Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (22 page)

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Authors: Frank Augustus

BOOK: Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1
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Seth pretended not to hear the dog’s comments and shouted back to Rathburn, “I hate to disappoint you, but there’s not much left at the way-station beyond a pile of ashes! We just passed by there yesterday!”

“Filthy an-nef!” Rathburn shouted back. “Couldn’t they at least have let it stand?!”

Rathburn then began to curse the an-nef by his gods and walked over to the far edge of the barge which was closest to the submerged riverboat. There men were threading long chains through a hole in the exposed bow of the boat. Once the chains were through they hooked them together and jumped back to the barge. Up on shore other men hooked the chains up to harnesses on the mammoths, and when they were readied, they could hear Rathburn shout an order, “Pull ‘er out!”

The men onshore slapped the mammoths’ hindquarters with rods and the large animals began to move slowly, effortlessly along the shore toward the road. In moments the submerged boat came up out of the water, making a wake that rocked the barge back and forth, and draining the riverboat’s hull back into the water. The animals continued their steady pace and the large boat was now dragged completely up out of the water, nearly all the way to the road.

“Woooah!” one of the mammoth-drivers yelled, and the hairy beasts stopped while other men ran and unhooked the chains.

“See!” Rathburn yelled out. “Nothing to it!”

“They’re amazing animals!” Seth yelled back. Then, leaning over to Jesse he said, “Why don’t you start rowing again before Mr. Rathburn here decides to start asking more questions about the way-station?”

“Gotcha.” With that, Jesse began to row again and soon they were far downriver from the river-clearing crew. That was to be the last submerged boat that the three of them would see on their way downriver to River Bend. But every day of the rest of their voyage they would see three or four of them laying up on the bank by the Southern Highway as if they had been wrecked traveling down the road instead of the river.

It took them only six days to finish their journey to River Bend, but by the fourth day the scenery had begun to change as foothills again now dotted the landscape and copse of trees could be seen in fields covered with grass. By day five they were again seeing farms on either side of the river, and along the river vast fields of cotton stretched out with laborers picking the white balls and putting them into large burlap sacks. Jesse found the cotton fields a curiosity. He had never seen cotton growing in all his ninety years. It was very much an exotic, southern crop—but then again on his journey south he had seen mammoths, lions, and a vast desert—so many things that were foreign to the Foothills. And now, he calculated, his journey was nearly half over. Jesse couldn’t have been more wrong.

That last night on the river they slept in a farmer’s barn. He was not as friendly as Elan had been, charged them more to spend the night than Elan had, but then again, he didn’t try to drug, rob and kill them, either. His daughter, however, did think that Jesse was cute. Must be the beard. Definitely the beard. Jesse thought that he would keep it.

That evening they experienced something that they had not since they left Whitehurst: rain. It didn’t come down in buckets like it had it Whitehurst, but the steady rain sounded good. The three of them laid down on a stack of hay and slept as soundly as either one of them ever had.

The next morning the three of them were up and on the river early. The thought of spending that evening in an inn in a real bed made Jesse row all the faster. The further south that they went, the greener the terrain. Now the willows that they had become accustomed to along the riverbank were replaced by palms, and groves of palms dotted the landscape. The air, once hot and dry, now became hot and muggy. Sweat now poured off Jesse as he worked the oars. Just the same, he pressed hard. River Bend was now just hours away. The river was much wider here, too, and white and gray birds that Seth called, “gulls” now flocked around the boat and occasionally alighted on it hoping for a hand-out of some food. The birds took to flight, however, if Enoch barked at them; but would frequently circle for a while and then land again, still hoping for a free morsel.

By early afternoon they could see houses on the horizon, all bleached white with red-clay roof tiles. Within the hour they had rowed under the first of River Bend’s three stone bridges, built on pylons in the river, and within twenty minutes after that they had cleared the other two. At last, they were at River Bend’s harbor. The harbor consisted of a man-made lake, with docks covering the shores on all sides except for the mouth of the Elmer and the spillway opposite it. Jesse found an open spot at one of the docks, and tied the boat up. They were unloading their packs and supplies when an unfriendly-looking bearded man with a tattoo of a nearly-naked woman on his forehead came hurrying up to them and shouting. “Hey! You can’t tie your boat up here!” he said. “This dock’s for paying customers!”

“How much?” Jesse asked.

“Ten coppers a day,” he said. “Or half a Mountain silver pound, or one-quarter Eden mark.”

“A fair price,” Seth interrupted. “I see from your demeanor that you are an astute businessman. We’ve come to River Bend to sell this self-same boat. It’s a fine craft. Easily worth five denari, but I was thinking that for such a man as you we might let it go for half that. You see, you have an honest face, and I like doing business with an honest man.”

“Five denari?” The man exclaimed. “That scow’s not worth five coppers!”

“Oh, I assure you, sir, this boat is of the finest craftsmanship. Built from cypress harvested on the riverbanks of the Elmer in the Foothills region.”

Jesse and Enoch looked at each other. There were no cypress growing in the Foothills.

“That so?” the man asked. He looked at the boat closely.

“Why of course!” Seth went on, “I’d never lie to a man such as you!”

Seth caressed the boat, “Look closely at the grain. You won’t find another like it if you rowed all day! Tell you what. If two and a half denari is more than you can afford…why I might be persuaded to let you have it for two, but not a copper less.”

“I’ve got money!” the man on the dock shot back. “Don’t think that just because you wear that fancy silk shirt you’re better than me!”

“Why, of course not, kind sir. I meant no offense. I’m sure that you’re of noble stock.”

The man ran his hands over the one of the boat’s ribs.

“Two denari?”

“Two it is.”

The man dug into his purse and produced two gold Atlantan denari and handed them to Seth.

“You have struck a hard bargain, but a fair one,” Seth continued. “You’ll no doubt make a tidy profit on that boat very soon. Yes sir, I can tell an honest man when I see one.”

The man ignored Seth’s praises, and continued the close inspection of his new purchase. Seth handed one of the coins to Jesse, grabbed his pack and spear and walked down the dock to the shore. When they reached the end of the pier it was Enoch who spoke, “You just sold a boat that you didn’t own to a man who wasn’t buying. Remind me to never buy a horse from you.”

“I would keep your comments to an occasional bark or yip, my furry friend,” Seth replied. “They do have an-nef here in River Bend, but a spirit-host could cause a stir. We don’t need a stir.”

“Yip,” said Enoch.

“Before we find lodging for the night, there is something that you must see,” Seth continued. He led Jesse and Enoch to a wooden bridge over the spillway. “Look below.”

From above the three could see the water as it rushed over the spillway to the river about five paces below. Immediately Enoch and Jesse knew what Seth was referring to. Below them in the river they could see large fins circling.

“River monsters?” asked Jesse.

“Yes. And of the most terrible kind. Keep watching.”

As they watched, they could see a girl coming up to a dock over the river. She was carrying a wooden bucket with what remains after one has finished dressing a goat, and atop the bloody mess was the goat’s head itself. The girl stood on the edge of the dock and swung the bucket back and forth. On the third swing she tipped the bucket, releasing its contents and sending it flying into the river. As soon as the grisly contents splashed into the Elmer, she turned and ran back to the shore. No sooner had she made it safely to shore when the fins that had been circling in the area off the dock now swam straight for the red spot on the river with floating goat-guts. It made a serpentine wiggle, exposing other fins on its long, scaly back and shot straight towards the remains. There was a terrible thrashing in the water as the river-monster lifted its scaly head with rows of large, sharp teeth and swallowed the goat remains before submerging again.

Where the river-monster had once been, a frothing feeding frenzy continued as smaller fish cleaned up what the creature had left behind.

“That, young Master of the house of Nashon, is why the good citizens of the city of River Bend built yon dam and erected the spillway. If it were not for that barrier creatures like that would roam all the way up to Whitehurst, and possibly to Albion as well. That dam was built centuries ago to make it safe for riverboats to travel on the Elmer through the Nara. It was built—I might add—at the cost of many lives. That is also why I doubt the story of that arms merchant back in Whitehurst. The monsters on the open seas are more terrible than any that prowl the rivers. They could swallow a boat the size of a house. No! Wherever the crossbows and fancy spears are coming from, they are most certainly not coming over the seas! Now, it is getting late. May I suggest that we find shelter for the night while there is some to be found?”

Seth led Jesse and Enoch along the street that followed the docks, searching for an inn that was not full. But as was the case in Whitehurst, the inns were full due to the cessation of river traffic, so Seth decided that they would have to go further into the city to find an inn with accommodations. The streets—like those in Whitehurst—were not paved. And also like Whitehurst: the buildings were crammed together so closely that the city had a claustrophobic feel to it. For a boy from the Foothills, this city was too much city.

At last they came to an inn at the end of a street named, Robber’s Row. The street smelled of urine, and the inn itself was called, “The Dirty Lady.” Fitting. Jesse didn’t think that he wanted to spend the night under its roof.

“It’s either here or in the street,” Seth told him.

With a choice like that Jesse decided that perhaps they should see if they had a room after all, so the three of them went on in, fully expecting that Enoch would be thrown back out on the street. But Enoch, it seemed, was more than welcome.

“Yar!” The innkeeper told him. “You can bring your dog. But if you don’t mind me saying so, a scrawny thing like him won’t last long in the fights.”

“Fights?” asked Jesse.

“Yar. Dey’s fights here every night. Usually the dogs are bigger ‘en yours. He’d have to be pretty scrappy to whip ‘em.”

Enoch looked up at Jesse and said, “I think that I’ll spend the night on the street.”

“Choo say somethun?” the innkeeper asked Jesse.

“No. I was just...ah...talking to my dog. I think that he’d best spend the night outside.”

Enoch turned and walked toward the door.

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” the innkeeper warned.

“And why’s that?” Jesse asked.

“He’d jest wind up in somebody’s pot.”

Enoch stopped short, and then returned to Jesse and Seth.

“Smart dog you got there,” the innkeeper remarked. “He might be able to get in a few bites on some of the dumma ones. The fight’n dogs aren’t the most smart.”

“No thanks,” Jesse said as he paid the man for the room.

“Suppa’s served in one hour,” the innkeeper told him. “The lady sings in two. Fight starts in three. Don’t want to miss it. They have some good ‘uns!”

“We’ll keep the times in mind,” Seth responded. “And the coach for Mountain Shadows?”

“It’ll be here at eight bells,” the innkeeper told him. “Pulls up right down the end of the street.”

The three of them climbed the stairs to the rooms, and they found that the room that they had been given had no doorknob or lock of any kind. It just swung open on its rusty hinges. When they stepped inside, however, they discovered that it could be secured from the inside by a large bar that fit in hooks on the door casing. The bed had a mattress of straw—not feathers—and the straw was old, lumpy and musty-smelling. It was covered by a single moth-eaten wool blanket and no sheet and no pillow. The room had no commode, but only a pot that had not been emptied recently. Jesse began to complain and said that he wasn’t about to spend the night in a room that smelled like this when Seth opened the window and then tossed the pot’s contents out and into the street below.

“This is River Bend, Jesse. Not your father’s estate. You’re a long way from the Foothills. I suggest that you adjust as best you can.”

Jesse ignored the lecture but observed, “Well, I guess that we can’t leave our stuff here while we eat. We’ll have to take it with us.”

“No you won’t,” said Enoch. “I’ll watch it for you. I’m not going down there. Just make sure that you bring me some leftovers.”

“Will do,” Jesse promised him.

Jesse and Seth left their belongings with Enoch and went down into the common room to wait for supper. The benches were rickety. No surprise. The tables were wide, but wobbly. No surprise there, either, and the crowd was decidedly rougher than even the sailors that they had encountered in Whitehurst. Like Whitehurst, the men all wore beards, but in addition to the beards, all the men had tattoos on their foreheads. But unlike Whitehurst,
all
the men carried swords, and most had one or two knives or a dagger tucked into their belts. A decidedly rough—and dangerous crowd.

Seth ordered them a couple of beers and Jesse sat sipping on his and trying to read all the tattoos without looking like he was staring. The innkeeper’s was a dragon breathing fire. There was a very rough-looking guy with a scar on his cheek with a tattoo that just said, “Mom.” Another man had the words, “River Bend – Love It Or Leave It” embossed above his eyebrows. A man with broken teeth, and half his ear missing had the phrase, “Baki is Stoopid!” crudely emblazoned on his forehead. Jesse thought about letting him know of the miss-spelling and then decided that he wouldn’t.

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