Tarah Woodblade (16 page)

“A little further down it gets a bit icy,” Tarah admitted with a wince. She had crossed this bridge so many times in the past that she hadn’t considered that the dwarf would find the crossing difficult. “But don’t worry. I’ll let you know before you reach that part.”

“I hate to tell you this,” he said, slowly edging out onto the next board. “Dwarves aren’t made for this kind of bridge.” He swallowed as the board let out a loud creak. “We need a bridge made of stone or one with-!” Djeri gasped, windmilling his arms a bit. “One with at least a railing of some sort.”

Tarah put her hands on her hips. “How can you be afraid of heights after working the Mage School wall?”

“It isn’t heights, Woodblade,” he snapped. “This isn’t high! My problem is with these narrow blasted boards!”

“Well it’s too late to do anything about it now,” Tarah replied. “You should’ve said something to me before now. I would’ve made you cross on the mule.”

His fear turned to a frown as he made it to the next rock. “I would much rather swim this river than ride that beast.”

“He’s already on the bank waiting for us,” she pointed out.

He eyed the next two boards with trepidation. “Taking the Sampo Bridge would have been the better route.”

She could see that now. “Okay, you’re at the slick part now. Just keep your feet squarely in the middle of the board and shuffle sideways.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing the whole time!”

“Good. Then you’ve got practice,” she said. “Just know that now there’s a real reason to be careful.”

“Shut up!” he said, edging onto the icy board. It bowed a little under his weight and water lapped around his boots. “This isn’t a bridge anymore. Dag-blast it! What am I saying? This never was a friggin’ bridge!”

“Now you’re sounding like a dwarf,” Tarah remarked. “There. You’re at the rock now. One more board and you’re out of the slick part.”

“One more board?” He stepped onto the rock and turned his glare on her. “Who told you you were a good guide? I see four more boards until I’m off this ri-!”

He lifted his right foot to step onto the next board and his left foot slipped out from under him. His back struck the icy rock and he slid head first into the slushy water.

“Djeri!” Tarah jumped onto the board sliding across to get to him. The dwarf came up briefly, sputtering and scrambling to find a hand hold, but the current pulled at him. The weight of his platemail and great mace drug him under.

Tarah thrust her staff into the water. “Grab on!” The back of the dwarf’s hand brushed the staff, but he couldn’t latch on. Tarah froze, her eyes wide. He was right. What kind of guide was she? “Come on!” But his hand didn’t come back up.

“Papa! Grampa!” She begged, but no advice was forthcoming. The dwarf was going to die and it would be her fault. “Oh blast it all,” Tarah said with a growl and jumped in after him.

Chapter Eight

Tarah gasped as the freezing water enveloped her, but this wasn’t her first time in the currents of the river and her papa had taught her what to do. She ignored the shock of the cold and found her footing quickly. The pool created by the downed tree reached half way up her chest. The swirling current pulled at her and Tarah dug in with her feet as she searched for the dwarf.

He found her first. Djeri’s powerful hands latched onto her legs, threatening to drag her under. She grit her teeth, straining against the current and Djeri’s weight as he pulled himself out of the water using her armor as handholds. He wrapped his legs around her in his haste to get to the surface and her armor threatened to tear at the seams.

“Just a blasted second!” she shouted and thrust her staff into the river bottom for extra leverage.

The dwarf’s head broke the surface and he sputtered, “C-cold!”

“No kidding! Just stop struggling or you’ll pull me under with you!” She glanced around. They had been pulled out towards the river’s center and there weren’t any large rocks for her to grab onto. She had to get the dwarf thinking instead of reacting. “Listen, we’re gonna have to let the current bring us back towards the shore. Can you see the way the water’s flowing?”

Djeri turned his head and looked at the surface of the pool, gauging the circular pattern of the water’s flow. “Y-yeah. It could pull us that way if we don’t d-drown first.”

Tarah grunted. “We’ll be fine. Just . . . for nature’s sake, put your feet down! It ain’t that deep where we’re standing!” Djeri’s legs became untangled from hers and he found that he was able to just barely keep his head above water. “Good, now work with me. We’ll make our way there one step at a time.”

It was slow going and the intense cold made it seem like it took forever. Tarah’s limbs were numb by the time they reached the pool’s edge and they weren’t finished yet. There was still a quarter of the shallows yet to go. They continued on, dragging themselves through the last stretch. Finally, they collapsed onto the pebbled ground of the shoreline, icy water pouring from their armor.

The dwarf turned pained eyes on her, his beard coated in slush. “I’m c-colder than a witch’s tur-tur-tur-!”

“Yeah-yeah. I get it,” Tarah said, breathing heavily, her eyes closed. Oddly, the air entering her lungs felt warmer than her internal temperature. So tired. It would feel so good to sleep. Yes, sleep would be nice . . .

Get moving or the cold will have you
, her papa instructed. His voice was forceful, just as it had been on the day he first said the words.

Tarah’s mind drifted into the memory. She was little then, but she couldn’t remember how old. She was kneeling by the river’s edge, one small hand plunged into a gap in the ice just as her father had instructed. The pain had been excruciating. Her papa stood next to her and as she looked up at him pleadingly, his expression had been kind, but amused.

“Just leave your hand in a moment longer, Tarah” he said, his voice encouraging.

Tarah grimaced. She could barely feel her hand anymore, but the cold had turned into a deep ache that ran up her arm towards her shoulder. It was as if her very bones were turning to ice. She fought back tears. “It hurts, papa!”

“Yes, the cold hurts, Tarah. Remember that,” he said. “You can take your hand out now.”

Tarah removed her hand from the water and stood. She stared at her hand, expecting her skin to be blue, but it was flushed red. It was difficult to move her fingers.

Her papa knelt beside her. He had seemed so huge to her then; a hulk of a man. He was wearing his enchanted leather armor, left over from his academy days. It consisted of a leather breastplate and shoulder pauldrons, but left his muscular arms bare.

He reached out and took her frozen hand in both of his. His hands felt like hot coals as he looked at her with serious eyes. His eyes were so blue. His familiar voice was deep and comforting. “If you ever fall into water cold like this, your whole body’ll feel like your hand just did. If that happens, get out quick as you can. Just keep your head. Swim the same way you would if the water was warm. Lots of folks panic and drown in the cold. That ain’t happening to you.”

“Yes, papa,” she said.

“Good. Now get up and get moving,” he said, giving her an approving smile. “Come on. You can’t lay there and expect to survive.”

“What?” Her nose wrinkled. What was he talking about? She was standing already. Or was she? She felt hard earth beneath her back. When had she laid down? Her papa’s face began to blur. The world around her faded until all she could see was his blue eyes.

Get moving, Tarah. Get warm
! Her father’s voice commanded, but it was as if he were far away. What was wrong? Something wet and hot slid across her face. It hurt. Was her face on fire?

Her mind was jolted back to the present and her eyes fluttered open to see the mule’s breath steaming in front of her face. “Gah, Neddy!” He licked her again with his fire-like tongue and she frowned at him, sensing his amusement. They had made him wade across the cold river, but the people were the ones that laid frozen on the ground. “It’s not funny.”

She struggled to sit up. Her papa was right. She needed to get moving. Her limbs protested, but she forced her body to stand, using her staff to keep herself propped up. Blast, but her armor was heavy!

She looked back at the dwarf. He was lying on the bank, still breathing heavily, his eyes droopy with exhaustion. She didn’t blame him, but he needed to get moving too.

“You strong enough to get up, dwarf?” Tarah asked. “Or do you need me to toss you on Neddy’s back?”

Djeri scowled and rolled over. “I’m fine,” he said, his lips pressed to the mud. He slowly shoved against the pebbled ground and pushed himself to his knees. “I’m a dwarf. I’m finer than fine. I could carry that mule if I had to.” He winced as he stood, then folded his arms and gave her a firm look. “How about you, Woodblade? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Tarah Woodblade doesn’t fall over,” she replied and at just that moment her legs wobbled. She clutched her staff, hoping fervently that the dwarf wouldn’t end up having to carry her. She told herself it would be okay. Surely her blood would warm once she started walking. “Come on. There’s gonna be a freeze tonight and we need to get dry. I know a good spot close by.”

Close by was a bit of an exaggeration. The sun had slipped below the tree line and the spot Tarah hoped to reach was almost a mile away, which in her condition might as well have been ten. She started down the narrow trail she and her father had used so many times over the years, grateful that this part of the forest was so familiar to her, because it was hard to think. Neither of them bothered to lead the mule anymore. Neddy followed behind them on his own.

Tarah’s boots sloshed as she led the way. Djeri walked right behind her, grunting, his suit of armor sounding like it was full of water instead of a dwarf. Tarah shook her head. She could only imagine how much heavier his armor had gotten with all the padding soaked. Her own armor felt like it had absorbed half the river. She kept a steady pace and some strength began to return to her limbs, though she was shivering uncontrollably.

Tarah Woodblade doesn’t shiver
, said Grampa Rolf.

“Shut up,” she mumbled.

“You said we were close,” Djeri reminded her. The dwarf wasn’t shivering anymore, but he swung his arms about constantly as he walked, clenching and unclenching his fingers to keep his blood flowing. “How much further?”

“It’s just over the next hill,” she lied. It was a common guidesman trick. As long as the client thought they were near the destination, she could keep them going twice as long.

“Yeah, right. How far is it really?” the dwarf asked. Tarah looked back to see he had one eyebrow raised. “Come on. This isn’t my first journey. How long until we reach the camp?”

She berated herself. He was an academy veteran. Of course he’d know the tricks. “A half mile. There’s actually about three more rises to go.”

“Then let’s pick up the pace,” he said. “The light’s almost gone and if you’re right about the chill, you’re going to need a fire soon.”

He was right and if her mind hadn’t been so numbed, she would have recognized it. Dwarves were tough by nature, part of the magic in their blood. He could probably go on for miles. She was the one fading fast. Tarah forced her numb legs into a light jog.

That half mile felt like five miles. Tarah found it hard to keep her balance and her breaths came short and fast. Her vision swam and as she topped the second rise, one of her boots caught on a tree root. She nearly crashed to the ground, but somehow Djeri was at her side, steadying her. He said something to her about getting on the mule, but she shook her head and kept on.

Climbing that last rise felt like the most difficult thing she had ever done. Every step was torturous. A sigh escaped her lips as she arrived. Tarah pushed through the thick pine boughs on the side of the trail and stepped into the small clearing she had been heading for.

The campsite was surrounded by thick pine trees that protected it from the wind and did a good job of hiding the light of a fire. The lean-to she and her papa had made there so many years ago still stood, taking up a good portion of the clearing. A ring of blackened stones sat in front of it, ready to be used.

Tarah smiled in relief. Just standing in the place helped bring vigor back into her limbs. She immediately began pulling at the laces of her armor, eager to get the icy clothing off.

There was a grumble behind her as Djeri shoved his way through the trees, pulling the mule behind him. He paused, the frown fading from his face as he looked around the campsite. He nodded approvingly. “This could work.”

“Hurry and get a fire going,” Tarah instructed. The laces were hard to undo with her numb fingers, but at least her mind was working again. “I left some dry wood stacked under the lean-to last time I was here.”

“Right,” Djeri said. He began hauling dry branches and logs out from under the shelter. He cursed. “Uh, there’s a big hornet’s nest in here.”

“It’s too cold for ‘em to stir. Just clear it out of there. Toss it in the fire if you want,” she said, sighing as she was finally able to pull the heavy soaked armor off over her head. She began pulling off her boots.

“I hope you’re right,” Djeri said. After a worried grunt, he tossed a large paper nest into the center of the rock ring and began laying firewood over the top of it. He chuckled. “What am I worried about? I don’t know if I’d even feel a sting right now, I’m so numb all over. I . . . Uh . . . Tarah?”

“What?” she said, laying her underclothes on the dry ground beside her. Even the cold air felt warm on her skin after those wet clothes.

“Uh . . .” He averted his eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “You’re naked.”

She frowned. Why should that concern him? “Wet clothes will kill you in this weather. Come on. Get that fire started. Where’s that academy training of yours?”

“R-right.” He walked to the mule and opened his pack, then began searching for his fire kit.

He was taking too long. Tarah rolled her eyes and by the time Djeri finally found his kit and pulled it out, light flared behind him. He turned in surprise to find Tarah, still naked, crouched by the lit fire shivering. The wasp’s nest had gone up quickly.