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.