Entry #584894, added on 07-08-08 @ 4:05 pm EDT
Entry Access Restriction: None.
| Chapter Fourteen: An Eel Conceived Journey | Entry #584894 |
Elkwater's King
  | ID: 998876 (Rated: ASR)
Elkwater's King 
Two brothers follow a wary white German Shepherd to search for the King of a secret realm.
by Basilides   |
Chapter Fourteen: An Eel Conceived Journey
"And if you start to go to that country remember first you must sell everything you have, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, put the spot cash money in a ragbag and go to the railroad station and ask the ticket agent for a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue splanch across it.
And you musn't be surprised if the ticket agent wipes sleep from his eyes and asks, 'So far? So early? So soon?'"
~Carl Sandburg
**********************************************************************************************************
One hour. One stupid, measly hour. I'd looked forward to alone time (meaning time away from my brother) for a week, and all I got was an hour. I shook my fishing pole in frustration. Loner paused from his sniffing at the creek bank below the bridge and looked up at me. His ears twitched in what might have been the equivalent of a canine shrug before he resumed his investigation of whatever-the-heck he was investigating.
Maybe if I just ignored Mike he would go away. Maybe he was just taking a walk down to T.J. and Eileen's house by the road. Maybe he was going to the big barn to look for stray cats or something.
No such luck.
"Tim!" he called from 50 yards away. "Mom says come in for lunch!"
"But I just started!" I yelled. An hour. One hour.
"Mom saaaaays," shouted Michael in an antagonistic sing-song voice.
"Tell her I'll be there in a minute," I said, hoping to be free of Michael's company for even a few precious seconds.
"I'm supposed to bring you back," he grinned as he walked onto the bridge.
Life wasn't fair.
"Hey, what are you using to fish, anyway? Hot dogs? You are trying to catch a fish with hot dogs?" Michael started to laugh in that childish and hateful way: 'Ahooey, ahooey, ahooy!'
"Leave me alone!" I yelled. I wanted to throw something at him.
Just then, my rod bent over like a rainbow. Something, after all, liked hot dogs.
Michael and I looked at one another in shock, then I began to reel in while glancing down below. Loner was watching from the bank with more than a passing interest.
"You probably just snagged the bottom," said Michael as he stared over the edge.
"No - it's pulling!" I grunted.
Finally, the creature broke water and I almost dropped the rod.
"It's a snake!" I yelled.
"No it isn't," shouted Michael. "It's an eel!"
"There aren't any eels around here!" I shouted, not sure whether to keep reeling it in. It flashed teeth as it hung suspended in the air, its skin flashing brown-green in the sunlight.
Loner licked his lips down below.
"Reel it in!" shouted Michael.
"What if it shocks me?" I shout. I heard that eels could electrocute a person.
"Ahooey Ahooey! There are no electric eels in Maryland! They're native to South America! In fact, they are not true eels at all, but are more closely related to--"
At that instant the line snapped and the eel disappeared under the dark waters.
The three of us stared at the water: Mike and I from the bridge, and Loner from the bank. He whined.
I dejectedly gathered up my things while Michael went babbling on about electric eels and catfish or something. It would have been so cool to carry an eels back to the farmhouse. Instead I was heading back with my fuzzy-headed brother.
We were nearly at the door when we saw a man walk around the bend from the North. Loner was off like a rocket, barking and threatening the poor old guy with his bared teeth. The old man didn't flinch, though. He just kept walking our way.
He was stooped over, a little on the plump side, and with a baseball cap covering his white hair. He looked a little familiar but his head was down.
He was only twenty feet away when he looked up, and so I recognized him.
Old Ned.
But he wasn't smirking or frowning. He looked older, if possible, and a little pale. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked contrite.
"Hello boys," he said. "Is your grandfather home?"
"You mean our uncle?" I asked.
"Martin is who I mean," said Ned.
"I think he's eating lunch," said Mike.
"I'll come back 'nother time then, if this dog'll let me leave," responded Ned, and he turned to go.
"What's that dog barkin' at and who you boys talkin' to?" asked the deep voice of Uncle Martin as the screen door opened. Then he saw our visitor. "Why hello Ned! Loner, Loner! You behave! Come on!"
Loner jogged to Uncle Martin's side and glared at old Ned. Ned took his hat off and sort of avoided Uncle Martin's gaze.
"Martin, I need to talk to you," he said.
He said it so gravely that Uncle Martin slowly wiped his mouth with the napkin he held and said, "Why sure. Let's go for a ride then."
A moment later Uncle Martin and Old Ned were in the old Chevy driving away to the place where grown men go to talk about personal things, a place rarely visited.
******************************************************************************************************
"This is not a good time to take a nap, Sneaky Bull," growled Cloud-Warrior. I sat upright. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I just wanted to rest my eyes a bit in this patch of Tiger-Lilies.
"What did I miss?" I rubbed my eyes.
"They still do not know where your brother may have gone. They are bringing Andrus in to question him. You are supposed to be thinking about anything Angry Bull may have done or said to clue us in on where he may be headed."
"I guess I fell asleep."
"Try harder," barked the canine Knight. It was pretty motivating. But how was I supposed to explain that my Imprisoned Sorceress somehow whisked him away? I couldn;t speak of it if I wanted to - my side would burst!
Besides, I kind of liked being the only Kingfinder.
For one thing, it nixed any harsh punishment for breaking the Sacred Law of the Arlazexi. I was given a stern lecture and many disappointed looks but that was it. It was almost funny. I mean, when I pushed my brother's emotional buttons back at Pepperwood I thought I was going to get the death penalty, but break the "O Most Sacred Law" of the land and all I got was a slap on the wrist. Something was totally awry about these people's priorities.
Now Carrigan: that's another story. She was confined to her parents' home with the ominous warning that the next King would decide her fate. That was fine with me. To be honest, the more I thought about how she almost killed me, the angrier it made me. I intended to find a King with no patience for back-talking pixie-esque tomboys. Hopefully he'd make her sew bonnets or something for the rest of her life.
Having to travel back to Ibn-Warna with the Dibia was enough punishment for me. He made us both walk ahead of him (or nearly run, he was in such a hurry) and the whole way back I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull like diamond-tipped drills. And any time I stated thinking bad thoughts about him he quickened the pace. That guy was freaky, let me tell you.
When we returned to the village, the joyous news awaited that my brother was gone. He'd taken a horse and disappeared in the night. The news was that he'd made his way up the King's Highway and past Meadowlea, riding his poor horse like a bat out of the Carlerway. But instead of riding after him blind, Alexander decided to try to determine his destination and head him off, since anyone among them knew quicker paths to virtually anywhere in Elkwater. The problem was no one could figure out where he had gone. No one had been particularly close to him at Ibn-Warna except Carrigan, and she'd been off trying to murder me at the time.
But Michael had apparently spent lots of time with old Andrus - more than he was required at any rate. This was a little strange, since I couldn't imagine anyone hanging out with the old man any longer than was required. He would go on and on and on about nothing. I couldn't imagine Kwotik putting up with him, for example.
But Kwotik (and Alexander and others) were questioning the old coot right now. Curious to see that scene, I snuck up to the window of Alexander's home and peeked in. I could see Kwotik and alexander sitting with arms folded, and barely hear the voice of Andrus.
"...a good boy, not unlike a young man I remember some thirty years ago - what was his name? Rothschild? Lucretius? Something like that! But I remember when that boy kept threatening to set the whole of the Western Forests ablaze heh heh..."
"Michael threatened to start a fire?" prompted Kwotik.
"Eh? No, his name was Robleduker, or Labelroker...or Rothschild..."
"The matter at hand," intoned Alexander, "is the whereabouts of Kingfinder Michael. He spent lots of time with you. Did he ask you any questions?"
"Questions! Questions, yes, he was full of them. Barely got a word in edgewise. Why, I never knew a child who could talk like that, prattle on and on like there was no tomorrow. Well, there was that daughter of the Duke of the Third Tribe...can't remember her name. Now there was a talker! But that was a different kind of talk. Girl stuff. Fabrics and hair and who was courting whom. Now this Markle of yours..."
"Michael," corrected Kwotik.
"Mitchum, yes, well he was a talker too but a talker of a different kind. As a matter of fact I have made something of a study of the various kinds of garrulousness, and this Melcott fellow is a Type IV with hints of Type II, latent probably. On a scale of..."
"Forgive me for interrupting, Master Andrus," apologized Alexander. But the present matter is extremely urgent. Do you remember what he kept asking you about?"
"Er...well...that's a matter, isn;t it? You can't be guessing blind cam you? Hm, yes. A little tricky."
Kwotik was red-faced. " You don't remember, do you?" asked Kwotik.
"Eh...:
"This is a waste of time," spat the Bard.
"I remember he was fond of fish," offered Andrus.
"Yes and I'm partial to pheasant," replied Kwotik. "Listen, thanks for your blue-veined cheese but we need to move on."
Andrus looked at Alexander. "What did he just say?"
"I think he meant 'thanks for your time', Master Andrus. He is still learning our language. But if you remember anything important about Kingfinder Michael, please tell us," answered Alexander.
"No, despite having a preoccupation with fish - Eels really - I can't help you at all," said Andrus as he got up.
"Thank you anyway," said Alexander.
Kwotik was moving his mouth silently, then shot up and grabbed Andrus by the arm. "Did you say eels? Michael was preoccupied with eels? In what way?"
"Not just eels, Eels. The Eels of the Ryemellow, their history and disposition and so on. such an inquisitive boy."
"What kinds of questions?" asked Kwotik.
"It's hard to remember. Mostly hypothetical situations, such as 'What would the Eels do with a stile if they got hold of one' or 'What would the Eels do if a Kingfinder fell into the Ryemellow without his stile', that sort of thing. Silly nonsense questions."
"He's headed straight for the Ryemellow!" shouted Kwotik. "A straight ride down the King's Highway, maybe two weeks away, and no chance to cut him off! We've already given him nearly a day's head start! Our only hope is to ride harder and rest less than him!"
"Why would he want to go to the Ryemellow or care about Eels?" asked Alexander.
"Because he lost his stile in the Ryemellow River to the Eels, and he's been tortured about it by his brother ever since. I'll bet Halma's spleen that he's going to try to get it back!"
"The Eels will tear him to pieces!" said Alexander, alarmed.
"Well, not necessarily," said Andrus, scratching his chin. There is a good 15% chance that they won't, anyway. I think."
"Is that what you told him?" screamed Kwotik.
"Well why shouldn't I have?"
"You are dandelion's pet jellyfish, did you know that?" growled Kwotik as he left the house, slamming the door behind him.
"What did he mean that time?" asked Andrus of Alexander.
"I don't think you want to know," the Elder of Ibn-Warna answered as he folded his hands and bowed his head in deep thought.
I backed away from the window, chuckling, before I felt a familiar presence tugging at my mind.
I found a nice hedge to hide in and took out the shard of Crystal Willow. Sure enough, Ari's smiling face greeted me.
"Well? How do you like my little surprise?" she asked.
"It's cool," I said. "But I think Kwotik is going after him."
"That's no matter. The rest of your journey should go well without him. I've asked someone else to keep an eye on you."
I felt a pang of jealousy. "You can communicate with others?"
"My ability to affect things outside the Wall grows each day you carry the antidote within you." Ari's gaze was penetrating, and a sense of confidence washed over me.
"I'm off to find a king then!" I said. "Michael can play with the Eels all he wants."
Ari's confidence drained from her face like watercolor.
"What do you mean about Eels?" she asked, sharply.
"Alexander and Kwotik said that's where Michael went: to get his stile back from the Eels. Isn't that what you intended?"
Ari began to curse then, and her voice was terrible to hear. I looked about the hedge to see if anyone was nearby to hear, and considered burying the shard underground. Surely someone would find me out! But in a moment Ari regained something of composure, though the smile was gone from her face.
"You must stop your brother from reaching the Megalos River. Do not delay!"
I was confused. "Why are you suddenly worried about Mike's safety? Did I do something wrong?"
"Likely the Eels would merely devour him, but there is a small chance he could succeed. That must not happen. Such a feat would guarantee his success as a Kingfinder even if you were at the very banks of the Hidden Stream. I will do what I can to stop him, but you must go with all speed."
I was not confused any more. Just annoyed. "You mean I have to go back the whole way I came?"
"Stop him soon, Tim, and you can resume your quest. Haste will prevent you from having to travel all the way back to the Megalos."
"They call it the Ryemellow now," I corrected her.
"Speed. Haste. Urgency," she said with an ever-deepening tone.
I needed time to think. I didn't want to go chasing after my brother. I was finally free from him and wanted it to stay that way. For some reason I found myself walking to Carrigan's home, as if I actually wanted to hear her advice. But halfway there a voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Can't stay away from the girl, eh? I admit she's cute."
I turned to see a boy - a teenager really - with fair skin, dark brown hair, and a smirk etched into his face.
"Leave me alone," I said. I didn't really care if he was an out-of-towner or a Trustling like Carrigan. I didn't have time to mess with him.
"But Ari is a lot cuter, don't you think?" he asked.
I stopped in my tracks.
"Who are you?" I inquired. The fact that he knew of Ari and could speak about her with such familiarity shook the foundations of my worldview.
"The name's Gleed. I'll be watching over the last part of your journey and making sure all goes according to plan. From a little distance, anyway. It wouldn't be good to tell the dog or the string-plucker about me."
I sized him up. He was leaning against a cottage, supremely confident.
"You are a little behind the times," I said. "I just talked to...to her. She wants me to stop Michael from reaching the Eels."
The smirk morphed into a grimace. "That makes no sense," said Gleed. "And what have Eels got to do with anything?"
"Apparently she managed to shoo him away, but he is doing something she didn't intend. She's freaked out about it."
The conversation wasn't going the way Gleed planned, but to his credit he began to laugh.
"So the old Sorceress screwed up, eh? That's rich! All right, Timmy, you go on your little pursuit. I don't have all the time in the world to wait for you to get back. But I'll be hanging out in the Roth Wood, and you'll have to pass that way eventually to get to the Hidden Stream. We'll hook up then, or see how it goes. Bring me back one of your brother's ears as a souvenir, will you?"
"Who said anything about killing him?" I shouted, because Gleed had slipped around the corner of the cottage and out of site.
"Oh I forgot," came the retreating reply, "you're just a helpless little kid."
Jerk.
The last few minutes were almost too much to process. I ditched the idea of asking Carrigan's advice and dazedly walked to the center of Ibn-Warna. Kwotik was there on his stallion, leading mine with a short rope. Cloud-Warrior was growling and barking at him, making both horses very uncomfortable.
"Where have you been?" the Bard shouted. "Mount up and let's go!"
"No!" barked Cloud-Warrior. "We are continuing the journey. There is no time to go chasing after Angry Bull. Let the screecher go; we must make our way to the end of the Quest."
"Apparently our brave Knight would rather let your brother be Eel food, if I interpret the tone of his bark right," responded Kwotik. "So what'll it be, lad? Whatever you decide, I'm going after Michael. If all goes well there will be plenty of time to finish this little journey. But whether or no, I'm not about to let him go off and get himself killed."
"There is no time," growled the white shepherd. "Let the bard do as he will, but we must finish this. Angry Bull has chosen his path - do not let him choose yours as well."
Gee, Cloud-Warrior was pretty convincing.
From the corner of my eye, a four-footed figure came into view. For the first time since the Glade of Stone, I saw that gold-and-black German Shepherd - and he padded over to Cloud-Warrior and licked the the latter's ear. Cloud-Warrior gave no indication of having seen or felt the mystery dog, but his countenance changed and his eyes dropped. The strange dog then made his way to the horses. Immediately they calmed down. I looked at Kwotik and some of the others standing around. No one was looking at the new dog. could they even see it?
The mottled hound turned to face me from beside the riderless horse - my own - and fixed his gaze on me.
"Pursue," came the command to my mind and heart, and suddenly the newcomer was gone.
"What kind of Kingfinder would he be if he abandoned his brother now?" whined Cloud-Warrior, as if arguing with himself. He looked up at me again. "I will not be able to go with you, as I can neither ride not keep the pace of a horse. You will be without my guidance until you return here."
"You can't go?" I asked. Redundantly.
Kwotik grinned ear to ear. "Hey no worries, doggie! There's lots of rabbits to chase around here!"
Ari wanted me to go after Mike. Kwotik wanted me to go. That ghost dog wanted me to go. And now even Cloud-Warrior had a change of heart.
I hated all of it.
"All right, whatever. I've got to get my things, though." When we caught up to my brother I'd save the Eels the trouble of killing him. Then, just as I thought this, Gleed's terrible request sent a chill up my spine.
"I've already got your stuff," said Kwotik. "Come on then!"
"Not just yet," spoke Alexander as he led another fine black stallion into our midst. "Someone must go in Cloud-Warrior's place."
"Look," replied the bard, "no offense, but this is going to be one tough journey. It's for young people, not...you know...the wise. Riding hard all day isn't a pretty thing."
Alexander smiled. "As for that, I might surprise you. But I was not thinking of myself."
From the midst of the growing crowd the Dibia stepped forward and smoothly mounted the stallion. He stroked the horse's mane and fixed his penetrating stare on Kwotik.
"Gophersnot," said Kwotik. "I mean, nobody can really replace noble Cloud-Warrior--"
"The Dibia is the greatest tracker in Elkwater," interrupted the Elder.
"Yeah, well, we won't need his services since we already know where Michael is going," explained Kwotik. "But maybe some other time, okay?"
"Do not assume you know exactly where Kingfinder Michael is going. The Ryemellow is hundreds of miles long and he could enter it at any point. But in any case the Dibia is going with you. You do not have a choice." Alexander folded his arms.
Kwotik looked at the Dibia suspiciously. "What fun," he said.
**************************************************************************
We rode hard for hours, and the steep incline up the ridge was pretty hard on the horses. Only the Dibia's stallion seemed to endure the climb well. I wondered how it would react to the Winged Cavern.
Late in the day I had my chance to find out. The stallion took the guano and bats in stride. The Dibia was also as stoic as ever, so Kwotic did the complaining for the two of them. Once into the Carlerway proper, we quickened our pace a little, but Kwotik seemed to have lost his terrible sense of urgency.
"Shouldn't we be going a little faster?" I asked.
The bard flashed me a grin. "Well, its a bit rough in here and kind of dark even with the lamps, so I don't want to risk injury to the horses. Besides, I have an idea."
I pressed him for details, but Kwotik evaded my questions until we reached the concourse of Meadowlea, where four soldiers guarded the tunnel to the mountain fortress.
When we halted in front of them, their leader stepped forward with wide eyes.
"Well come," he said. "When we sent word that one of the Kingfinders raced this way a night ago, we did not expect to see the other chasing him. But you should hurry if you would catch him - he was riding much faster than you."
"How did you know he was a Kingfinder?" I asked. I was wearing my colors; supposedly Michael was not.
"A small boy on a knightly steed, sword at his back and blonde curly hair sticking out from his leather helm? Who else could it be?"
"Good point," said Kwotik, in a hurry to change the conversation. "Listen, we must catch tThe wayward Kingfinder for the good of Elkwater. I believe Captain Rolcord can assist us. May we sautée with him?"
"Sautee?" asked the guard.
"What is the matter with you people? Yes, sautée!" Kwotik's cheeks were red.
"He means 'speak' with him," I said.
"I will bring you to the Captain now," answered the guard and turned to lead us up the escalating corridor.
"Why did he understand you and not me?" asked Kwotik.
"Because you keep mispronouncing words. You meant to say 'speak' but you forgot to put the grave accent and breath stop on the first syllable," I explained.
"Oh. So what did I say?"
"You asked if you could quickly cook something in a skillet with the Captain."
Kwotik laughed. "No kidding? I'm never going to get this cursed language down you know."
"Maybe not," I agreed. I looked around us at the cave walls. "Isn't this really going to slow us down?" I asked.
"You need to have more faith in your guide there Timmy me boy," sang the troubador. "Remember how high up the fortress stood when we approached it from the East?"
"Um, yes."
"Well, they've got to have some signal system. They should be able to signal ahead for miles and miles. With any luck, Michael will be stopped in his tracks this very night!"
"That's awesome!" I shouted.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I started. It was the Dibia, and it was the first time he so much as looked at either of us since we left Ibn-Warna.
He moved his hands in an elegant sign language. "This idea will not work. We should return to the path."
I passed the message along to Kwotik.
"Lovely," he mumbled. Then he turned to the Dibia and said loudly and slowly,"THANK...YOU...FOR...YOUR...OPINION...NEXT...TIME...I...WILL...ASK..."
The Dibia half-closed his eyes and said no more.
We reached the top just as the day's light was beginning to fade, and the vista that opened up before me was even more stunning than the sight of Meadowlea from the ground. A brown fortress rose from the rocky outcrop, the brown and maroon banners of the Hickory King flying above the colors of the Sixth Verse, Katallage, of which this fortress was on the westernmost border. Finally, below all flew a cobalt blue flag with a brown triangle at its center, the ancient standard of Meadowlea.
The Captain and the Lady are normally on the lake at this time. You can wait at the fortress or you can follow me there.
"I would see Lake Sky," answered Kwotik.
We dismounted and led our horses over a grassy meadow to the mountain lake. We passed several farm fields on the way, and I heard Kwotik mumble, "Self-Sufficient and nearly impregnable. This would be a fine fortress to defend."
The guard led us between two pillars of rock, where we tied our horses, and down a small rock-hewn stair nestled between mounds of purple heather to the shimmering lake. The clouds and blue sky were mirrored in the water, a picture perfect and unbroken except for a small boat in its middle. Two figures occupied the little boat, both staring at the sky.
We reached the shore and an old wooden dock, where we had a breathtaking view of the surrounding flowery hills to the north and south, the craggy mountain on the West side of the lake, and the vast expanse of the Sixth Verse and beyond below the cliff to the East.
"That view is almost as good as the wine," whispered Kwotik.
"Shall I call the Captain to shore?" asked the guard.
"How long does he usually stay out?"
"Sometimes well into the night, but at least until the stars come out," answered the soldier.
"Well, I hate to bother him, but the need is pressing," said Kwotik, and so the guard went to one of the posts at the dock where a horn was tied with a rope. He blew it three times and set it down.
The little boat began to move as one of the figures rowed smartly towards us. Soon we could see the faces of Captain Rolcord and the Lady Callandra, intent and concerned.
When the Captain had helped the Lady to the dock they bowed before us, and the Lady spoke first this time.
"Well met again, Kingfinder Tim and Bard from Lowellian; and well come to you who are with them."
The Dibia waked to the Lady and stared at her in a very unpolite manner. At first she smiled but then a shadow came over her visage and she quailed before him.
"Will it really come to that?" she whispered, though he had said nothing. "How many years do we have?"
The Dibia stepped back a little and raised his hands to sign: "Time is all the same to the Sovereign of Soranou. But be blessed in the eternal Now, and tomorrow will be what tomorrow is."
"That's the Dibia," Kwotik explained. "He's a real party animal. Excuse his excessive charm."
"We have heard of the Dibia," said Captain Rolcord. "It is an honor. But surely you have come for matters more urgent than prophecy?"
I glanced to see if the Dibia had taken offense to that remark, but he was implacable as usual.
"You could say that," answered Kwotik. As you know, Kingfinder Mike shot through here last night like a bat out of the Winged Cavern--"
"A matter that has caused us concern," interrupted Callandra, her composure restored.
"Yeah, well it looks like he's going to try to retrieve his stile from the fishies," explained the Bard. "And we could use your help."
"The Eels of the Ryemellow? They will shred him like cheese!" declared the Captain.
"Thus the urgency. Listen, do you have some sort of signaling system for the villages to the East? Something, for example, that says, "Stop Kingfinder Michael and hold him until Kwotik the Bard can teach his arse a lesson?"
"Nothing so specific," answered the Captain with grim humor, "but we do have an alert system of colored torchlight. 'Halt all traffic along the Highway' may be the most suitable for your needs. The signal can reach the town of Mirias, which Michael should not overtake for another several hours even at top speed."
"It is a clear night," chimed in Callandra, "and bodes well for the task."
"How soon can we get the signal going?" asked Kwotik.
"In a few minutes once we get to the Fortress."
The Bard was already on his way. "Then let's get to the Fortress!"
Forty minutes later, we stood on one of the Easternmost ramparts of the castle walls, staring at the moonlit expanse of territory far below us, the King's Highway snaking its way to the Ryemellow and the Potter's Bridge many leagues to the East. Kwotik stood to one side of me and the Lady to my right. Captain Rolcord stood next to her and Vis Zephyr-Forger to his right. The Dibia was some wy off to Kwotik's left, gazing at the sky, seemingly little interested in the proceedings.
"These signals have not been used for decades," warned the Captain.
Kwotic shifted uncomfortably. "But they still work, right?"
The Captain said nothing.
The answer came in the form of a brilliance far above us, a great green fire like the flash of a camera but steady as a lamp.
"Don't look at it directly," warned Callandra.
I rubbed my eyes. It would have been nice if she'd warned me a few seconds before.
After several minutes, a flash of steady light burned far below us.
"Acknowledgment," stated Zephyr-Forger.
"Is that Mirias?" I asked.
"No," answered the Captain, "That would be Ruwn. Michael is surely past that town.
Another flash appeared, somewhat further on.
"The city of Gowan acknowledges," spoke the Knight.
Five more flashes appeared, some close and some further away, while Zephyr-Forger rattled off their names.
Finally, a distant twinkle brought a sigh of relief from us all.
"Mirias acknowledges," said the Knight.
Kwotik clapped his hands together. "Good!"
The bard then leaned over to shout at the Dibia, "SEE? IT...WORKED."
Then, he conspiratorially winked at Callandra. "There, he's not infallible. That prophecy stuff is just a way to get attention. Don't you worry about whatever he said to scare you."
Callandra raised an eyebrow at the bard, but he didn't let it go.
"Don't let some nitwit witch doctor stop you from enjoying your nice life here," he advised.
"Thank...you...for...your...opinion...next...time...I...will...ask." said Callandra, slowly and clearly. How she got wind of that little exchange I'll never know.
Thankfully, Kwotik shut up for a bit.
*****************************************************************************************
Lady Callandra and the Captain persuaded us to spend a few hours of sleep in the guest quarters of their own part of the castle. I enthusiastically joined int he persuasion. The Dibia did not offer an opinion, and Kwotik - though he was anxious to be off - agreed.
"Just a few hours, though," he reiterated, "just in case something goes wrong with the plan."
We ate a simple but delicious meal, and then the bed was the softest and most luxurious I'd slept in since Pepperwood Manor. Tucked in a safe room in the Captain's quarters in a castle in a fortress on a secluded cliff on a high mountain, I felt about as safe as ever I felt before.
I was awakened in the darkness.
"No. Leamme alone," I grumbled. I had been dreaming about Uncle Martin driving us through Pennsylvania Dutch country to get some shoefly pie.
"We've got to go," whispered Kwotic. "We can come back another time ok?
Breakfast was smoked fish and farmer's cheese on boiled bread with red onions and orange tomatoes. I never would have thought to eat such a thing. It was amazing, and even the Dibia was smacking his lips until we were well on our way, loaded up with additional fare and more than one bottle of Meadowlea Red for Kwotik.
Our pace down the Ridge was swift but not frenzied, and by the time the sun rose were were already making pretty good time. Our first hint of trouble came at the first major town, Ruwn, when we were halted by the local constabulary.
"None can pass along the Highway," said a burly man, backed up by several other burly men.
"Good," answered Kwotik. "Did you see a lone horseman ride through yesterday morning or the night before?"
Burly man #1, obviously taken aback at being the questionee, stammered in his answer. "There was some talk of one of the little folk riding through town like a Lang-a-daire*, but I pay no heed to such nonsense."
"Pay more heed next time. That was Kingfinder Michael, who rides to his death and thus to the danger of the Kingdom. This is Kingfinder Tim and I am his meros guide. It is to stop Kingfinder Michael that the signal was sent. We pursue him. Halt us at your peril."
Burly boy's mouth opened and closed a few times before he smartly stepped aside and waved us through. We rode through the town under the irritated stares of stuck travelers, but the exchange lifted Kwotik's spirits.
"This has worked for sure - they are taking the signal seriously," he said when we stopped for a rest some hours later.
"But they let us through," signed the Dibia.
The next two villages we sped through with only minor inconvenience, but the city of Gowan was another matter altogether. The "road crew" (as Kwotik began to call the inevitable greeters) wouldn't budge without permission from the mayor, who was apparently trying to quell discontent at one of the Inns.
"Are you kidding me?" asked the mayor when he was able to extricate himself from the trouble brewing at the overcrowded Inn. He was a younger man with a double chin and sunken eyes. He was dark in complexion like most people in Elkwater, and was trying without much success to grow a mustache.
"How do I know you aren't the ones I'm meant to halt?" the plump little man asked. "Maybe Michael is trying to get away from you legitimately, and I'd be going against the King by letting you through. No, you're staying here until I get clarification."
"The orders came from me, you little slug!" shouted Kwotik, who was renown for his diplomacy. "Halting traffic was my idea!"
"That's what you say. I'd expect you to whether you were telling the truth or not. So nobody is going anywhere until I figure out what is going on."
I pulled out my blackmetal sword and held it in the air, not really threateningly.
"You would keep the Kingfinder from his quest?" I asked, just a little menacingly in my nasally, high-pitched voice.
The mayor shrugged. "Well, that's what you are saying you want, except you want it for the other Kingfinder. You see how I can't take any chances."
Kwotik, meanwhile, was chewing his lower lip. "I guess I see your point. You are just doing your job."
"That's right, thank you," said the mayor, who started looking off to one side, obviously anxious to be away.
"Of course we will have to do ours as well," sighed Kwotik.
The mayor snapped to attention. "What do you mean?"
"Well, since this is a matter of the life or death of the entire Kingdom, we are under orders to let no one or no thing stand in the way of the Quest. The Tempest of the Torc doesn't obey minor bureaucrats, after all."
"I hardly see--" began the mayor.
"So we will simply have to fight our way through your town or die trying. I feel bad for you. If you kill us, you'll go down in history as the guy who killed a Kingfinder. I'm guessing the King won't be too pleased at that. On the other hand, if we win through after killing some of your guys, I suppose you won't be too popular here at home--especially when people realize you were going against the King's wishes. But hey, orders are orders."
Kwotik took out his quarterstaff and I got into fighting position with my sword. The constabulary around us put their hands on their weapons but kept looking around with unease.
The Dibia just stood there with his hands on his hips.
"Now! There's no need! Now now, no need for that at all!" squealed the mayor. "This is all just a misunderstanding!"
"Really? What haven't I made clear?" asked Kwotic, and his staff began to spin.
"My position is...my position is..."
"Perhaps if we gave you some assurance of our authority?" asked Kwotik.
"Yes, yes...but how do I..begging your pardon..."
"Kingfinder Tim, please give this good man a token of the King's good will." The Bard winked at me.
I reached into my saddlebag and extricated what I believed Kwotik intended, pressing it into the mayor's hand.
The mayor glanced at his open palm and gasped, closing it quickly. He blinked furiously in thought, sweat pouring down his forehead.
"Put your weapons away as a final token of your good will, and that will be proof enough to me," he finally stammered.
We obliged.
"OK, you can go ahead. My apologies, good sirs, as I was simply trying to follow orders...but I see that to follow orders I must let you through, as you are the Pursuers of a wayward Kingfinder."
"No thanks for the lost time," mumbled Kwotik as we mounted and thundered through the rest of the city.
"I hope you didn't give him anything bigger than a Luna," shouted the bard as we rode.
"I gave him a Comet!" I shouted.
"What?!"
"I thought you wanted me to!" I yelled.
Kwotik let out a stream of imprecations which I only partly heard over the noise of the hooves, which all but drowned out any conversation for the rest of the day and until we finally reached Mirias, soaked with sweat, sore, and riding overtaxed steeds. Only the Dibia's stallion seemed none the worse for wear.
We spent the night on the eerily still road, or just to one side of it. Again, we slept only for a few hours before I was awakened by an increasingly agitated Kwotik. The next few hours to Mirias was a furious sprint.
When we arrived at Mirias, the "road crew" was taken off guard as they hadn't had any travelers for some time since the other towns stopped the flow of traffic the night before last.
"Halt--"began the local Burly Guy.
"No time!" shouted Kwotik. "Where is the mayor, or Elder, or whatever the heck you have for a leader in this place?"
"Counselor Krile will be brought to you, but you must lay down your arms and come with us!" Burly Guy had about seven clones picking their noses behind him.
"Fine," said Kwotik. "Just tell me you guys stopped Kingfinder Michael, ok?"
"The Soujourner? We did all right. Counselor Krile will explain. We've been expecting you Pursuers too."
We dismounted and Kwotik extended his hand, and Burly Guy hesitated before he shook it. Kwotik handed him his quarterstaff and knife, and I handed over two knives. When one of them asked for my sword Kwotik chimed in, "Eh, that's the Kingfinder's meros blade - all kids of bad things will happen if he is parted from it. But it's your call."
They let me keep it.
We were brought to a large house on the outskirts of town where our horses were stabled and we were brought refreshments. Kwotik paced the floor.
After what seemed a long time, Counselor Krile came in with a few guards. He was an older man, white and grey-bearded.
"I trust you are comfortable in my home," he said.
"Fine," said Kwotik. "Tell me you have Kingfinder Michael nearby."
"Perhaps there is a mystery you can clear up for me first," answered the Counselor.
"If it's a quick one," answered my guide.
"How am I supposed to know for whom 'all traffic' applies?"
"It applies to everyone. Now where's the kid?"
"Well, that's an interesting thing," answered Krile. "Obviously it may not apply to you, since you arrived here by the King's Highway. So there are some for whom the term does not apply?"
"You let him go," I said.
Kwotik looked very pale.
"The Sojourner came upon us in the early morning hours, just before dawn the morning after we received the signal. His horse was near death and he was little better. We stopped him and he raised his sword, identifying himself as Kingfinder Michael. He embraced the surprised guards, asked for us to mercifully nurse his steed to health, and asked to see me.
"I have never seen a boy so, with circles under his eyes and his face rubbed raw by a helmet that didn;t quite fit but jostled with the gallop. He drank deeply and then said to me, 'Dear Counselor, I sojourn for Elkwater's last hope. My brother has turned to the darkness and the foreigner with him, and so Vis Cloud-Warrior has sent me on a desperate errand to retrieve my own stile and find the King before my brother does. I have friends who sent a signal to halt my pursuers so that I may succeed. Please do not let them pass, for my errand is urgent and desperate.'
"I questioned him at length until his sincerity allayed many of my suspicions. We gave him a fast horse and swore to detain you. But since then I have been troubled by doubts. Was the Sojourner the one we ought to help, or the Pursuers? So tell me your side, and I may let you go or not as I deem fitting."
Kwotik collapsed in a chair and put his head in his hands.
The Dibia raised his hands. "I told you that idea wouldn't work," he signed.
I decided to not to translate his words right away.
*********************************************
The next day, Counselor Krile decided to let us continue our pursuit. The sun had not yet risen when Krile's men woke us, and when we rode our fresh steeds to the city's edge the sky was only beginning to show a hint of dawn. Krile bid us farewell there, his sunken eyes belying his sleepless night.
I was miserable. While by this time I was no stranger to horses in Elkwater, I was also unused to riding for days on end. My saddle sores were starting to get saddle sores. But I also had to endure the dismissal of my hopes that Mirias would be the end of the Pursuit. Astride that unfamiliar horse on that humid summer morning, I had no reason to think the journey would end before we reached the banks of the Ryemellow. The prospect of that rough riding journey was appalling to me. But worst of all, my one faint joy was crushed by Kwotik the night before.
"What are you smiling about?" he asked me gruffly before we turned in.
"Nothing," I answered. "But did you notice how well Michael lied to Counselor Krile the other day when he said all that stuff about us turning to evil and Cloud-Warrior sending him to get his stile? Guess I'm not the only one who can tell a fib."
Kwotik looked at me through half-closed lids. "No, I guess you aren't. That business about Cloud-Warrior sending him was a tumgiddy lie, that's for sure. But as for the other, who says Mike doesn't believe we are bad guys? I mean, you torture him every chance you get and I am too educated to believe in the whole Shozer thing. He probably does think we have turned to the darkness."
"But it isn't true!" I protested, wondering if it was.
"I think we're good guys too, sure. But it isn't a lie if you think you are telling the truth. It's an error. And if he really thinks we are evil, then that puts his little lie about cloud-Warrior in a different light, doesn't it? He is lying to save Elkwater, at least in his mind."
"No way," I said. "He is just jealous that I have a stile and he lost his."
"I'm sure there is some of that, Tim. He's an eight-year-old boy. But from all I've seen he's conducted himself with a lot of honor since Kurmanta, so I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."
I wasn't. It seemed like such a double-standard.
"Wake up, sleepy boy!" shouted Kwotik at me. Apparently the good-byes had been said and Counselor Krile and his men were waiting for us to leave.
"I wasn't asleep," I said. "My butt hurts so much I couldn't sleep if I wanted to." That was a rude thing to say in front of the Counselor, but I didn't care.
"Shozer has inventive ways of chastising the wayward," signed the Dibia.
I was beginning to really hate the Dibia.
Kwotik kept us riding hard all day, since he hoped to "catch up" to Michael well before the Ryemellow. But the sense of urgency he had right before Mirias was dampened, and I wondered if he was losing hope. We stopped only briefly that day to eat in next to a pasture, and even after nightfall we kept going, though at a slower pace for safety's sake. That night we camped with several travelers going the other way, and Kwotik was anxious to question them about any sightings they may have had of Michael.
"The Sojourner?" replied a grizzled old man, his bare face wrinkled and sun-damaged. He looked like pictures I'd seen of Geronimo. "News of him has traveled far, and of the Pursuers who follow. That would be you, wouldn't it? No, I haven't seen him. I've been on the King's Highway for only a few hours, but even so there are those who say he can become invisible during the day and only appears at night, riding past sleepers like a gust of wind. Some say he seeks the lost torc of Machuin. Some say he rides to bring a prophecy of doom to the Easternmost island of the First Verse. Others say he offended the Underworld Furrier, and flees from the Pursuers sent by him. I do not believe that last, for I do not believe the Shanallis myths."
"He's trying to get his stile back from the Eels," I said.
"Some say that too," answered the old man.
"No, that's the real reason - the only reason," I corrected.
"So you say. But why do you pursue him?"
"Because the eels will have him for breakfast, and so we are trying to save him from his own stupidity."
"Eels, eels," laughed the old man, "you seem obsessed with them. Very well, do not tell me your reasons for Pursuit if you don't want to."
I looked helplessly at Kwotik, who was chuckling.
"Welcome to the beginning of a legend," laughed the Bard. "You see why I don't believe any of this Shozer crap? People can't even get current events straight, let alone ancient history."
The old man looked first at Kwotik, then at me. He couldn't understand the exchange, since we spoke it in Lowellian, but he seemed to get the gist.
"Most people are on the Sojourner's side," he smirked.
The next few days were a blur of riding, curious stares, and the occasional unhelpful update on the 'Sojouner's' progress. Many of the locals treated us with suspicion, as if we had some grim fate in mind for the new folk hero. During the day we were usually met with open-mouthes stares as we swiftly passed, but at night other travelers would camp away from us or ignore us unless spoken to, communicating with each other in whispers.
Things finally improved on this front when it became apparent that the King had spread word that the Sojourner should be detained. Sentiment was thereafter divided, with some calling out to us that they were Kings' men, while others were clearly secretly still in favor of whatever they thought the Sojourner was after.
At one town on the highway, a guard called out, "The Sojourner passed this way last night!"
Kwotik dismounted in front of the man. He had decided to buy fresh horses at the first opportunity anyway (ours were nearly worn out again except for the Dibia's - his horses never seemed to tire), and we could see stables in the distance.
"What time last night?" asked Kwotik.
"Four hours after sunset, sir," answered the guard solemnly, caught up in his involvement in the legend.
"Good," said Kwotik to himself. "We're catching up."
"We tried to stop him, sir, as per the King's orders. We blocked the road with a line of men."
"What happened?" I asked.
"He rode at us like a demon of hell," answered the guard. "At first we only heard the thunder of hooves, and we steadied ourselves. But soon we could see him coming at us in the sable light of the Bold Moon. His horse was blacker than the night, his cape fluttering behind him like a wing, his curled hair spilling out from his helmet like a yellow flame. He drew his sword and shouted 'Ware!' seconds before he was upon us."
"'Ware'?" I asked.
"Yes, and then his great steed leapt over us with a terrible neigh, and landed on the cobblestone of town with sparks flying from its hooves. Two of the men tried to follow him on their own steeds, but in the darkness out of town one stumbled and nearly felled poor Gowlin. We were no match for Kingfinder magic."
"There's no magic!" I growled. "He just intimidated you into letting him go. For Shozer's sake, he's eight!"
The guard dropped his eyes. "You weren't there to know," he murmured.
"Never mind," said Kwotik in Lowellian to me. "We are only three days from the River, so if we are going to catch your brother we have to leave now."
If I thought we rode our horses mercilessly for the pursuit thus far, I was mistaken in comparison to the journey of the next day and a half. We rode t everyone's exhaustion, and even the Dibia's dun mare was breathing heavily. The scenery gave us no distaction either, for the rolling hills and gentle rises had turned to flat ground covered by okra frields, and the stalks grew so tall that I could barely see over the top, even on horseback. From time to time there was a break in the sea of okra, as a village or farmhouse appeared, or if we happened upon a river or ravine. We were thankful to pass through a wood for a few hours, but at its end we were greeted by more okra.
It was there, just minutes past the wood, that I noticed the Dibia was not with us.
"Kwotik!" I yelled.
The bard slowed and looked around.
"Where's chatty?" he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. We turned around and rode up a rise in the road, after which we could see the Dibia, dismounted, in the distance.
"There's no time for this," murmured Kwotik, and raced back to the tracker. I followed.
The Dibia was examining some bent stalks at the southern side of the road.
"Kingfinder Michael has left the Highway," he signed. "He passed through this way about five hours ago."
"You don't know that for sure," said Kwotik uneasily after I provided him with the translation.
The Dibia stood up straight, turned to face the mounted Bard, and blankly signed, "I do know. For sure."
"Gophersnot," said Kwotik.
"We should follow him," the Dibia signed.
"Maybe," mused Kwotik. "But we will have to pick our way to follow his trail, while he can ride flat out terrain permitting. But if we keep to the Highway for several hours, we can overtake him, then turn south and wait for him."
The Dibia shook his head. "We cannot know how far south he will travel off the trail. While we wait for him he will almost certainly pass us to our north or to our south."
"Probably," said Kwotik, "but I'm betting we'll hear word of it from the locals...and then we will be right on his tail!"
The Dibia was insistent. "It would be better to track him from here. I can follow his trail swiftly."
"You just can't admit when you are wrong, can you?" asked Kwotik. "Let's go. We're wasting time!"
At that, Kwotik thundered down the highway.
I shrugged at the Dibia, and followed. Soon after, we were joined by the deaf mute, who signed no more about the issue.
Near nightfall, Kwotic found his intersection. A good-sized river crossed the highway, and just to the other side of the bridge a road ran south just forty feet from its bank. Houses and farms were strewn all along the river, and so Kwotik judged that Michael would not be able to cross without being seen. We rode an hour or so south until we reached a small village where the people seemed sympathetic to our Pursuit, or at least split in opinion. Michael had not come that way yet apparently, and so we had the villagers send runners all up and down the river to watch carefully through the night and bring word if they saw the "Sojourner". We settled down to rest and wait.
When morning arrived with no word from the locals, Kwotik began to get restless.
"Surely he has passed by now!" he said as he paced the floor of a cottage. "What is taking these people so long?"
Some thirty minutes after his complaint, a young square-jawed man from the village walked in.
"Word is that he passed through two hours ago some way south of here, but no one can seem to tell exactly where," he said. "Perhaps the ferryman in Patterwater knows, but he is saying nothing. There was...some trouble with the Creeper last night."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A tebain that has terrorized people all up and down the Triscon River for years," explained the young man, "sometimes dragging livestock under the river, sometimes dragging people. The Knights have been hunting it to no avail for three years. It always seems to elude them."
"Just great, a distraction!" complained Kwotik. "While the people were busy fighting off this animal, Michael slipped by unnoticed. We'll just have to ride in that direction and see if the Kingdom's greatest tracker can find where our little "Sojourner" may have crossed the river."
We made it to Patterwater in less than an hour, and though the village seemed to be in commotion, no one seemed to want to explain why. We followed the crowd though and came to a grisly scene.
Some men were taking away a dead horse which had been slashed multiple times in its belly as if by a giant razor. It was bridled but bareback.
"That's no work horse," said Kwotik, whose face was pale.
The Dibia had gone around a bend, and when we followed we found him examining a corpse of some kind. Blood was everywhere. In spite of myself, a lump came to my throat at the thought of my brother's body in a condition similar to that of his horse.
But when we pressed through the circle of onlookers, it was no human corpse that lay scattered in the grass. A terrible reptilian creature lay there, crocodilian in appearance but with longer limbs and neck, and with a shorter snout and tail. It was some twelve feet in length. At the end of its legs were four terrible clawed feet, powerful-looking and bloodied. One of its arms was detached cleanly, as was its head.
The Dibia was examining the exposed neck of the creature.
"A blackmetal sword did this," he signed.
When I translated this to Kwotik he addressed the crowd.
"We know the Kingfinder Michael killed this monster and passed this way," he shouted. "We seek to save him from a terrible fate. Tell us where he went and you will be rewarded!"
People shuffled away, and some shot hostile glances at us.
"Have any of you seen him?" Kwotik shouted.
The Dibia touched Kwotik by the arm and pointed at a young woman, holding a little boy's hand. The child could not have been more than three years old, but he was covered by scratches and a gash on his arm that had been recently dressed. We started to walk her way. She took note of our approach and grabbed up the child, running to a nearby cottage and slamming the door.
Undaunted, we walked to the door and Kwotik knocked to no response.
We then walked around the house to an open window. All the windows in the cottages nearby were shuttered (though most of the shutters were open now), but the shutters to this window were splintered by some mighty force. We looked into the exposed window and saw a child's room - a crib and little table and chair. There was blood on the cribsheets.
The woman sat in the chair hugging and rocking her son, who was sucking his thumb.
"My husband will be back soon. He minds the Ferry. Please go." Her look was pleading.
"What happened to your son, ma'am?" asked Kwotik.
"Please go," she said.
I lifted up my money bag and removed a Comet, which I was beginning to figure out was enough money in Elkwater to make someone rich for life.
"There is a reward," I said.
The woman looked at me in disdain. "To the one who saved my Dambi's life, I owe a debt I can never repay. What is your money to me?"
She got up from her chair and moved to a windowless room.
"Looks like we need to have a word with the Ferryman," said Kwotik, but the Dibia was carefully examining the ground and bushes.
"Kingfinder Michael acquired another horse and rode East here, following that farm path," he said, pointing down a lane lined with wild blackberries.
"Blackberries," I whispered.
"Forget the Ferryman, then," said the Bard, "we've got a hero to save!"
We rode as swiftly as the land would let us, but we were still over two hours behind Michael, and the Ryemellow was only a half-day's ride away. A surge of anxiety now characterized the Pursuit. It was going to be close.
Only two hours from the Ryemellow, the Dibia halted his horse and examined the ground.
"He stopped here to rest a moment and eat. He was here less than twenty minutes ago." The implaccable Dibia's hands seemed to move a little more quickly than normal.
The Dibia took the lead, and we raced over fields and dunes until I wondered if our horses would survive to the River. The land became wild and we left all signs of habitation behind. The occasional rock or boulder jutted out of the ground and a stream or two crossed our path, and I began to recognize the friendly country from the journey we made from the Living City to the Sea of Soranou. It seemed years ago, though it was not much more than a month. On that early part of the journey we had been careful not to so much as dip our toes in the Ryemellow for fear of the Eels, and yet we were so close by. Darkly, it occurred to me that it would have saved a lot of trouble if Michael had tried to get his stile back at that earlier time.
When the river came into view before us, Kwotik gave a shout. It spread out into the distance like an ocean, dotted with freshwater islands as large as some counties back home. The blue waters flashed menacingly in the sunlight, and even the fishing waterfoul delicately plied its surface for food. I strained my eyes to see any sign of my brother. There, standing by its bank, a horse could be seen grazing. The Pursuit was over.
The horse's rider, however, was nowhere to be seen.
We rode right up to the horse which grazed at the river bank, and he had clearly been ridden very hard very recently. The Dibia calmed him from trepidation at our approach and spoke softly to our own steeds as well. Kwotik, on the other hand, climbed down the steep bank and ran onto the little sandbar at the side of the river. I followed.
On the sand lay a pile of clothes and a blackmetal sword.
For a moment we stood there in silence, staring at the waves lapping ashore. The dibia joined us.
Kwotik looked behind us. "There are some caves in the riverbank. Maybe Mike was trying to build up his nerve when we arrived and ran and hid in one of the caves. I'll check, and you guys stand out here in case he runs out."
I nodded as Kwotik stiffly walked over to examine a cave. I wondered why Kwotik didn;t ask the Dibia to see where Mike had gone.
I looked at the Dibia. He shook his head at me.
Oh. That's why.
I followed footprints to the water's edge looked down into the water, where the sandbar dropped off.
The black-and gold dog was there, lying there at the river bottom, a root covering over his front paws. He looked up at me.
I stepped back and looked at the Dibia, who was eyeing me with concern.
"It--it's the dog, the black and gold colored dog," I stammered. "I saw it hwn I first got my sword, and again when I decided to join this Pursuit. But now it's under the water! Is that possible?"
The Dibia's eyes widened but he signed nothing.
I looked into the river again. The dog was still there.
Come,, I heard in my mind, it is time to begin pulling up this root.
"It wants me to go in!" I said to the Dibia. "Isn't that crazy?"
The Dibia raised his eyebrows.
I felt a pull, a longing in my heart to go to that dog with its paws under that root. I felt that it would protect me from any Eels.
"Do you think i should go?" I asked the Dibia, my heart pounding in my chest.
He winked at me, then pointed to the pile of clothes on the beach before turning away and looking off into the distance.
Why did Mike take his clothes off? Did he read something or know something? Maybe clothes made the Eels mad.
I remembered that I'd been int he river once before, but was protected from the Eels by my stile. Maybe if I just went in up to my ankles. I could run away if any eels came near.
I took my clothes off, half-hoping Kwotik would come out of the cave and stop me.
I held the stile in one hand and the shard -wrapped in cloth- in another. I stepped into the river until the water covered my ankles. I looked back at the Dibia, who was still gazing off into the distance.
Suddenly I lost my footing and fell forward into the River. I turned myself around with a shout and tried to climb back to shore, but I was being pulled in deeper. I felt smooth things brushing against my skin. Underwater, I saw Eels all around and no sign of the dog. I held out my stile, but I couldn't tell if they noticed or not. There was little noise but the sonorous swishing of echoing waves.
I wanted to take a breath. I was getting farther and farther from the surface.
Suddenly a new Eel came into my vision. It was longer than most but with a large flat "bulge" in its middle. It began to wrap around my face, the bulge covering my mouth and nose. I dropped what I had in my hands and clawed at the creature to tear it off, but it was wrapped tight. I briefly wondered why it would bother suffocating me when I was about to drown anyway. Everything dimmed and even the muted underwater sounds faded away.
I'm dying, I thought.
Dreamlike, I drifted into a world of otherworldly columns and arches, not like the kind men would make but more intricate than nature would make by accident. In this trance I flew through magnificent halls and past great stone rings to a subterranean palace of stone decorated with whorls and waves.An aged, thin voice pierced my dream but it was not to me that it spoke.
"Let this intruder join the other in the Burning Land, in the Land without Breath, and let us be done with it," it said.
There was assent all around me, then darkness, and I knew no more.
Chapter End
Chapter Fifteen, "Pair o' Bulls in the Garden", will begin August 12.
*A legendary/mythical race of faerie-like folk with a penchant for stealing livestock. |
© Copyright 2008 Basilides (UN: basilides at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Basilides has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
Log In To Leave Feedback
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
