Category: fantasy

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25-Ghosts

Movement caught my eye and I spun. To my right, a ragged curtain fluttered from the second story of a rundown building. The curtain looked pale and mournful, a ghost of how things used to be in Gillenwater. A ghost. I paused and looked down at my homespun. Then I ran across the street to the building and began climbing its dilapidated side. When I reached the curtain I tangled my fingers in its shreds and tugged until it came loose with a dull crack. I slung the rags over my shoulder and climbed back down to the street. I took off toward the wall at a quick jog; I didn’t dare look back to see if anyone appeared at the window I’d defrocked. When I reached the end of the street I stopped. There wasn’t much to the curtain, but what there was I spread across my shoulders so it hung from my arms like robes.

Drawing a deep breath I drew myself up and stepped out into the lane between the houses and the city wall. All the dance lessons from my childhood and the days and days of practice with the circus served me now. I moved as lightly as laundry turning in the wind. My arms rose and floated out by my sides as if on their own, and I glided smoothly across the ground. It was easy enough to imagine myself a heartbroken ghost haunting the wall, and to make my expression one of vague sadness—I just had to remember how cold I was and how much further we had to go. Also that I had to keep the men on the wall from noticing thirteen people climb the stairs.

Suddenly afraid that no one on the wall would notice me, I let out a long moan—loudly.

I felt ridiculous.

An excruciatingly long moment passed and I hazarded turning my face toward the city wall.  To my relief my gaze met one of the inward-facing soldier’s. I didn’t flinch, but gave him a deep mournful look and slowed my floating walk.

He tapped the soldier nearest him and that soldier turned around to stare also. I slipped to a stop and faced the city wall and swayed in the night breeze as I imagined a ghost might. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another man turned around, then another.

I was also vaguely aware of Jemin at the edge of my periphery. He gained the top of the wall and choke the first soldier he reached. My heart quickened.  I wanted to watch Jemin but daren’t. Focusing on the soldiers before me, I raised one hand and moaned imploringly. The men on the wall looked thoroughly unsettled. I raised my other hand and moaned again.

I caught a glimpse of the girls darting to the stairs. This was the hardest part—and how was I supposed to get over? I grimaced inwardly; my father was right about my ability to get into trouble.

I lowered my hand to my side in a slow fluid movement—as if my arm were made of paper and drifting down as fast as it could go. Most of the men on this stretch of wall were watching me now. I moved back a step, and searched the faces of the soldiers as if despairing of help. They stared back at me, some looked nervous, some frightened, and one or two looked sad.

I was pretty sure the girls were up the stairs and hiding in the shadow thrown by the guard house.

I took another floating step backwards. Then, since I couldn’t afford to back into a wall and betray my solidity, I pivoted until I was pointed at an alley and started gliding down it. I kept up the drifting movement until I reached a cross street and could duck out of sight. Once around the corner I jerked off the ragged curtain and rolled it up. Tucking it under my arm I ran down the street and turned down the next alley toward the wall.

Some of the soldiers were staring searchingly at the alley I had disappeared down—others were talking amongst themselves. I darted across the open space and made the stairs without attracting attention. When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that the guard at the top leaned awkwardly on the guardhouse—unconscious, or dead. I crept past him and found Jemin crouched in the doorway. He gestured for me to enter the guardhouse.

The guardhouse had one torch flickering in a corner—though I saw sconces for more. There was a tall, thin window—probably only two feet across—facing the outside and Olena stood by it with six of our rescued women. This explained where Jemin had managed to hide so many people. I hadn’t thought of hiding inside the guardhouse. Jemin followed me inside and took up a position next to the doorway, ready to pounce on any soldier who happened by.

One end of Jemin’s stolen rope was tied to an empty sconce and the other disappeared out the window. I noticed three more inert soldiers in the corner. Olena gave me a grim smile as one of the other girls got started climbing down the rope. I felt a horrible weight in my stomach. So many to go—I had cut my ghost act too quickly. The first girl disappeared from view and immediately another hopped up on the ledge. She grabbed the rope ably and spun lightly into the darkness beyond. As soon as she was gone from view another took her place. Acrobats. The number of women in the guardhouse dwindled quickly as the circus performers took on something they knew how to handle—rope and heights.

Olena looked at me. “I sent the girls from town among the first—since they would need the most time.”

I smiled, a real smile, “Good thinking.”

When it was down to just Olena and I, Jemin stepped back from the entryway. Olena hopped up on the sill, grasped the rope and started a skilled descent. I stuffed my curtain down my tunic and jumped up behind her. I waited till Olena was halfway down, and then swung myself off the sill into the darkness.

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24-The Wall

24-The Wall

 

As we gathered on the stone bank of the Tryber a horn started sounding deeper in the city. Its voice mingled with the garrison drums like a wolf’s howl with a stampede. There was no time to waste. I counted my women quickly, and located the two swimmers. “It’s time, into the river.”

They obediently sat down on the bank, then scooted into the water. I passed them the lantern pole and turned to Olena, “Help get everyone in, and get a firm grip on that pole—I’ll keep an eye out for Jemin.”

Olena nodded, looking relieved to have something to do, and turned to help organize the other girls into the water. They shivered but didn’t complain as they re-entered the Tryber. Their hands were pale against the stone banks as they kept one hand on the shore and strung the lantern pole between them with the other. They reminded me of the picket line of circus animals when we made camp. The girls on the other side of the pole were a little too far to grasp the bank, the swimmers took that side and showed the others how to tread water.

I kept watch. Shortly, I saw Jemin’s bulk slip into the open and head toward us. A thick coil of rope was draped across his chest. He eyed the fallen patrolmen as he crossed the open space and stopped to pick up one of the swords before joining me where I stood above the others. “Keeping a low profile, I see,” he commented as he arrived. “Is everyone alright?”

I grimaced. “Trouble finds me,” I spread my hands, “We’re unharmed. How’d your project go?”

Jemin gave me a grimace of his own. “Well, you heard the horn. I set a fire, so I think they’re sufficiently distracted for the time being. I stole this rope from a shop I passed on the way. We’ll need it to get over the wall. Are we ready?”

“Yes, and I got us a tow line of sorts, so we should be able to do this crossing in one trip.” I motioned for him to go to the back of the line of bobbing heads. He did, and lowered himself into the river with surprising grace. I took my place at the front of the lantern pole. Twelve people—well, fourteen—crowded close around a seven-foot pole, was not the most hydrodynamic raft in the world.  But the Tryber felt warm to me, compared with the night, and I was sure I felt the river quiver with excitement as I shoved off the wall. With the help of the three other swimmers we began the slow crossing of the wide, dirty, lazy water. I wished we could just take the kindly river all the way out of the city—but that gate was also shut and guarded after the fire at the forges. Jemin and I were going to be hard pressed to get us out the way we were going, there was no way we’d survive an attempt of either the land or water gates.

We reached the western side of the river without incident. I lingered in the comfort of the water while Jemin climbed out and helped all twelve women out into the chill night. I wondered darkly if any of them would fall horribly ill from this rescue. We had to succeed. So at least if they fell sick they would be free and sick rather than dying in an uncaring cell. When everyone was out I reluctantly left the Tryber, giving the grimy river an affectionate farewell. I had never thought, when I had jumped in to rescue Quill, that I would ever willingly enter this river again much less be sad to leave it.

This side of the river was mostly residential, and mostly poor. Jemin led the way now, and I brought up the rear. He set an even, brisk pace—it would hardly be taxing if I hadn’t been swimming for two hours and then fighting. Jemin made only cursory checks for patrols at cross streets, so we made good time through the deserted streets. I wondered if any of the Gillenfolk peeked out of their houses and saw us, probably speculating what all the din at the garrison was about, and how it would affect them. It was hardly cheerful thought, but it kept my mind off the burning in my lungs, the cold on my limbs and the weariness making my body leaden. Finally, we saw the city wall rising before us and we stopped with a row of houses between us and the wall. Jemin motioned for me to follow him and we slunk the rest of the way, arriving in the shadow of a dilapidated old building right next to the wall.

Like most of the Bay Cities, Gillenwater had been a prosperous city state, and had a great wall encircling it. The wall was thick enough for three horses to ride abreast on the top, and it had guard houses built in so the wall guards didn’t even retire to the garrison for their rest. Happily, city walls are built to keep people out, not in. From our hiding place, I could see a set of stairs going up the wall. I could also see guards at the top—some facing in, thanks to the drums. I rolled my lips together. I was starting to get used to this battle thing again, but this fight could be my last if we made any mistakes.

“They will be watching the stairs,” said Jemin, softly, “But that spot there, where the guard house jags out, looks climbable. I’ll go up that way. I need you to be a distraction.”

I nodded. “Drunken damsel?” I asked.

A smile showed through Jemin’s dark beard. “Good start—we need to knock heads but not raise an alarm. Go get the girls and make sure they are ready to get up the wall and over as soon as we’ve a window.” He slipped the coil of rope off his shoulder and onto mine.

I went back the way we’d come and found the twelve women waiting in a huddle. I transferred the rope to Olena’s shoulders and reminded them all to take the first chance to get up the stairs. Then I led the way back, this time favoring stealth over speed. I was impressed with how little noise we made when we weren’t rushing—just the faintest scuffs and breaths reached my ears. They gathered in the dark shadow of the crumbling building. Olena and I exchanged a serious look, then I slipped off to make my distraction from a different place. I moved the opposite direction from the guardhouse where Jemin planned to climb up and stewed about how on earth to make a sufficient distraction to turn heads, but not too many heads. We couldn’t afford to put the whole wall on alert.

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Water Horse

When I set out to draw something in particular these days, I end up browsing Pinterest for reference pictures, and end up working off of one or two. I never used to work from pictures, but I’m finding it really helps me improve; learn how to draw new things, new angles. Also, searching for Mustangs is a lot of fun. There are some great pictures out there, and I’m starting to recognize the iconic stallions of the various herds around the west (just search for Picasso the Mustang–or Cloud, for an even more famous name–and if you want wild horses in water, search for the Salt River Wild Horses of Arizona.)

So, here is the progression of the water horse, from pencil to ink to t-shirt. This was draw taking inspiration from one of the Salt River Wild Horses, (you can find some of my inspiration on this Pinterest board)

 

 

 Add water:

 

Add eyes:

Scan, clean up, and add to Redbubble.

Voila!

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22-Hold Your Breath

One of the swimmer girls volunteered to go first.  A brown haired girl who looked a year or two younger than me, and who I didn’t recognize from the circus. At the mouth of the tunnel I explained, “A little way into the tunnel we will lose access to air. You must take a deep breath and hold it. Do not panic, do not struggle. Keep your body stiff and straight, and hold onto my collar.” I took her hands and wrapped her fingers around the back of my tunic collar. “I will swim and take you out. Halfway, I will stop and breathe into your mouth—I will pinch your nose when I do it so you don’t suck in water—alright?” I craned my neck to look at her behind me.

The girl nodded, her eyes big.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Melia.”

“Ready, Melia?”

Melia nodded again. Her face was pale but resolved.

I turned to face the black hole of the tunnel. “Take a deep breath,” I said, filling my own lungs with the damp air of the cistern before diving forward with my burden.

I swam for speed this time, not caution, hugging the bottom of the tunnel so I didn’t knock my passenger unconscious. And this time I counted. Melia didn’t know I had no idea where “half way” was, and I was determined that next time I would.

When I reached eighty I reached back for her hands and tugged her fingers off my collar. I swiveled in the passage, still gently kicking forward so to make the most of the time, and grasping Melia’s shoulders pulled her up to me. Her hands closed on my arms with deathly strength—she was afraid. I hadn’t done this since we’d fled Galhara; it was exhausting, dangerous, and unpleasant. Even with the girl holding my arms I managed to find her face with my hands, pinch her nose, and putting my mouth over hers blew my air into her. She let go of my arms and as quickly as I could I had her grasp my collar and I poured myself into swimming.

I had reached two-hundred and my burden had gone limp when I saw the pale of the river at the end of the tunnel. Another forty before we reached the surface. I towed Melia by collar to the steep stone bank near the alley where I was to meet Jemin. How were we to get out? I flung one arm up the bank, hooking my hand on the cobbled street and trying to pull myself high enough to see into the shadows of the alley. “Jemin?” I called softly. There was no answer. I shifted. I had to get this girl out of the water, then get water out of her, and I had to do it quickly. “Jemin?” I called again, a little louder. Please be there. “Jemin?”

A figure came out of the alley, crouched low, “Lady Zare?”

“Yes,” relief flooded me, “Give me a hand here.”

“Are you alright?” Jemin came to the bank and tried to take my hand.

“No,” I shook my head, “Get her.”

He noticed the head bobbing beside me for the first time. He looked surprised, but he reached down into the river, snagged his hands under the girl’s armpits and pulled her out of the river. I helped guide her body over the edge. Then I used both my hands to haul myself up after her. The cold night air hit me as a harsh reminder that this was autumn.

Jemin laid Melia on the cobblestone in the alley and I was glad when he set about the business of forcing the water out of her lungs so I didn’t have to. I leaned against a building and caught my breath as the girl hacked up water and coughed. She startled when she saw Jemin but he soothed her and helped her sit up. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. He put my vest around her shoulders.

Jemin turned to me. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I found the kidnapped girls. I killed a man. They are all in the cistern now waiting for me to get them out.”

Jemin stared at me.

“And my family has already been moved,” I added, wiping water off my face.

Jemin stared a moment longer then exclaimed, “I thought I told you not to get cocky!”

“If it makes you feel better it was an accident. And I’m sure not feeling cocky, I have to bring eleven more women the same way I brought her,” I pointed at the girl huddled by Jemin.

“Will they all arrive full of water?” he asked in annoyance.

“Hopefully not,” I huffed. Now that I had a count, I could space the breath better. “I have to go back. Maybe you can start thinking of a way to get out of the city.  It takes roughly four minutes to swim the tunnel one way, so, don’t expect me back before eight have passed.”

Jemin shook his head, “Be safe,” he said, resigned. I turned and went back to the river.

The Tryber received me warmly and the trip back to the cistern seemed to take much less time than the trip out had. I was greeted at the other end by eleven pale, frightened faces in a dark cistern. If any servant girl did happen to see them, she would probably scream in terror at seeing the cistern haunted by such ghosts. I took the closest girl by the hand and explained the journey as I had to Melia. She was one of the acrobats and significantly easier to pull through the water, accustomed as she was to making herself stiff as a board for minutes at a time. Fit and aided by a better timed breath, she made it to the free air on the open river without ingesting water. I stayed in the water as she climbed out into Jemin’s care. Then I dove down again. Ten more to go. I felt the currents helping me along as I enacted the grueling evacuation. With each trip I could feel my limbs getting heavier and my head getting slower. Swimming took more and more effort, even with the Tryber’s kindly efforts. I tried to remember the last time I’d swum as long as this and couldn’t. Probably because I had enough to do counting and swimming. By the time Olena, the last to come, and I broke the surface in the river I felt that what I wanted most in the whole world was a warm bed. Right this instant, in fact.

Olena climbed out with but little assistance from Jemin. My arms shook as I pulled myself up and Jemin quickly reached a hand to steady me and help me to the alley.

“I should go back,” I mumbled wearily to Jemin, “and close the grates behind me. I had to prop them open to get everyone out.”

“Grates? Forget them, you’re not going back. The last twenty minutes there has been a commotion in the garrison, I expect soldiers in the streets at any moment.”

“I bet they found the blood.”

“I’m sure they did,” growled Jemin. He pulled me deeper in the alley, past the women huddled together in the darkest shadows, and stopped next to a small pile of crates. Probably the waste from the fine kitchen of the fine house we were hiding behind.

I sat down on the crates and tried to wring out my clothes, shivering in the night air. The moon highlighted the dark splotches on my tunic and I shuddered. Bunching my sleeves up I grabbed the cloth and twisted it savagely, wishing I could get all the blood out of them as I drove the water out.

“Are you hurt? Are those…” Jemin hesitated and I looked up at him.

“What?”

“Stripes?” he pointed awkwardly to my forearms.

“Oh,” I had forgotten about those. Visible now after so much time in water, two blue stripes graced each arm, stretching from under my sleeves and trailing halfway down my forearms. “Yes, nymphs have blue stripes…camouflage in water. Mine are much more pale, and not quite so far reaching. They fade when we aren’t in water.” I pulled my sleeves down and shivered again.

Jemin shook his head in wonder and leaned against the wall next to me. “Here, my lady,” he put his arm around my shoulders to share his warmth.

I leaned in gratefully.

“We don’t have much time,” said Jemin, “Here is the plan.”

 

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ink sketches

img007

Just messing around in a meeting. Sketching helps me pay attention and stay engaged. Plus, good practice.

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21-Of Daring Deeds

I didn’t think. In five steps I was behind the soldier at the door smashing the jar into his head. He crumpled beneath the force as an explosion of water soaked us both. Inside the room his companion and a dozen women gaped at me. The other soldier had Olena by the arm and had been pulling her toward the door.

“Hey!” the soldier released Olena and started toward me.

I threw the broken handle of the jar him. He ducked and kept coming, his face filled with murderous intent. It only took a heartbeat to realize just how much trouble I was in—in the middle of an enemy garrison, alone, picking a fight—I couldn’t run and for the first time didn’t have my brothers fighting with me. Oh, Eloi. My only hope was a swift and silent victory. I drew Shiharr and Azzad and leapt into the room.

The soldier cursed in surprise at the sight of my daggers. He drew his sword and swung it at me in a smooth motion. I caught it with crossed daggers to an accompaniment of womanly shrieks.

“Shut up!” I snapped as the soldier attacked again. I jumped out of the way and tried a slash of my own but came nowhere near him. Damn range difference. I would have to be clever to get around his sword. I tried a few more awkward attacks with my daggers—letting the soldier evade easily and willing his confidence to grow so he’d get sloppy. He started advancing, swinging his sword in repeated strikes which I leapt to avoid. When he brought his blade around in a particularly heavy sweep and I dove forward. I barely deflected his blow with Shiharr and thrust Azzad into his inner thigh. He cried out and blood spewed. I pressed my advantage as he stumbled and grasped at the wound. He made a faint attempt to block my advance but I overrode his sword and drove Shiharr into the soldier’s neck. He crumbled and didn’t move again.

I stood over the soldier’s body panting, Shiharr and Azzad dripping blood into the growing pool at my feet. I had forgotten the smell and sight of gore. My first kill alone, my first since the siege.

Olena broke the spell, “Zare!” She ran the few steps to me and gave me a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I have come to rescue you.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered that, in fact, I had come to scout. It was a touch late for that now. I looked around the room, taking in the wide-eyed faces. “Is this everyone from the circus?”

Olena nodded, “And a few more from town. Is Ayglos alright?”

“He is,” I replied, kneeling to clean Shiharr and Azzad in slow deliberate strokes on the soldier’s sleeve. “And he wanted to be here.” As the blades came clean I willed myself to move on and I thanked Remko for his gift. “Where is the rest of my family being held?”

“They are gone. I’m sorry, Zare. I heard the soldiers talk—they left this morning. They are sending them to the Nether Queen.”

I blanched but stuffed my feelings back inside. I had a big enough mess right in this room without thinking about where my family was going. “Get them up. We must be quick, and silent.”

Olena turned back to the women in the room and I turned to the soldiers I had felled. The man in the doorway had to be dragged into the room—as did the broken pieces of pottery. There was nothing I could do about the puddles. I found the room key in the soldier’s hand. He was only unconscious, and I used him as a bridge to get the women out without tracking blood. Now, in the shuddering torchlight of the hallway I recognized most of the women. They were haggard looking, clothes torn and dirty. But my dear circus girls were accustomed to silence and order under stress, they lined the hall waiting for me to take the lead.

Olena was the last out of the room. She closed the door on the soldiers and I locked it. “Where next?” she asked.

Where, indeed, I wondered, pocketing the key. I could take them to the wall, but didn’t know the best way to get there and didn’t know anything about sentry patterns. Pulling Jemin’s knife out of my belt I handed it to her. “The cistern. Bring up the rear.” Then I turned and went back the way I had come, the women trailing quietly in my wake. As an afterthought I sheathed my daggers. Fighting my way out was not my first choice here, even at the head of a line of stolen women. My cheeks heated as I realized I had left my vest with Jemin, and had been openly carrying my blades on my back this entire time. What luck no one had come behind me and seen them. Hopefully that luck would hold till we could get out.

Every hallway we crossed filled me with dread of discovery. The thick quiet of nighttime felt hollow and treacherous. Our every footfall and breath was magnified in my ears till I fancied I could count us without looking back to use my eyes.

We were almost to the cistern when a soldier walked out in front of us. He was looking at his feet and had the air of someone finally done for the day. He looked up, his expression blank at first, then surprised, then irritated. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I was ordered to take them to the baths, sir,” the explanation popped out, and I prayed the garrison had baths and they were in this direction.

“Who ordered you, and why didn’t they send guards with you?” he scanned the group with narrowed eyes.

“The captain, sir,” I stammered, “I don’t know, sir.” I glanced over my shoulder at the women. They were hanging their heads, doing an excellent job looking downtrodden. “He said he wanted them cleaned up, sir. That’s all I know, sir.”

The soldiers’ gaze came back to me and lingered, appraising me until I felt very uncomfortable. “You had better have a bath yourself, and wash your clothes. You smell like the river and look like the butcher’s handmaiden.”

I looked down at myself and saw, in horror, that red stained my tunic in several places.

“I’m sure the cook doesn’t need reminders to beat you for clumsiness,” he sneered.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Did he think I’d spilled in the kitchen? A half dozen replies whirled through my head, but I was too taken aback to settle on one. I flinched toward my daggers but the soldier gave a little laugh.

“Don’t lose any of them, and you won’t get a beating,” he said, stepping aside to let us pass.

“Yessir,” I replied and, angling my body to hide my knives as I passed him, started off down the hallway again with my charges in tow. I glanced over my shoulder at him a few times with the pretense of keeping track of the girls. I daren’t turn down the corridor to the cistern with him around. He lingered a few moments watching us, then turned and continued on his way. Not a moment too soon. I found the hallway with the cistern, and shortly after that the stairs down themselves.

My twelve women gathered like a dust on the landing. I waited till they were all arrived and then said, “I will have to take you out one at a time through the water tunnel.”

Doubts scrawled across all their faces.

I continued, trying to exude confidence, “You will need to hide in the water until I get you all out—someone will find your room soon enough and that other soldier saw us headed this general direction.” My audience started to look very nervous. Realism is apparently not encouraging. “Can anyone swim?”

Only two cautiously raised their hands. Well, that was something at least. “You two, grab empty jugs and come with me.” I picked up a water jug and walked down the stairs into the water. The other two swimmers follow suit and I led the way to the tunnel entrance and the screen. I pushed up the screen and propped it open with the jug I had brought. “There are more grates like this, I’ll go in and you pass me the jugs.”

Shortly, the two swimmers and I had all the grates propped open. This would save me a few moments each way, at least. We swam back to the landing, where all the women were still standing. “Olena, get them into the water. I know it’s cold, but it’ll save them from easy discovery.”

Olena nodded and put her hands on the shoulders of the girls nearest her, “Come on, there are stairs, and we can hold onto the masonry.” She coaxed the group to submerge, shivering, into the cistern. Their heads looked like buoys lining the landing as each hung by her finger tips in the cold water.

I was not excited about the next part—it would have been so much easier to boost everyone over the ten-foot wall—if only I’d known how to safely cross the garrison. “Who is willing to go first?”

 

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Concept art-Zare fights

I have a new drawing program that I’m learning how to use. Clip Studio Paint (aka Manga Studio 5) can do a lot and I’m over here like “Wait…how do I select that?” But I’m loving the program anyway.

Have a look at peasant-dressed Zare whipping out Shiharr and Azzad.

 

 

 

onezarefight

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20-The Cistern

 

It took two tries and a great deal of straining for Jemin to wrench the grate off the wall. He burst back to the surface gasping for breath. I waited to make sure he was alright. He puffed for a minute and then settled into treading water. “Be careful. Don’t be cocky—just see what you can and get out. It does us no good if they catch you, too. I will gather what I can about sentry movements and I will meet you in that alley over there.” He gestured back toward the alley we’d come down to get here.

I nodded. Thrills of excitement and fear coursed through me as I filled my lungs with air and dove down to the ravaged grate.

Jemin hadn’t ripped the grate off entirely so I had to maneuver to slip through the awkward gap. The tunnel was very dark and I swam with one hand outstretched wishing for a glowfish to light the way. Not that there would be anything to see—there was only blackness and the hollow, muted sound of water pushing through the tunnel. I touched the wall once or twice, it was smooth from the constant caress of the Tryber. The tunnel remained lazy and straight for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly I realized I should have started counting the moment I entered the tunnel. I could hold my breath at least an hour after the manner of the nymph kind, but I could also drown if this tunnel were somehow longer than that.  It couldn’t be, though, if it stayed straight and the Tryber had told the truth about the cisterns. I swam forward at an even pace trying not to fret.

There was a soft yellow light ahead and I noticed the water no longer filled the tunnel. Then the water became faster, louder and dirtier. The light grew stronger and more yellow until I came to another grate, more delicately made than the first, and filthy. The river water poured through this grate, and then an even finer grate after that. Beyond that I saw a screen. I had arrived at the garrison cistern. Apparently, they tried to filter the Tryber’s grubbiness away before drinking it. I regarded the grate, wondering how long the tunnel had been and if I could get Jemin down here. If I could, how much noise would we make ripping the grates off the wall?

I was not about to let a few sieves prevent me from rescuing my family. I touched the grate—I couldn’t fit my fingers through the holes on this one but I could sort of get a grip on the slimy metal squares. I rattled it cautiously. To my surprise the grate wobbled freely like it was sitting in a track. I tried pushing up and down, and the grate choked, caught, but then slid up and down. They were probably meant to be cleaned, or changed, to keep the water flowing uninhibited into the cistern.

I pushed the grate up and then slipped through underneath. I closed it behind me and tried the next one. It, too, moved on a track—though clearly not very often. I made it past this one and came to the screen at the end of the tunnel. It was smothered in river silt and the water only covered the bottom half. I surfaced and cautiously wiped some of the silt away so I could see into the cistern. Gillenwater had been a very prosperous city once, and the cistern showed that. It was a large room. The stone walls reached high and pillars stood at intervals down the center holding up the stone ceiling. In smaller holdings, a cistern was often just a giant hole. The soft light I’d seen was from a torch ensconced on a landing above the water line. The landing was lined with clay jars and crowned with stairs leading out of the cistern. Seeing no one, I pushed on the screen. It was by far the easiest to move on its track. Ducking underwater again I closed the screen behind me and swam into the cistern.

I approached the landing watchfully. All was quiet, so I drew myself out of the water. I crouched on the landing for a moment, my heart pounding as I listened for movement above. Hearing nothing, I straightened and moved forward to get a look up the stairs. Above, I could see a hallway and another lit torch. The entrance to the cistern was indoors. This information didn’t seem worth the trouble of swimming in unless I found out exactly where this cistern was in relationship to wherever they were holding my family. Resolve quieted my heart. Jemin probably wouldn’t be pleased, but as long as I didn’t get caught we’d be in a much better position.

Stepping back to the edge I squeezed the river water from my clothes as well as I could. There was a solid chance that the garrison had servant girls—and I was willing to bet the girls didn’t have uniforms. I might blend in with my ragged homespun, wet though it was. As an afterthought I picked up one of the jars and scooped water out of the cistern. I could roam the place with purpose.

Taking a deep breath, I muttered, “‘Never been important or the center of attention, ever,’” and then walked up the stairs.

At the top I followed the hallway to the left. Torches flickered at intervals but otherwise everything was quiet. Given the late hour, I didn’t expect many people to be about. Every time I reached a junction I hesitated and peered down the hallway trying to discern what was down there. Mostly living quarters, as best as I could tell. Hall upon hall of bedrooms for fighting men. Once I saw someone walking down the hall toward me—he was looking at the floor and moved tiredly. He entered one of the rooms without so much as a glance in my direction. Getting off patrol duty?

I kept going, moving as quickly as I could while carrying the jug. At the next hallway I heard men’s voices. I paused before reaching the gap and listened. They were moving away from me. I strained to hear them.

“…new girls…yet…red-headed…”

“…fine creature…”

My heart strangled. Olena…they had to be talking about Olena. How many red-headed girls could there be in this garrison? I slipped around the corner with my jug. There were two men far down the hallway, walking away from me still and nearing the end. I started after them, careful to keep my footfalls silent. They were laughing, and it sounded harsh in the quiet of the night.

At the end of the hall they stopped and one of them started fumbling with a locked door. I slowed, but kept coming, mentally chanting “Never been important or the center of attention, ever,” and willing them not to notice a lowly servant on an errand.

They laughed again at some joke I had drowned with my inner chant. I was quite close now. The door opened and one of the soldiers entered the room, the other leaned on the doorjamb, “Pick one for me, too.”

I heard a woman’s yelp, followed a chorus of wails. I had found the circus women.

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19-Scouting

Hearing it said aloud left everything in me brittle and heavy. I was sure that all of my blood drained from my head and into my feet. I scolded myself: It was not as if the confirmation was a surprise. My family would very likely be taken to Hirhel within days. How long would it be before they were executed? Days? Months? Perhaps years, I supposed, depending on the Nether Queen’s mood. Jemin set his hand on my leg and squeezed while he asked another question of our knowledgeable tradesmen. I tried to listen: I focused intently on each word, but when they stopped speaking I had no idea what had been said.

Suddenly Jemin was standing up, “Thank you, sir. We’re a mighty bit tired, is there a room we could let to stay the night?”

I slipped off my stool, paying attention now.

The tavern keeper eyed us—probably thinking about the pathetic coins we’d laid out for our lunch—and then nodded. He gestured for us to follow him and then led the way down a long hallway.  All the way at the end of the hall he stopped and opened a door to a room so small that the thin mattress took up most of the floor. There was a solitary oil lamp hanging on the wall, and a narrow window at the back of the room. Jemin thanked the tavern keeper and I think they exchanged words about the price but I was too busy scanning the room for rats to know for sure.

The tavern keeper left us and Jemin shooed me into the room and closed the door. I watched as he gave the room a quick once over—checking the walls for peep holes and the like. Strange homesickness welled inside: Exile made even intrigue a reminder of home. I grimaced.

“Are you alright?” Jemin asked once he finished checking the room.

I nodded, “Hearing about their capture as a juicy morsel of interesting gossip just caught me by surprise.” The bitter edge in my voice startled me.

He looked at me closely.

Changing the topic, I dipped my chin toward the walls, “Can you even put your arms out?”

Jemin smirked and spread his arms—sure enough, he could touch both sides of the room. “Being poor and simple makes us appear powerless–nonthreatening. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “it’s not as if we travel with the wealth of Dalyn in our pocket.”

“Is there yet wealth in Dalyn?” I asked, surprised.

“Not especially, no.”

I gestured to the bed. “We’re staying the night?”

“Yes,” replied Jemin. “But probably not here. The cobbler says they are closing the gates at night now, and I want to get a look at the garrison to see what I can learn about it”

“We can’t do that in daylight?”

“We can, and we will. But if I want a closer look I need darkness. I doubt we will spend much time in this room, my lady. And if we do, the bed, such as it is, is yours.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted the bed—uncertain as I was about its prior tenants—but I appreciated Jemin’s deference.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

I nodded, and wasn’t really surprised when he opened the window. He slipped his hulking frame through the narrow window with care and precision. I climbed out after him lightly. He closed the window most of the way behind us and then we set out. Gillenwater was not a small city, and our tavern was located just west of the center.

We wound our way northwards and uphill through the city until we reached the castle and its garrison at the highest and furthest point. A ten foot wall wrapped around both, ending at the northernmost city walls. The houses in that part of the city were bigger, and most had walled gardens. There were not many people about, and I felt conspicuous as we casually worked our way around the wall using side streets and alleys for cover. The wall was built from smooth cut stone—probably from quarries of a vassal in the Magron Mountains. There wasn’t much in the way of hand holds, but it was short enough to boost someone over if we needed to.

We stopped when we reached the Tryber. The river flowed right next to the garrison, and while Jemin gazed at the wall, I crouched on the steep stone banks and reached for the water. My fingers just brushed the river, but it was enough to exchanged pleasantries. It remembered me. Lazy and tinged with filth, the Tryber was still the life of the city. It passed under the city walls at the northwest and the southeast, and waterways had been cut in a few places to bring water to other parts of the city. Including the castle.

“What are you doing?” Jemin’s voice made me jump and yank back my hand.

I stood up and wiped my hand on my tunic. “Checking the river,” I said slowly. “There is a water way that leads into the garrison and castle grounds.”

Jemin gave me a curious look, then stepped to the edge and looked out at the wall, “I don’t see any sign of this water way.”

“It must be under the surface,” I replied, leaning out to look for myself. “The Tryber said it was there.”

Jemin looked at me sharply. “The Tryber tol…” he paused, “You’re a nymph!”

“Half,” I corrected. “It isn’t common knowledge, either.”

Jemin shook his head, “Well, that changes the game a bit. I’ve never met a half-nymph before, though I did see the ambassador from Daiesen once—from a distance. Is it true that you can hold your breath for an entire day? Or does that not come with half-blood?”

I grimaced, “It’s not exactly true. And anyway, I should think this tunnel is barred—we barred ours. Nymphs aren’t exactly rare in these parts.”

Jemin clearly wanted to ask more questions, but had better sense than to do so here in the street. “We shall have to come back tonight to investigate,” he concluded. Having done all we could in daylight, he led the long walk back to the tavern. We climbed back through the window into our closet of a room. He took a seat on the floor by the door, blocking the entrance. His legs didn’t have space to stretch out all the way. “We should get some sleep,” he said. “Eloi knows we won’t get much tonight.”

I settled gingerly on the mattress. When nothing scuttled away my misgivings were outweighed by weariness. In the dulled light of our closet, I was asleep within minutes.

The room was completely dark when I woke up. The sun had set, and no one had lit the lamp. I heard movement by the window and saw Jemin’s silhouette “Lady Zare?”  he whispered.

“I’m up,” I croaked, pushing myself to my feet and trying to shake the thick sleep from my head.

“I’m sorry to wake you, my lady,” Jemin offered me some way-bread, “But I didn’t think you would like to be left behind.”

I accepted the food gratefully. “You’re right, and thank you.”

“It is past curfew now—and nearing midnight,” Jemin explained while we ate, “we must be extremely careful crossing the city. Stick to shadows, avoid patrols. If we are seen, our best hope is to play drunken fools—if that fails we pray we win the fight quickly and can flee.”

I smirked, wondering how often the drunken stumble had been used by these soldier spies.

“Can you fight, my lady?” asked Jemin. The faint light from the window glinted off the hilt of the small knife he was offering to me.

“I can,” I replied, accepting the knife and trying to find a place to hide it on my person. My shoes weren’t tall enough, so I ended up tying it to the belt for Shiharr and Azzad, but in front, and tucked inside my trousers.

We finished our food quickly and left the tavern. The hike to the castle felt even longer than it had earlier as we darted from shadow to shadow listening for patrols. We heard no fewer than five as we crossed the city. We were always able to get down an alley and behind cover before they passed. At last we reached the place the garrison wall met the Tryber.

I slipped out of my vest and handed it to Jemin. “I’ll go.”

“Just see if the tunnel is barred, and how big it is,” said Jemin.

I nodded and sat on the stone bank to slip myself into the cold water. I drew a deep breath, let the murky water close over my head and started to swim upriver along the wall. I was cautious. Waters and nymphs were friends by default, but waters also sometimes had opinions about the lands and peoples that surrounded them. It wouldn’t do for me to offend the Tryber with my intentions. Yet the river seemed untroubled by me and led me quickly to the big grate which marked the large waterway into the garrison. It was roughly centered from the edge of the garrison wall to the edge of the city. I hooked my fingers through the grate. The bars weren’t thick, but the grate was relatively fine—designed to keep out fish and junk, in addition to ambitious nymphs. It was a long water way—I suspected it went all the way to the castle. Stretching out my fingers I felt the currents and asked the Tryber to tell me more. There was a cistern in the heart of the garrison, and another in the castle. The Tryber didn’t mention air in the tunnels, but there was a good chance I would be able to get in this way, even if Jemin couldn’t. I shook the grate and it wiggled. I wondered if Jemin would be strong enough to tear it off.

Turning, I swam back to Jemin. He was crouched in the shadows, waiting anxiously. I puffed out the stale air in my lungs and drew a deep breath of the fresh night.

“What did you find?” asked Jemin.

“It’s a long tunnel, goes to a cistern in the heart of the garrison—and another in the castle. I think it is five feet across, give or take. There is a grate across the opening, but if you can get it off—or mostly off—I think I could get into the garrison.”

Jemin considered this a moment, and then swung his legs over the bank. “Let’s find out.”

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