Page 18

18

The River

Anya

T he following three days unfolded similarly. We crisscrossed through endless farmland and fallow fields, over rolling hills and down through pretty valleys. We slept in secluded glens, the evenings sparkling with starlight and frost. We shared Hattie’s salve until both our injuries had faded. Idris and I took turns atop Briar, silent in the sunshine, then—after dark—sharing stilted conversation over supper. Nightmares plagued my slumber, but I didn’t wake up screaming again, and if Idris was aware of my tossing and turning, he didn’t comment.

On our fifth day, the sun slipped behind a large cloud bank, the light dimming and the wind picking up. Though Briar was a gentle giant, he was still a prey animal, and without a herd, he grew antsy and insecure in the wild weather. Our progress was therefore slowed, which in turn tipped Idris from taciturn to downright irritable.

By midday, all three of us were tense. The High Road—barely a two-carriage muddy track in this pastoral part of the Fenrir Territory—hooked right, bringing us at last to the River Wend.

I heard the river before I saw it. Up until now, we’d been traveling on the western side of the Wend; as we came out of a thin forest of alders, it seemed the road was meant to cross the river and continue northward on the eastern side. But the old stone bridge ahead was crowded with village folk, a carriage blocking our way.

From my elevated view atop Briar, I craned my neck to see what the commotion was about. The carriage was tipped harshly to one side.

“Broken wheel?” Idris asked from his limited viewpoint on the ground.

I stood up in the stirrups. The back wheel of the carriage was not broken, but in fact had fallen through a huge crumbling hole in the stone. There was no way to cross the bridge; the carriage was angled such that the narrow pathway was completely blocked.

“Broken bridge,” I told Idris.

He tugged Briar forward, grumbling as we approached the scene.

Eight people were unloading goods from the carriage and transferring them to a wagon on the far side of the river, where a team of horses waited impatiently. Briar whinnied to his fellows, announcing our arrival. A few of the villagers looked in our direction, but none paused in their efforts.

“Hello there!” I called. “Do you need assistance?”

An older gentleman leaned over the stone railing of the bridge, peering at us from around the blockage. “No, no, we have it well in hand! Though it’ll be another hour ’til we get this cleared—and even so, this bridge is as good as no bridge at all.”

“Is there another bridge nearby?” Idris asked.

“Five miles south,” the man answered. “But it’s safe to cross ’ere, especially on that draft. The riverbed is shallow enough.”

Idris looked over his shoulder at me. “Looks like we’ll have to share Briar across.”

I eyed the Wend’s slow-moving waters. Its surface reflected the turbulent gray sky, reminding me of the Mirrors. When I glanced at Idris again, my Fated death flashed across my vision.

“You take the saddle, I’ll ride behind,” I said, scooting up and over our saddlebags to seat myself on Briar’s rump. While I could easily squeeze into the saddle as we had on our first day, the river made me want to keep my distance—even if that meant just putting some gear between us.

Idris stared at me for a moment but didn’t object. I leaned back, giving him ample room to swing his leg over the saddle. Then he gathered Briar’s reins and angled us toward a flat, rocky shoreline a little way south of the bridge, where there was a gap in the bordering reeds.

Briar was reluctant, dancing sideways as Idris encouraged him to enter the water. I couldn’t blame the horse. The current was gentle here, but the river’s depth was uncertain.

“It’s okay, Briar, walk on,” I soothed, patting his rump.

“Easy, buddy,” Idris added, knocking his feet against Briar’s sides.

Slate-gray clouds were swelling overhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I continued speaking to Briar, scratching his butt, doing everything I could to distract him from the commotion on the bridge and overhead.

Eventually, Briar clopped into the shallows, his dinner-plate hooves slapping loudly. With no saddle between my legs and the horse’s body, I felt how bunched his muscles were, how much tension he held in every step. But he was doing well, trusting Idris to guide him safely.

That is, until a splitting crack filled the air.

It came from the carriage on the bridge—perhaps an axle finally snapping, or a trunk slipping out of someone’s arms to break open on the stones—but I didn’t have time to deduce the exact source, because Briar lunged out from under me, racing for the opposite shore.

I fell backward into the river with a hard splash, water filling my open mouth. My vision filled with bubbles and the debris of vegetation. A memory cleared in my mind: of Idris, looming above the surface, pushing me down.

I kicked my legs and pinwheeled my arms, frantically trying to find the bottom so I could orient myself. The river might’ve been calm and relatively shallow here, but it still had some push, and it tumbled me sideways over the rocks.

Finally, in all my flailing, I managed to find purchase and popped up, completely disoriented, coughing and gulping for air. My hair was plastered to my face, and I wiped it away with a shaky hand, shivering with cold and adrenaline. A shadow passed across my blurred sight—Idris, looming as he had in the Mirror of Death.

With icy water still up to my neck, I scooted backward, feet slipping on slimy rocks.

“Anya!” Idris called, wading closer, the river sloshing around his upper-thighs. “Take my hand!”

Behind him, I saw a crowd of villagers lined up on shore, one of them holding Briar’s reins. Witnesses.

Logic finally eclipsed my fear. I stared at Idris’s proffered hand, then his eyes, seeing his genuine concern. The chill was beginning to clutch my lungs, a different sort of shock setting in. Idris took another labored step forward, keeping sturdy footing as he reached for me, grabbed me under the armpits, and lifted me bodily out of the water.

Instinctively, I clutched at his breastplate, his arms, as my feet found purchase underneath me. Water swirled around my waist, my soaked dress weighing me down—but Idris’s grip was firm and steady.

“Are you alright? Can you wade to the other side?” he asked, sounding rather frightened. “Should I carry you?”

I shook my head. “No, I can walk,” I said, but I clutched his arm as I made my wobbly way to the other side of the river.

On the far bank, I flopped down in the mud to catch my breath. Villagers crowded around, asking if I was hurt—“Just my pride,” I managed—and offering dry blankets and assistance. As I sat there, cold and dazed, I reached for my mother’s cloak pin at my throat, ensuring it hadn’t fallen off in the river; I was relieved to find it still fastened in place, with Hattie’s necklace still tucked beneath my sopping clothes.

While the gaggle of strangers fussed over my wellbeing, Idris loitered nearby, arms folded, his expression creased but unreadable. Eventually, someone handed Briar’s reins back to him, and without removing his eyes from me, he patted the horse’s neck reassuringly.

A woman—not much older than my mother would’ve been today—knelt beside me. “Who knew the day would hold so much excitement?” she asked breathlessly. “I’m Ida. Me pub isn’t far from ’ere. Why don’t we get ye warmed up?”

I was beginning to shiver uncontrollably; all I could do was nod.

An hour later, I was swaddled in another spare outfit from my pack, plus a blanket from Ida, and seated beside the fire in her pub with a cup of tea in my hands. Briar was in the stable, getting looked after by Ida’s teenage son, while Ida’s daughter was off washing our soiled, soggy clothes. Idris—after I insisted he help the villagers clear the carriage from the bridge—was now sipping an ale in the upholstered chair beside mine. Both pairs of our boots were arranged in front of the fire to dry.

“We really ought not to delay,” Idris said to me, but his tone lacked conviction. It was raining, now, and he looked relieved to be out of the weather.

“Ida already said we could sleep on her floor tonight. Let’s just accept the kindness and enjoy the respite, shall we?” I said. “We have plenty of cold nights spent out in the elements to look forward to, what with inns being so few and far between in these parts. As much as I look forward to clearing my name in the capital, there’s no need to suffer to save ourselves a day. Allow yourself a little indulgence while it’s here.”

He grumbled at my speech, but I knew he was glad to luxuriate in a warm pub. Who wouldn’t be?

That night, we were given hearty stew and extra blankets to cushion our bones from the pub’s hardwood floor, and the following morning, we rose before the sun, revived.

“Ye sure ye don’t want to stay for a proper meal?” Ida said as Idris and I stepped out the door in our mostly dry boots. “I’ve got blood sausage and freshly baked rolls!”

Idris shook his head. “We ought to be going.”

I shot Idris a warning glance, willing him not to be rude. Then I gave Ida a quick hug, grateful for her generosity and the cheer of her feminine presence. “You’ve already given us so much,” I told her.

“Then what’s a little more, eh?”

I grinned. “If you insist—”

“Oh, I do—”

“—then I’ll take a few sausages for the road,” I said.

Ida was thrilled to oblige, and as we left the small village and continued north through a haze of rain, I happily snacked on sausages in the saddle.

Idris glanced back at me from his place walking beside Briar. “Those smell good,” he commented.

“They are,” I said. “We could’ve both enjoyed them by the fire in the pub, but no , you thought it best to ride out.”

He faced forward again. He’d shaved last night, and his lack of facial hair made the clench of his jaw obvious.

“Are you jealous that I took Ida up on her kind offer?” I asked.

“No.”

“Do you want one?”

He glanced back again, hope sparking in his eyes.

“If you want one, you’ll have to ask nicely,” I said.

He huffed an aggravated laugh, shaking his head. He walked beside Briar for another while, then finally said, “Anya, may I please…?”

“May you please what?” I goaded.

“May I please have one of your sausages?”

“Of course,” I said brightly, passing one down to him.

He took it sheepishly, and when I laughed, he smiled.