Knights of Aralia Book II: Evil Rising

Chapter X: Riding the River (Part II)

Once the other knights had awakened, they had a fine repast and discussed the relative comfort of their quarters. The second day then passed very much like the first, albeit much slower. The changing scenery could only hold one rapt for so long before it became wearisome. The Aralians had themselves and their mounts to tend to, of course, but trapped aboard so small a vessel for so long, these menial tasks did not suit the generally active young warriors. The only high points were the fresh air, which was filled with a mixture of aromas not found on the open Drakonic Plains they had crossed before, and Captain Hiram, whose never-ending good humour and charming stories of distant lands amused them no end. It was rather like talking to Fargo. For although the captain was not nearly as old as the Draga, he had been many places and seen much in his adventurous life.

The most exciting development this day came in the change of scenery that the knights noted around early evening. The woodlands had become sparser on shore as patches of rocky earth grew more widespread. Soon they spotted mountains on the horizon: huge mountains that rivalled even the mighty Darkclaws in size and scope.

“Yonder lie the Redfall Mountains!” called out Hiram. “And to the south, the Bluefalls. I’m pleased to inform you Aralians that we’re almost halfway to your destination. In a few hours, we’ll have entered their shadow, and at some point around midnight, I reckon we’ll be in Ralgar.”

“That’s wonderful news, Captain!” said Morgan, holding back her excitement on beholding this legendary range for the very first time.

“Yep,” said Hiram. “But Artor and I are a little tired from last night, so we might need some of you to take our place and keep watch for a while. Otherwise we’ll have to haul in to shore for a while at the town of Bellatum on the Imperial side of the river, and personally I’d rather avoid that if possible.”

“Why’s that?” asked Ingred.

“They tend to levy a toll on boats that dock there for the night. That toll’s calculated based on how much cargo they’re hauling, and with such a full hold...”

“We understand,” said Fordain. “Besides, the fewer delays in getting to Ralgar the better. Elagor and I will take first watch, if that pleases you, Elagor?”

“That’s fine by me,” replied the Vildegraad.

“Good,” said Hiram. “Then I hope the two of you have a quiet watch. You can wake Art and me around midnight.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Fordain. “Between the seven of us, we should be able to handle it.”

“Alright, then. Good night, knights.”

“And Arden guide you!” added Artor, and the others retired below for another night.

Left alone on deck, Elagor and Fordain amused themselves by talking of bygone days and steering the boat away from trouble spots as they had seen the captain and Artor do before. But for the most part, all was calm and quiet. They entered the mountains as expected and looked on in awe as the moon’s full light shone down upon the grand stony faces, which from afar looked almost smooth. If they had touched ground on the north bank of the river, as they knew from studying many maps, they would have been at the foot of the Redfall Mountains in the Kingdom of Norland—an insulated country about which they knew very little, other than the fact that it had once been invaded unsuccessfully by the West. On the south bank of the river, they could see the lights from the small Imperial town of Bellatum and the silhouette of the Northern Bluefall Mountains beyond.

Around midnight they were joined by Hiram, who, having an urge for one of his cigars, had roused himself to check on the Aralians. He was a bit surprised that the same two were on watch, and invited them to retire. They gladly took up the offer, but not before he had pointed out to them the exact point at which they passed into Ralgar. It was hardly noteworthy, but the captain knew it like the back of his hand. As they went to rest, he told them not to worry about waking any of the others. Thus, wishing him a good morning, the two Aralians retired until the sun’s first light.

The Hengatail River flowed on for many miles past the border. Along this stretch, the landscape again began to change. The subtle transition from the craggy, mountainous land of northern Emprius to a land of gullies and side streams did not escape the notice of the travellers. As daybreak arrived, they awoke to another clear sky with good prospects. The captain was on the main deck beside Elagor, and both were looking out toward the narrow waters ahead.

“This is where it gets tight,” said Hiram. “We’ll have to be alert when we make some of the sharper turns. I’ve done it alone before, but with your assistance, we should be able to make it through without too much hassle.”

“That’s good news,” said Morgan. “But how soon until we reach Ralgar?”

“Look around, Lieutenant,” spoke the captain, gesturing toward the shore. “We’re there now. We crossed the border around midnight, while you and your comrades were busy sawin’ ‘em off.”

“Then we should be at our destination by sundown?” pressed Béragon.

“By tomorrow morning, more like,” corrected the captain. “Gather ‘round.”

He directed them toward his deck table, to the surface of which he had pinned his map of the river. “We’re about here now,” he said, pointing toward a spot just east of the border with Emprius. “We have this distance left to travel,” he continued, tracing the river’s course with his finger, “before we arrive at your end point here.” He again directed their attention to the significant northward bend in the river’s path. “There’s that little settlement I mentioned that should serve as a decent starting point for the rest of your trip.”

“And there’s no trouble expected before then?”

“None as far as the weather or river are concerned,” replied the captain confidently. “But beyond that, I can’t guarantee anything. The farther east we go, the more likely...”

He stopped abruptly as a jagged-tipped arrow whizzed by, grazing Ingred’s arm and planting itself directly in Artor’s side. The Aralians immediately drew their weapons and turned to see a scouting party of Aylar standing atop the plateaus and within the gullies on either bank. More arrows flew toward the ship from both sides of the river.

“Halt and prepare to be boarded!” cried one foe from the shore. Elagor and Wavae answered with a couple arrows of their own, which began an exchange of missiles from all directions. Ingred knelt down beside the wounded Artor, who writhed about in evident agony.

“Stay still, Artor,” she spoke to him. “Let me help you.”

“Ah! But it hurts so,” said he, grasping at his side. “Is it fatal?”

“No,” replied Ingred, “but I’m afraid it will hurt to pull it out.”

“Oh, then leave it be! I’d rather just die, honest!”

“Nonsense!” said Ingred, getting aggravated by Artor’s constant wailing. “Show some courage now!”

Artor merely groaned as she prepared to remove the arrow.

Meanwhile Elagor and Wavae, joined now by the crossbow of Captain Forrest and Fordain’s sling, continued to exchange shots with the attacking scouts. The enemy number dwindled still further as Elagor picked off another. Fordain’s aim was less steady from their moving platform, but he managed to land a shot on one’s arm, causing him to drop his bow.

Béragon, Morgan, and Evander kept up a diversion, dodging some arrows and deflecting others with whatever shields they could find. The boat kept moving at a constant speed with the current, but with no one steering, it bumped several times against rocks and floating debris, throwing everyone to the deck.

“Keep her clear of the rocks!” shouted Hiram, reloading his crossbow. Béragon ran to grab the tiller and steer the ship, but not before they hit another boulder that rocked the vessel wildly and drenched half the deck with water. The raiders managed to keep pace with the ship by hopping between rocks and over the various gullies that got in their way. This affected their aim, however, and they failed to land another hit ere two more were brought down. As their numbers dwindled, so too did their courage. With a few parting shots, they withdrew, and the skirmish was over.

“Yah-hoouuuch!”

The outburst was far more alarming to the knights than the first sight of the Aylar, and they whipped around to see the source of the noise. To their bewilderment, they found the horrendous cry had issued forth from Artor’s throat. Beside him knelt Ingred, the bloodied arrow in her hand. She snapped it in two and cast it overboard, then quickly set about cleaning and bandaging the wound as best she could.

“Are you all right, Art?” inquired Wavae.

“He’s fine, thanks to that heavy undershirt,” answered Ingred in spite of Artor’s whimpering. “It wasn’t even that deep.”

“He’ll survive, though, won’t you, Art?” said Hiram.

“Aye, sir,” replied the lad, putting on a brave smile.

“Oh, drat!” exclaimed Morgan.

“What is it?” asked Fordain, looking her up and down to see if she’d been wounded.

“I’m afraid part of our charge won’t be completed after all,” she said mournfully.

“Why? What’s happened?”

She reached into her pocket and drew forth the sodden mass that was King Frolin’s sealed letter to King Thjógor. Fordain almost laughed, such was his relief.

“Don’t worry, Morgan. It’s nothing we can’t tell him in person when we get there.”

“If we get there,” Béragon added, his mood not improved by his own drenching.

“Well that was a bracing little workout,” said Wavae, tossing his head to clear his long hair from in front of his eyes. “Do you think they’ll try it again before our journey’s over?”

“Oh, it’s possible,” answered Hiram. “The river’s edge is swarming with raiding parties these days. Like I said before, there aren’t many left who’d brave these waters for a quest like yours. That’s how I’m able to make such a fine profit. We’re going against the odds, but what’s life without a little risk, I say.”

“You are a brave man, Captain,” acknowledged Béragon.

“Not as brave as you folks, going right into the heart of enemy territory like you are.”

“Let’s hope it’s not enemy territory yet, or our whole mission is for naught. Either way I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot more of them once we arrive.”

“No doubt. Their attacks ain’t limited to trade routes. They just prefer ‘em out west to takin’ on the bigger targets. And if they’ve already invaded Ralgar, then no route you take will be safe.” He paused, lighting one of his cigars. “The West is already at war with these types, if you ask me. It just doesn’t know it.”

“Or refuses to recognize it,” said Fordain.

Hiram shrugged and blew a smoke cloud. “Whatever the case, I’ll just keep movin’ along ‘til I can’t move no more. And if everything finally comes apart on this side of the mountains...well, I reckon I’ll be right in the middle of it.”

Fordain admired the captain’s coolness about the whole affair. His apparent carelessness was hard to explain, considering all the scrapes he had been in. But that same apparent nonchalance inspired confidence through the most difficult of trials. Maybe it was those cigars he smoked, though none of the Aralians cared to find out for themselves. He was either a truly foolish or a truly courageous man. Fordain silently debated which as they carried on down the river toward Ralgar...and possibly war.