Copyright 2006 Trewin Greenaway All Rights Reserved
To learn more about me and the genesis of this tale, visit my website http://www.cronnex.com/ .
I hope to post a new chapter every Saturday from now on. If you're enjoying the story, do let me know!
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Chapter 4
WE REACHED THE END OF THE WOOD just as the moon slipped over the mountains. The path had climbed a small rise once it exited the woods and from there we could look down on the village. It was larger than any we had passed so far, at least twice the size of my own. But that wasn't what caught our eye. Bonfires burnt at regular distances on the beach, each of them attended by soldiers who sprawled beside them on the shingle.
These seemed mostly to be asleep. Their job of patrolling the shore had been assigned to a pack of war dogs, who wandered randomly about, crisscrossing the beach. Apart from that brief glimpse of them pacing in their cages, I'd never seen such dogs before. The few that populated our village were small, spindly creatures that poked through the rubbish and barked at rats.
These creatures, on the other hand, stood five spans high. With their huge square heads lifted, they could look me eye to eye, and I wasn't short. They were densely muscled and had a supple, rangy step. Clearly, they could move as fast as the wind. The very sight of them struck terror in my heart.
I clutched at Alfrund's hand. "What now?" I whispered. For the first time the reality of our situation was plain to me and I understood Alfrund's constant worry. It suddenly seemed to me as it must have seemed to him that we had expended so much effort to escape the frying pan only to find ourselves thrown into the fire.
Alfrund squatted down by the side of the way and was silent for some time. Finally, he whispered, "We have only one chance. I like it little and you will like it less, but I see no other way. You see all the boats pulled up upon the beach? The one closest to us is a very small one and I think I see an oar sticking out of it. You must go down as quietly as possible, face down the war dogs, protected by the dogbane, and silently push it out to sea. Then bring it over to the shore here, where I can join you.
"Meanwhile I will make my way down and find a place where you can bring it close in. I will then strike a small light so you can easily find me, and we will try to pass the last spur by sea. Gedd is not far beyond it and once we are on land we will have a good chance to get there, since the land on that side is full of fields and paths, very different from here."
"I can't do this," I said. "I don't think I could even take one step toward the beach. Besides, I thought you were here to rescue me. Why can't you go down and get the boat?"
"Because," Alfrund said patiently, "I have many skills, but mastering a boat is not one of them. While I was floundering about, a host of fire arrows would bring me down, and that would be the end of everything."
"I still can't do it," I said, my voice quavering. "I just can't."
"I'm prepared for that, too," Alfrund answered. He took my hand and placed a small sachet in it. "This contains a potion strong enough to kill us both. If you prefer, we can swallow it now and defeat them at least that much. It should be painless and quick. You will never know what devastation such a decision will cause, but even so, it would be better than for either of us to be caught alive."
He sighed. "I know you didn't ask for this fate, while I, at least, sought out my part of it. But in this instance, everything comes down to you. You and you alone must decide what shall be. And you must think carefully, because it would be better to die now than to be torn apart by the dogs, or worse, held captive by them until you are seized and brought to Him."
"Him?" I asked.
"The one who seeks you and whose name cannot be spoken," Alfrund said grimly. "Enough about that. Think this over and tell me your decision. I'm ready to accept it, no matter what you choose."
To be honest, the idea of dying right there drew me strongly. At least it would be quick and certain, and since I knew nothing about what was happening, I had nothing to draw from to give me strength. If I'd been alone, I think death would have been most welcome. But I was with Alfrund, and it was the close warmth of his body that made me wish to live. It seemed a little thing to help me, but it was all I had.
"Hold me and kiss me for a moment," I said, "before I go."
We both stood. He put his arms around me and kissed me long and tenderly, but with enough force so that our tongues met and the blood in my body, which before had seem icy cold, grew hot, and I could feel my heart beat.
I handed my pack to Alfrund, wrapped my cloak around me, pulling the hood over my head, and began to make my way down to the beach.
If the dogs heard me, they gave no sign. It flashed in my mind that like the village dogs, these, too, might be repulsed so by the dogbane as to pretend to ignore my presence. But it was a vain hope.
They had been trained to know where to patrol and where not, and it wasn't until I stepped onto the shingle and into the faint light of the nearest watch fire that they paid me any notice. The soldiers at the fire were clearly asleep, because even when the dogs bounded in my direction, no one stirred. Nor did the dogs bark. Perhaps this, too, was training, but more likely the dogbane affected them at least that much, confusing them and thus keeping them silent until they found out more.
At this point, I made a dangerous if understandable mistake. I should have kept my eyes strictly on the boat. But I was too afraid of the dogs to do so, and so turned and backed toward it, my eyes fixed on them. For a time I stepped slowly backwards, with the dogs advancing a bit each time I did. It was as if the scent of the dogbane drew a circle around me, which the dogs would not yet cross. Their eyes glowed like hot coals and their lips were drawn back in a snarl, showing huge teeth. And while they didn't bark, they made a groaning sound, the product of the strain between the repulsion of the dogbane and their urgent desire to rip me to shreds.
Each step I took grew smaller because each time I moved the circle shrank and the dogs pressed closer. The reason, I suddenly realized, when my nostrils caught a bitter stench, was the smell of my own fear. It was oozing from every pore and gradually drowning out the scent of the dogbane. When I realized this, I stood frozen to the ground, paralyzed by fear.
In a moment they had edged so close that the thick, animal stench of their breath filled my nostrils and made my knees weak. The dog directly in front of me was staring at me with such ferocity that, despite myself, our eyes locked. As they did, I felt simultaneously the intensity of the animal's desire to attack and, from within myself--but totally unconnected to me--an equally powerful response. It reached into the dog's brain and commanded it to sit.
These dogs were highly trained. The force of the order, which it obeyed at once, was so strong that it actually sat back on its haunches, as if stunned. This I saw only out of the corner of my eye, for the moment the command had been given, my attention was wrenched away from that dog and turned to the one next to it, which responded in the same way. And again this was done, and again. Each time another of the dogs was subdued, the ferocity of all the others ebbed as well. Those who hadn't been affected yet began to whine and look about, ears perked, their faces wrinkled with uncertainty. Finally, the whole pack of them sat before me on the sand with lowered heads.
Just then, a soldier shouted from the far end of the beach and began running in our direction. The sound of his voice instantly broke my trance. Already I'd backed almost to the prow of the boat. In two steps I had it in my hands. The tide was high and so I needed to give it only one great shove to move it into the water. I splashed into the water after it and swung one foot over the side, shoving off with the other to swing the prow around so it would face the open sea.
The soldier was now wading hurriedly through the water in an attempt to head me off. I could hear him but I now knew better than to look. Instead, I did what I had to do--seize the oar and start heading away from shore. This was the type of boat with a single long oar, requiring the rower to stand on a small platform near the stern and work it with a twisting motion that never brought it out of the water. I quickly moved to the platform, unshipped the oar, and began frantically to row--all of which took but a moment of time but it was by far the longest and most agonizing single moment of my life.
And for good reason. If the soldier had known how to swim he could've had me or at least grabbed hold of the boat. But at the last moment he shrank from launching himself into the water, and lost. I left him swearing viciously behind me as his companions came splashing up. I could only pray there were no bowmen among them, but it wouldn't do any good to look back and see. I worked the oar and used such concentration as I still had to peer into the darkness ahead.
As I did so, my mind began to clear, and I realized how right Alfrund had been. If it'd been he who ventured out, even if he had managed to survive the dogs, he could never have mastered the boat. It would have swung around in drunken circles--as had happened to me the first time I tried to row one--and he would have either capsized, been captured, or both.
Now that I was some distance out, I allowed myself a brief glance behind me. Most of the soldiers had gathered around the pack of dogs, which still sat in a half circle and refused to move. Others stood at the water's edge, scanning the darkness for some sign of the boat and where it was going. Good luck to them. This way of rowing makes no splashes and so no noise, which is exactly why fishermen prefer it. Once I was sure I was beyond the light of their fires, I turned toward the shore where Alfrund was waiting. Even with the faint moonlight, they would see nothing on the dark water.
After a bit I worked back towards the land, keeping out just far enough to keep clear of the rocks that lay close to shore. I made my way slowly along until I saw the flicker of a tiny light. Then, with just a few strokes of the oar, I came close enough for Alfrund to wade out and toss in the bags. Luckily, it occurred to me that he might be no better at getting in a boat than he was at rowing one, and braced myself--otherwise he would have tipped us all over with a mighty splash.
"By witness of the Great Mother!" I said as I threw my weight on one side to right the boat, "you are a sad excuse for a boatman." The relief of having him close again was so palpable I could almost have shouted for joy.
"I told you as much," he answered. He lowered himself into the bow, clinging to each side. When he was firmly wedged in, he added, "Even so, I've never felt such relief when you suddenly appeared out of the starlight. If I dared to stand up, I would hug you until you begged me to stop."
"I would only beg for more," I answered, laughing, "because I can hardly believe I'm here, myself. Did you see what happened with the war dogs?"
"No," Alfrund said. "I knew I had to start back and find a way to the shore at once, for I knew in the dark it would be a tricky business." He paused for a moment, before adding, "And, to tell the truth, I'm too much of a coward to have stood there and watched. If the dogs had attacked you I think I simply would have lost my mind."
After this, we were both silent for a while. Alfrund's words stunned me. I had been so much aware of what I risked that it hadn't even occurred to me until that moment to think of what he had in compelling me to go. I wanted to talk to him about what had happened with the war dogs, but at the moment, speaking was beyond me, at least if I didn't want to completely break down.
So I rowed in silence, taking the boat carefully around the bay, a good distance from the shore. It was far too dark to make out the outline of the last spur of rock, but I was guided by the watch fire that blazed there on the road that led around it. We moved along smoothly, since no current ran against us, and the tide was still at high ebb, so it drew us neither out to sea or, worse, toward the shore.
"You handle this boat nicely, little fisherboy," Alfrund said. "I'm glad to be in your hands."
"It feels good to me, too," I answered. "At last I know something and you don't. And, that being so, I suggest you wrap up in both our cloaks and get some sleep. There's nothing you can do now to keep us safe, and it'll take us some time to get around the point." I reached down, picked up my cloak where I dropped it, and tossed it toward him in the bow.
Alfrund retrieved the cloak and pulled it over him. "I misspoke," he said. "You're not a fisherboy, you're a prince. But don't let me sleep too long. We must talk about what lies ahead before we reach the shore."
In a few moments I caught the sound of a soft snore, and I knew for certain that he never slept when we had lain together previously, for otherwise I would have learned that sound already. Tonight, it melted my heart, and my ears drank it in as I worked the oar.
Back and forth, back and forth it went, and the sea slipped by. Even so, the edge of the spur grew only slowly nearer. Distances are difficult to gauge in the dark, and it proved surprisingly far away. Since the sea was calm, I'd taken the boat out enough so that we could pass the point without coming close to shore--such points of land are often home to unpredictable and treacherous currents.
The hours of the night passed. I rowed, Alfrund slept, and my mind wandered, since I was under no injunction not to think while we were out at sea. My thoughts were many and half-formed, partly because I was tired and partly because I had nowhere to chase them.
With each stroke of the oar, my sleeve slipped back and revealed the glowing emblem on my arm. And so I wondered about that and what it foretold. Surely it must foretell something, for Alfrund knew about it and wasn't at all surprised when it appeared. It seemed magical, but I knew nothing whatsoever about magic, so that thought led nowhere.
Then there was Alfrund himself. He had swept me away from everything I knew and more and more I was feeling swept off my feet as well. I ached to make love to him--or, more honestly, yearned to learn from him how to make love. It seemed like a wish come true I hadn't even known to ask that I might become his apprentice and his lover. However, even before we shared our first kiss I already could sense sadness in the tenderness he showed me, and I was afraid that taste of bittersweet would get stronger each time I sipped from the cup.
I also thought about this town that was our destination, Gedd, or rather the simple fact that it had a name. If our village had one I'd never heard it and Alfrund had never said it, or mentioned one for any of the villages we had passed through. I was moving from a world where places were named for what they were--the village, the sea, the mountain--and into one where such things had personal names all their own, just as people did. This seems an ordinary thing to me now, looking back. But then I marveled at it, for it hinted at how large the world might really be.
And all the while my mind refused to return to what happened with the attack dogs. Some door within me had been flung open and I was simply unable to either shut it again or look to see what awaited me inside.