River Heart

Chapter Twenty - The Swift

The dawn came in washes of gold on a pale pink sunrise. Lyris stood barefoot on the shore with her toes dug into the sand. With her skirts lifted to her calves and held in her hand, the crystalline waters lapped against her ankles. The water felt as though it had come directly from ice. After all, a glacier remained in the mountain above Toscun, feeding the azure waters. They were a brighter and paler blue than she remembered. She explored the bed of the lake with her senses, here at the shore there was little life. Only a few small fish that dared to venture close to the sun’s reach. They tickled her feet as the swam by. The bed of the lake was a slow ramp away from the beach, before it reached a shelf and dropped into frozen depths. Lyris didn’t follow the call of the water, too aware of the creaking of sails and wood at the jetty. The long, flat-bottomed boat was being loaded with strawberries that Kelanin’s wagon had collected, along with crates of trade goods.

Kit would be accompanying her across the water to Toscun, along with Rafai. They intended going to negotiate a trade of goods across the water, and then would return to meet the caravans. It had felt strange, collecting all her belongings up the day before and pushing them back into her bags. She’d scoured the wooden walls and floor of the wagon, making sure that nothing was left behind. Lyris knew that she would miss the scent of varnished wood and lantern oil in the morning. She would miss the gentle sway and even the unexpected lurch of the wheels rolling over the dirt-packed road. Most of all, she would miss the warm company of Kelanin and her family. At least, she reasoned with herself, Kit would be joining them for the journey across the lake. So, she was spared the remorse of parting with him until they reached Toscun.

The first true rays of sunshine lifted the horizon of the lake and Lyris picked her route along the sand to the dock. Storm had already been loaded onto the barge and given a small corral alongside a pair of sheep. Lyris stepped onto the ship and turned to lean against the railing. A cool breeze lifted from the water, and made the pair of sails to flap as they were readied. The main sail supported with a great mast, and the fore-sail jutting out over the long prow of the boat. Behind the captain’s cabin, was the curved neck and head of a dragon, eyes fixed on the lake before them. The sides of the ship were decorated with two arched wings, with the vessel half-hidden in the first haze of daylight, Lyris could imagine it as a living beast, a serpent of the lake. In front of the cabin, was a covered set of stairs. Kit and Rafai had long since vanished below deck, stringing up their hammocks and laying claim to space in the open cabin. It was with tentative hope that the young woman finally turned to scour the road leading from the inner keep, for Arn. At first a large shape appeared beneath the archway, and her stomach gave a funny little twist. Until she realised that the man approaching was Timmit and not the Prince. The smith lifted his hand in greeting as he followed the meandering path, a pack held tight to his back with a sword strapped to his hips.

‘Morning,’ he grunted a bleary-eyed greeting and she forced a smile in return, swallowing her disappointment.

‘You look as good as I feel,’ she teased. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his jaw and chin were fletched with dark stubble. The smith surprised her with a brief grin.

‘I prefer late nights to early mornings,’ he admitted and studied the plank used to board the vessel. The ship, Swift rocked against its mooring. Crystalline waves lapping against the hull. ‘Here goes,’ he muttered beneath his breath and advanced towards her, one arm outstretched for balance as he picked his way across.

‘I didn’t realise you’d be sailing with us,’ Lyris tilted her head to the side. Timmit was scouring the deck for something, or someone so she pointed out the man at the prow of the ship, stripped to his waist and grey-hair pulled back from his face in a horse-tale. ‘Looking for the Captain?’

Timmit nodded, ‘my thanks,’ he hoisted the pack higher on his shoulders, his fingers pale from the grip on the strap.

Lyris watched as he approached the man she’d met earlier that day, Roan of Clearwater, a small bay on the Great Lake itself. The student had found herself wondering, just how many years he had spent on the water, before wondering if he ever stepped foot on land. He moved over the ship as though it was a part of his own being. His skin weathered and red-brown from years of exposure to the wind and the driving rain that came down off the Mountains North of Toscun. Itching to discuss the lake itself and the moods of the water, she had resisted the urge. Asking such direct questions would prompt questions in return. Kit, Rafai and Arn knew of her purpose but she’d prefer to keep her quest a secret. The young woman had enjoyed the anonymity given to her by the caravan and the travelling family. For the first time since setting out from the Hidden Island, she’d been able to interact with without feeling the hairs raising on the back of her neck. Without fear that they secretly wanted to drag her to a pit and be certain of her death.

The young woman watched Timmit pay for his crossing to Toscun with three gold coins. One for each day of the journey and an extra for luck. Three gold coins bought a space to throw a hammock, a chest to store your bag, three meals a day and enough water to quench your thirst. Roan had informed her gruffly that he had no spare cabin for girls, and that if she wanted wine, beer or brandy, she’d be charged by the cup. The young woman had given her coin without question in the grey light of the pre-dawn, eager to continue her journey and struggling to hide her excitement. The water called to her, a whisper across her heart that saw it pinch and contract.

Footsteps on the decking attracted her and she turned, Arn approached with the shadows on his back. A small pack swung back and forth from his hand and his hair was tousled from sleep. She grinned at him and felt the familiar flutter of nerves in her stomach when he grinned back. His smile brightened tired features as the port creaked beneath him.

Lyris straightened up, running her hand down the front of her dress. Her throat felt tight and her palms were sweaty on the railing, ‘morning,’ her voice was soft and breathless.

‘Morning,’ he replied and paused at the plank, tearing his gaze away from her face he studied the deck of Swift, ‘any idea of where the Captain is?’ he murmured, ‘if we boarded a ship without permission back home, we’d get a quick slap around the ears,’ there was a cautious smile as he spoke and she believed his story.

Lyris turned, Roan emerged from the steps that led down into the belly of the boat and catching sight of the newcomer, approached. His hair was receding from his temples, but it would have been long enough to reach the centre of his back if it were unbound. It was darker at the base, the rest peppered with shades of grey and strands of white. He had quick dark eyes and a short nose. A scar ran from hip to the end of his ribs on the right of his body, faded to silver against bronzed skin. Not a tall man, he looked up at Lyris as he passed and studied Arn as the Prince waited on the jetty.

‘Waiting permission?’ Roan lifted a bushy brow.

Arn nodded, hitching up the small bag on his shoulder, ‘I can pay my crossing,’ he assured the man, to which Roan laughed.

‘You’d be the first Royal to do so,’ the man folded his arms across his chest.

Lyris bit down on her bottom lip, unwilling to interrupt the exchange as Arn’s cheeks flushed pink, as though they’d been scorched by the sun.

‘I hoped to travel with some discretion,’ Arn admitted, voice tight.

‘Come aboard,’ Roan stepped to the side and gestured, extending his arm.

Arn seemed to pause on the jetty. Finally, he nodded and crossed the planking in two quick strides, ‘thank you.’

Roan held out his hand for the coin. Lyris was surprised at the speed Arn managed to produce the gold from his pocket and drop it into the Captains upturned palm, ‘the crew know who you are,’ Roan shrugged, ‘everyone who’s been at the Fort over the last day will know. If you had hope of travellin’ quiet, it was lost when you had dinner with Redstone and his pretty daughters.’

If anything, the flush on Arn’s cheeks was mirrored on Lyris’ and the young woman found it hard to watch the exchange. Lyris turned back to the jetty and watched as a girl, no taller than her hip, seemed to dance across the thick posts that held the decking and unfasten the ties of the ship. The girl wore a pair of breaches cut to the knee and a loose green shirt that billowed when moved. Her red hair was plaited in two long braids that seemed to hang from her ears and she had Roan’s all-seeing dark stare.

‘I’d prefer to stay in the cabin with my friends,’ Arn rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

Lyris, whose attention had been reclaimed by the Prince and the Captain was caught off guard when she looked around and found herself under the scrutiny of the swarthy man.

‘Aye,’ Roan shrugged, ‘and I’d prefer to keep my bed. But what do I tell folks when they asked, why I let his Highness sleep in the belly of my ship, instead of a cabin?’

‘Don’t tell them,’ Arn met the man’s gaze and looped a thumb through his belt hoop. ‘You’d be doing me a favour and I’d not want to take your rooms.’

Roan laughed again and offered his hand to the girl who jumped over the railing, barefoot and nimble as a jack-deer. The girl accepted the help before bending to pull the boarding plank up. It rose with a scrape of wood against wood and she twisted it, laying it flat against the side of the ship and securing it out of the way.

‘Rose?’ Roan asked the girl as she worked, apparently ignoring the conversation.

‘Favour of a Prince in the pocket?’ The girl looked up, cheeks smattered with dark freckles on a wind-burnt face, ‘can’t hurt.’

‘Agreed,’ Roan nodded and directed Arn towards the stairs and the lower deck, ‘make yourself at home,’ another shrug of his left shoulder, ‘there’s always enough room for another hammock.’

Arnit thanked the man, following the directions down and out of the dawning light. Lyris watched him vanish down the steps before realising that she still held Roan’s attention.

‘A fine party of friends you have, girl.’

It was Lyris’s turn to shrug. More than anything, she wanted to follow Arn down and lose herself in the dark with him. They wouldn’t be alone though, Rafai, Kit and Timmit were setting up their beds below the decks and there was no good excuse she could imagine, to try and speak to Arn alone. Though her pulse was pounding in her neck, the young woman reminded herself that there would be time, time enough for her to be alone with the sandy-haired man with eyes the colour of the noon-sky.