6)

They stood before Halim, who couldn’t sit straight for all his girth, so he leaned forward, putting his right elbow on his right knee and his chins in his hand, and tried to look intense.
He just looked like an overly curious toad, but Adrian and Aedan gave him due deference all the same.
“You have your gold,” Adrian said. “All we want is Gianere.”
“Why?”
“Why? What do you mean ‘why?’ It’s what you promised if we paid the ransom.”
Aidan, standing slightly behind Adrian, noticed the guards subtly shifting position.
He sighed.
“Forget it, Adrian.”
“What?”
“He has no intentions of handing her over.”
Adrian cast a quick look about and saw the movement, and without a word bolted for the door.
The guards were fast, but not fast enough. Adrian shoved two of them out of the way as Aidan’s sword flashed among the rest, keeping them at bay for just long enough.
He dared not look back, though he heard Aidan cry out as fists pummeled him, heard the clang of his sword against the marble, and the roar of the king to stop him.

The guards wore light armor, but it still slowed them down, and Adrian was naturally fleet.
But he didn’t know his way around.
As he turned a corner he saw a serving girl, walking slowly, weeping into her hands.
He ran, but slowed as he approached; she was preoccupied with her grief, but when she heard his footsteps she turned, startled.
“Who--?”
“My name’s Adrian; the king took my brother captive, and I need to find help. The guards are chasing me, and in a moment they’ll sound the alarm. I need to get out.”
“I can get you out through the kitchens.”
“I’m in your debt…”
“Drissa. We must move quickly.”
“Thank you, Drissa. I’m Adrian.”
“Adrian, then. Let’s go.”
*****************

She managed to slip Adrian a loaf of warm bread before the kitchen matron spotted her and bellowed for her to get back to work.
“Good luck, Adrian.”
“Thanks.”
He slipped out into the late morning air.
The kitchen was located by a small stream that was an offshoot of the river, convenient for washing dishes and people, and catching fish when it was required.
Adrian, hearing the clamor of approaching horses, took off.
He managed, somehow to protect the bread as he crossed, and had just made the stand of trees on the opposite bank when the riders came, quickly searching the kitchen and the bank he’d just left.
“He’s crossed,” said one of the men.
“Did you see him?”
“No, but if he’s not here, there’s no other explanation.”
“Let’s cross, then. The king wants him…”
“I’m not. We have his brother, who’s actually next-in-line for the throne. His da will pay handsome enough.
“I suppose so…”
“Hey, you want to get wet chasing a wild goose, you go right ahead. I’m for the castle; I’ll tell the king he got away.”
“He might kill you, then.”
“Don’t care; sick of serving him anyway. No raise in pay, hardly a day off…” the rest of it was lost in the sound of hoof beats.
Adrian heard the comment across the river’s murmur; this king, it seemed, was not well loved.
He might be able to use that to his advantage; he already had with Drissa.
For now, he headed for the only place he could think of where he knew anyone; he went to see Sharvan.

************************
“I told you, Halim, to keep a sorcerer near; he would’ve been able to trail the boy. Now, you have no way of knowing where he went.”
“And I told you, Makil, I would trust no magic so near the throne.”
Makil snorted. “You rule over a kingdom of magic! Dark magic, at that, and you don’t use it to crush your enemies, and you suspect it might be used against you. Isn’t that foolish?”
Halim’s eyebrows rose at the rash tone of the question, and his gaze smoldered.
“Am I yet alive, brother?” Halim said, the expression on his face demanding an answer.
“Most assuredly, Halim, you are alive.”
“Then my decision is not foolish, is it?”
Makil dropped his eyes, but only briefly. It would be enough; Halim would get no more.
“No, Halim, it is not foolish. Yet the boy is gone.”
Halim heaved himself out of his throne, trying not to groan.
“It’s a small matter; he’s nowhere to hide, and I’ve an ally in the ferryman, so if he shows up, Sharvan will tell me.”
Makil shuddered at the mention of the ferryman; the man was too mercurial, too mysterious. No one knew where he came from, and no one could remember him not being the ferryman, not even the very oldest citizens of Farspire, yet he never seemed to age.
Makil knew that Sharvan spied for Halim; news traveled on a river. So did merchants, soldiers, slaves, and people of means. He also kept a log of who took his ferry, and traded information with Halim in return for hot meals, shelter, and gold.
Makil often thought about killing him, but he had magic, and might in some way be able to tell Halim who did it. That would mean his head would join the spinning skulls arcing against the sky, or his body skewered on a pole, or a barbed hook, to swing and rot in the wind, his eyes the claimed prize of the boldest crow, the swiftest raven.
My dear brother, you are deluded. I must find a way to get you to see the ferryman for who he really is…
As soon as I find that out for myself.

*******************

7)
Sharvan was just coming to shore from a trip when Adrian got to the pier.
“Hail, young traveler! Your business here is done?”
“Sadly, no. And I’ve nowhere to turn. Halim sought to imprison us as well. He has my brother; they were beating him as I ran. I don’t know if he’s still alive…and I don’t know what to do.”
Sharvan tied the boat off, let the oar turn into his rowan staff, but changed nothing else, and approached Adrian.
“You place great trust in strangers, Adrian.”
“Out of all the strange things here, you’re the one I met first.”
Sharvan laughed.
“Indeed. If I tell you how to break him out, I commit treason, and if I do it for you, it will come at a price.”
“I’ve more gold…”
Sharvan shook his head.
“That may not be what I ask of you. If I agree to help you, the price may come later, and it may not be gold. I myself don’t know what it might be until I need it, but I need to know now if you’re willing to pay.”
“I’m not next in line for the throne, but my brother and I, and Geniere, will be in your debt.”
“None of you may find it a good spot. Just so we’re clear, I can exact my price from you when needed?”
“Yes, Sharvan. You have my word.”
“Place your hand on the staff.”
Adrian did.
“Swear.”
“What do I say?”
Sharvan told him.
“I, Prince Adrian of Kailan, give my word to Sharvan, the Guardian of the Sacred Tree, to pay his price for the freedom of my brother, and the princess Geniere, be it in this world, or the next.”
The staff flashed with light, and the ember colored runes of Adrian’s oath slithered down the staff toward its end, and faded.
“Our bargain is sealed, young traveler. Your brother and your lady will be with you at evensong. I suggest you take the ferry and start home tonight.”
Adrian nodded, pushing away the anxiety of the deal he’d just made with an unknown man of mysterious powers.
“Don’t look so stricken, Adrian.”
Adrian gave him a nervous smile.
“Come,” Sharvan said, turning Adrian from the pier and patting his back, “I’ll buy you lunch.”
And as if a choir had gathered to sing in the village square, the alarum bells pealed from the steeples and towers of Farspire.


© Alfred W. Smith Jr.