The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (28 page)

“So much to learn,” The boatmaster thought, as he bent over the tiller, “So much new knowledge to gain, if we are to stand a chance of surviving this journey!”

Day followed day, and the crew of the “Bonny Barbara” fell into a regular routine, as they navigated along the Great Life River in the direction of Holy Ptah.

Each of the crewmembers stood regular watches, both at the tiller and as forward lookouts in the bows, whilst those without duties cooked, cleaned, or simply sat on deck and viewed the seemingly endless array of craft plying the river in both directions.

At the approach of most darkenings, the vessel put into one of the many night-harbours and the travellers slept under the protection of sharp eyed village guards, but on a number of occasions, they were forced to lie at anchor in the shadow of the western bank. During those dangerously long nights, half the crew stood on watch, whilst the remainder rested fully armed and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Darryl was deeply concerned with the safety of his craft. Each day, he required every member of the crew to spend two full hours in arms drill and martial exercise. The wisdom of the boatmaster’s defensive policy was fully demonstrated on the eighteenth day out from Calar, when the entire crew of the narrowboat witnessed a pirate attack at close quarters.

Asmall barge had put out from one of the riverside villages, and had taken station about three hundred yards ahead of the ‘Bonny Barbara’ when the pirates suddenly struck without warning. Two fast oar-propelled craft suddenly darted out from the shoreline and drew alongside the doomed barge in a matter of seconds. A wave of armed men then swept over the side of the craft, and moments later, the lifeless bodies of the barge’s crew were unceremoniously flung into the river. The captured barge was then taken in tow and hauled off towards the western shore for beaching and pillage.

“Asharp object lesson,” The boatmaster remarked, viewing the bodies rolling about in the current, “but the murdering bastards won’t find us such easy meat, if they try to come aboard our vessel.”

“No master, they will not.” Wilakin agreed, as he sheathed his naked gill. “But it’s quite unusual for those devils to attack in broad daylight, when they have no chance of achieving complete surprise; and it’s even more unusual for them to bother capturing a small vessel, whose cargo is likely to consist of firewood and cheap foodstuffs!”

Wilakin shook his head. “Trading upon the Great Life River is certainly becoming far more dangerous, and I shall not be sorry when we draw closer to Holy Ptah and reach a part of the river patrolled by the war galleys of the Dark Priest’s overseers.”

Darryl made no reply, but he respected the navigator’s opinions and resolved to station an extra lookout amidships, during the hours of daylight. For it was now quite obvious that the ‘Bonny Barbara’s’ small tonnage could not be relied upon to deter the attack of some desperate band of freebooters.

George and the boatmaster spent a great many of their off-duty hours inside Myra’s makeshift cabin in the bows. The young wisewoman encouraged George to learn a number of mental exercises, which she hoped would help him to control his impetuous behaviour in times of stress, for his berserk temper, was a potential danger to the entire company.

On other occasions, Myra and her twin brother followed the priest’s instructions and spent a great deal of time before the crystal sphere, in the hope of establishing a psychic link allowing them to converse with one another without the need of speech, but all of their initial efforts ended in hopeless failure. Yet they persisted, and after many sessions of intense concentration, each twin began to develop a strange ability to mentally read the basic feelings and impressions generated within the others sibling’s brain. Pleasure, danger, pain, temperature, colour and the like, but they utterly failed to develop any semblance of conversational ability.

“We must persevere, Darryl” The witch had insisted as the boatmaster became disillusioned by their constant failure. “For a means of silently communicating with each other might well save our lives!”

On the twenty-second day out from Calar, the ‘Bonny Barbara’ docked near the home village of the temporary crewmembers who had joined them at ‘The City of the Mighty Walls,” and the returning mariners were joyfully greeted by their families and friends.

The same evening, a celebration was held in the village where food was consumed in great quantities and Thoa-nut beer was dispatched by the cask-full. Early upon the following morning, the boatmaster rose and swallowed a draught of his sister’s hangover potion and set about the task of replacing some of the ex-crewmen, who were now dwelling happily at home with their families.

Dromon, it transpired, was landless and unmarried and immediately volunteered to serve aboard the ‘Bonny Barbara’ until the craft reached Holy Ptah. In return, the boatmaster promised him enough copper coinage to enable him to purchase a small plot of land upon his homecoming.

“Master, never in all my years upon the river, have I ever journeyed as far as Holy Ptah!” He remarked to Darryl, after agreeing to his terms of service. “Yet it is often said that all river-men should view the copper walls of the Dark Priests, on at least one occasion, before they die!’

Dromon also introduced the boatmaster to a pair of youthful blood cousins called Tess and Tom-Tess. The pair were young and neither could have been aged more than sixteen cycles, yet they were both strong and agile and when their battle-craft was put to the test, they both proved to be deadly marksmen with the darters they carried, in addition, the youngsters where extremely adept with the short handled pike, a weapon much favoured by crewmembers on this portion of the Great Life River. Myra had also secretly scanned the young cousins with her witch’s inner-eye and she had no doubt that the pair were honest and likely to be a great asset to the narrowboat’s company. Darryl had then hired the youths for the duration of the voyage to Holy Ptah and the pair had pledged their personal loyalty to him without hesitation.

The narrowboat resumed its voyage after the travellers had spent a comfortable four days ashore. On the thirty-second day out from Calar they sighted the walls of a substantial town situated close to the western bank of the river. The defensive walls protecting the town where minute in comparison with those encircling Calar, but the guard towers bristled with missile casting engines, and there was little doubt the folk dweling within its bounds were extremely mindful of their own security. The narrowboat came abreast of the town and the travellers caught sight of numerous stone-built warehouses and many rows of neat workmen’s cottages, each with its own patch of garden. Upon a small knoll, close to the eastern edge of the town, the travellers were clearly able to make out a number of larger buildings that could only be temples or possibly the dwellings of the town’s richest citizens.

Suddenly, the wind veered slightly and the boat-crews nostrils were assailed by a disgusting odour almost causing the three newcomers to vomit over the side.

“Don’t worry!” Wilakin said, holding an improvised cloth pad over his face. “The smell will not bother us, once the river-current carries us past this town!”

“What in all creation could produce such a vile smell?” The young witch asked, pressing a handkerchief to her nose

“Why, the shit-filled pits in which the inhabitants of that town soak raw narr skins.” The navigator explained. “Some of these riverside towns have trading specialties and that stinking place, over there, manufactures narr’s leather as soft as your arse. Aye, my friends many towns, such as this one, are sited close to the western bank of the river, and we shall pass several of them in the days that lie ahead.”

“Are there many towns situated on the eastern side of the river?” The boatmaster enquired.

“Not a single one,” Wilakin answered. “For beyond yonder shoreline lies the territory of the Saxmen barbarians; men who have no use for towns, cities, or any type of structure built from stone. Yonder barbarians are country dwellers to a man; a hovel or a farmhouse of rough-hewn timber is all they ever require. A squalid village might well spring up around the wooden hall of some powerful chieftain, but it will never grow to resemble a town!”

“Do the Saxmen control all of the eastern side of the river?” George asked, taking a rag from his nostrils, for the stench of the tanneries was beginning to slacken as they left the town astern. “Not entirely.” Wilakin answered. “The Wizards of the Ancient Lore will not allow any single power to rule the territory immediately adjacent to the waters of the ‘Great Life River.’ Indeed, a great many river-folk eke out a living on the eastern fringes of the river, and some do well enough by trading with the Saxmen who dwell a little way inland. Yet it is a precarious existence, for the barbarians are dangerous and unpredictable and the edict of the Dark Priests is barely sufficient to ensure the safety of those river-folk who choose to dwell by the water’s edge.”

The navigator smiled and pointed far beyond the bows of the craft.

“My friends, we must fare along this river for at least another sixty days, before we draw clear of Saxmen territory and can land in safety on the far shore.”

The boatmaster laughed. “Then we must continue to seek our food and pleasure on this side of the river, and that suits me well enough, but I sincerely hope that all of our landfalls don’t smell quite as badly as that putrid town we have just had the misfortune to pass!”

Darryl drew a bucket of water from the river and poured it over his head and body, thus washing away the sticky leaf sap that served the river-folk as a personal cleansing agent. He then stood upon the deck of the narrowboat and dried himself with a towel, before returning to the stern cabin to prepare for his next spell of duty at the tiller. The boatmaster opened the cabin door and his nostrils where assailed by the acrid fumes issuing from a pot of a caulking compound that Dromon was boiling upon the top of the stove. One of the outriggers had recently developed a slight leak and the boat hand had sworn that a single application of his home made caulking mixture would immediately take care of the problem. Darryl had readily agreed with the man’s suggestion, but the stench from the mixture was rendering the cabin almost uninhabitable and its foul smell reminded the boatmaster of the reeking town of the narr-skin tanners, they had passed exactly two Earth months ago.

The river’s south flowing current had subsequently carried the narrowboat past thirty-two well built towns lying in close proximity to the western bank of the Great Life, and the travellers had also viewed the battlements of three large cities, each fronted by quays swarming with river craft of all descriptions. Darryl had occasionally become slightly bored with the humdrum routine of life afloat and had once suggested that the crew should be allowed to spend an odd evening ashore in one of the larger settlements, but Wilakin had opposed him vigorously, saying that landing charges at the town quays was inordinately high and that food and accommodation was far cheaper and of superior quality in the smaller riverside villages and night-harbours. However on two occasions they had been forced to visit larger town settlements, allowing the boatmaster to cash some of the merchant’s bonds he had received from Agar-Marduk, in return for the ‘Bonny Barbara’s’cargo of railway iron.