Joren Rale's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

At dawn Kira led Joren north, straight to the ridge streams. The spring flood had swallowed the crossing. Brown water tore between the banks, fast and loud, dragging whole branches under. Kira crouched at the edge and studied it. "The mill is close," she said. "But this used to be a stream you could step across. Now it will drown you." Joren tested the current with a fallen limb. The water ripped it from his hands. He could not swim it. He could not wade it. His enemy waited half a day north, and a flood stood in the way. "Someone knows this river," Kira said. "They always do." As if her words called him, a man stepped from the treeline along the bank. He was broad through the chest, gray hair long past his shoulders, a beard down to his belt. He moved like the woods belonged to him. A knife hung at his hip. He looked at the flood, then at Joren, and did not slow. "You want across," the man said. Not a question. "I'm Garrick. I've crossed this water two hundred times. Two men drowned here this month. You'd be the third." Joren met his eyes. "Then take us over." "Costs you." Garrick's gaze dropped to the blade on Joren's belt. "Not coin. I've enemies on this bank. I want a man who can hold a knife at my back while I work. Do that, and I'll walk you dry to the far side." Joren thought of his promise to Kira. He would not let his enemy run. He needed this crossing. "Done," he said. "My blade guards you across. Nothing more." Garrick nodded once. He led them upstream to a bend where the water ran wide and shallow-looking. "Don't trust your eyes," he said. "There's a rock shelf under here, knee high. It caught me once and pulled me down. Step where I step. Nowhere else." He waded in. The current shoved his legs. Joren followed, one hand on Kira's shoulder, his knife drawn against whatever Garrick feared on this shore. Garrick stopped, felt with his boot, then stepped left around the hidden shelf. Joren copied him exactly. Halfway across, the water reached his chest and pushed hard. Kira gripped his belt and did not make a sound. They climbed out on the north bank, soaked and cold. The mill lay somewhere ahead through the trees. The flood was behind them now. Garrick wrung out his beard. "I held my end," he said. "You held yours. There'll be more of it before you're done with me." Kira stared into the woods ahead. "He's close now," she said. "He doesn't know the river let anyone through." She looked at Joren. "That was our only cover. From here, he could see us coming."