The Southern Trail (Book 4) (28 page)

“What’s going on here?” Argen asked suddenly, as Ellersbine started to drink her potion.

“Just a quick drink,” Marco said.

“What’s going on?  Something seems wrong here,” the count said, as he forgot all that had happened, the potion’s effect coming to the fore.

“I want a drink too,” the count said petulantly.

“We’ll hopefully reach a river by nightfall,” Marco told him.  “We should all be okay until then.”  He took the empty cup from Ellersbine’s hand and put it away.

“Nightfall?  You’re no better prepared than that?” Argen snapped.

“I’m sure he’s trying,” Ellersbine spoke up.

“You stay silent and let me handle this,” the count told his fiancée.  She glared at him momentarily, then her face went suddenly blank, and Marco knew that the potion had had its effect on her as well.

“Let’s go,” he said as he pulled his pack on.  He turned his back to the others and started walking, his eyes filling with tears as he thought about all that he had told the princess the night before, and the magical interaction the two of them had shared during their hours of conversation.  For Ellersbine, it was all gone, although he fervently hoped that the same rapport would automatically reappear when they were able to get together again, after they reached Foulata.  He promised himself that he would try his hardest to make it happen, and, he reminded himself as an afterthought, he would be ready to do whatever Iasco had in mind for him to do.

Chapter 23

The group did not reach the river by sunset.  Argen was slower than Marco expected.  When night fell they were among gentle slopes and increasing amounts of trees and shrubs, signs that Marco took to mean that they were close to the water.  He debated whether to offer his supply of Diotima’s spring water to Argen, but decided to only do so in a case of extreme need, and so they continued on through the darkness for two hours after sunset.

Argen was furious with his parched state, and furious with Marco for forcing him to continue to struggle along after dark.  Their progress was slow, and Marco finally called a stop when they reached a small stream.  It was the first surface water he had seen all day long, and he was as thankful as the others for the opportunity to pull off his pack and his boots and splash water over his feet after he had drunk the cool, slightly bitter liquid.

“We must be close to the river,” Marco said after everyone had cooled their sore feet in the water for several minutes.  “Let’s move away from the spring for the night.”

“Why not stay right here?” Argen asked.

“We don’t know who or what will come to the spring tonight, but I’m sure something will come here.  I’d rather be some place that will draw less traffic,” Marco answered.  He stood up, and Ellersbine stood up as well as moment later.

“Come along, my count,” she urged Argen.  “Marco is right; we don’t have a troop of men to protect us.”

Marco led the pliant princess and the grumbling count into a dense thicket not far from the spring, where he cut through brambles to create a small central opening, protected by the thorns all around.  They settled in without a fire once again.  Marco assigned Argen to take the first shift of guard duty, and let the princess have the last shift, then he settled in to rest after the long day that had seen them pass from dry plains to river valley, and seen him and the princess pass from close companions to fellow travelers once again, at least from her perspective.

Argen awoke him as clouds started to roll across the nighttime sky.  He felt a strong desire to get out of the small campsite, and immediately walked away from the brambles and back to the edge of the spring.  A deer-like animal was barely visible, standing at the water’s edge, and it skittered away as Marco snapped a branch he stepped on while sitting down.

The river valley held numerous noises, as nocturnal animals went about their lives in the dark, and Marco listened for any that might hint of danger.

“What troubles you, favored one?” a girl’s voice suddenly sounded in the darkness.

“Who said that?” Marco asked, standing and turning to look around.  He could see no one else in the vicinity.

“I did.  Here, in the water,” the voice answered.  “Come look in the water,” he urged.

Marco stepped over, then looked down.  He saw no one.

“Turn on that magic light.  Diotima says that Ophiuchus says that you can make light with your hand,” the voice told him.

“You know Ophiuchus?” Marco asked in an excited whisper.  He had not thought of the lovely spirit in a long time, as his journey had become bogged down with so many mundane and necessary activities.

“No, I don’t know her.  I’m just a small spring far away, but I know Diotima.  I’m excited to find that you’ve come to me!” the girl’s voice told him.

Astonished by the beginning of the conversation, Marco raised his ungloved hand and caused it to glow, then looked down in the water.  To his wonder he saw a girl’s face in the water, seeming just below the surface.  He couldn’t help himself from gently poking the fingers of his left hand into the water, but he met no resistance, touched no flesh.  He withdrew his hand a second later, and then closed his eyes as the spring spit a short stream of water back at him, striking him in the face.

“Diotima said that I should do anything I can to help you, Chosen One.  What can I do to help, even though I’m just a small spring?” the girl asked.

“Can you tell Diotima where I am?” Marco asked.  “Please tell her to tell Ophiuchus, and ask Ophiuchus to tell Iasco.  And tell them that I know who I am, I know what I am, and I’m going to Foulata to do whatever Lady Iasco needs done.”

The spring was silent, as Marco watched the features of the girl’s face puzzle over the request.

“I can deliver your message to sweet Diotima, but it will take some time,” she finally answered.  “The way is very indirect, as I must find the ways that our waters flow with the waters of others who tend the waters between us in this season.”

“Thank you; that’s all I ask.  What is your name?” Marco responded.

“Quonna,” she responded, a shy expression on her face.

“Thank you for your help, Quonna, and thank you for quenching our thirst today,” he added. 

“Does your water have any properties?  Does it do anything to those who drink it?” Marco asked suddenly, belatedly wondering whether the presence of a spirit would denote anything unusual about the water at a spring.

“It does,” she said, “well, it can,” she stammered as she corrected herself.  “A drink from my waters can make people very nice and friendly for a while.”

“Just for a while?  Does it work on everyone?” Marco asked.

“It can work on anyone.  I just don’t let my natural magic into the water all the time,” Quonna explained.  “It wouldn’t be good for an antelope to become friendly and try to play with a lion,” she told Marco.  “I didn’t let you and your friends taste the magical waters earlier because I didn’t realize who you were at first.”

“You say the friendliness doesn’t last permanently?” Marco quizzed.

“It lasts until the next full moon,” Quonna answered.  “That will be several days from now,” she answered.  “The last full moon was just a couple of nights ago.”

“So you can really make people friendly? Do you get many people visiting you out here?” Marco asked, still skeptical.

“No, not very many,” Quonna answered. “But I don’t get lonely. I love the animals that come to see me.”

“It seems like a waste of your talents to have you here where so few people can find you in the wilderness,” he commented.

“If I was easy to get to, some people would use me all the time, perhaps too many. I don’t think that people are made to work with one another

“If I brought my companions back here to drink tomorrow morning, you’d make them friendlier, especially the man? That would help me a great deal,” Marco requested.

“If you, the Golden Hand, need me to do that, I certainly will. I’ll be so glad to help you!” she replied immediately.

“Thank you,” Marco said happily.

“Well, I hate to chase you off, but some of my pets are waiting for you to leave so they can come visit,” the girl in the water told him.

“I understand,” Marco told her as he darkened his hand. He stood upright and let his eyes adjust to the night’s darkness again. “Good night my friend. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised, and then he made his way through the undergrowth and returned to the campsite, satisfied that a better trip might lie ahead.

He judged it was time to turn the watch over to the princess, but he was reluctant to awaken her.  He walked around the perimeter of the camp, then sat on a fallen tree near where she slept, and looked at the dim shape of her profile in the darkness.

“Is it time for me to get up?” she asked.  “Is that why you’re sitting there?” she asked.

“It may be time, but I’m not sleepy yet; you go ahead and rest,” Marco said softly, feeling very drowsy after all the travel and stress of the trip.

“I like laying here, knowing that you’re standing guard over me.  You make me feel very safe,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“Like you felt when your daddy killed that wasp in your nursery?” Marco asked in return.

She was still, and then she sat up.  Marco couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was staring at him.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

Marco realized the story was one she had told him before she had taken the potion to erase her memories; she wouldn’t remember having told him the story.  He felt both a greater closeness to her, and a distance as well because of the night she would never remember.  And he suddenly felt a greater sense of protectiveness, of a wish that he could be that father-figure who gave her such absolute comfort.

“You told me once, but you probably don’t remember.   I thought it was a touching story,” he answered.

“I don’t remember,” she said, but there was a touch of suspicion in her voice.  “I’m awake now.  You can go to sleep and I’ll watch the camp.”

With a sigh, Marco stood and walked towards his pack.  “Good night, Ellersbine,” he said regretfully.

He lay down by his pack and fell into an uneasy sleep, aware that the princess was scrutinizing him.

“Get up,” was the next thing he heard, and he looked up into morning light, and saw that Argen was walking away from him.

He sat up, and wondered why he always volunteered to take the middle shift of the night watch, the shift that split sleeping into two short, disjointed sections.  He shouldn’t always try to be so noble and take the tough assignment, he told himself crossly.

Ellersbine was eating some of the dried meat from her pack, looking dirty and bedraggled in her confiscated clothing.  Yet she was still a pretty woman, and Marco knew that there was spirit and liveliness and a sense of honesty and justice underneath the appearance that far outweighed the cosmetic matters in assessing her as a person.

Argen was chewing on food as well.  Each of the three still had enough food in their packs to last for several days, though Marco hoped they would find a town or outpost before the food ran low.  Having reached the river, the possibility of finding such a settlement seemed to rise, and his spirits were higher as well.  The only problem down the road was that all progress simply led towards arrival at Foulata, and the unknown dangers and expectations that he would face there.

“Since the food is so dry, let’s go get a drink from the spring before we get going,” Marco suggested innocently.  Argen stared at him suspiciously, as though something in Marco’s tone alerted him to a plot in the suggestion, but then he shrugged and continued to eat.

Minutes later they all stood up, and strolled single file back to where the spring was.  Marco heard an abrupt splash as he passed into the opening of the spring, then turned aside to take his pack off and get out of the way so that the other two could reach the water’s edge.  He held his position behind them, and watched as they each knelt in a portion of the perimeter of the spring, then cupped water and drank it.

Marco watched them closely, and it seemed to appear that a momentary wisp of fog surrounded their heads.  They each paused, then drank more, and cupped more water to their mouths.

“That is the most refreshing drink I’ve ever had,” Argen said as he stooped over the spring.  He took one more handful of water, then stood.

“So, is today the day we make more progress?” he asked Marco.

Marco looked at his with one eye, trying to detect sincerity in the question, and found none.  He looked over at Ellersbine, who smiled at him.

“Today is hopefully another day we make progress,” Marco affirmed.

“I guess that’s true; we’ve been making progress every day, haven’t we?” the count asked.  “Well, lead on and show us the way to get home.”

Without comment, Marco turned and led them away from the spring.  Just as he left the clearing, he softly said, “Good bye Quonna, and thank you.”

The sound of a splash followed them out of the clearing, and then Marco picked his way along game trails and so came to the open banks of the river just a few short minutes later.

The river was not large, perhaps thirty feet wide.  There would be no boat ride on a river that size, he could see, unless it was in a canoe, spoiling his hope of finally riding on some easy form of transportation after having walked across more than half a continent.  A path wended its way along the top of the river bank; Marco and company turned and followed it as it traveled westward.

They walked all day, then moved back from the river bank as the sunset, and set up camp on a sandy dune, where the river landscape felt more like a beach than the middle of a savannah, with sand and scrubby bushes and piles of driftwood.

“Can we have a fire tonight?” Ellersbine asked Marco as they shrugged off their packs.

“We might draw visitors,” Marco declined.

“It would be so cheerful,” Argen agreed with the princess, causing the two to smile wistfully at one another.

Marco considered the request.  They hadn’t seen another person since chasing away the ambush on the savannah.  “If we keep it small, and put it out before we go to sleep, I suppose a fire would be fine,” he agreed, wanting to reward the two travelers for their good cheer throughout the day, though he knew that they didn’t have any choice.  Traveling with a pleasant Argen had been a revelation, as the man had volunteered to do things and made compliments throughout the day.  It had been disturbing as well, seeing the man be so pleasant to Ellersbine, and to see her so happily reciprocate the friendliness.  The repartee between the two hadn’t made Marco feel like an outsider, but it had made him uneasy.