The Fall of Chance (35 page)

He went back to the cabin for one last night and slept in his accustomed place by the fire. The place had a strange mix of a presence that wasn’t there and an absence that wasn’t missing. He was glad of the exhaustion that would put him to sleep.

Before that sleep came, he just lay looking at the bed. The Wizard had died there, the same place Unt might have died had the Wizard been unable to save him. There were such thin divides in the world.

23. Pathfinder

Unt was going to be prepared for his next journey. He hadn’t been given much of a chance when he was thrown into exile. He’d been without food, proper clothing, or skills and now he had all three.

He was a man now, too. Less than a year had elapsed but his compressed experience had been metamorphic. He had a man’s strength, toughness and mental fortitude.

He rose, fed himself and thought up an inventory of what he would need. It was an easy temptation to take as much as he could carry but he needed to balance provisions with mobility. It would be pointless to carry so much he couldn’t walk.

The Wizard had a great sack with straps that could be worn on the back. Unt could carry a lot of weight like that and then he’d see what he could carry in his hands. He put a change of clothes at the bottom, a piece of canvas for making a tent on top and between those, he packed food. There was a lot of cured meat available and as meat contained a lot of energy, meat and bread were what he packed most of.

He had a few skins for carrying water and he tied them to his belt along with the Wizard’s knife, compass and tinder box. He then added two coils of rope.

The Wizard had helped him to make his own fur cloaks and he took one of the thinnest. It might not be the warmest but once he was moving, too much warmth would stifle him.

He looped a bow and a bag of arrows over his left shoulder, trapping them between his back and the great sack. The last thing he took was the Wizard’s spear. It would serve double duty as protection and a walking stick. Satisfied, he went to step out of the cabin for the last time.

Just before he did, on a whim, he had a leaf through the Wizard’s library. He was thinking to keep the blue book and he wondered if there was any other lore worth salvaging.

As he opened one volume, a piece of paper fell out. It was worn and battered and Unt was careful as he unfolded it. There was writing on it, faint but legible and Unt took it out into the light to read:

Dear Master Wes Hardy,

I have received your letter of inquiry and can report that we have received a woman matching your description. Regretfully, however, I must inform you that this lady reached us in poor health and passed on shortly after. No child was with her.

Yours sincerely,

Fouster Bembridge (Mayor)

Unt folded the letter and put it inside the blue book which he then put in the sack.

He went down to the Wizard’s grave. It seemed like the thing he ought to do. The hill below ran down to the reservoir and the mill. It pained him to leave them unfinished but there was no reason to complete the project other than pride and that was something he was keen to abandon.

Some time in the future, maybe years from now, someone would walk up from the river, into the hill and find a half-built mill. Curious, they’d investigate further up and find an overgrown patch where the trees were just returning and in that patch they’d find the tumbled-down remains of some outworks. They’d see evidence of human habitation with all the tools and trappings.

If they looked closely, they might even see a narrow length of raised earth and dig down to find the Wizard’s grave. What would these people make of it all? Would they wonder what had become of the people who’d lived here or would they shrug their shoulders, see what was usable and continue on their journey?

Unt had a desire to go down to the mill and see it one last time, maybe cut his initials in one of the stones, but that wasn’t the way he was going. He was headed west and that meant going up the mountain and down the other side.

He looked down at the fresh earth where his one-time friend and mentor lay. “See you,” he said and turned away.

*              *              *              *

Unt’s decision to go west was based on several factors. Resuming his old hope of going south would have been too much like falling into old habits. It had only been an arbitrary choice to start with so it was easy to give it up.

He didn’t want to go north either. In the course of getting lost, he doubted he’d come from a northerly heading but choosing it now would seem a kind of symbolic retreat.

That left a choice between east and west and he chose west for no other reason than following the sun seemed more positive than fighting it.

Unt knew the terrain for miles around. He and the Wizard had ranged far and wide on their hunting trips. Still, when he got to the top of the mountain, he felt that this was his starting point. Walking with purpose, the familiar territory would be eaten up inside an hour, so stepping from here was the real declaration.

The mountaintop was covered with trees and the canopy followed the line of the slope so there was no grand view to be had. That didn’t matter; he knew what was before him. He put a hand on the trunk of the highest-standing tree and began his march.

He strolled on happily until well after midday. He looked back on his old self starting his journey with a mixture of pity and scorn. He had been so naïve back then, he’d actually hoped he might be ok. Then again, what else was a young man supposed to do? The alternative would have been to sit on the side of the road and starve.

His plan, such as he had one, was to walk from ridge to ridge. He would use the first high viewpoint he found to mark out the next one and he’d walk on from one to the other. He had no idea of intent but he figured that if he kept being able to take a good look around, any places of interest would be visible and he could then make the choice whether he wanted to investigate.

*              *              *              *

Unt kept to his plan for eight days straight. He was covering good distances, his supplies were plentiful and he was in high spirits. The frosted ground crunched pleasantly underfoot as he worked his way out of the latest deep gully.

He was in high-lying country and had encountered three of these narrow valleys running parallel to each other. Each one had steep sides with green-forested banks and a furious little stream at the bottom of it. The recurring terrain was so familiar that Unt felt he was repeating the same loop in time.

It wasn’t much distance to cover but the steepness of the climb and descent slowed him and finding a crossing place was a recurring problem. It had taken him all day to cross these three valleys and he was going to make camp once he got to the top.

He was expecting to see the same again. Maybe, miracle of miracles, the next valley might be a little wider and a little shallower than today’s. He hoped for some open ground instead of the relentless march of trees. But there was no other valley. There was a precipice.

The ridge was like the edge of the universe, it just dropped away in a sheer cliff-face that stretched away on either side of him. It was a line between worlds: a land of hills and forests stood behind him but in front was an expanse of flat country that stretched out as far as the horizon. It was the biggest range of open land that Unt had ever seen. It was a sea of land, incomprehensibly vast and there, at its edge, was something even more astounding: the sea itself.

It lay off to the north, Unt’s right, and he turned himself to look at it. Unt had heard legends of the sea and had heard all about the boundless water that was a gateway to anywhere. It was one thing to know it and another thing to actually see it. It was kind of mundane, just a large grey smudge, but it was the extent of that blankness that was so impressive.

In the days after his exile, he’d dreamt of the sea. He’d been haunted by Pearson’s recommendation and his advice that it was the portal to anywhere. Now he saw it and its unlimited opportunities were laid out before him. It was hard to judge distances from so grand a scale but anything within eyesight was an achievable goal. He could take it if he wanted it.

But Unt thought back to the time before his exile. Back then, whenever he’d heard the old stories of the sea, of its adventures and the wonders of distant lands, somehow they’d never held much sway over him. Adventure and uncertainty just didn’t appeal to his character. He’d always been in love with solid things like earth.

About halfway up the limits of his vision, a broad river rolled limply into the sea, getting wider and more lethargic as it crept toward the ocean. Its mouth made the base of a triangle that pointed inland like a directional marker. That was the way Unt’s heart pointed too.

He had never wanted to abandon his life. The home he had left remained the ideal. If he couldn’t have the same, he wanted something similar. He wanted to find a simple, quiet place like the one he’d known so long. Maybe he could find a place somewhere up that river in front of him.

His mind was made up that night. Unt would work his way down to that river and follow it upstream. Somewhere along its path he would surely find a settlement and there, maybe, he could start to build a life not unlike the one he’d left behind.

The precipice was the first barrier. Perhaps he could have overcome it and attempted to scale it. He had rope and these things were never as impossible as they appeared but he wasn’t in a hurry either. The cliff couldn’t carry on running indefinitely. Sooner or later, it would shallow out so all he had to do was follow it until that happened. Then he could make for the river.

His choices were right and to the north or left and to the south. South was landward and north was seaward so there really was only one option. He turned left.

He found justification for his logic before the morning was out. The cliff got shorter and shorter until it was little more than a high bank and then it was gone entirely. Unt wasted no time in cutting in and struck out toward the river.

The previous evening, before dark fell, he’d sat and sketched the terrain onto a crude map. He drew it on the only paper he had, the reverse of the Wizard’s letter. He now used that map to keep his bearings and make sure he was headed roughly straight. The Wizard had taught him that without markers, keeping in a straight line was surprisingly difficult and Unt heeded that advice.

It took the rest of that day and most of the next to reach the river. When he got to its banks, he made camp and as he ate supper, he just reclined and watched its sedate, ambling current. Something in that idle movement stirred him. He’d planned to keep a carefree attitude, to just see where the river took him, but actually sat there, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: a sense of significance.

*              *              *              *

The next day, he began his march up the river and he got his first indication that he’d chosen the right course. Up ahead of him, he saw the dark shapes of cows. They were clotted in a thick mass - a herd of many hundreds - and around the herd were a scattering of people on horseback.

One woman rode up and confronted him. The sight of an armed man, even one on his own and on foot, was reason for them to be wary. Unt’s town had always had few visitors - the Rangers generally discouraged it - and Unt had little experience with outsiders. He was unsure how to speak to them.

“I’m just passing through,” he replied to her challenge.

The woman eyed him coldly. Her eyes were all that Unt could see of her. The rest of her was shrouded in hides and strips of leather. Only her voice had told him she was a woman.

“Where are you headed to?” she asked, bluntly.

“I don’t know,” said Unt. “I was hoping there might be a settlement further up river.”

The woman narrowed her eyes as though measuring her doubt. Two other riders were approaching now.

“I don’t wish to intrude on your territory,” he added. “I’ll pass through quickly if that’s what you want.”

The woman laughed at that. “I should say you are passing through if you think this is our land! We, stranger, are Herders.”

She cocked her head at Unt’s confusion. “You know, nomads,” she explained. “We drive our cattle from place to place, selling meat and milk. We’re watering the herd here before driving them cross-river.”

The other two riders reached them and the woman explained the situation. They were all greatly amused at Unt’s not knowing of Herders. It irked him but at least it had convinced them he wasn’t a threat and a short while later, he was taken to the middle of their camp.

Three elders - cousins by the sound of it - were head of the extended family. Unt was taken before them. When he told them he was trying to find a settlement they offered to take him with them to the next village. It was a tempting offer and one he maybe would have been wise to take, but ever since hitting the river, he had been determined to stick with it. He asked if they knew of any settlements upstream but all they knew of was a smallholding owned by a family who they sometimes dealt with.

Unt thanked them and was going to move on but the Herders offered him hospitality for the night. Unt wanted to push on but feeling it would be ungrateful to do otherwise, he accepted.