Tarah Woodblade (15 page)

“Yeah, yeah, Grampa,” Tarah replied. “I know.”

“What are you mumbling about?” Djeri said in response. His armored boots squelched in a patch of soft mud as he strained with the animal.

“Stay on the grass,” Tarah warned. “The mud on the bank here will take the shoes right off you.”

They had passed Sampo earlier that day and were now traveling north along the western bank of the Fandine river. The prairie grass grew all the way to the water’s edge in some places, but where the water had worn the bank down there was nothing but pebbles and mud. The mud wouldn’t be a problem much longer, though. The first hard frost of winter would come any day now. Then the banks would be hard as rock.

“I see that,” he said, yanking a foot out of the mire. He moved back to solid ground. “When do we cross the river? Our destination is east of here.”

“There’s a stretch of shallows just a mile or so ahead,” she said and looked to the far side of the bank where tall trees grew at the river’s edge. The last time she had been this way the forest had been filled with the bobbing glow of moonrat eyes. It seemed empty now.

“Ugh,” Djeri said, shivering as he looked at the swirling water and anticipated having to wade across. There were small pieces of ice bobbing from upstream. “You know, we could still head back to the Sampo Bridge and cross there.”

Tarah had considered crossing the bridge at Sampo. It was the most direct route, but in the end she had decided against it. The trees had grown tight together in that stretch of the forest and there were some steep hills. The way the mule was laden would make for tough going.

“Nah, there’s a board bridge at the shallows that we can use. Or at least there was last time I came through.”

“I’ve never heard of any other bridge across the Fandine. How long ago was the last time you saw it?” Djeri asked. “Are you sure this bridge of yours is still standing?”

“I last crossed it just after Pinewood was attacked,” she admitted, but didn’t share that the moonrat mother’s forces had been right at her heels at the time. “But it should still be there. Come on, I’d like to cross it before nightfall.”

The dwarf eyed the lowering sun. “I’m not sure we’ll get there in time. This mule is slowing us down too much.” Tarah sighed and he added defensively, “Look, you try dragging this thing around if you think it can be done faster.”

“No. You’re the muscle,” she said. “I’m the scout.”

Djeri laughed. “And here I thought you were the hired help. Now you’re the scout, too?”

Tarah rolled her eyes then turned and walked towards the animal. “Just keep moving forward,” she instructed and passed them, heading back the way they had come.

“What are you doing?” Djeri asked, though he continued forward as she had asked.

“Finding out what this dumb animal’s problem is,” she replied. “I’ll be right back.”

Tarah continued south for about a hundred yards, retracing their steps, then knelt down and inspected the mule’s tracks. She touched the impressions of its hooves and a picture began to enter her mind. Hmm, this thing was smarter than she had given it credit for. She headed back towards the dwarf, running her fingers along each track as she went. It took her several minutes to catch back up to them, but by the time she got there, Tarah understood why the beast was being difficult.

“Hold up for a second,” she told Djeri, then moved to stand in front of the animal. “I’ve got something to say to you, mule.”

It snorted, giving her a dull look. Tarah responded with a glower and swung down with her staff. The red wood struck the beast right between the eyes. The mule stumbled in surprise, its eyes widening at the stinging blow.

“Whoa!” Djeri cried. “Killing the thing won’t help.”

Tarah ignored him. She hadn’t struck it that hard. But she had gotten its attention. The animal was glaring at her, trying to decide whether or not to bite.

“Listen to me, Neddy,” she snapped, using the name its masters had given it. “I may not be a wizard, but I am in charge. You follow me and you’d better keep up. I won’t put up with no orneriness from you. We’ll take you back to your masters when we’re done, understand?” The mule’s eyes narrowed, but it gave her a snort of understanding. “Good! And stop tormenting the dwarf. As funny as it may seem, he can hit you a lot harder than I can.”

The mule gave Djeri a bitter look, then bent down to bite off some grass.

“He understands,” Tarah said with a nod. She turned and walked upstream, continuing towards the shallows. The short delay had been worth it in her mind. Now the beast wouldn’t be such a burden. She reminded herself to give it a treat the next time they stopped.

“What was that?” Djeri asked as he followed after her, his brow raised in wonder. The mule came obediently behind him, keeping pace with Tarah’s long strides.

“I was just getting his attention. He’s not really hurt,” she assured the dwarf.

“But why?” he said.

“Neddy here’s well trained. He knew to follow us because the stableman told him to,” Tarah explained. “But he doesn’t want to be with us any more than we wanted him along. He’d much rather be with the wizards he usually goes out with. So he’s been sulking. Also, he thinks it’s funny messing with you.”

The dwarf glared back at the mule, then gave her a quizzical look. “And you knew all that by looking at its tracks?”

“Tarah Woodblade’s the best tracker in the known lands. I can tell an animal’s mood by the way it steps,” she lied. “He was having a great time at your expense. The rest of it I just figured out from what Riveren told us about the animal.”

“And how did you know its name?” Djeri pressed.

Tarah blinked. With each track, the name had been clearer in her mind. Neddy was the name the mule identified with. The wizards called it that all the time. “The-uh, stableman called him that as we were leaving.”

“No he didn’t,” Djeri said. “He never called it by name. I would have remembered that.”

Tarah swallowed and increased her pace. Stupid! She should have been more careful with her mouth. “That’s where I heard it. You must not have been paying attention.”

“I always pay attention,” the dwarf said with a slight frown, but to Tarah’s relief, he didn’t question her further.

Be careful not to give too much away
, Grampa Rolf reminded.

Yeah, might be a little too late for that,
she replied.

Grampa Rolf had taught her to show off her tracking skills to clients whenever possible. That was how she grew her reputation. But they had both agreed that it was best to keep the magic ability of her staff a secret. If people found out that her prowess was due to a magic item, her mystique would fade. People might even try to take the staff for themselves. As a result Tarah often found herself walking a tight line between showing off too much or too little.

Still, she decided that it would be best to keep theatrics to a minimum with Djeri. He was too observant and if he suspected anything magical about her abilities he might talk. Dwarves had a reputation for being loud mouthed and from what Tarah had seen it was well-deserved.

They increased their pace along the riverbank and to Djeri’s relief Neddy was well behaved, keeping up without complaint. As a result, the sun was just beginning to set when the river widened and the shallows came into view. The light caused the river to gleam with a red hue, making the waters look a lot warmer than Tarah knew they were.

“The bridge is still here!” she looked back at the dwarf, a smile on her face.

Djeri squinted at the water. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing. “See that first board right off the shoreline?”

“That’s your ‘bridge’?” he said, with a frown. The board extended from just above the waterline and ended at a wide flat rock. Another board continued from there to the next rock and so on across the shallows. From their angle it looked like there was an unbroken line across.

“It’s a board bridge, like I said,” Tarah explained. “It’s just there so we don’t have to wade across. My papa and I built it years ago with treated boards we got in trade from Pinewood.”

“Treated boards . . .” He eyed the construction distrustingly. “Even if these boards can hold my weight I don’t see how we’re getting the mule across.”

“He’ll be fine wading. The water might be deep enough to reach his belly at times, but nothing so deep he’ll get our stuff wet. The bridge is for us.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or more specifically for you. You’re tall for a dwarf maybe, but belly high to a mule is chest high to you. And in that platemail-.”

“I understand you,” Djeri interrupted. He was glaring at the boards now.

As if in response to their conversation, Neddy walked to the waterline next to the first board and bent to drink. After one swallow it shivered and took a few steps back, giving them a derisive snort.

“You’ll cross!” Tarah barked, shaking her staff at the mule. It shivered again and looked down in acquiescence. Tarah felt a little guilty about bullying the beast, but reminded herself that it knew very well when it wasn’t doing its job. “That’s better.”

You should always be kind to beasts, Tarah
, said her papa’s voice. Tarah pursed her lips at the admonition. She resolved to make it up to the mule later assuming it behaved.

Tarah walked across the pebbled ground to the first board plank. The wood had grayed with age and greenish algae clung to the edges. She nudged it with her foot and smiled when it didn’t budge.

“See, Djeri? Treated lumber. Pinewood’s finest!” She stepped onto the board and strode confidently up its angled surface to the first large rock. The board gave only the slightest of creaks.

“What’s to keep it from sliding off the rock?” the dwarf asked.

“Papa anchored each board into the rock with heavy steel spikes.” She knelt down and touched one spike, focusing on the power of her staff. Many years had passed and yet she was able to just faintly feel the purposeful thought of her papa as he had driven the spike in all those years ago. A lump grew in her throat as the memory of that day rose in her mind.

It had been the fall of her fourteenth year. Her papa had picked out the site over the summer, choosing a place just north of where the Pinewood folk sent their logs downstream to the sawmill in Sampo. He had traded several large furs and deer skins for the wood. It had been a few months before the rot hit her father hard and he had been as hale and strong as ever. She remembered the ease in which he had dragged the heavy load through the forest.

At the time, Tarah had felt the board bridge to be a waste of time. Sure the trip to the Sampo bridge from their home was a tough one, through thick undergrowth and the edges of the dark forest’s taint. But that was nothing she couldn’t handle. Her papa had been insistent, though. He had been watching the increase in the size and strength of the moonrats as well as their numbers and had wanted an easy escape route in case there was ever a need to flee.

In retrospect, his forethought seemed almost prophetic. The bridge had saved Tarah’s life multiple times in the last few years. She thought back to his behavior that week and wondered if he had already noticed the first sign of the rot. Had he foreseen the possibility of his death from the disease?

“Are you sure about leaving that thing to cross without us? What if it bolts and takes our packs and supplies with it?” Djeri asked, still standing at the shoreline. He was eying the mule warily. “Look at the way it’s hesitating at the shoreline.”

“He’ll be fine,” Tarah assured him. “I trust him.”

Djeri’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t trust that thing further than I’d trust a turd in the hands of a monkey.”

Tarah turned and pointed her staff at the mule. “Go on, Neddy. Cross! Show the dwarf!”

Shuddering, the beast stepped into the shallow water and began its way across, picking out a path among the rocks. Tarah could almost sense its discomfort as the icy water deepened, but soon it was half way across.

Djeri rested one hand on his helmet and shook his head. “You surprise me once again, Tarah Woodblade. How did you make it do that?”

“I didn’t do nothing. I told you he was well-trained,” Tarah replied. She started across the next board. It was just as firm as the last, even if a bit slick. She glanced back at him after reaching the next rock. “What about you, Djeri? Too scared to cross or are you as well-trained as that mule?”

The dwarf let out a low chuckle, then took a deep breath and stepped onto the first board. When it didn’t immediately buckle under his weight, he continued along, shuffling his feet sideways. The wood creaked, but held and he made it to the first rock. He stayed there for a moment as if taking strength from the solidity of the rock before shuffling onto the next board, his arms held out in an attempt to steady himself.

By this point, Tarah was moving with confidence. Soon she was half way across and paused as she watched Neddy reach the far shoreline. She had been fairly accurate with her estimate of the water’s depth. The mule’s belly was wet and dripping with slushy water, but their packs and supplies were dry. He stood on the bank and looked back at them, miserable but relieved.

“Good boy!” she called and started across the last stretch of boards.

This was where the crossing got a bit tricky. A tree had fallen into the river just south of the bridge, changing the course of the current. The water here had deepened and two of the boards sat just an inch or so above the water line. The water churned and swirled around the anchoring rocks causing occasional spray to coat the boards with a fine sheen of ice.

Tarah didn’t notice just how slick the boards were until her feet began to slide out from under her. She reacted quickly and contorted her body, her staff held out to help her regain her balance.

“Woah!” she said, her heart racing as she navigated the last slippery board. She was now nearly at the shore’s edge. “Watch your step, Djeri.”

“What’s this you say?” said the dwarf in a panic and Tarah realized that his crossing had not been going as smoothly as hers. He stood at the half way point with his arms held straight out and quivering. His face was pale, his teeth clenched in an anxious grimace. “It gets worse?”