Prisoner of Water: Chapter 15

“Haha! I win again!” Josten yelled, pumping the air with his fist.

The crew’s jovial mood had left them as Josten had proceeded to win almost every round of the game with the coloured pebbles. At first it had been entertaining to watch him try figure out the game, and they had playfully begun placing bets. Now, after his twelfth straight win, Josten had acquired almost every one of their purses, belts, earrings, and necklaces.

“Um, Josten, could I have a word with you real quick?” Anai asked pulling him aside.

“Alright. Set up for the next round boys! I’m sure this time you’ll get lucky!” he called before she had taken him around the side of the large pile of cargo in the center of the ship.

“Josten! Haven’t you noticed that the crew is getting less and less friendly with each game you win? I’m telling you, I’m getting uneasy about these... traders.” Anai said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I think they may be river bandits, or even pirates!”

“It’s okay, I’m planning on giving most of everything back after this last round. But with the little bit of money I keep we can stock up on supplies, and maybe even hire a descent boat to go back home once we’er done in Catamhar.” Josten said, turning to go, before calling back, “Oh, have you seen Tsinya?”

“No, wasn’t he with you?” Anai asked, before hearing the frantic pawing of the eland along with commotion further along the large deck. “Oh no, not that overgrown goat again! It’s probably trying to eat one of the sails again. Anyway, I’m sure Palo is fine. Just make sure that this is really the last game!”

~~*~~

Ismes and Manera had been running all day long through the dunelands. The sun burned brightly overhead, the ground felt on fire beneath their feet. As they sprinted with all their might, Manera felt her chest aching and tightening, the burning in her lungs getting worse. But she had to keep up with Ismes, who was running virtually blind next to the cliffs. By holding his hand, she pulled him back each time his course began bending towards the cliffs. He could also feel her grip tightening, as she struggled to fight her burning lungs. He knew it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe and wished he could stop for her to catch her breath. But the Tracers could be upon them any second, and she needed the medicine. So they kept running, as fast as they could. Ismes knew that if the Tracers thought that she kidnapped the princess then they would not stop to ask questions. If they were captured they would be knocked out and dragged back to face the Royal Inquisitors. The very thought of them gave speed to Ismes’ legs. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he tried to figure out who Manera reminded him of. It was on the tip of his tongue, he just could not place her. She was like a chameleon, changing constantly, slipping out of his mind’s reach.

~~*~~

I had wandered down below deck, hoping that it would be less turbulent down there, but soon found that the rocking of the flat bottomed ship on the river felt even worse in the cabins. As I was looking for a way up towards the deck, I stumbled upon a large door, with a massive iron key hanging from a peg next to it. Being a recorder, I had a natural curiosity, and so I took down the key and placed it in the door, hearing the iron slide into the keyhole and fall into place. I looked around, waiting to see if anyone had heard the loud noise. But no one came. I pushed against the rough, discoloured wood of the door, as it opened inward on a dark room. Instantly, a putrid, rotten and sour smell assaulted my nose. I squinted but could not see into the inky darkness. I pulled a candle from my robes and lit the wick on a torch in the hallway. Walking back into the darkness, I was not prepared for what I found. My candle dropped from my shaking hands, and the light went out leaving me in the dark.

~~*~~

Anai had managed to wrestle the eland away from the sails it had nibbled at again, and tied it securely to one of the rails. As she was doing it, a large dark shadow fell over her from behind. She turned and gave a small cry of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean ta startle ye.” Captain Shango said.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” Anai said, giving the rope one last pull, “I’m sorry about our eland. It’s like it is all one big stomach on four legs.”

“Ah, it’s no trouble. A mighty mountain beast such as itself don’t know no better.” Captain Shango said, patting the eland’s soft red fur, “I suppose once yer done with yer vacation in Catamhar, you’ll be heading back south to the mountains?”

“Yes. We don’t plan to stay long.” Anai tried to be as vague as possible.

“Pity that your vacation should be cut so short.” the Captain spoke, looking out toward the rushing river.

“Yes, well, as my friend Josten realized, traveling in winter might be faster but its also much colder.” Anai said, pulling the mantle around her for good measure. “We’ll head back and come back in spring, before the summer rush.”

“Aye, thats a much better idea. Well, if yer heading back, we could most assuredly give ye passage back up to the mountains. Maybe the traders will be done by then with their feasts.” The Captain spoke, nonchalantly leaning on the rail which was too short for him to do comfortably.

“Well, thats very generous of you Captain but we don’t have anything to trade...” Anai began.

“I win again!” Josten called triumphantly. “Alright, one more round! This time I’m feeling unlucky, so you’e bound to win!”

“Well, it would allow my crew to earn back all of yer friend there’s winnings. I’ve never seen anyone take so naturally to Maja.” The Captain said, standing up again, shaking his head.

“Could you excuse me for one second.” Anai said walking towards the Maja players, “Josten! I thought we agreed that was the last game!”

“Um, Anai, could I talk to you for a second.” I said, having just come up from below deck.

“Well, I meant that this next game was going to be the next one. Promise, this is it.” Josten said, “Masksmith’s honor.”

I tugged urgently on both of their sleeves, “Anai, Josten. I really need to talk-”

“Josten! Think about what I told you! This is not a good idea!”

“Guys, I found something-”

“And what’s that?” asked the Captain walking up behind our small group of squabblers.

“Um.” I floundered, as everyone suddenly grew silent to listen. “Well, I, um...”

“Catanya Tower sighted!” the lookout called, much to my relief.

Everyone rushed to the edge of the ship, where we could see the flat expanse of rapidless water, the glass of Catanya, with the massive structure rising up in the mist of the river ahead. It was a conical tower, painted brilliant white with bright red, blue, green, and yellow geometric shapes running in patterns on it. It was covered with openings higher up, through which messenger birds were constantly flying, but which could also act as the perfect place from which archers could take aim.

“That ther is the Catanya Tower. We’ll reach it by midday.” the Captain said, “When we do, we’ll be at the port of Catamhar.”

“Anai! Josten!” I said pulling them aside and out of earshot, “We need to get off this ship, and fast!”

“I know, that’s what I keep telling Josten!” Anai said, giving him a fierce look. “I think they might be bandits, or even pirates.”

“No, you don’t understand. I found something down below deck!” I said, trying to steady myself as I spoke the words, “They’re not bandits or pirates.”

“Then what are they?” asked Josten.

“Slavers.”

~~*~~

Shekmet was impressed by the speed the two fugitives had been making. Further down the river, it would become too crowded by trading boats for the Tracers to pursue on salamander back with any speed, so they were following the two through the dunelands on foot. The footprints they followed told the story for them. The two were running along the cliff edge, the one leading seemed to be almost blind, as he was continually pulled back from the edge by the other, who was almost being dragged along, possibly because he was wounded, though there were no traces of blood. At the current pace, Shekmet and his Tracers would catch them right when they made it to the bridge of Djariviera. But that would be tricky with the local guards of Djariviera, who did not answer to the Lower Chief of Belotha, but the High Chief of Lagdjar. It was now a game of luck. Would the Tracers catch up with the two fugitives before they reached the bridge, or would they reach the bridge before them, slipping into the crowded town where their trail would almost definitely be lost. Shekmet increased his pace, his Tracers following suit.

~~*~~

“Come on Manera! We’re almost there!” Ismes yelled, squinting in the distance.

They had come out of the dunes and were jogging across the vast salt flat between the dunelands and Djariviera. At the end of the massive, sweltering white space, stood the two tall posts, which marked the gateway to Djariviera.

Manera was coughing, her own vision beginning to swim from the heat all around, and the fever which threatened to burn her up from the inside. She stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach as the coughing started getting worse, sharp pains stabbing through her chest and stomach. The coughing just continued and would not stop until she threw up the small amount of dried jerky she had eaten that morning.

“Manera!” Ismes said, turning and running to her, throwing her arm around his shoulder.

“I-I’m fine. I just... need... a moment. To catch my breath.” Manera said coughing more.

“It’s just ahead. We just have to go a little further. Come on! You can make it!” Ismes said adjusting to her weight on his shoulder as they set off.

His heart was pounding. Ahead he could see the posts of the town. He had friends there who could hide them and help them, if he could just get there. Manera had lost consciousness and so he carried the limp figure on his back as he kept running. They were half way across the salt flat, when suddenly he felt a chill run down his spine. Turning, he squinted back towards the dunes they had come from. He could just barely tell that a dark row of figures had materialized on top of the white dune, large clouds boiling from behind them and spreading inkly out across the blue sky.

~~*~~

“There they are! After them!” Shekmet called, as he and his Tracers descended the dune and began sprinting across the salt flat towards the lonely figure running with all his might towards the gateposts in the distance. Behind them the massive storm clouds that had risen from the distance were thundering dark and omnious overhead.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 14

Ismes and Manera were seated in the shadow of one of the dunes. They had been walking along the tops of the high red canyon walls which plummeted down into the Blue River fall below them, keeping away from the edge where they could be spotted by the Tracers. The road they traveled on was a winding strip of dunes between the edge of the cliff and the swamplands to the west.

“How much farther do you think Djariviera is?” Manera asked, coughing hard as she scanned the nearby dunes for any sign of life.

“Well, we’ve had to slow down because of your coughing and my eyes. So, it may actually not be until tomorrow afternoon until we see Djariviera.” Ismes said as he cooked the snake he had caught on the small pile of dried palm fronds. “Pretty soon we’re gonna see more and more of these dunelands, cause the swamp doesn’t get as close to the cliffs further on. We should be good with water, but I’m curing the snake with the palm fronds so we’ll have some food. It won’t be a lot, but it should be enough.”

As Ismes was still speaking, a large white snow hawk dropped down and tore a piece of burning frond from the flames with its sharp talons, before flying on. Ismes sighed and placed the partially cured snake into the provisions sack.

“We’re going to have to move. I’m not sure how good Tracers really are but if they live up to their reputations we’ll have to move fast.”

Manera simply stood up. The fire seemed to have gone out of her normally harsh eyes, and to be slowly seeping into her blood. The fever was only slight, but she knew that if they did not make it to Djariviera soon, she would be in serious trouble. Her mind went back to the great pestilence, and she shuddered, forcing herself to keep walking.

~~*~~

The group of men and women were all outrageously proportioned, either thin and tall or large and stout, their varying skin tones from the light tan of the coast to the ebony of the mountains spoke that they came from all over Nyaami. The group were headed by the only normally proportioned man, who walked with a cane because he was missing a leg.

“Good morning, what are three young uns like yerselves doing in these parts?” he asked, smiling broadly.

“Well, we’re traveling down the river... on vacation.” Josten said matching the man’s grin.

“At the start of winter?” the man asked cocking an eyebrow.

“We, er, wanted to beat all the tourist that are always crowding the rivers during the summer.” Josten said, sweat running down the back of his neck.

“Hahaha! Yer a bright one!” The man said, slapping Josten hard on the back and laughing a full bellied laugh. “My name’s Captain Shango. I’m the leader of our humble band of roving traders. We were comin up here to see if there was anything left of the northern traders, but looks like they’re still up there in the mountains holding their celebrations.”

“Yeah.” Josten’s smile felt sour in his stomach, “You know how they like to celebrate.”

“Oh aye! They do!” The man gave another roaring laugh, “Oh well, too bad. I was hoping to trade some of that sweetbark from them.”

“We have sweetbark!” I yelled, rummaging through my pack before dumping a sack full of the Yikombe bark on the ground, “I gathered these last night, as, er, specimens, but I’d be willing to trade this with you gentlemen, if you’re looking for some.”

“Yer friend speaks kinda funny. But I’m willing to make a deal with any man willing to strike a bargain fer a trade!” The man said smiling just a bid too broadly, “So, what would ye be wanting in return?”

“Passage.” I said, my pride at my speed of acquiring the Uma language hurt, “As far down the river as this will get us.”

“To Catamhar.” Anai spoke up.

“Hmmm, a trip down the river?” Captain Shango’s smile broadened even wider, “Well, if thats what you want, then it’s a deal!”

Josten shook the man’s hand and instantly a long, lanky member of the traders swooped down and scooped the bag up before they descended down the stairs. We followed behind, holding a whispered conversation as we went.

“I don’t like this.” Anai spoke.

“I don’t either. But it beats running all day, and now we have a way down the river. Good thinking, Tsinya.” Josten said turning to me.

“What does Tsinya mean?” I asked.

“It literally means ‘white-water’.” Anai answered, “But its really our word for soft powdery snow. But more importantly, I don’t care if this does get us to Catamhar, I still don’t like this plan, Josten. Something feels off about them.”

“I know.” Josten said, taking her hand and smiling, “But we don’t have any other choice. And like you said, we have to get back to the mountain before the glacier becomes too dangerous. And by the looks of the streams and how fast they’re swelling up, we don’t have a lot of time.”

~~*~~

Shekmet stood on the large rock with the flat top, eyes closed as he listened to the sound of the wind. His dark eyes snapped open and he looked towards the righthand shore. At that instant, his snow hawk shot over the edge, looped in the air, before descending on his shoulder with an ear-splitting screech.

“Good, girl, Tsingo.” he spoke, taking the burnt piece of charcoal from her talon.

Four of his men slid silently up the rocky outcrop. He could already make out but he wanted to be absolutely certain before they pursued. They took the burnt frond, each sniffing, feeling, tasting, and scanning it, delivering their commentary as they went.

“Swamp fronds. They camp to the west of the river close to the swamps.”

“Dunesnake meat. From the strip of dunelands between the swamps and the cliffs.”

“The fronds are green. For curing the snake meat. They intend to cross the greater dunelands towards Djariviera.”

“Crocodile scent. Same as from that tunnel we found. If they are about to enter the greater dunelands then they have only traveled a short distance before making camp. Most likely one of them is injured or ill.”

Shekmet crushed the front, letting the blackened ciders fly off as he spoke, “We have to find them, and catch them before they reach Djariviera. But, just in case, you two, take the swifttale salamanders and go ahead to Djariviera. Wait for them at the Herbalist. If they manage to slip past us, they’ll head there.”

~~*~~

“Here we are!” the one of the traders yelled, “Best be climbing aboard the Drunken Queen before we set off. You can bring your... er, animal.”

Anai just shook her head as she led the eland up onto the deck of the large, flat bottomed sail boat. Josten and I followed, and the gangplank was pulled up behind us. After a few moments we were off, following the river through the canyons, as waterfalls fell on either side of us.

“So, Captain.” I said, “The Drunken Queen? That’s an interesting name.”

“Oh, aye. I won her in a bet with a drunken river bandit who kept insisting that she was a queen. Hahaha! So I renamed her ship the Drunken Queen as a token of my esteem!” The trader captain laughed heartily.

“B-bandit?” I asked nervously, “Are there a lot of those on these rivers?”

“Well, we’re on the White River right now, and it don’t go past many of the big cities. Its out on the Blue River you’d want to be on the look out. River Bandits an’ Pirates are often closer than you’d think.” And both he and the crew found this joke hallarrious.

I tried laughing along, before taking my notebook out and writing as I asked, “So, um, let me see if I’ve got everything. We’re at the Thousand-falls Cliffs, on the White River, heading to Catamhar, which is north of here?”

The Captain had to catch his breathe before replying from all the laughter, “Aye, lad, but some call this the Nyaakni Valley, the Valley of Water and Fire. Cause of the blue rocks on one side and the red rocks on the other.”

“Why is it like that?” I asked, scribbling as fast as I could.

Here, an older trader, with grizzled grey-blue hair hobbled up, his one eye milky white, who answered in a hollow voice, “I grew up in the Valley, and there the old ones had a story. They said that long ago, in the old days, the Water Goddess wanted to raise up a home on our side of the water. So, she pushed the first mountains up. But they simply fell back into the sea. So, she pushed them up again. And more mountains rose up under the first, but they fell back also. Finally, she pushed up a third time and this time cut some of her hair and threw it like tethering ropes to the land of Nyami. Those ropes became the waterfalls and the loop she tied around the land became the White River. This is why the mountains are so many and why they are blue, like the sea. Because they came from the other side of the water.”

I noticed Anai had crossed her arms and was shaking her head. I made a mental note to ask her about it later. At the moment, the ship gave a sudden lurch, and the Trader Captain called all hands to their stations. I ran to the side and saw the river gushing and roaring with white foam.

“Hahaha! Ye didn’t think its called the White River for nothing, did ye?” The Captain roared with a laugh, “It’ll be rough riding from here on till we get to the glass of the Catanya Tower.”

Our craft rose and fell with alarming speed, and soon I began to feel the breakfast from that morning rising in my gullet. I seemed to be the only one seriously affected. Anai was tending to the frightened animal, stroking the soft red fur and calming it by speaking softly to it. Meanwhile, as we cleared the first set of rapids, some of the crew began to play a game with six bowels and several piles of colored stones, Josten soon joining in. I readied myself for less than pleasant trip down the river. Luckily, we were only a day away from Catamhar.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 13

The night hung thick over the wide running Blue River as the boat flew down at dangerous speed. The rudderman gripped the wooden handle so tight his knuckles were turning white, maneuvering the craft around the large, dangerous rocks. The craft gained speed as it slid into a canyon, the high red walls rising high on each side. Sliding past the sides of the boats were the black slithering salamanders, water gushing up in waves from the rapid movements of their slimy bodies. They neared the boat, and two of the dark cloaked Tracers launched from their backs towards the craft.

“Incoming, left and right, almost at the stern!” yelled Manera as she stood up from behind a crate.

Ismes responded leaping off the top where he had been hiding, using the end of his spear like a bat, knocking both out of the air before they could even touch the ship. He squinted in the dull light of the moon, the spray from the river stinging his already burning eyes, further dulling his vision into complete blindness. On the sides of the canyon walls were two more salamanders, running as the Tracers rode them horizontally. The first one launched towards the ship.

“Ismes! Your left side!” Manera called while coughing.

Ismes responded by turning and swinging the spear again, but this time he felt the weight increase as the Tracer grabbed on and began sliding down the length of the shaft. Ismes only had a spit second to act, and quickly used the Tracer’s momentum and weight against himself, pole vaulting the Tracer into the water on the other side of the boat.

“Behind you!” Manera yelled, launching three daggers so quickly they barely had time to gleam in the moonlight, before pegging the Tracer solidly to the canyon wall by his mantle.

“Thanks.” Ismes said, as he tried to scan behind them while talking to the old man steering the boat. “Where are we now?”

“Well, I reckon we’re abot helf ways to Dj’viera.” he said, “Yew know, this whole chasin business is gonna cost ya extra!”

“You’ll get your money, old man. Exactly where are we. Tell me what you see. My eyes are getting worse from the poison.” he said before turning to Manera, “How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” she lied, glad he couldn’t see her face. “We’re surrounded by canyons on either side, and it looks like we’re just getting to the end of these rapids, the river is deepening and the large rocks are all but done. It looks like there is just one last big one up ahead.”

“Does it have a flat top with a smaller round rock on the top?” Ismes asked urgently.

“Yes.” Manera said, “What’s the plan?”

“Yeah, what are ya plannin on doin?” The old man chimed in. “It better involve payin me!”

“Well, neither of you are going to like it...” Ismes said, turning to the two.

~~*~~

Shekmet almost had them in his grasp. His men had caught up to the boat and were attempting to board it at that very moment. His salamander sped up as it neared the main pack pursuing the boat. Just at that moment, the top of the large pile of cargo burst into flames, bright orange light lighting up the red canyon walls which had looked blue in the moonlight. Shekmet’s men landed like shadows on the craft and he was close on their heels.

“P-please! Help!” the old man said as he was dragged forward by the two black robed figures.

“Where are they?” Shekmet asked, his tone deeper and more menacing than before.

“I-I dono! But he was a crazy un! Set fire to my cargo! I knew not to trust the likes o’ him!” The old man said shaking his fist. “An’ worse of all! He didn’t pay me!”

“Silence.” the word carried a tone of menace that silenced the old man instantly. “Now. If they aren’t here. Where are they?”

“Well, after he threw the torch on my cargo, he up an’ grabbed the other un an jumped in the water.” the old man said shaking and pointing towards the inky depths.

The shadow warriors around Shekmet were in the water before a command could be issued, sliding like black seals into the depths. As they moved through the depths, they tapped the tops of the gloves together, which brought the crystal tops to brilliant life, sending bright shafts of light into the dark depths of the river. They swam against the hard current close to the surface and dove deeper where the current slowed, scanning the river, its bottom and banks. There, where the swift river water gushed into the canyon walls, hundreds of dark passageways gaped in the sides under the water, while omnious bubbles rose from many of them. They had lost the two, for now.

~~*~~

Anai rose before the sun, walking along the blue boulders till she came to the edge of the cliffs. A nightmare had woken her from her sleep crying. Turning her back on the cliffs, she looked towards the mountains, and longed for her home so far away. The mountains were hidden by a thick cloud bank that had risen up over the peaks. She wished she could see the blue ridges, with their dusted white tops. She wished that she could be done with her training and be back home. She wished that things could just go back to the way they had been. But they would never be the same again. And as the overwhelming feeling of despair overtook her, she began to cry again.

I lay there, listening to her cry. And I felt so helpless. I wish Josten had been awake. He would know how to comfort her, what to say. After a few minutes, the crying stopped, and I sat up, seeing her walk towards us. I gave Josten a swift kick, and he snored before turning over and continuing his sleep. Anai sat down and began unpacking some food.

“Leave him. He’ll wake up with the sunlight. Here have some food and come with. Let me show you what we couldn’t see last night in the dark.” Anai said, rising and taking my hand and leading me to the cliff. “This is the Thousand-falls Cliff.”

I followed her up towards the cliff edge. What I saw there took my breathe away and I have yet to see anything as breathtaking as that morning on the cliff. Beneath our feet the blue granite of the mountains continued for a bit before falling away into a deep canyon. On the other side of the canyon were layers of red sandstone, and a red land lay ahead of us. And coming from the glacier was the thousands of streams and rivelets which all ended here at the cliff, plummeting into the gorge and feeding the white, gurgling waters below us.

The sun began to rise over this, turning all the water to gold and peach, as birds woke from their crags in the canyon and took the the skies, thousands of birds of all kinds, gilded in gold by the light. They rose up, their songs filling the air as the colors seeped into the world. She turned toward the mountain and closed her eyes, its peaks still clouded by the mists. I looked down, towards the canyon and thats when I saw them. A group of men tied a craft to a rocky ledge.

“Whose that?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Probably traders. Wake Josten.” She said, her face suddenly harsh.

I did and Josten came quickly to see what was the matter. The men were walking from the bottom of the cliffs up towards the top. They saw us, and stopped. We drew back, our minds recalling the last group of strangers we had encountered. They started walking up the rough stairs carved in the side of the cliffs again.

“Alrighty everyone.” Josten said, walking back to the bags and quickly breaking up camp and tying things together. “Let’s be ready. Maybe they’re friendly. But if they’re not, we’ll have to make a run for it along the cliffs.”

“To where?” Anai asked, looking around.

“The swamps.” Josten replied after pausing. “Its a day away so hopefully we won’t have to, but its our only chance. The glacier is too steep, they’d catch us for sure. And there aren’t any other ways down into the river, other than jumping.”

“Um, guys.” I spoke, grabbing the last of the supplies, “They’re here...”

~~*~~

Ismes and Manera emerged from a small pool in the shade of a group of palm trees. They crawled up onto the sand, both coughing up water. Ismes forced himself to crawl up the sandy dune and looking out towards the river. His eyes were still burning and he could not make anything out. Manera joined him silently, no words needed for her to know he needed her help.

“I don’t see anything. It doesn’t look like they set out on foot. They must have followed into the tunnels.” Manera spoke intensely watching the side where she knew the river was.

“Good, they’ll be nice and lost in there for at least a while.” Ismes said, turning and rummaging through the sack he had taken with them from the ship.

“Which we could have been too! Its lucky we found our way out. Unless this isn’t the first time you used these tunnels.” Manera asked.

Ismes frowned, finding what he needed and threw the thick piece of meat into the water, the dark shape disappearing as he replied, “It’s not the first time. There was a time, a long time ago, when I had to use the tunnels. They were my salvation.”

“What happened?” Manera asked sensing the deeper story behind Ismes’ laconic words.

Ismes suddenly felt another shudder of familiarity at the tone she used, and knew he had heard that tone somewhere before, but after gathering his thoughts, continued, “You remember on the boat when you asked if I had a father, well, I don’t know. If I did he left before I ever met him. My step-uncle raised me. Well, he taught me at least. Taught me to get my own food if I wanted to eat. Taught me just because someone is saying kind words to you doesn’t mean they won’t turn around and hit you at any second. Taught me never to sleep soundly, especially when there is a drunk in your house. I ran away when I was nine.”

“Nine?” Manera asked, shocked, “You were nine when you left home?”

“I didn’t exactly just up and leave. I ran. Ran for my life. See I grew up fast. And part of that growing up meant that I realized the real danger I was in and knew I had to get away.” Ismes’ eyes grew distant as he threw more of the meat into the pool, “He was going to sell me to slavers in the Inland Seas. And when I ran, he said I was stealing from him and so he was going to kill me before he let me steal from him. I ran to the river, and found the tunnels, and escaped from him.”

As he spoke, suddenly the water began to boil as large bodies rose and thrashed through the tunnels, claws gleaming and jaws snapping as the large crocodiles fought for the food, driven into a blood frenzy by the raw meat. In the process they wounded each other and so the feed turned cannibal quickly.

“That should help to discourage the Tracers from following us. But we won’t be able to take the river. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way on foot.” Ismes spoke, trying to change the subject. “It will take almost a whole day at this pace.”

As he got up, took his position by feeling the sun on his face, and turned towards the south where he knew Djariviera was. But as he turned to go, he felt a hand on his shoulder, give a small squeeze as Manera spoke compassionately.

“Ismes, I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But in a way, I’m also glad. Because if you hadn’t, we would not have been able to escape. So, thank you.”

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 12

“Far and long run the shores of Nyaami, round the land from east to west. Far abounding around it is the ocean, deep and blue and mysterious, whose depths hold secrets untold and creatures unseen. Bordered on three sides by the might ocean, on the final side sits the great and glorious insland sea. And two narrow strips that tie the land of Nyaami to the continent of Medea, are well guarded by nature herself. For the one, in miles and miles of desperate swamps, where things neither normal or natural breed in the mirky mixture of salt and fresh waters. The other, a ridge of mighty mountains, eternally snowcapped and eternally sentinal. So is the land cut off from the world, by ocean and sea and swamp and snowy mountain.

And these self same mountains, the range of Djarmond, run along the entire southern ridge of the circle of Nyaami. There, they rise in all their blue granite glory, veiled in white snow, with eternal glaciers slowly grinding down their sides. The mountains are truly majestic, a joy to behold and possibly one of the most scenic and beautiful locales in all of Nyaami. They rise so high that they are said to pierce the fermanent, which is why many of their peaks are constantly hidden above the wheeling white clouds that come from the warm southern seas to sprinkle snow on the slopes.

Running down the slopes are the glaciers, massive rivers of ice, tinged with the faintest blue of the water, the heavens, and the granite powered neath the scraping ice. Running throughout the glaciers are hundreds of spectacular tunnels in the ice, which honeycomb the entire glacial structure. Within are chambers with high blue ceilings dazzling with a million diamond sparkling and equally sharp iciles dangling over the heads of the unaware... How is that sounding so far?” I asked, pensively scratching my head with the end of my stylus as we kept walking through the majestic cavernous blue passages of the glacier.

“Sounds good.” Josten answered in a whisper, “But you might want to add a warning to any travelers who may read your text, that most of the passageways through the glaciers shouldn’t be trusted.”

“He’s right.” Anai said in a whispered tone, “I heard the old men of the village tell stories of children who would play in the glacier tunnels, and suddenly disappear into bottomless crevases. They said that the ghost of those children still roam these tunnels, looking for the way out.”

We all fell silent under the haunting echo of Anai’s words. Every step suddenly became delicate and filled with anxiety. I nearly jumped out of my skin as Josten suddenly burst into loud laughter.

“Hahaha! Anai, you got him good!” He said mirthilly, wiping a tear from his eye, “Don’t worry Tsinya, there aren’t any ghosts down here. Not yet anyway. As long as we keep to the path we have nothing to worry about. It’s safe.”

“And how exactly will we know the path?” I asked.

“Simple, see these stones on the side, they mark where the men have come through and tested the tunnel’s ice, making sure its safe. They do it every season, especially so travelers don’t have to worry.” Josten replied, pointing out the fire blackened stones.

“No, we actually do still have to worry. Without the influence of the Elders, the snow and ice will begin melting. We have to hurry if we want to come back and get through the glacier passages before they get too weak to support us.” Anai warned, the jovial mood evaporating under the reminder of the urgency of their mission.

~~*~~

The boat that Ismes and Setappep was on had caught a very fortunate, deep current that shot it out with great speed down the length of the river. This meant they would reach the town of Djariviera by the end of two days if they managed to keep to it. Ismes had slept only long enough to recover from the previous evening’s activities. He donned his dry clothes, taking the now dried papyrus from its place near the fire.

As he had suspected, the papyrus had been protected. It was standard that all high priority messages be protected so that even if part of the message was lost or destroyed, the important parts could still be recovered. The process was wetting and drying of the papyrus, which would reveal the words repeated along the edges and folds of the papyrus in a special reactive ink. Instantly, Ismes’ brows furrowed as he held the paper close to read it with his squinting burning eyes. He looked from the papyrus to the sleeping boy, who was coughing and breathing painfully, before rereading the words:

“Princess Kidnapped. Ransom Demanded. Only Clue: Puma Headed Dagger.”

~~*~~

Further up the river, Shekmet and his elite guard cruised down the river at an alarming speed, like dark shadows crouched down on the backs of the massive draconian creatures. No one but the Tracers new the secrets to taming the primeval giant salamanders of the Blue River, but with them, they could travel the fastest up or down any of the rivers that connected the cities and towns of Nyaami. A Tracer or two crouched low on the backs of each of the giant creatures, the black sashes passing through the mouths, acting as reigns to keep them above the water. Shekmet watched the skies expectantly, waiting for the sign from his snow hawk that their prey had been spotted.

~~*~~

“Wake up!” Ismes yelled, kicking the boy none too gently.

“Wha-whats the matter with you?” the boy coughed as he sat up, quickly pulling the semi dried robe tighter around him.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” Ismes said, taking hold of his spear and scoring marks into the wood with each point he made. “It all makes sense now. You don’t act like a normal Tracer. You don’t follow all the Tracer rules. You didn’t even know about the flow!”

“Hey! I just forgot it, alright!” The boy responded growing angry and defensive.

“No real Tracer would ever forget something as important as that! And on top of all that, the bottom of that message that so conveniently tore off said that the one clue to the kidnapper of the princess is a puma headed dagger. Just like yours!” and here Ismes raised the spear and pointed it towards the boy’s quivering neck, “Now, you either explain yourself, or I’m taking us back to Belotha where the royal interrogators will soon squeeze the truth out of you.”

The boy’s eyes met Ismes’ with fierceness. The look seemed somehow familiar to Ismes. He blinked, trying hard to get the burning haze fro his eyes as he scanned through the many faces of his past, trying to remember where he had seen those eyes, and that look, before. Ismes suddenly realized that this was the first time he had seen the boy without either the painted eyes or the black smeared facepaint across his face. His eyes looked kinda pretty. Almost like a...

“Drop your cloak.” Ismes said as realization spread.

“What? Why?” Setappep said growing bright red. 

“I wasn’t asking.” Ismes said, raising the spear again.

“Fine.” Setappep said, slowing undoing the sash around his hips and drawing the cloak open like a curtain.

Underneath the cloak he wore a small tunic, fastened at the waist with a chord. From the chord hung an assortment of daggers and other long distance projectiles, all with the puma marking on them. But what was more plain than the numerous dangling weapons was the obvious way in which the still damp tunic clung to the body before him.

“So, mind telling me who you really are, miss?” Ismes said, lowering his spear slightly, “And this time the truth.”

The girl drew the cloak about her again and fastened the sash. She quickly turned, not looking at Ismes anymore, which frustrated him even more, as he was sure if he kept looking at her he could discern how he knew her. There was only one woman who stood out form his past, but she could not be her, he knew that for sure. The gang of thugs had taken care of that, that fateful day so long ago, when they had all still been so young.

“My name is Manera. My father is the real Setappep. He left our home weeks ago and I followed him to the city of Belotha. I, found out about his meetings with Princess Kiza, and that she planned to hire him. I lost track of him that night when he was suppose to meet you. So I just went to the tavern to see if I could pick up his trail there, but instead, he never showed up. So, I decided to pose as him, and help you, and hopefully find out where he is in the process.” She said as he looked away across the water.

“Why on earth would you want to take your father’s place?” Ismes asked slightly agitated by her answer.

“Do you have a father, Ismes?” She asked, looking at him briefly.

Ismes looked down, his face flushing slightly with anger. He stood, not making eye contact with her, turning and walking away to talk to the helmsmen, calling back as he did, “Get some sleep, you’ll need it by nightfall.”

Ismes walked to the helmsman and sat down before saying, “Well, sorry to back out on the promise to help you unload, old man, but we’ll be getting off the boat sooner than expected.”

“What are yew kids up to? Yew aint makin some kind o trouble ar ye?” He spat between his missing teeth, “Anyways, I don’t mind other folk’s bussiness, but if yer thinkin of jumpin ship afor paying me yew gots another thing comin to ya!”

“Don’t worry old man, we’ll pay you fair enough for the day’s ride.” Ismes replied.

“An, don’t forget the fire! Yew ow me fer dat un too!” the old man said, counting the amount of copper he was going to demand on his fingers.

“Don’t push your luck old timer.” Ismes said getting up to check on his supplies.

~~*~~

The party of Josten, Anai, and myself walked through the final section of the tunnel in the glacier and emerged outside on the lower part of the mountain. Beneath the glacial tunnel the mighty glacier continued, though it grew much wider and shallower, no longer marked by tunnels and more appearing as a massive field of ice. On either side of the glacier were massive blue granite stones lying upon each other at odd angles, which enabled us to climb down them.

“What strange trees.” I commented noting the green trees growing sporadically throughout the lower reaches of the mountain.

“They’re the Yikombe trees.” Josten replied, climbing up to one and slicing a piece of its green back back to reveal the deep redwood beneath.

“They grow all over the mountains.” Anai said, “There is even a grove up in Djarmond. They never get leaves on them for some reason. But maybe they don’t need green leaves, since their bark is already green.”

“But its the heartwood thats the real treat.” Josten said, slicing the piece up he had taken, offering it to the us two, “Its sweet like honey. Here, just chew on the bark.”

Anai refused her piece, which he simply placed into one of the packs. I tried it and was instantly amazed by the rush of sweetness over my senses. There are few words to describe the taste of the Yikombe heartwood. And the sweetness lasted for the entire extent of our trek down the lower mountain face, until we finally came to the end of the glacier, where it turned into a web of icy rivers and streams, here we decided to rest and camp for the night, next to the sound of rushing water, under the shadow of the massive blue granite boulders, with the pale moon in the heavens.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 11

The sun rose red over the city of Belotha, as the man in black robes and turban moved quickly and quietly. Shekmet seemed to slide into a shadow before he reappeared from another shadow high above where two walls met. He stood on top of the wall and scanned the the other walls throughout the city of Belotha. He watched as one by one his elite guard of Tracers appeared similarly as he had, until they were all standing like large black statues omniously overlooking the entire block of the city. He looked back to the great white wall that separated the rest of the city from the palace. Distantly, where he knew the salt waters of the sea washes up against the beautiful limestone mansions of the rich and nobles, guards would be patrolling every avenue of the perfectly manicured sector. But they would have found something by now if there was anything to find.

He and his elite group of Tracers were those left to comb the more seedy slice of the city that ran wedged between the merchants streets and the docks. Here the thousands of workers either employed by the nobles or merchants all lived in grimy, filthy quarters, tucked away where no one would see them or be bothered by their stench, the high limestone walls rising up omniously on either side of them, keeping their homes in a valley of perpetual shadow and smoke from their sordid cooking fires. But a night of stealthy searching had revealed nothing.

This meant that the kidnapper must have circumvented the gap and gone through the merchant sector to the docks. Shekmet was glad he had ordered the gates closed and patrolled, but knew if the kidnapper was clever enough to avoid the virtual trap that was the peasant quarter, then he would most likely have gotten out of the city one way or another.

Shekmet’s black eyes scanned the skies until he saw what he was looking for. There was a gleam and a sudden screech, before a massive white snow hawk landed on his shoulder. Shekmet made a clucking noise as he held it close, allowing it to nuzzle its beak against his rough, leathery skin, before it responded in a series of clicks as well. Shekmet replied quickly and launched the bird into the air, where it made several wide turns and disappeared in the white of the clouds soaring on the updrafts.

Looking towards his men he gave a whistling call, and they all melted back into their shadows. Anyone looking closely would scarcely have believed what they saw. The shadows of buildings and flapping cloth in the breeze and other people walking would bleed into each other for a moment, when the shadows would seem just a bit deeper, and the occasional glint of steel could be seen off a dagger as the Tracers moved across the city like a silent army of wraiths.

Shekmet stepped out of the darkness of a courtyard, where two shadows in the corners unfolded to reveal two of his men balancing like acrobats in the corners of the buildings. They held their positions on the wall while they flipped over and pointed with their black gloved hands at the small holes in the building’s wall. Shekmet only took a moment to launch himself at the first wall, then leap to the next, in quick succession, making his way to the top, where he planted his own daggers in to hold himself up. Removing a third dagger from his back, he gently slid it into the hole. It stuck out, pointing slightly up.

“So, we’ve found his trail.” Shekmet said, removing the dagger and noting the side it came out towards. “Towards the southern gate.”

“Another goes with him.” spoke one of the Tracers who had dropped down to the other side of the roofs, and pointed to a small indented circle in the dust. “He carries a spear. The same width and weight as a royal guard.”

“Thats how he knew to avoid the peasant sector.” Shekmet said, “Well, in that case, he’ll be able to get out of the gates easily. Quickly, to the docks!”

~~*~~

Josten and Anai made their way down the massive carved stairs, the village behind them. Neither spoke, there just were not words that could fill the space between them. Both knew that all their hopes for the future with each other were gone. Anai was the wise woman, or Magus, now. All hope was lost. But hope is a funny thing, because just when you are ready to relinquish it, life has a way of injecting it back in, often in unsuspecting ways. Which was the purpose I was to serve at this point.

“Hey! Wait for me!” I called running after them. “Hold on, sorry I had to get my books and scrolls before I could follow you.”

The two looked back at me as I stumbled down the stairway. The confusion on their faces could not be more apparent. Here I was, the pale boy from the middlelands, carrying books and scrolls and pens, trying not to trip over my scarves that seems to perpetually try to slide beneath my feet and trip me.

“Easy there, friend.” Josten said, catching me as I was about to trip and go head first down the stairway.

“Palo.” I said, offering my hand as I righted myself, “Thank you.”

“Josten.” He replied, grasping my arm firmly. “This is Anai, as you probably already heard.”

“Yes.” I said, bowing respectfully, “I am sorry for your loss.”

She sighed and spoke in a numb and apathetic tone, “Thank you. Now. Is there something we can do for you?”

“Well, as a matter of fact.” I said, readjusting the large, round crystal spectacles on my face, “Yes. I have to travel across Nyaami and record your culture here. I thought I might accompany you, seeing as your route will take you to the other end of the land.”

Anai looked to Josten, who shrugged, before responding, “We welcome your company.”

Josten sighed with relief. As much as he cared for Anai, when only two people travel on a road, it can be even more isolating and stressful than when just one goes alone, because the two are constantly interacting with just each other. And for him and Anai, all their interaction, all their conversation topics and memories, all wound their way back to the loss of that night. So Josten welcomed the addition to their group.

“So, Josten, where are we now?” I said, pulling out my parchment scroll and starting to scribble.

“Well, we’re technically still in the village.” Josten said, smiling as he grabbed my arm and pulled me back before I stepped off a ledge, “Careful. Down there, where those two boulders stand on either side of where the stairs end, thats the end of the village of Djarmond. Of course, all the mountains are named after the village too, the Djarmond Mountains.”

“I see. And the other villages?” I asked, pushing my glasses up.

“Hmmm. Well, they actually don’t really have names. Most just call their village, ‘the village’. Ours is named after the mountains because ours was the first village on the mountains.” Josten said.

“And do you know who founded it?” I asked, still writing.

“Well, actually, I’m not sure.” Josten said, scratching his head and smiling.

“My great great grandmother did.” Anai responded, looking towards the far off woods, “Grysta, I think, was her name. My grandmother was named after her, Grysa. But enough of that for now. We have to be silent once we go into the passes. The snow will be unsteady after the avalanche.”

I wrote as fast as I could as we continued down the massive stairway and past the boulders. There, we found two small paths leading down from the village into the massive mountain passes. As we walked, our movements sounded loud, and I tried to keep the crunch of my boots to a minimum. All around massive walls of ice and snow loomed over us, like predators just waiting to swoop down and carry us off.

~~*~~

The merchants were walking back and forth on the networks of docks and piers that spread out like spiderwebs across the river, boats sliding in and pushing out at an alarming rate, fueling the massive eternal market street within Belotha. Underneath one of the piers, the muddy water bubbled as two heads slowly emerged from the water completely covered in a thin layer of mud.

Setappep coughed and spit, as the fresh air stung and burned his lungs. He grabbed hold of a rough rope wound around the pier for hanging frog traps from, hoisting himself out of the water that threatened continually to splash back into his gasping mouth. His throat and lungs felt cool, yet burned whenever he took a breath.

“Come on, over here.” Ismes called as he slid across the water and grabbed the side of a large, flat bottomed boat, hoisting his muddy self out of the water, his eyes clenched tightly closed.

Setappep folllowed suit. As he got up on the deck, he wound his thick black sash around his head like a turban, the entire area across his face smeared oily black from the residue of the painted on eyes. He looked much more like a fierce Tracer. The two of them walked around the massive piles of merchandise and found the pilot at the back, readying to set off. All the while, Ismes continually rubbed at his eyes.

It only took a few gold coins from Ismes and a heavy glare from Setappep, who now looked the fiercest of the two, for the man to agree to take them as far as the town of Djariviera. The vessel set off, and the two dried themselves by the large fire. Ismes pulled his gaurd’s uniform off and hung it to dry over the fire, but Setappep only buried himself deeper in his black robes.

“You’ll attract stingflies and get sick if you don’t dry yourself off.” Ismes warned, his eyes looking red, as he continually blinked.

Setappep coughed before responding, “I’m getting sick already from your brilliant way out of the city. It won’t matter much if I catch fever too.”

“Alright. Suit yourself.” Ismes said, “We’ll get some medicine once we get to Djariviera. Until then, try not to over exert yourself.”

After a moment’s pause Setappep asked, “Ismes, whats wrong with your eyes?”

Ismes wiped at them again before responding, “The water beneath the deck. I swam through a patch where the air bubbles glowed red instead of yellow. When I popped in, it was like pepper being thrown in my eyes. They’ve been burning ever since and I can’t see well. I mean I can make out basic shapes, but everything is fuzzy. But I’m sure once we’re in Djariviera we can find a Panacea Shoppe. Don’t worry about me. I still think you should get out of those wet robes.”

The two grew silent as they continued their course down the massive Blue River, as it made it’s way south through the dunes of sand and high canyon walls. The owner provided them with some food, providing that they promised to help unload his wares at Djariviera, which Ismes reluctantly agreed to. He was worried. The sooner they could find who they were looking for, the sooner he could get back and find Kiza. He hoped the boy was right. He hoped that Kiza would be okay. Remembering the papyrus, he reached for his belt hanging over the fire, and pulled the papyrus out, spreading it over the flames to dry out too.

~~*~~

Shekmet stepped out of the shadow of a man leaning next to a wall by the dock, nearly scaring the man to death. He walked briskly to the empty pier jutting out across the water. His snow hawk landed on his shoulder as he looked down. In the darkness under the pier, one of his men dangled upside down with his legs wrapped tightly around the pillar that held the pier up. He held the worn rope up for inspection, slowly turning it. Shekmet plainly read the telltale signs that someone had grabbed hold of the rope, a black fibre stuck between the wood and rope, probably from a black sash similar to their own. But why down here? There were no other signs of ascending the pier. Which meant the person must have swam out to a boat.

His men appeared above, behind, on and even below the boats, all shaking their heads. Which meant the kidnapper was not on the boats either. They must have gotten on the boat which had left from this pier. It only took a few minutes for Shekmet to find the dock-keeper’s log and the ship’s destination. Djariviera, the Trading Town, their next target.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 10

As they kept going along the roofs towards the place Ismes had in mind, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He had been feeling it from the moment he had met Setappep. Sure they had not had the smoothest of relationships but there was something else. Something else that bothered Ismes.

He realized that it was his friend, the other Tracer, who had told him so much about the Tracer way, yet this kid was not following the rules at all, and the ones he did follow he did sloppily. When he had grabbed the papyrus, he had let his hand come from the shadows. For any Tracer that would have been the ultimate humiliation. And then there was the way he did not remember the principle of the flow, or even seemed to care as much about it. No, something was not right. Ismes could feel it, like the cold drop of sweat that was running down the ridge of his back right then. He looked back at Setappep, who was still clutching the papyrus.

“Well, we’re here.” He said, sliding down an alleyway, that terminated in several drainpipes over a grate.

“In there?” the Tracer sounded unsure.

“Yes. And don’t worry. It looks completely full but you’ll see, there are air pockets. Though you’re gonna wish there weren’t.” Ismes said turning to enter, before turning back to the boy and holding out his hand, “By the way, I should probably take a look at the papyrus before we head in, since it won’t last in the water.”

The boy handed the crisp piece of papyrus over to the other.

“To all Captains across Nyaami,
This is a command imperative issued to all levels of armed persons. All guards and citadels are to be places on high alert. All garrison captains report with your troops to the nearest citadel for further deployment instructions. All citadels, fortify your regions with patrols and scouts. This is a state of highest emergency. The reason is to remain classified to higher personal only and not to be made public as it may endanger the life of the hostage. The Princess Kiza of Belotha has been kidnapped. Do what ever it takes to rescue her and you will be justly rewarded. And a higher reward goes to one who brings the head of her kidnapper-”

“What!” Ismes said, “Where’s the rest?”

“It must have torn when I was crawling through the bird tunnel.” Setappep said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We have a job to do.”

“What are you talking about! Kiza is in danger! We’re going back!” Ismes said, lowering the grate onto the putrid puddle.

“Stop! Think about it!” the Tracer said, holding Ismes back with his hands, “All the garrisons will be looking for her, so if there is even a chance of whoever did this getting caught then they’ll catch him. Or, her father will just have to pay the ransom and get her back. Either way, no one is going to hurt her. But what we have to do right now is focus on our mission. Because that’s what Kiza would have wanted.”

Ismes gave a roar of frustration and grabbed the grate, yanking it up right and holding the rusted iron up. He took the papyrus and placed it within his leather belt, where it had a better chance of staying dry. Then he leapt into the murky, fetid water. Setappep followed behind him, hearing the faint sound of the grate falling back in place above them. There would be no going back now.

~~*~~

Josten ran to the pile and began pushing burning wood aside using some of the nearby poles. He levered a large section away and felt relief flood his over worn system. There were the two of them. The single braid dangling from Anai’s ear shivered and strained as a faint sapphire blue cacoon of light enveloped them.

“You’re okay.” he sighed as he took Enna from her hands and carried her back, helping Anai out.

“What about grandmother?! We have to go back and help her!” Anai suddenly said running towards the pile of ice and snow, beginning the climb again.

Josten deposited Enna with the other children and directed them to the safety of a non burning and non flammable igloo that had survived the fall. Then he ran after Anai. She was already at the top when he reached it. As he stood up next to her, he was as shocked as she was. Below them, her grandmother danced in an intricate dance against Swampe, each sending various ice and water projectiles towards the other, while simultaneously avoiding the others’.

“Anai!” her grandmother called, “Are they safe?!”

“Yes, grandmother!” she called back, waving, in awe at her grandmother’s movements.

“You must put out the fires! Otherwise everyone will freeze tonight!” the wise woman called as she narrowly avoided another onslaught. “No matter what!”

More of the braids on her head began to shoot loose and unravel. Anai watched in horror, her throat constricting as she tried to call out, but no words came out. Josten grabbed hold of her and held her as time seemed to slow and the Magus made one last massive movement with her hand. As she did, Swampe did the same. A gigantic wave of water and a similar one of ice crashed into both, just as the last braid was undone. Both figures flew over the edge of the cliff in an explosion of slushy, icy water.

“Grandmother! No!!!!” Anai screamed as her body shook in Josten’s tight grasp.

He closed his eyes and looked away, before he smelled the smoke and turned to look back at the houses.

“Come on!” He said turning and running back towards them.

“But she went over! We have to go find her! She could still be alive!” Anai yelled as she felt the hollow ache begin to build up inside of her, “We have to help her! She can’t be dead! She can’t! She’s still alive and we have to help her, Josten!”

“Anai! She said to protect the village no matter what! To stop the fires! Even if we did save her, there would be nowhere to take her to where she could recover from her wounds. We have to save the houses first!” The words felt cheap and hollow in his mouth, but he knew they were true. Even if she had just sacrificed herself for them, they had to take care of the houses first.

Anai ran after him, her cheeks flushed. She knew he was right. She knew that it was the right thing to do, but she was still so angry. Angry at Josten for not letting her save her grandmother. Angry at her grandmother for telling her not to save her, making her promise to save the houses. And angry at herself for not wanting to do what her grandmother had said. Angry at life, and the world, and anger itself.

Josten threw his coat on one of the fire, but it only caught fire too. This was a problem. Everyone was wearing oiled hide coats to keep the water out. But if they tried beating the flames with them they would just make things worse. Anai stopped and pulled her beaded coat off.

She began beating at the flames on the roofs and the sides of structures, hot tears stinging her eyes before running down her burning cheeks. She yelled as she kept beating at the flames, all her raw emotion, her anger at everyone including herself. All her fear of what would happen now. Of what the future would hold. All her grief for her grandmother and for herself. It all came pouring out in tears and cries and the beating of her cloak against the structures.

~~*~~

Setappep could not see anything. He floundered through the murky water, which felt thick and oily, his hands brushing against warm and furry things floating around him. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him up. His face pushed against something gellatenous and thick, before he passed through the membrane. He opened his eyes and saw the sickly yellow bioluminecence that lit up the surface of the thick, jelly like membrane around him. He took a breathe and instantly gagged, feeling the vomit rising in his throat. Ismes was there by him, gritting his teeth as he breathed.

“Don’t breathe too deeply. When dead animals fall into the cracks between the boards they float down here and their corpses bloat up, filling with air. Eventually the animal rots away, except for this membrane that gets left over. This air is actually poisonous and we’ll need to get some medicine once we surface. But at least its air. Just try not to breathe too much.”

Setappep nodded his head, unable to speak, sure that he would vomit if he tried to speak. Ismes dived down and he followed. In the fetid, murky water, he could see the faint glowing spheres stretched out before them. His foot brushed against something soft and fleshy, which then began to give way under him. He could not hold the nuasea back then, and just let the vomit flow out of him into the grey water as he kept swimming for the next bubble of poisoned air.

~~*~~

Dawn light bled sickly and pale into the skies above Djarmond. The sky could not be seen, the heavy mist settling over the entire moutain, mixing with the specks of ash and falling snow that wavered in the breeze. As the village woke up, there were no celebrations or stories or songs. The somber awakening came as they all surveyed what was once the jewel of the mountains, the village of Djarmond. A wall of snow covered half the village, the rest still stood, though the houses and igloos all showed signs of fire damage, and ash was everywhere. In the middle of the ash field stood a lonely figure.

She had used almost all her many ceremonial layers to extinguish the fires. Her once intricately woven hair was hanging like a massive black veil around her head and face, down her back. Josten walked up to her and placed a cloak about her bare shoulders. She stood and hugged the cloak closer, as Josten placed his arms around her. The cloak had been her grandmother’s, that she had left behind that fateful day. It was all Anai had left of her.

“I went to the woods and found someone who might be able to help us.” Josten said, leading her back to the main meeting house, whose roof had caved in the night before.

“Who?” she asked, devoid of all emotion, completely drained from that evening’s catharsis.

“The last of the Elders.” he said as he showed her the small man of snow they had made that morning up in the woods.

“Anai.” spoke the airy, aquatic voice. “You have suffered much. But now is not the time for grief. That is yet to come.”

She nodded numbly.

“I am the last of the snow sprites, that you call Elders. Long have we lived with your village, traveling away during the summer to report your and our doings to the higher sprites, before returning at first frost. Now, listen carefully, what occurred last night is too great to wait till then to report. Therefore, I require that you take me to the Sacred Spring. There is the Council of All Waters. They will know what to do.”

Everyone lowered their heads as if agreeing without knowing what they were agreeing to. All this talk of snow sprites and great councils and sacred springs were all too much for the grief wearied minds of the people. The sprite felt compassion for them and decided to keep its words brief.

“Josten, you seem to be touched by a special kind of destiny. Hopefully, that destiny will be able to guide you as you carry me to the sacred spring.” the small snow figure said, as Josten nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I can melt myself and fit very easily within a waterskin.”

Then turning it said, “And Anai, you must come along as well. You are now the new Magus of Ice, title inherited from your grandmother. It should have gone to your poor mother, but, as that cannot be, you must don this heavy mantel, at such a young and tender age.” Anai did not look at Josten. She could not process any more sorrow or disappointment, not now. “However, your training was never finished. You must travel with Josten to the City of Catamhar. There is one who can complete the vital last part of your training.”

And so Josten with his oiled skin coat and provision bag strapped snugly to his back, the Elder placed inside a waterskin around his neck, and a stout walking staff in hand walked towards the gate of the village. Anai joined him, her grandmother’s tan mantle wrapped around her shoulders, as she led a longhaired mountain eland behind her, its thick reddish wooly back weighed down with more provisions. The two met at the gate and walked down the stairs carved in the stone. The village stood watching them go, all silent as the grave.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 9

The river of snow and ice had finally slowed and stopped. The entire moutainside had bene transfromed by the small avalanche. The majority of the soft snow had run down the slope, burying the villagers to their chests in snow, while passing on either side of Anai and her grandmother’s caccoon. Meanwhile, the larger, harder blocks and chunks of ice had fallen like a wall across the plateau, crushing several igloos and cutting the village in half.

“At least I got all the babies and children to the higher houses before that happened.” Anai spoke breathlessly, “They’ll just be on the other side of the snow mound.”

“Foolish girl! You have sealed their doom! There will be no one who will be able to save them!” Swampe said before turning to the soldier with the mark on his face and commanding, “Fire!”

The various soldiers scattered around launched arrows into the air. As the arrows flew, their paths intersected, so that they skimmed over each other. On each arrows was a piece of flint and a cloth soaked in oil. As they skidded over each other, the sparks flew and the arrows lit into bright orange plumes of falling flame, leaving oily black smoke trails behind them. They fell past the large wall of fallen snow, right onto the stretched hide roofs of the houses where the children slept. The hides of the roofs were oiled to keep the water out and so instantly lit up in massive mountains of flame.

“No!” Anai yelled as she began running across the soft snow in her snow shoes she still had on.

“Anai! Wait! I’m coming too!” Josten yelled, scrambling across the tree that had fallen over in the avalanche and now hung precariously over the edge. He quickly tied his snow shoes and followed.

The rest of the villagers were buried too deep in the snow to move, but as Anai and Josten passed them, they were weeping, calling out to the two as they moved across the snow.

“Please! My baby! Save my baby!”

“My daughter! She’s all I have left!”

“My sons! Please! Don’t let them die!”

“My children!”

“My baby!”

The words echoed into Anai’s heart and fueled her desperate panting breaths as she climbed the snow wall. Josten was right behind her, watching her disappear over the edge. The three houses where the children were sleeping were already being eaten by the flames. Anai ran into the first without second thought.

“Anai! Your cloak!” Josten called as he slipped his oiled coat off, before running towards the same house.

But before he could enter, Anai came running out, a baby in each arm, both coughing and crying. Her beaded coat had not caught a single flame because her ceremonial garb was not oiled like the rest. Josten followed her in after they deposited the two safely on the side. Within the structure smoke filled their vision and burnt their throats and lungs. Josten saw the swirling smoke rising towards the domed roofs and dropped down, finding bundles of huddled figures crying in the smog.

“Come on, it will be okay. We’re gonna get you out.” he said as he led three small children out along with a baby in his arms.

Outside, Anai had entrusted the babies to the care of the smaller children while she and Josten began on the next house. The first house they had just emptied creaked as the roof poles fell inward, sending showers of sparks and embers into the inky blackness of night.

~~*~~

“So, how exactly are we getting out of Belotha?” asked Setappep once he caught up with Ismes as the two ran along the top of one of the real limestone walls of the city.

Ismes looked beneath them where the streets were still crowded and congested before speaking, “Well, this whole section of the city, the merchant sector, is actually built over the shallows of the Blue River that runs along the city’s walls. Few people know this, but the river actually flows underneath this whole part of the city.”

“Really? Is that why there isn’t any real limestone here?” Setappep asked.

“Exactly. This limestone wall we are on is the actual bank of the river. Everything below us is wooden boards over the river shallows. It’s mostly filth and mud and dead things down there under the boards. But that is gonna be our way out.” Ismes said dropping down lower before running along several window sills.

Setappep was keeping up this time, asking as he ran, “Wait! What?! We are going under the boards of the city!?! Are you crazy!?!”

“Well, I’ve done it before. But before we go there, I want to stop at the communications tower and check on something.” Ismes said, turning and running on the roofs before them, which were now apparently on the limestone side of the city and therefore not made of straw.

Just to be careful, Setappep slowly lowered his body onto the roof and made doubly sure before running after Ismes. Before them loomed the massive obelisk, with window-like openings up and down the structure, where all manner of birds and winged reptiles were constantly soaring into and out of, as messages were arriving and departing from the communications capital of Nyaami.

~~*~~

Meanwhile, on the other side of the fallen glacial piece, the Magus and Swampe faced off against each other. Swampe swept her hands before her and all the remainder of her troops burst into streams of water that rushed through the air towards her, forming one large river as they came to her beckoning. The river gushed around her like a serpent.

The Magus closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her hair which had fallen silent since the glacier fell was now flailing about again, braids bulging and straining against the bonds. And then, she stretched out her hand towards Swampe and a crack began to run towards her in the ice’ surface. When it reached Swampe, a large icicle shot out from it like a spear. Swampe timed her movements perfectly and merely stood on the tip and allowed it to push her up to where she just hovered in the air.

“My turn!” She whipped the massive river of water towards the old woman, like a gigantic hammer flailing towards her.

“No!” The old woman yelled as she raised her hands over her head, palms pressed together, before lowering them suddenly.

The river turned to fine powdered snow and rushed on either side of her. Another braid went undone.

“You’re weakening. It’s only a matter of time!” Swampe yelled.

~~*~~

The two figures crawled through the small opening, bird feathers and droppings crusted on all the sides. They wiggled through the hole and slid inside the massive limestone room. It was covered in ledges where scribes at desks were scribbling hastily, while young pageboys walked between the desks, retrieving message from birds and taking them to scribes, or walking back from the scribes and tying messages to the birds’ claws before sending them off again.

“There.” Ismes whispered and pointed towards a busy scribe, who was feverishly copying the same note over and over again.

The pages ran from him to the red ribboned falcons nearby, the highest priority alerts to the citadels across Nyaami. Ismes and Setappep made their way across the room in the shadows as they neared the scribe’s desk. The Tracer held up his hand and slid into the shadows, deeper and darker than even Ismes could get. He watched as a piece of papyrus newly written on seemed to blow faintly by a breeze and gently flutter off the table and drift towards the shadows. A small hand reached out and swept the papyrus away.

“There, I got it.” the Tracer said appearing next to Ismes from the shadows.

“Nyama! Don’t scare me like that! Come on. We can take a peak at it outside.”

The two crawled outside through a tunnel, just barely making it out before a snow hawk was stuffed into the chamber and came screeching out behind them. As they climbed down, using the openings as footholds, they made their way back towards the southern gate, running along the limestone roofs. As they ran, Setappep unfolded the papyrus and scanned the contents. His eyes narrowed again and he quickly tore the bottom half off and threw it behind him as he kept running.

~~*~~

“I think that’s all of them!” Josten yelled to Anai as he swept a glance through the last house.

“Where’s Enna?” a small boy cried, “I want Enna!”

“There, there. You’ll see Enna soon.” Josten said as he picked the boy up and walked him to the rest of the huddled children.

“But Enna went to the big house and didn’t come back!” the boy spoke as he sniffed.

“Anai!” Josten said turning.

“I heard!” She yelled as she ran up to the meeting house at the very base of the jutting mountain peak, its large timbered roof roared with flames.

“Enna! Enna can you hear me?” Anai called as she ran into the thick cloud of smoke. The meeting house’s roof had some of the few actual wooden beams in the village and they were beginning to pop and crackle as the flames spread across them rapidly.

As her throat and eyes stung Anai did what Josten had recommended and dropped to the ground, crawling along the floor. As she kept looking she suddenly heard the faint coughing and cries of the little girl. Following the sound in the deep black smoke, Anai found her huddled in the corner, crying.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to come in here. I just wanted. To see what it looked like.” She shivered as she coughed.

“There, there. I’ve got you now. You don’t have to worry. You aren’t in any trouble. Everything will be okay.” Anai said picking the small girl up.

“Anai, get out of there!” she heard Josten yell from outside, “The roof is about to collapse!”

Anai turned back towards where she thought the exit was and crawled towards it. But in the smoke she must have gotten turned around because she only found a wall. Enna was beginning to panic and Anai tried to reassure her as she crawled in a different direction. With a crack, the timbers above her gave way. In the second she had Anai could only think of one thing, and hugged the small child to her to protect her. The heavy burning beams fell down on them, exploding in showers of blazing embers and sparks. All that could be heard from the heap of burning wood was the crackling and popping of the fire as it ate at the wood.

“Anai!” Josten yelled, his voice hoarse.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 8

“Thats it! Almost there!” Josten yelled smiling despite the dire circumstances, his cheeks complying painfully. “Now, even the volley out and press forward! That’s perfect! We’re there! Just a bit further!”

Josten watched and held his breath, hoping against all odds that his plan worked. His heart-blood pounded deafeningly in his ears as he watched the invaders retreat under the volleys, directed towards the ravine. At first nothing happened. They just kept walking on the snowy ice. Then there was a low rumble and the section of the iced snow the invaders were on fell back into the ravine, carrying them all back in.

“We did it!” Josten called as the villagers cheered. “Quickly! Men come and surround the edge! We have to make sure they can’t get out of the ravine!”

The defenders came and lined up along the ravine edge, weapons trained on the soldiers below, who were buried waist deep in snow, and could barely move anyway. As Josten turned from the cheering villagers, he saw the last mask fall into the snow before him. It was the broken mask, fixed with the sap.

For a moment he thought of how simple everything was back when he had fixed the mask. Then, as hollow realization seeped in, he recalled it had just been that morning. The sound of Anai’s booted feet on the snow brought him instantly back to the present.

“Josten! What happened?!” Anai yelled.

“We pinned the soldiers down in the ravine.” he said quickly hugging her before holding her at arms length and explaining the situation. “But the Snow Elders are.... gone. And your grandmother...”

“Grandmother!” Anai pulled away and ran towards her grandmother, while Josten tried to hold on to her, lost his grip, and fell in the snow behind her.

“Anai! No! Come back!” he said scrambling up and running down the slope behind her.

~~*~~

“Nyama! Not another one!” Ismes hissed as he watched the gate lined with soldiers along all the walls and filling in from the lower steppes of the courtyards below. He gazed at the moon, rising higher and higher in the sky. The night was beginning to grow old, and he could not risk trying to leave the city during the day.

“Come on, we can still make it to the merchant gate, right?” Setappep said running and scrambling up the side of a building, using the various protruding wooden posts.

“Careful! Stay on the walls we came on. Those roofs are made of packed straw! You’ll fall in!” But it was too late, the Tracer disappeared over the edge of the roof.

Ismes quickly made his way to the top, and there he found the Tracer hanging from a ledge, while carefully balancing his weight between two posts that were inching lower with each second.

“Um, a little help!” He called up, reaching up with one hand and sliding lower.

Ismes growled with frustration and he quickly reached down and grabbed the boy’s hand. As he began pulling him up, he brushed a piece of loose masonry that fell down into the shadows and knocked a lamp over. The lamp’s feint light illuminated the bottom of the building, which was an armory filled with standard issue spears, gleaming in the lamp light.

“Really! You had to fall into the one house that would be full of deadly spears!” Ismes growled as he pulled the boy up slowly.

“Less talk, more pull!” Setappep snapped back, “You need me to finish your mission, so pull as if my life depended on it!”

With one last final heave, the boy came back over the edge, the two of them sitting on the beam of the houses’ edge panting.

“Next time a little warning would be nice.” Setappep said indignantly.

“What?! Me?! How stupid do you have to be to climb up onto a straw roof?” Ismes growled and stood up on the beam.

“Well, where I come from roofs aren’t made of straw!” Setappep growled before turning and readying to jump to the next roof.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Ismes said, taking his shoulder firmly, “Let me go first. Follow me, step where I step, grab where I grab. We’ve already lost enough time.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Setappep said sarcastically.

The word Captain stung into Ismes’ soul and he felt his jaws tighten and his fists clench at the word. He forced himself to take a deep, heavy breath before he launched himself from the post to the next, landing cat-like on the wooden frame. After he launched to the next one, he looked back to make sure the boy was keeping up, and not falling into any more armories.

~~*~~

“Now, it’s just you and me, Magus.” spoke Swampe as she floated closer to the old woman, “What will you do without those sprites to protect you?”

“You. Cannot. Win. In. The end. You will not. Win!” she strained as she pushed the glacier a bit further, inching it onto a ledge on the mountain. Just a bit further and the glacier would be stable.

“Ha! And you think you can stop us?” she spoke with an evil grin. “You are a small piece of a much larger plan. To change the face of the entire land of Nyami forever. How could we fail once we release... her.”

The old woman’s eyes went wide and the glacier began sliding again, before she caught herself and pushed it back, sweat beading on her face as she spoke, trying to stall Swampe. “You. Cannot. You would not. Dare!”

“Oh, but we can. And will.” The glacier inched onto the ledge a bit more. “Too bad you won’t be around to see it. It will be glorious. The destruction. The chaos. The death.”

“You. Have no idea. What. You are meddling. With!” The glacier was partially settled, it just needed the final push.

“Well, you won’t live to see how wrong you are anyway. But at the very least I can give you a taste of the what will come.” Swampe spoke, grabbing another one of the watery spears in her hand.

“Anai! No! Come back!” Josten voice echoed from the village as he fell in the snow behind her as she ran towards the two.

The shaft flew, speeding through the air like an arrow from a taught bow, slicing the thin mountain air before it exploded on impact. But it did not hit Anai. And it did not hit her grandmother. And it did not hit Josten. Instead, Anai’s grandmother had moved, covering her granddaughter in a hug, a glowing caccoon of shimering sapphire blue light radiating around them.

Then there was a loud crash and the glacier crumbled down on the rows of igloos and raced down the mountainside as a small avalanche. The villagers tried running from it but were all swept aside by it into the ravine. Josten had enough time to slide to the side of the cliffs and scramble up one of the few trees. Josten’s tree was slowly pushed over by the snow, tipping precariously over the edge of the cliffs. He clung to the tree for dear life as it was thrust out into the empty night sky.

~~*~~

The two made it to the merchant gate, but as they did, their hearts fell. Illuminated by torchlight the hundreds of soldiers stood at attention in the warm evening breeze. Ismes closed his eyes tightly and sighed, while Setappep raised his puma headed daggers, one in each hand, and spoke, his eyes narrowing again,

“Well, I guess we’ll have to fight our way through!”

“No, we won’t.” Ismes said, plucking the daggers from Setappep’s hands. “We would be outnumbered too greatly and I can’t afford to protect you and fight them off at the same time.”

“I can take care of myself!” Setappep said fiercely.

“I’m sure you can.” Ismes said handing the blades back, “But isn’t the way of the Tracers, to follow where the water flows?”

“Um, yes, it is.” Setappep stammered, to Ismes’ amazement.

That was one of the first teaching of the Tracers, and Ismes himself had even learned it from a friend who was a Tracer, long ago. How could this boy not even know something so basic as the principle of the flow.

“Water flows downhill, not uphill. Flows around mountains, not through them. This is the principle of the flow. Which you ought to know! I can’t believe this! Kiza hired a second rate Tracer who doesn’t even know about the flow!”

“I know, okay!” Setappep snapped, “I just, forgot! I remember now! And just as water flows smarter rather than harder, around rather than fighting through, so also we should act smarter rather than harder. I remember, see!”

“Hmph.” Ismes did not respond as he stood up and assessed the situation.

“So, how do we get out smarter rather than harder?” Setappep asked, joining him.

“Well, it will still be hard, but not as hard as fighting past all those guards. But you won’t like it.” Ismes said, running and jumping to the next building. “We have to track back to the southern gate. If its still there, we can get out without meeting any guards at all!”

“How?” the Tracer called following.

“You’ll see! Now, hurry and keep up!” Ismes said swinging down a wooden pole and vaulting with his spear across a small courtyard.

The Tracer ran after him, throwing several daggers into the crumbly clay sidewall of the courtyard. Jumping, he grabbed hold of the daggers and used them to climb across the same space Ismes had vaulted. As he made his way across, he pulled them out one by one and hid them in the folds of his dark robe as he continued. He made it to the other side and looked around, not spotting Ismes for a second before seeing the gleam of his spear as he leapt two buildings ahead of Setappep onto the third. Setappep gave a low growl and set off after the older man.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 7

The large pale moon hung over the mountain, illuminating the scene below. The invaders and defenders fought hard in the snowy slope that stretched between the village gate and the houses. Their weapons flashed in the light of the fires that were still burning around the slope when the village’s celebrations were interrupted by the invaders. High above the wall of ice loomed precariously, as the village wise woman strained to hold up the sliding glacier.

“Grandmother!” Anai yelled as she ran and threw her arms around her grandmother.

“There. There. Anai. You. Must. Go!” the old woman strained, as one of her braids burst, the hair quickly unraveling from the braid and shooting into long thin strands before settling on her back, her feet suddenly being pushed back in the snow as if by some heavy force. “You must! Go take care! Of the village! Go secure. The children!”

“Nya! The ones in the igloos!” Anai yelled as she turned and ran back, “Don’t worry grandmother, I’ll get them all into the houses farther back! They’ll be safe! I’ll come back I promise!”

The old woman closed her eyes once Anai was gone, “I know child. I know.”

~~*~~

“You’re nothing but a child!” Ismes said with contempt, standing to leave.

It was true, the youth before him was indeed more boy then man. His smooth features did not even hint at a beard yet, and if Ismes could guess the boy could not be fourteen yet. He wore a long black robe, with a black turban. His skin was tan and had clusters of eyes drawn around his own eyes, so that it was hard to tell which were his and which were painted. When he spoke, his voice was light, not even having cracked yet.

“Since when has that mattered? It is not my age that qualifies me, it is my abilities.” The boy said, vanishing into the shadows before reappearing in the shadows behind Ismes, a puma headed dagger ready at Ismes’ ribs.

“Ha! Impressive,” Ismes said, before motioning down with his eyes at his own spear which had turned faster than either could see, and was pointing behind him at the Tracer’s heart. “But not impressive enough.”

“Well.” The Tracer said, flustered, “I wasn’t hired for my killing abilities. I was hired as a tracker.”

“But you are suppose to be able to do both.” said Ismes raising an eyebrow, “Otherwise you would just be Trackers or Assassins.”

“Oh, trust me, I can and will deliver.” the boy said, his real eyes narrowing into fierce black slits, “But like I said, I was told that this job would be focused on tracking down someone.”

“Hmph. I didn’t say you had the job yet.” Ismes said, “I’m still unimpressed.”

“And I’m still waiting. I wasn’t hired by you and so you really don’t have any say.” The boy said, folding his arms smuggly, “Now, tell me again. Who are we tracking?”
Ismes sighed in resignation as he stood and held out his hand, “Alright, but let’s start off on the right foot. I am Ismes of Belotha, bodyguard to your, erm, client.”

“You can call me Setappep.” the boy said, extending a hand tattooed with a puma on the back, grasping Ismes’ arm.

~~*~~

As the battle continued to rage on above and in front of them, the village was forced to watch helplessly. Josten wished there was something he could do. He scanned the area around them illuminated by the large white moon overhead. Behind them was the mountain with the looming ice overhead. Beneath the looming ices was the igloos Anai was evacuating towards the larger houses further up the mountain, where the ice could not reach. Then past the igloos were the huddled villagers, the remains of the feasting tables and small fires that had been bonfires standing on either side of them. On one side the mountain steppe fell away to a sheer cliff, while on the other, a small ravine ran between their steppe and the taller mountain next to them. The ravine was deep but filled up with snow so it could barely be seen. Before Josten could think further, there was a sudden scream of horror next to him.

It was followed by a clutter of pieces of wood, pieces of a Snow Elder mask. Everyone looked up in shock as the thin, diamond-like dust blew down in the breeze all around them, what had once been their protector, their beloved Snow Elder. The defenders were stunned, and began falling back under the invaders’ assaults. Josten walked forward and picked up the pieces of broken mask, examining them, hearing the wail of despair behind him.

Soon there was another loud crash above them as another Snow Elders was torn to powdery snow by a blast from Swampe. The people began yelling, screaming, panicking. Josten did not know what he was doing. All he knew was that he was running towards Anai’s grandmother and fell before her on his knees, looking up in her grey blue eye.

“J-josten.” she strained.

“Yes.” his voice sounded small.

“Will you. Will you take. Good care. Of. Anai?” she spoke the words as tears came from her eyes.

“Y-yes. I will!” he said resolutely, before he winced as he heard another explosion from the sky and the wail grew louder.

“Good.” she sighed as she exhaled slowly, the mountain side cracking more.

“What is that suppose to mean?!” Josten found himself yelling before he realized it, “Are you just going to give up like that? On us? On Anai?”

“Hmmm. Your spirit. Is young. And strong.” the old woman smiled, “You two. Would have been. Happy. Together.”

“No! Don’t say that!” Josten said, realizing what she meant, “You won’t die today! Not as long as I can do anything!”

He turned and ran back towards the villagers, his lungs burning under the strain of the thin, iced mountain air. His eyes hurt from the glare of the moon on the snow, each of his muscles and joints called out in protest as he demanded more from them. But it did not matter. He had to force them to respond and force himself to smile as he called to the standing and wailing villagers,

“Djarmond! Djarmond! Stop crying! Stop despairing! We can still win this day! Do as I do!”

Josten reached down and pressed a snow ball together as he has done since childhood. He quickly formed it into the solid, hard as a stone, orb and ran towards the advancing invaders. With a well wound throw he sent the rock-hard ball straight into the face of a nearby invader, nocking him clear off his feet. It only took the people of the mountains a second before they joined in. Lifetimes spent perfecting the art of making and throwing a snowball all lent themselves to the small army suddenly creating masses of ammunition and turning the normally peaceful villagers into fighting machines.

“There, keep up the volleys!” Josten directed them, jumping and hooting in victory, even though his body protested at every move, “Thats it! Now, increase towards their left side, decrease the volleys on their right!”

The villagers continued to follow Josten’s directions as more and more masks and snow fell from above them. But somehow by being spurred into action, they hardly registered the fact that the Elders were falling from the sky. But Josten was painfully conscious that only a handful remained. If they all fell before his plan worked there would be no one to stand against Swampe.

~~*~~

The two slid through the street, making their way through the loud merchants yelling at the top of their lungs while they held their goods up into the air. The thousands of feet running along the wooden boards that paved the bottom of the streets echoed around the tall limestone facaded buildings. Most were poorly constructed wooden structures hidden behind false limestone faces meant to impress. Ismes and the boy Setappep made their way to the large city gates, two wooden portcullises slowly lowering in place as they arrived.

“This isn’t right. Its not yet an hour after moonrise. Why have they already closed the gates?” Ismes said walking swiftly to the guards at the gate.

He drew his cape around him, and swept his hood over his face. He did not want to be recognized slinking around outside the palace at night. As he approached the guards did not stand to attention as they normally would have. Instead they eyed him suspiciously, before continuing their conversation.

“Excuse me, sirs.” He said, hobbling and hunching over as he went, “Could you spare a copper piece for an old man?”

“Get lost you old fool! We’re guarding here!” the one called, the other responding with a deep, lusty laugh as if the first guard had told an extremely funny joke when he said that. “Hey! Pass the bottle back here, and stop laughing like an idjit!”

“I’m sorry to bother ye, sirs. No disrespect intended. You obviously have to guard the gateway.” Ismes said, still hunched over.

“Thats right! Its a very important job!” the soldier slurred.

“Indeed?” Ismes asked.

“Yeah! We have to make sure no one escapes from the city tonight. All the exits have been ordered shut and guarded. Because-” but he got no further as a third, much more sober guard arrived and smacked him with the end of his spear.

“Stop your blathering you idiot! And you! Old man! Get lost if you know whats good for you! Some of us could be in bed right now sleeping, and have to be out here to guard these stupid gates because of the likes of you, so you’re on thin ice as is!”

“Beggin your pardon, sir.” Ismes said as he backed away, hobbling and bowing in his stooped form as he did.

Once he was around the corner, he quickly found Setappep who immeditaly asked, “Whats wrong? Why are the gates shut?”

“Shh. I don’t know.” He said, keeping his hood down, “But whatever it is, we have to move fast, look, another column of soldiers is arriving to reinforce the gate. We have to get to the southern gates before they are reinforced too!”

“But the streets are too crowded!” Setappep whispered.

“Then we won’t use the streets.” Ismes answered, “Follow me.”