The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (25 page)

The three unfortunate women who experienced such levels of brutality where tight-lipped with fear and would say nothing, but a drunken doorman, whom the wisewoman had engaged in conversation, had divulged that all three girls had been absent from the Cleopatra for periods of two or three days at a time, and had been transported in a black coach. The driver of the vehicle had been a burly man with the battered face of a pugilist and Hetty realized that it could only have been Oldshaw’s coach driver; the prize-fighter whom the mill owner had wished to match against her son.

The drunken doorman had also mentioned that about a year ago, a buxom redhead called Claire, with whom he had been extremely friendly, had disappeared one night in the black coach and had never returned. Hetty had wished to question the man further, but the doorman suddenly realized that he was being dangerously indiscrete and departed to sleep of his head full of whisky fumes.

Silas Oldshaw, the witch now strongly suspected, was a psychopath who derived his pleasure from witnessing the brutalities of the boxing ring, and enjoyed personally inflicting pain in the bedroom. She now realized that she must seek proof of his perversions in order to clear her son’s name, and rid the world of a monster.

However, to accomplish this task, the wisewoman knew that she would have to become a member of the mill owner’s household, if she was to gain a closer knowledge of the man’s affairs; but as yet, she had no idea of how this might be accomplished.

Meanwhile, she resolved to remain at the Cleopatra and gather as much additional information as possible, and plan her next move.

Pike groaned and opened his eyes. “For pity’s sake, what happened to me last night?

He asked in a weak voice.

“You overdid yourself, that’s what you did.” Hetty answered, placing a tumbler of brandy and water to his lips. “You might have been the freshest young ramrod in Manchester once upon a time, but you ain’t anymore. Best get yourself home to bed and lay off drinkin’and jumping on top of whores for a while.”

The wisewoman dispatched a skivvy to find a horse-cab, then helped the sick fight-promoter to dress and supported him as he descended the stairs into the main hall. Finally, she placed him into the care of the burly cab-driver who had arrived to take him home.

“Sleep well Pike.” She said to herself as she watched the horse-cab depart. “I swear that I’ll not rest until both you and Oldshaw are sleeping in prison cells. Then may the devil rot the pair of you forever!”

R
ain fell in sheets from an angry red sky, as the mighty walls of Calar fell astern of the "Bonny Barbara.” Darryl cursed the water penetrating his battered old

oilskin coat, as he manned the tiller and carefully steered the vessel close to the left hand shore as Wilakin, the river pilot, had instructed him to do.

“Keep well away from the middle of the river.” The man had warned him. “Or you may possibly collide with a vessel that’s being towed up-river from the junction with the ‘Great Life River,’you would hardly see an approaching vessel in all this mist and rain!”

The boatmaster was happy, despite the weather, for it was good to feel the narrowboat moving beneath his feet and he was glad to have left the anthill of Calar behind.

Another figure, likewise dressed in oilskins, joined him in the cockpit and he recognized the newcomer as his twin sister, Myra.

“We need to talk, Darryl.” She said. “For many of the events of the past few days are almost beyond my comprehension, but first, tell me everything that happened to you after I left for the Temple of Dumtek.”

The young boatmaster nodded and swiftly related every detail of George’s capture and release, without taking his eyes off the river for a single second.

Myra listened quietly until her brother had finished speaking. “So one of the Dark Priests intervened to save the lives of your party upon the battlements of Calar,” she said. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me after what I’ve experienced in the Temple of Dumtek. For the litter that took me from Agar-Marduk’s house bore me directly to the temple precinct situated close to the far walls of the city. At first, I was placed in the care of three cheerful young lay-brothers of the medical order, who took me through the hospital wards and instructed me in many of the treatments and remedies commonly use to aid the sick. Later, I was placed in the hands of two priests wearing dark robes with hoods spun from black narr’s-wool. These priests led me to a small room lying within the bowels of the temple and they kept me company for two full days, although I swear that it felt like a veritable eternity!”

The wisewoman paused for a moment to brush away the rainwater that was running down her face.

“At first, I believed the two priests were going to give me further instruction in the medical arts. Instead, they ordered me to carry out exercises that were designed to strengthen my mental powers and give me the ability to converse with other individuals by the power of the mind alone. For hours, they had me seated before a crystal ball, saying it would act as a mental conduit allowing me to communicate without a single word ever passing my lips.”

Myra looked her brother straight in the eye. “I tell you Darryl, never again, do I wish to endure such a terrible strain, for I truly thought that my brain was going to burst.

Yet, after a while, I was able to read some of the thoughts they projected towards me. Later, they required me to cast my own thoughts abroad, eventually, the three of us were able to converse without speaking within the narrow confines of that small room. After what seemed like another eternity, they gave me back into the keeping of the same young lay-brothers; they fed me and allowed me a little rest before continuing my instruction in the medical arts. Eventually, I was dismissed without a word of farewell and returned to the dockside to be re-united with you and the rest of the boats company.”

The young wisewoman extended her right hand, and in her palm lay a small transparent sphere of crystal.

“The Dark Priests gave me this crystal and ordered me to give you regular lessons in the art of thought transfer. They said that it should be possible for us to communicate with each other, to a limited degree, for we both have witch’s blood in our veins and are twins of the womb!”

A spine of rock jutted out from the shoreline a little way ahead of the boat and the boatmaster thrust the tiller hard over in order to pass the obstruction at a safe distance.

“Those black hooded ‘Priests of the Ancient Lore’ seem to be taking a fair lot of interest in us,” he said, “and I would give all of our supply of copper to know why. However, I daresay that time will show whether they mean to help or do us harm.”

At that moment, the twin’s conversation was interrupted by George, who emerged from the cabin to relieve Darryl at the tiller. At Myra’s suggestion, the twins made their way forward, so as to avail themselves of the privacy of her personal cabin situated in the bows of the craft. Once inside, the pair stripped off their oilskins and continued their conversation.

The young witch put her hand inside a storage bag and drew out an old book that Darryl recognized as the grimoire of Rose Littlewood. She also produced a roll of soft narr’s-leather that was inscribed with long columns of unfamiliar words.

“I showed the grimoire to one of the senior priests and he gave me this roll, it is a dictionary of the temple script, which the priests sometimes use in their devotions. This dictionary should allow me to translate the temple script portions of Rose’s grimoire into a form of English that I can understand. It may take weeks of hard work, but my inner-eye tells me the book contains knowledge that may well save our lives.”

Myra paused. “The senior priest also told me that Rose Littlewood is known to have stayed for a while in the ‘Temple Of Dumtek’ when she first arrived in the Water-Realm, and was taught the temple script by one of the institution’s most able priests. He also whispered that she was brought to the temple by a ‘Priest of the Ancient Lore,’ and had eventually departed in his company.”

Darryl had no time to reply, for at that very moment, a look-out in the bows shouted that a line of mooring-posts had just hove into view. The boatmaster hurried onto the deck for this was the place where Wilakin had suggested they moor for the night. At first light, they would cast off again and proceed to the waterway’s junction with the ‘Great Life River,’ which the pilot was certain would be reached by mid-morning of the following day. Darryl again took charge of the tiller and eased the craft into its night berth. Afterwards, he set a strong guard to watch out for pirates, for Wilakin had warned him that bands of the marauders were active in this area and could attack at any time.

The boatmaster personally took command of the first watch and he sat in the bows with the sword “Kingslayer” resting across his knees.

“Tomorrow will be a memorable day.” He pondered, as he peered into the gathering darkness. “The ‘Bonny Barbara’will breast the waters of the ‘Great Life River’ for the first time. Another waterway to sail, another shoreline to see, may the night pass swiftly and roll on the dawn.”

The ‘Bonny Barbara’ quit her moorings at first light and carefully nosed her way out into the river with Darryl at the tiller. The rain had temporarily cleared and the visibility was good. Only the occasional squall disturbed the surface of the river, and the boatmaster was glad to have taken Wilakin’s advice and flung a sack of the best Thoa flour over the side, as an offering to the Gods.

As the morning wore on, the banks of the Exit River fell away and the current slackened considerably. George, who was standing watch in the bows, reported that he could see a long shoreline on the horizon, which, the boatmaster realized, could only be the eastern bank of the ‘Great Life River’ and Darryl knew the craft was nearing the junction of the two great waterways.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the cockpit and Wilakin emerged supported by one of the temporary crewmembers. He groaned with pain and steadied himself by gripping the edge of the cabin roof.

“The currents and eddies are dangerous where the two rivers meet,” he gasped. “It would be for the best if I was to go up into the bows and direct you.”

The pilot painfully made his way forward and Darryl began steering the craft according to the man’s instructions, relayed back to him by George and one of the temporary crewmembers. Ahead of them and now in full view, flowed the ‘Great Life River.’

The waterway was positively enormous and it must have been well over a mile and a quarter wide at its junction with the Exit River and many craft could be seen navigating its waters. Some of the vessels near the western bank of the Great Life w ere being carried south by its current, but, close to the far shore, the boatmaster was able to make out the hulls of numerous other craft moving in an opposing northerly direction and he was intrigued by this strange phenomenon.

The boatmaster’s attention was momentarily distracted by a towing-galley that sped past them with its oars threshing the water into red foam, as it made for a vessel that was leaving the Great Life and attempting to enter the mouth of the Exit River. Darryl also noticed that several heavily laden trading craft w ere already being towed into the Exit River by other galleys and beginning their laborious journey up-river to ‘Calar of the Mighty Walls.’

Suddenly, they entered a stretch of turbulent water that made the “Bonny Barbara” pitch violently but a stream of urgent orders from the pilot enabled Darryl to steer the narrowboat through the seething belt of water where the two rivers joined. Then, almost by magic, the craft was clear of the influence of the Exit River and was being carried south upon the flowing waters of the ‘Great Life River’.

Wilakin, now ashen faced with pain, was helped from the bows by a crewmember and also by Myra, who gave the man a powerful draught of a strengthening potion from her medicine bag.

“Keep her steady and her bows before the current,” the pilot advised, as he was taken back into the shelter of the cabin, “and we shall fare well enough, until we reach our night mooring, for I know of a riverside village where we shall be well received!”

Darryl remained at the tiller in order to familiarize himself with the characteristics of the new waterway. After a while he realized that handling the craft was mere child’s-play, for the great river appeared to be largely free of the dangerous spits, sand banks and meanders that had plagued their descent of the Exit River. Even so, it was necessary to keep a look-out constantly stationed in the bows in order to give him early warning of an impending collision, for large numbers of other craft were also heading south in the left-hand portion of the mighty river. About a quarter of a mile ahead of them was a big open-decked barge that appeared to be carrying blocks of stone, doubtless for some large construction project; whilst unpleasantly close to the stone-barge’s stern was a raft of massive Thoa logs, that was being held in station by a pair of brightly painted towing galleys. Immediately astern of the ‘Bonny Barbara’was a gaggle of tiny river craft that one of the temporary crewmembers explained, were small vessels plying a local trade between the villages and hamlets lying at regular intervals along the banks of the mighty waterway.

A veritable cavalcade of vessels moved Northwards in the opposite direction. Once again, the vessels were of every type and design imaginable and varied from small boats with a single crewman, to a huge twin-decked cargo and passenger ship that must have been of six or seven hundred tons burden. Most of the craft navigating the waterway were borne to their various destinations by the multi-directional flow of the river alone, yet a few of the smaller vessels that served a purely local trade, carried a simple sail allowing them to tack amongst the larger craft and also to make a landfall on the riverbanks with comparative ease. On one occasion the boatmaster had been forced to thrust the tiller hard over so as to avoid running down one of the smaller local craft that had ventured beneath his bows. Darryl had cursed violently at the boat’s dangerous manoeuvre, but one of the temporary crewmembers, a squat muscular individual called Dromon had burst out laughing.

“You think the river is crowded today, master.” he chuckled. “Yet this is the season of rains, when many of the merchant’s who normally sail these waters are safe at home with their friends and families. Why, my master, when the rains depart and the five suns are again strong in the sky, then the surface of the ‘Great Life River’ will be so thick with shipping that you will need the sharpness of a riding-narr to avoid a collision, or worse, a fatal sinking.”