The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) (19 page)

With that she grabbed the reins, and Moa snorted and stomped her large hooves. At the sound of his trusted friend’s objection, the true cost of such passage registered in Cal’s mind, and his eyes widened at the real intentions of the witch. Clarity sparked to life in his muddled thoughts, bringing with it an awakening as to what he must do.

“Away with you!” he said forcefully. “No! I will not pay your toll!” Cal shouted to the witch in disgust. “What is a journey without joy but a hopeless imprisonment on the bridge of convenience!”

The woman shook again, and this time a more desperate voice came out. “Please sir, it is your turn, I have paid for my toll a hundred times over, it is your turn! Your turn to weep! Please save me, rescue me! I beg you!”

Moa reared up on her hind legs, and to Cal’s surprise, the woman, who was now the witch again, held on to the reins with a supernatural strength. A normal man, even a seasoned soldier, would have fled before the fury of the large, black Percheron. But this witch was not made of the same things that normal men are made of.

“Hail Bright Fame, your destiny awaits you!” she called out, while Moa pounded and protested.

“Be gone, you witch!” Cal screamed in response. “I will have no part of your bridge or your toll.” He raised up his leg to kick free of her evil grasp, but the young woman appeared again.

“No sir, please don’t leave me here. If you could just take me across the bridge, I would repay your kindness ten-fold,” she pleaded, one hand clasping firmly to his pant leg and the other weaving itself into Moa’s mane.

The fog was growing thicker now and Cal could not see ten paces to either side of them. The confusion of the moment had his head spinning, and Moa’s eyes were wide with panic. The young rider forced himself to seek clarity amidst the rising haze.

He looked the sad woman in her wet eyes, and with all sincerity he answered her. “This is a cruel decision to force upon me, for I only wish I could rescue you as you suggest. But I cannot undo what you have willingly done.” He began to untangle her desperate grasp on Moa’s mane and pry her fingers off from his leg. “I cannot cross this bridge for you, not if the price is my joy. For I cannot trade the greatest of all treasures for a half-noble entrapment that would surely destroy us both.”

She began to cry louder now. “No, please sir! Please,
save me
.”

“Perhaps one day the THREE who is SEVEN might grant the way to do so, but for now—”

“Do not say that name here!” the witch interrupted him with an outburst of anger. “I will have
my toll
!” She grabbed again for the horse.

Moa reared violently, and Cal kicked with all his might, his boot finding purchase between the evil, yellow eyes of the mad witch.

She released her grip and fell to the ground. A surreal fog poured in heavy around them until all that could be seen were the glowing eyes of the witch. Moa took off in the opposite direction, running blindly through the choking mist.

Behind them Cal heard the vengeful screams of the old woman. “Curse you Calarmindon Bright Fame! Curse the very ground you ride on!”

Cal breathed easy for a moment as the distance between them grew, thinking that they had escaped the witch’s trap. Then, without warning, the ground disappeared from under Moa’s hooves and the two of them fell long and hard into the wild, cold water of the river Abonris.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
n
the southern part of the kingdom, the Abonris seemed like nothing more than a gentle brook, but here, in the northern territory, it ran hard and wild. The deep, powerful river swiftly flowed over the forgotten ruins and long-lost relics that it kept hidden on its stony floor, disguising their existence with the rushing swell of its turbulent course.

There was nothing gentle or gradual about the banks of this part of the river; they were harsh and steep, as if the wild water chiseled her way deep into the cold earth with the sharpest of tools, creating an abrupt drop into the tumultuous deep.

Moa, blinded by both fog and fear, had bolted away from the witch’s bridge, right off the edge of the embankment. As the two of them fell headlong into the fast, freezing water, the thought crossed Cal’s mind that perhaps his refusal to accept the witch’s offer had indeed cost him all that he had hoped to keep.

At first everything went silent under the dark water, but it was not a silence of calm. Rather, the quiet numb of the deep was due to the total shock of the unexpected plunge. The current of power that ran through this wet cold took both horse and rider and stole them away from lucid awareness.

Cal woke from his disoriented state in time to kick his legs with a panic and crest the water, gasping for breath as his lungs burned from the lack of air. He looked all around him, desperate to find Moa, but he could not get his bearings enough to search for her. Each time he would right himself, the river would crash him against stone or shoreline, causing him to spin and sink with reckless force. The river careened west at breakneck speed, moving fast towards some impending danger.

Cal’s head was up again out of the water, and this time he swore he heard the welcomed sound of Moa calling out. It was hard to tell amidst the roar of the violent rush, and he could not seem to stay above water long enough to locate her position.

“Hang on, girl!” Cal half-screamed, half-choked in an effort to connect with his loyal companion.

In and out, over and over again, Cal was plunged under the raging river. With great bursts of defiance he managed to kick free from her icy hold for brief moments at a time, pulling in as much breath as he could before she struck him hard yet again.

The horse screamed in terror, her large frame taking blow after punishing blow from the jagged rocks and large outcroppings. Moa struggled to keep her head above water, but the stamina of the mighty horse was fleeting fast. The bullying Abonris was rapidly draining the determined pair of any strength left in their weary, beaten bodies.

The river made a sharp turn to the west, and Cal could see off in the distance the deadly white water of the rapids growing larger and more threatening. He desperately grabbed at exposed roots with the little might he had left, trying to find purchase on the algae-covered rocks, but to his dismay neither grip nor grasp could be held.

The cold had done its hellish best to drain both confidence and energy out of their fatigued bodies. Instead of fighting the water, Cal gave himself over to it, choosing instead to surrender to its will, praying it would be merciful.

Just ahead of him, a black form surfaced from the white foam of the raging water. Moa’s eyes were wide with fear, and somehow Cal knew that her fear was not merely for her own safety, but for his as well.

“Moa!” Cal coughed out. “I’m here, girl!”

He swam as well as his numb arms would allow, and within a few strokes the two of them were together.

“I’m here … I’m here, girl,” he said while hanging on to her neck. “I’m here.”

With that the white water overtook them. The worst of the river was now upon them, dragging them, cutting hard to the west. The swift, cold water raked them hard over jagged stones, smashing their nearly lifeless bodies into the bruising rocks.

Reality came in and out of view—first a dark, airless blue and then, for a brief moment, a pale amber sky. Cal held fast to her wet, black mane, knowing that her large body was taking the full impact of the harshest stones. Cal’s exhausted mind registered a grateful sorrow as he realized she was still acting, in her helpless form, as a protective mother to him.

Cal prayed at first for help, and then just for mercy. Even as the rocks and waves beat against his body and the current kept him prisoner against his will, his thoughts still went to the Owele.

Is this what you intended? If you wished me dead, why didn’t you just let the demon-bear take me?

Without warning, Cal and Moa crashed into an outcropping of ancient, broken, stone pillars that were intricately carved with the adornments of a civilization long forgotten. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through their already abused frames, and Cal heard a sickening crack that was not of fallen branch, but of breaking bone.

Then … only darkness remained.

The two bodies floated past the ruined pillars that once guarded these forgotten falls and bordered the edge of a bygone realm. Without protest or struggle, horse and rider went over the edge of the ancient falls and came to finally rest in a deep pool at the base of the thunderous rush.

It may have been by chance, or perhaps by some other divine working, that an old man happened to be tending to his nets there in the calm waters of the pool called Eiluned. His frame was short in stature, but he stood tall despite his advanced age and small build. His salt and pepper beard clung only to his chin, just above the wide smile on his weathered face. The tattered and worn clothing he wore suggested that he did not have much in the way of worldly wealth or possessions, and yet his appearance was welcoming and inviting. Of all the features of the old fisherman, perhaps the gentleness of his manner and the kindness in his eyes were the best indicators of his true nature.

The man watched in horror as the two large figures came barreling over the falls and crashed into his favorite fishing pool. Their lifeless bodies sunk quickly, then floated to the top of the peaceful water before they beached themselves there upon the shore.

He dropped his tools and discarded the un-mended net, running as fast as his tired old legs would allow him to in the direction of the two wet strangers. Still startled and a bit out of breath, the old man reached the two sodden figures on the beach with surprising speed, though he didn’t hold out much hope that he would find them still among the living.

“Hullo?” he said with worry in his voice. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly the large, black horse opened her wild, bloodshot eyes and feebly strained to get to her feet, but it was painfully obvious that the journey over the falls had inflicted some significant damage to her. As soon as she put her full weight on her back leg, a heart-breaking cry came from the soaked animal.

“Whoa there, lady … whoa. Just take it easy,” the old man spoke as gently as he could to the obviously frightened horse. Moa took no heed of his cautioning; she awkwardly and painfully made her way towards the lifeless man on the edge of the water. Her large, wet face nudged against his cheek, desperately willing him to wake up.

The old man watched through squinted eyes for a moment, amazed at what he was witnessing right here on the banks of the Eiluned. Quickly though, he followed her lead and went to the man, rolling him over and doing his best to pump the water from his lungs.

“Protect this man, if it is Your will.” The old man grunted out a prayer as he compressed the battered chest that lay muddy and wet before him.

In a moment’s time, the young man retched and coughed up the cold waters of the wild river, awkwardly taking breaths of the air he had been fighting to find. Moa affectionately nudged him, whinnying with relief. Cal’s hand reached up to stroke her lowered neck as he glanced around, trying to get his bearings.

“Well, now that you seem to be alive enough … I think I should start by saying that in all my years fishing in this pool, I have never caught anything that looked as miserable as you two!” The old man burst out in a good-natured laugh.

“Well, I am glad,” Cal continued to cough, “that our misfortune could be fodder for your amusement.”

“Misfortune you say?” the old man asked with a playfulness coloring his voice. “What makes you think it was misfortune that brought you here?”

Cal turned and looked at the ancient falls adorned with forgotten ruins. They were not the largest of the falls along the river Abonris—not even close—but they were nothing to dismiss either. The wild water emptied onto a rocky crag that somehow the two of them had managed to miss entirely.

“What else would you call falling headlong into the freezing river, nearly drowning under waves and rock?” Cal reached to hold his left arm. “And most likely breaking one of your arms in the process?”

“Hmmm. Well, I might say that someone must have wished you here pretty badly to go to that kind of trouble,” said the old man. “Ah, but enough about that at the moment. Let’s just see about getting you two bandaged and dry. Huh?”

The old man helped Cal to his feet, doing his best to move him as gently as possible towards his mule-drawn cart that waited just a handful of paces from the banks of the fishing pool.

“They call me Elder John.” The old man spoke with an inviting kindness in his voice. “What is it that they call you?”

“Cal. Well, that’s what my friends call me. That one over there is Moa.” He looked with concern at his traveling companion, who was standing with her head hanging low and her eyes glazed with pain.

“Moa!” The old man scratched his beard and thought for a moment. “Well Moa, it looks to me like you are going to have to manage to follow us on your own feet.” He reached over and scratched the ears of his mule. “Ransom here is a fine mule, but I doubt he would get very far pulling all three of us.”

Elder John walked over to Moa, who was grunting at the discomfort of her injuries. He took careful hands and inspected the large, wet horse, checking for obvious breaks and any gaping wounds. “It appears to me that your bones, at least the ones that I can feel, are in working order. Although I suspect you have some pretty big bruises underneath that black coat of yours.”

He rubbed her neck and turned to talk to Cal. “I can’t be too sure, but she might have a broken rib or two, and I did see a few gashes that will need to be stitched up. When we get her there, I’ll make sure Meledae gives her a thorough look-see.”

“Elder John?” Cal asked with obvious pain in his voice. “Where is it that you intend on taking us?”

“Well now,” Elder John said with amusement in his words, “that is a good question, my boy.”

With no other explanation, the old man gathered his fishing nets and placed them in the back of the cart in between the fish barrel and the soaking-wet Cal. Taking Moa’s reins, he reached into the pocket of his large brown tunic and produced a carrot, generously giving it to the weary Percheron.

As he tethered her reins to the back of the mule cart, he looked to Cal and said, “The place where we are going has been named many different things in its long and fabled existence. However, for me, for the last handful of decades or so, I’ve simply called it home.”

Elder John gave him a mischievous wink and a wry smile. “But you, Cal? You may call it Kalein.” He climbed slowly atop the front of his mule cart.

Cal grunted a bit as he turned to face his driver. “Kalein … does it mean anything?” he asked.

“Well I should hope so!” he said with a click of his tongue and a flick of the reins. “Everything has meaning where I come from.”

“Well, what does it mean then?” Cal asked, turning back to see his wounded friend following behind the cart. His gaze then took in the full view of the land around him.

It really was amazing that he and Moa had made it out alive at all. He saw the power behind the high falls of the Abonris, how they gushed upon the rocky crags of the pooled waters where his newfound friend had been fishing.

He couldn’t help but feel in his heart that he was somehow exactly where he was supposed to be. There was deepness to this place, a sense of significance that was rather unshakeable. And yet the pulling, the gravity from the Oweles, felt less severe here; for some reason it all felt …
right
.

The ruined walls and half-standing pillars lent a weightiness to this place too. He could sense that this pool and this land had been of great importance in a time long ago, and that maybe his being here was not on accident after all.

Elder John was talking but Cal was having a hard time listening; his racing thoughts occupied all the concentration he could muster in this wet and bruised state that he was in at the moment. Just then, something off in the distance caught his attention. Perched upon the ruined pillars that marked the top of the falls, an Owele sat watchfully.

Cal had a hard time making out any specifics, but he knew it was indeed one of the fearsome birds that had been guiding his journey. Panic struck him.
What if this is not where we are supposed to be going? What if this man is misleading me like the woman at the bridge?
His mind began to race and his heart began to pump.