Rocalla's Saga: Arrival

17: Klarrhegga River —

1054 Kyabalaka 1

The going is slow, and the cold water has chilled me to the point where I begin to shiver violently. I guide the boat around the western end of the island until eventually the current begins to pick up speed. Up ahead I see a flickering glow through the fog.

“Dierdra,” I whisper back, “we’re going across now. Hang on.”

“Sure,” she answers, her teeth audibly chattering.

“Rocalla, the boat is leaking,” Elanor whispers, a quiver perceptible in her voice.

“How badly?”

“There’s already a few centimeters of water in the bottom.”

“Just stay in the boat. It’s not going to sink,” I whisper, although I am not completely convinced.

I push the front of the boat to the right and swim alongside, angling against the current. As I kick my legs and we head toward the bridge, the river pushes us faster. My sodden dress and stockings encumber my movements, and kicking through the cold water is exhausting.

The current is carrying us more quickly now; within minutes we are approaching the bridge. I stop kicking and hold still as we glide under the center of the span. The changing levels of light are my only guide. It is too dark and foggy to see the shore or even more than a vague outline of the bridge itself. Changing shadows are all that are visible. The flickering glow of the torches ahead, followed by the deep shadow under the bridge, and then the flickering glow of torches behind us mark our progress.

Once we are safely clear of the bridge and in ever deepening darkness, I start kicking across the current again. My legs are starting to grow numb from the cold. Elanor is right, the boat is leaking badly, and I can feel the water level rising inside.

Now that we are past the island, the current is slowing. We are drifting in the river, and the shore has dropped away from sight. I keep kicking forward and to the right, hoping that we are not far from land.

“Rocalla, I’m getting really cold,” Dierdra says, her voice wavering.

“Hang onto the boat, Dierdra. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

“Okay.”

I kick harder, although it does not seem to help much and my legs are starting to ache. The boat is riding low in the water now, making it difficult to move. I glance back to note the direction of Cejiina, and I am barely able to discern the rising moon’s light through the fog, marking the direction west. Aiming the front of the boat directly south, I continue to kick as hard as I can.

“Dierdra.”

“Yes?”

“Kick your feet. Help me push the boat forward.”

“I’ll try.”

We travel in the darkness, one minute dragging into the next. Elanor is hunched over, no longer sitting straight up. The only sound is the water lapping on the side of the boat; the only sight is the thick fog, with a subtle glow in the west to indicate the position of Cejiina.

“Where are we?” Dierdra asks.

“East of the island, north of the city.”

“How far north? I can’t see anything.”

“It’s only a short distance. The fog is really thick.”

“I can’t last much longer, Rocalla.”

“Don’t give up on me, Dierdra. We’ll get through this.”

We continue kicking, trying to push the boat toward the shore. The darkness enveloping us saps our spirit, and the uncertainty of our fate is causing me to lose faith. I begin to wonder if we will make it safely to shore. After five, maybe ten minutes, I notice that my kicking has slowed to a gentle undulation, and Dierdra seems to have stopped altogether. A deep sadness comes over me, and I have to choke back tears. I begin kicking again, mechanically, just to give myself something to do.

“Creator, give me strength to bring my friends to safety,” I pray. “Help me to find the courage to keep going and not give up.”

“Amen,” Dierdra says weakly from behind me. I did not even realize that I was speaking aloud.

I keep moving, keep kicking as best I can, although it is hard to tell how much I am accomplishing. My legs are numb. The only indication that I am moving is the pain deep in my muscles and the sound of the moving water. My eyes start to cloud with tears, and I no longer keep track of the time.

Then I notice something different ahead. The fog is subtly brighter to the left, and darker and blacker straight in front of us. At first, I just think that it is my imagination, but when I wipe the tears from my eyes it is clearer.

“Dierdra,” I call out, “something’s up ahead.”

Silence greets me.

“Dierdra!” I scream, whipping my head around.

I see her lift her head weakly. “What,” she whispers.

“Dierdra, I can see the shore ahead. The light from the port area. Kick, kick as hard as you can.”

She says nothing, but I hear the water churn as she starts to kick once again. I join her, moving as forcefully as I can. The fog is thick, but within seconds the shore ahead becomes clearer. The brightness begins to break up into separate spots, which flicker and move. In less than a minute, my booted foot hits something.

“We’re here,” I say. “We’ve reached the shore.”

I stand up and pull the boat forward. It is hard to move. Without feeling in my legs, I trip and fall often. But I push on and soon the front of the boat is beached.

“Thank you, Creator,” I say.

I turn and help Dierdra to shore. She climbs up onto the land and sits down, holding herself and shivering. I go back to get Elanor.

“Elanor,” I say. “Elanor, we’re here.”

She is huddled in the center of the boat, sitting in cold water up to her waist, shivering violently. She is unresponsive, but alive. Not knowing how I will manage, I pick her up and carry her to the shore. She is surprisingly light and frail. I manage to get her to dry land and set her down next to Dierdra, who puts her arms around Elanor and draws her close.

Going back once more, I step into the water to retrieve our packs. My feet betray me, and I slip and fall. My left thigh hits a submerged rock, and I gasp in pain as my head slips under the icy water. Scared, I flail around until my hand finds the edge of the boat and I pull myself to the surface.

Shaking the water from my hair, I reach in and grab my quarterstaff, our backpacks, and my boots. I realize then that Elanor has never taken her backpack off. Sloshing my way up the bank, I collapse in a heap at Dierdra and Elanor’s feet. My face is raw from the cold; my fingers, toes, and feet are completely numb.

“Rocalla,” Dierdra says, “Elanor is really cold.”

“I know,” I say. “We’ve got to get over to one of those fires.”

“What if the guards down here know about us?”

“If we don’t get to a fire, it may not matter. Can you carry Elanor?”

“Sure.”

Dierdra picks up Elanor and I pick up our packs. We stumble toward the nearest bonfire. It is not very far away, a small fire in a ring of stones. Despite the short distance, I fall to my knees twice on the way. The fire, which looks to have been bigger earlier in the night, has died down from lack of attention. Dierdra sets Elanor down next to it, and we take up positions on either side of her. I can see Elanor’s face in the firelight; her eyes are closed and she is shivering violently.

I am shivering, too, and the heat from the flames feels good against my cheeks. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be able to penetrate my many layers of water-soaked clothing. Huddled together, I manage to gradually get warmer. After about ten minutes next to the fire, feeling starts to come back into my legs, in the form of thousands of painful prickles.

We manage to sit there undisturbed for close to twenty minutes. Elanor is still shivering, but it is much subtler than before. I have gone from feeling as though I am about to freeze to just being very cold and wet.

I jump when a gruff voice addresses us from behind. The words are in Franhkallan, so I turn and stare dumbly at their source.

There are two guards standing there. Dierdra answers them and starts to get up. “Rocalla, it’s time to move on,” she says.

Elanor stirs and blinks her eyes a couple of times. “Elanor, can you walk?” Dierdra asks. Elanor does not respond, but she nods slightly and then attempts to stand. We help her to her feet, and then Dierdra supports her while I pull on my boots and pick up the rest of our stuff.

The guards say a few more words as we depart, and then move on.

“What was that about?” I ask Dierdra when they are out of earshot.

“They basically told us filthy scum to get moving along and find our way home, if we had one. Then when we got up, they mentioned something about us being disease-carrying, filthy... well, let’s just say it wasn’t very complementary.”

“On any other night, I’d be severely offended. Tonight, I’m actually relieved that is all they had to say.”

“Where are we going now?”

“To The Happy Pilgrim. It shouldn’t be far, maybe a couple of blocks from here.”

Despite the short distance, it takes us close to an hour to get there. My legs are tired, and my bruised thigh and knee are aching, causing me to limp. The fact that we are approaching from an unusual direction, in the dark and fog, does not help. We make several wrong turns before finding our way. The cold is seeping back into my clothing; my throat is raw and I can taste the blood from my cracked and bleeding lips. We travel in silence, in the near complete stillness of the very early morning. Elanor can barely move her feet, and Dierdra has to struggle to keep her upright. I have put my pack on my back, but I am still carrying Dierdra’s while she supports Elanor. Eventually we stumble through the front door and enter the inn.

Once inside, I help Dierdra carry Elanor over to the fireplace. The fire has died down low, but it is still much warmer here than it was outside. Once Elanor and Dierdra are settled, I go back and drag Dierdra’s pack and my quarterstaff over.

The innkeeper has noticed our entrance and walks over to see what is going on. I reach into my purse and pull out some coins.

“Here’s three silver for a warm fire, three mugs of hot tea, hot cereal, and no questions,” I say.

He looks at me for a moment and chuckles. “Okay,” he says. “I can do that.” Within minutes he has added fresh wood to the fire. The tea and cereal take slightly longer.

Once the fire is going, I remove my soggy coat and set it off to the side to dry. I also pull off my boots so that my feet can get warm.

When the tea and cereal arrive, I wrap my hands around the mug and take a deep sip. The minty smell of the tea is very soothing, although the hot liquid burns and stings my lips.

Elanor stirs. “Where am I?” she says.

“The Happy Pilgrim Inn,” Dierdra says.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here, have some tea,” I say, offering her a mug.

She takes it, holding it up to her mouth for a minute before taking a sip. “Are we safe?” she asks.

“For now,” Dierdra says.

“Thank you,” says Elanor.

My eyes well up with tears, and I break down, sobbing uncontrollably. My sorrow and joy are wrapped together in the pit of my being. There is no thought, no reasoning, only waves of raw emotion rolling over me.

When I finally regain control of myself, I see Dierdra sitting against the side of the fireplace, resting. Elanor is curled up in front of it, her head in Dierdra’s lap. I eat my cereal and drink my tea, and then drift off to sleep in front of the fire.