spare sail from the huts to extra push-poles erected along the side of the barge. It was their only protection from the relentless sun. Inside the huts, the air was too hot to breathe. Nails and Feenatay used their scales all the time and took turns on the central rudder. Nails changed his routine and started doing his exercises after the sun went down, even though nighttime brought little relief from the heat. They were all flagging by the time the rains started at the end of their third seven-day travelling through the wasteland.
Brayson welcomed the rain. He stripped to a loincloth and let the water wash over him. It was warm, but it felt wonderful. He did not even care that the others saw the lash marks across his back. That night, he believed the air felt cooler. The gentle rain continued into the next day and then grew harder. They had to stand another push-pole in the centre of the sail that they used for protection to keep the water from pooling and pulling it down. The day after, it rained even harder. As Brayson and Shawn were pushing the barge away from shore the next morning, Shawn made a casual comment about the river being deeper.
“It makes sense,” Brayson said. “Look at the rainwater running off the land.”
The country at the side of the river had changed over the last few days. Instead of running flat away from the riverbanks, it was now visible a few feet back and climbed even higher as the distance inland increased. The river was in a valley, but the change had been so gradual it had gone unnoticed. That afternoon, it was raining so hard that Brayson could barely see the shoreline anymore. He glanced at Nails who was handling the tiller, his friend had it pushed towards the shore, but the barge was still travelling towards the centre of the river.
“I need help,” Nails called.
Brayson and Shawn both ran to the other tillers, untied them and eased them into the water. Even though Brayson had his pushed as far over towards the shore as it would go, the strength of the water pulled it straight. He forced it as hard as he could, but the barge was still headed towards the centre of the river and picking up speed. He saw Reese come out of a hut. She looked at what was happening and ran towards them.
“Get us into shore,” she called as she arrived beside them.
“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Nails said.
Reese gave a shrill whistle that cut through any other sound. “Everyone on the tillers!” she screamed. Brayson could barely
hear her over the roar of the river.
“We have to get the barge closer to shore and tie it off,” she called as the others arrived. “Feenatay, tie the tillers off with both lines.”
Each tiller had two ropes beside it. Both had loops on one end and were used to keep the tillers in position out of the water. Brayson had always wondered why there were two ropes. Feenatay looped both over the tiller handle and dragged them back to the railing that ran along the rear of the barge. She pulled them tight and tied them off.
“Andoo, we need three poles about the length of my arm,” Reese commanded. Andoo ran to one of the push-poles and grabbed it up. Light flashed in his hand and he returned with three shorter poles. Reese grabbed one and jammed it between the two ropes attached to Brayson’s tiller. She turned it completely around a few times, and the ropes wound around and shed water as they grew taut. Feenatay and Andoo copied what she had done. “Keep pressure on them,” she called to Nails, Brayson and Shawn. “Turn the sticks slowly,” she called to the others.
With everyone working in unison, the barge slowly moved away from the middle of the river. Once she got it headed towards shore, she had everyone hold as they were. Brayson had no idea how she was judging how much tension to keep on the tillers, but she was. Just as his heart was starting to beat at a regular pace, she had the sticks eased off one turn, then another. The barge continued to close on the shore, and Reese had them ease off on the rudders again. He judged they were no longer moving towards the shore and called out to tell Reese.
“We have to stay in the river’s channel,” she called back. “We will never get the barge back into the river if we ground it up on the beach and the water level goes down.”
Brayson realized that the deluge had ended. It was still raining lightly, but the worst seemed to be over. The clouds rolled away, sunshine played across the water, and Brayson started to see islands in the river: tall collections of large rocks which were devoid of any plant life. They became more abundant. Reese motioned him over to her. He eased off on the tiller and let her twisted rope hold it.
“Work the tiller from here,” she said. “I have to talk to Nails.”
He took her place holding the stick while she hurried over to his friend. Brayson could not hear their conversation, but shortly after she took Nails’ place at the tiller and he ran to the side of the barge. He picked up an anchor rope and started swinging it around his head. As they passed one of the rock islands, he let the anchor fly. The throw was short. Nails pulled the rope and anchor back in and started swinging it again.
“Coil it first,” Reese called. Nails stopped and took the time to coil the rope in a circle at his feet. His next throw was perfect. It landed in the rocks and disappeared from view. The rope snaked out then suddenly snapped tight, and the barge swung into the lee of the island, settling after a few swings back and forth. Brayson felt the tension leave the stick he was holding, and he released one hand, stretched it out and then did the same to the other.
It took two days for the river to return to normal. One of those days they spent hiding in the huts. The air was filled with tiny gnats that flew into eyes, noses, ears and mouths. The huts were not tightly built, so the little insects got in, but it was better than being outside. The next morning, the gnats were gone and, with the river back to normal, they were able to pole the barge closer to the island’s shore. Nails attempted to pull the anchor out of the hole it had fallen into, but they ended up cutting the rope. The following day, as they sailed on, the land was covered in greenery and an abundance of white, yellow and blue flowers.
Chapter 43
In the second seven-day after the flood, Nails started to see evidence of life along the shore. Their meals were again supplemented by game brought in by Reese and Shawn’s hunting, and trees grew along the water’s edge. At the end of the second seven-day, Brayson pointed out cultivated fields, and they saw a man holding a horse while it drank from the river. Three days later, they rounded a curve in the river and saw a city. It was a fortress, similar to Southgate and the other grassland cities on South Lake. They brought the barge to land some distance before the wharves that marked the entrance to the city. While Feenatay was laying a protection spell on the barge under Andoo’s supervision, Nails was standing beside Shawn on the shore.
“I am disappointed,” Shawn said. “I expected something grander.”
“Perhaps it is just an outpost,” Nails offered.
“Still...I expected more. It looks like a small version of Southgate.”
Walking towards the city a short time later, Nails had to agree with Shawn’s comment. It was a smaller version of Southgate. The walls were not as tall, nor were they as thick, and the gates were wooden planks on a frame.
“It is like a poor version of a fortress,” Reese said. Nails agreed.
“A proper army could take this place in days,” Andoo observed.
“I would say they are not afraid of that happening,” Reese said. “There is only one guard on the gate.”
“At least he is awake,” Nails observed. “When we went to Delvingford with your father, the guard was just an old man sleeping in the sun.”
The guard, a young man of medium size wearing a red uniform, stepped into the roadway. “Halt and state your business,” he demanded.
“We are looking for an inn where we can obtain a meal,” Andoo told him, “and find information about the land south of here.”
The guard looked them over. His eyes stayed on Reese, Feenatay and Brayson for a while. Nails could understand a man’s interest in the women, but he wondered why the man stared at Brayson for as long.
“The Inn of the Dancing Man has good food,” the guard said. “Follow the road to the third crossroad and turn right. You will see the sign.”
The tunnel through the wall was too short to even lose the light. As they came back into the sunshine, Nails saw a street with a dirt surface lined with three- and four-storied houses and shaded by billowing cloth that stretched from one roof to another. The street was crawling with people. Merchants stood in doorways, calling their wares. Small carts sat along the street. Horses and strange humped animals were tied to railings in front of almost every building. The aroma of food was everywhere, as was the smell of animal waste. Throngs of people threaded their way along the street, while others sat on small chairs or squatted beside carts and doorways. Everywhere Nails looked people were eating and drinking. Men with cylinders strapped to their backs were selling small mugs of some drink he assumed was called Ty, as that was what the men were calling as they threaded through the crowds. Nails saw Shawn pull a coin from his pouch and trade it for a small mug. He smelt it, tasted it and then drank it down.
“Sweetened tea,” Shawn pronounced as they walked on.
The market, or food area, died away as they travelled farther into the city. When they made the turn to the inn, the street was like many others he had seen in cities around the lakes. Nails saw a sign a little way down that looked like one of the marionettes the Traveller Len had made for his partner, Bet. He was thinking how much he would enjoy a puppet show, but as they drew closer, he realized it wasn’t a marionette. It was the shape of a man hanging from a rope around his neck.
“Dancing man,” he heard Brayson say scornfully as they entered the inn’s common room.
The only other person in there was a man in the same red uniform as the gate guard. They found a large table with six chairs and sat. The innkeeper arrived quickly.
“Drinking or eating, friends?” the man asked as he scanned the table. Nail saw his eyes stop at Brayson before they scanned on.
“Wine, the best you have, my good man,” Andoo said. Feenatay asked for the same while Nails, Shawn, Reese and Brayson ordered ale.
“You have money?” the innkeeper asked Brayson. Brayson just looked at the man.
“Of course he has money,” Shawn said. “Why would you ask?”
The innkeeper picked up
on Shawn’s offended tone immediately. Nails had to admit it was hard to miss.
“I meant no offence,” the man bowed to Shawn. “We don’t see many fey here.” With that, the innkeeper scurried away.
“Faeries are not seen much around the lakes either, but asking about money seems peculiar to me,” Nails heard Shawn say.
The man at the other table turned towards them. “Are you from beyond the barrier?”
“We are from far north of here,” Andoo said. “By barrier do you mean the wasteland to the north?”
“No,” the man said. “I heard your friend mention the lake. I assumed he meant the one south of here.”
“We are looking for information on what lies to the south,” Andoo said. “May I buy you a drink and ask some questions?”
The man agreed, and they made a place for him at the table. He introduced himself as Arcan, an officer in the city guards. The innkeeper returned with their drinks and Andoo ordered ale for Arcan.
“So there is a lake and a barrier of some sort to the south?” Andoo asked.
“Yes, a ride of three days to the south. The river and our territory end there. After that, you are into the Empire.”
“So the Empire still exists?” Shawn said. Excitement was obvious in his voice.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Why unfortunately?”
“The Empire is not a pleasant place. It protects its borders ruthlessly and treats its people in the same manner. The Emperor lives in the City of Shining Light, which is about a seven-day’s travel farther along the coast. What is your interest in the Empire?”
“It is our destination,” Andoo said. “We live far to the north. My friend here,” he indicated Shawn, “discovered documents that say we came to the north from an empire far down the river to the south. We have come to test the truth of the claim.”
