Delaney pulled her cloak tightly against the chill breeze as one of the Tishaaran soldiers poled them through the reedy, ice-encrusted, waters. Windglow seemed to be wrapped in his own thoughts on the eve of his crucial mission, which left her with little to do but try to size up the fellow who sat leaning out over the stern of the boat. This third member of their Second Realm expedition, whose name Delaney had already forgotten, appeared fair and thin, rather boyish-looking, although it was difficult to tell with his hood pulled down. She wondered if he was even out of his teens, and felt a little disappointed that Alanwyck had chosen him for the journey. She knew only too well the peril that stood between them and their destination, and would have preferred someone with a little more beef to him.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she had made the right decision in returning to the Second Realm. Even now, she debated stopping the boat and backing out.
What am I thinking? I could stay in Tishaara after all, safe and sound. Clean, dry, and comfortable.
That was the sensible choice. There was no need for her to go native in the woods again. She did not kid herself that she was any sort of martyr who was returning to the Second Realm to help the Tishaarans’ noble cause (which she did not fully understand in the first place) or to repay the kindness shown her by Ehiloru in securing her release from prison. Well, yes, she did want to do that--she was truly grateful and it was tucked among the reasons why she was going.
There was, however, a more compelling one, which she would keep to herself. No way would she insult her hosts by revealing to them that she considered their town a rather primitive backwater dive. It had been just what she needed to recover from that nightmare of a trip through the Third Realm. The first few weeks had been great. Tishaara was as quaint, charming, peaceful and friendly a place as you could find. But it was clearly Hicksville. Already she was growing bored. The thought of spending months, even years or, God forbid, a lifetime in this third world outpost depressed her beyond words. As far as she could see, her only hope of getting back to anything approaching civilization lay in the direction of Orduna, the City of Knowledge. Now that sounded like a real city! A place with some culture, some class. Maybe even running water and flush toilets if that was not too much to ask.
Their boat scraped ashore on a washboard of rocks on the far side of the lake. Leaving it behind, they retraced many of the steps through the elaborate maze through which they had entered Tishaara nearly four months ago. At some point before reaching the Gaterock, however, the Second Realm expedition parted company with the Tishaaran sentries. They struck out through the woods to the southwest, with Windglow in the lead and Delaney in the middle.
By now, Delaney was convinced that no Tishaaran ever reached their destination but by blind luck or divine intervention. How else could they continually plunge into the woods on cross-country journeys following these broken wisps of trails and never get lost? Personally, she would rather see roads. Sidewalks. Signs with arrows. Trail posts with names and mileage. Even a beaten-down path of snow. Then she would not feel so dependent on these people to get where she wanted to go.
She was also acutely aware that this time she had no old geezer like Berch to protect her from the tireless pace of the Tishaarans. With the slightest lag in her concentration, Windglow’s long strides opened a gap that Delaney, with the trailing Tishaaran fast on her heels, scrambled to close. They had barely started climbing up a steep trail into the mountains when she began to doubt if she could hold out until that glorious day when they reached the Second Realm border and the Tishaarans’ ironman abilities took a severe hit.
Delaney could not have described the landscape with any accuracy. She tended to notice details only when they had to do with people--the clothes they wore, the way they styled their hair or decorated their houses. The outdoors were too tangled and disorganized to make sense of and, except for the occasional scenic wonder, too monotonous to hold her interest. She observed little as they traveled, keeping her sights on the gray cloak ahead of her, and her thoughts constantly teetered on regret for the warmth and safety she was leaving behind.
At the end of a long, steady incline, they reached the base of another steep, knobby hill. The area was overgrown with tall stalks of dormant grasses that bent under a north breeze. As soon as they circled around to the south face and out of the wind, the sun beat down so strongly that Delaney began feeling uncomfortably warm in her heavy wraps. She pulled back her hood and shook her short, sweaty hair. With every step she took, the shallow snowpack softened, until she was splashing through slush and slipping on greasy patches of mud. Several places were even flecked with green where the intense sun burning through the thin atmosphere had melted the frost and awakened blades of grass.
Ahead if her, Windglow edged cautiously into a clearing. He bent down over the soggy earth, his nose nearly to the ground as he examined a long, narrow depression. “Yes, this is the place,” he said. “I wonder how Hummer is getting along.”
“Who’s Hummer?” asked Delaney.
“He’s the fourth member of our company--” started the other Tishaaran.
“You’re a woman!” Delaney exclaimed. Somehow she had failed to notice this during the hurried introductions at the landing. Viewed disinterestedly from the rear of the boat, the Tishaaran’s figure had appeared lithe and athletic, slightly shorter than typical of Tishaaran men, but with nothing to distinguish it as feminine under the cover of a loose cloak. Up close and with her hood removed, it was a different story. Delaney could not imagine how she could have thought her other than what she was. She stared at the vision of an angel, a face so soft, a complexion so creamy that it looked airbrushed. She had firm, full, dimpled cheeks and lively gray-green eyes curtained by thick, dark lashes. Thick blonde tressed flowed across her shoulders poked. Her stunning looks were balanced by the usual stolid earnestness of Tishaarans. She had the sympathetic look of a person who would hang on every word of your story no matter how dull, and at the same time exuded the poised resolve of someone determined to defend you to the death from all enemies.
“I thought I introduced Shaska at the landing,” said Windglow, puzzled.
“You did,” said Delaney. “I guess I was just kind of in a daze. Wow, it’s too bad Roland didn’t come with us. He used to gripe that hot babes were supposed to be standard issue on fantastic adventures. Said he hadn’t seen one yet in the realms and would demand his money back if his luck didn’t change soon. Obviously, he never met you.”
“Thank you, I guess,” said Shaska, blushing brightly. “Although I cannot believe Mr. Roland included you in his uncharitable assessment.”
“Now that I think of it, he did, didn’t he? The pig!” said Delaney. Having sensed the subtle pull of attraction that had tugged on Roland when they were together, she felt particularly wounded by the slight. What an insensitive clod! What is it with guys, anyway? As shallow as an ashtray and sensitive as a cement block.
Immediately, she dismissed him from her mind. “Wow, this is great! " she bubbled. A chica!”
“Begging your pardon,” said Shaska, “but we are hardly a rarity. There are quite as many Tishaaran women as men.”
“Well, yeah,” said Delaney. “It just seemed that men were the only ones I ever saw traveling. I guess I assumed this company was going to be just like that last one--all men.”
“They do undertake most of the long trips,” conceded Shaska. “As a practical division of labor. Yet many Tishaaran women have made journeys.” Pointing to the brown leather tishaarat tucked inside her cloak, she said, “Forgive my calling attention to it, but I have been well-trained in the use of this weapon. And what sort of hosts would send a woman off alone with a group of men? Tishaaran men, while honorable, are still men.”
Windglow clamped his hand over Puddles’ mouth. “Please do not provoke my pet, here. It is difficult enough to keep him quiet without you openly baiting him.”
“Why Puddles, you fleak-eared white-liver,” laughed Delaney. “I had forgotten all about you. Good to see you.”
“Wish I could say the same,” said Puddles.
“Hey, no one answered my question,” said Delaney. “Where is that other person you were talking about. Hummer, was that it?”
“Yes, we all call him that; his full name is Humbleton,” said Windglow. “You need not worry yourself about getting to know him. He will make himself more than familiar once we are under way.”
“You still didn’t answer the question,” reminded Delaney.
“Ah, excuse me,” said Windglow. “Shaska, would you please explain. My duties are rather pressing at the moment.” He removed his pack and began crawling along the soggy ground, running his fingers along the turf.
“Hummer went on ahead of us to the high springs,” said Shaska. “He has been scouting the area for the past couple of days, checking whether the thaw is sufficient to proceed. You see, we have diverted a river that used to pass through this depression in front of us. This is our secret way out of Tishaara. The stream bed lies empty so that none would suspect we have a canoe buried in this hill.”
“You buried a canoe in the hill?”
“Yes, Windglow is hunting for it now. Meanwhile, Hummer is up top, redirecting the stream back to its original bed,” said Shaska. “Once that is accomplished, it will carry us underground in safety through the heart of the Raxxar territory until it emerges far down the mountain. There. He has found it.”
Windglow peeled back a corner of sod with his fingers and plunged his arm up to the elbows in the oozing ground. Despite her interest in his activity, Delaney could hardly keep her eyes off Shaska. “How do you like that?“ she said. “A woman.”
“I believe you have a one-track mind,” said Shaska with a warm, white-toothed smile.
“Then she’s added a track since we last traveled together,” squawked Puddles.
Windglow stood, mud dripping off his arms and chest, and even his chin.
“Pardon the criticism, but what did I tell you about provoking Puddles?”
All at once, Humbleton burst into view atop the hill. The speed of his descent blew the hood off his head, revealing a thick, bushy mat of strawberry blond hair and a beard that was neatly trimmed despite his time in the woods. As tall as Windglow but larger-boned, he galloped down the hill with long, ungainly strides. Close on his heels, a wave of water plunged and churned downhill, splashing over the shallow, overgrown banks of the once-dry gully.
“He is already finished!” gasped Shaska. “Come!” Scooping up her pack, she dashed over the slurping mud to the hole Windglow had uncovered, waving at Delaney to follow. The Tishaarans then ripped away more sod and kicked out the half-buried, mud-slicked wooden plank that covered the canoe.
“Quickly. Follow me,” said Shaska. She jumped into the dark cavern. Delaney peered into the blackness, pausing a second to consider what disgusting horrors awaited her.
“Delaney, please hurry!” pleaded Windglow as Humbleton and the freshly diverted torrent of water bore down on them. Delaney stepped toward the edge of the hole, wavered a moment, spread her hands to support her if she fell, and then half jumped, half tumbled in. Given her feelings toward worms, and with the mental scars of Rushbrook’s cruel dungeons still on her mind, her blind plunge into that pit was probably the bravest thing she had ever done. Her hesitation cost her, however. Just as she jumped, Humbleton arrived, barely under control, and dove into the hole. The two collided in midair.
A flashlight might have saved Delaney a good deal of anxiety, as well as the bruise where Humbleton’s forehead struck her cheek. For beneath the planks were several layers of hides and cloth that protected the canoe and kept it surprisingly clean.
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She and Humbleton fell heavily into a paste of mud next to the craft. Had they landed in the canoe, their combined force might well have rendered it unseaworthy and ended the expedition before it started. Delaney had no time to voice her disgust before she found herself hoisted in the air. With no apparent strain, Humbleton dropped her into the center of the canoe.
“All aboard,” he called, relieving Windglow of Puddles while his fellow Tishaaran climbed in. Scarcely had Windglow set foot in the canoe than water gushed around them, as though a sewer pipe in the ceiling of an ancient house had burst, spewing a filthy slurry of water and muck.
The boat slid forward, ground to a halt, lurched forward, and halted again. By fits and starts, it crawled over a bed of gravel. The grinding and scraping gave Delaney visions of a can-opener slitting the belly of the craft. But the wood held until the canoe broke free, floating freely and smoothly in the rising waters of the tunnel.
“Watch your head,” cautioned Windglow. The newly liberated stream washed into a narrow chute. As the black walls of the tunnel closed tightly around the boat, Delaney’s face brushed against a festooning mass of exposed roots. She shuddered as she slapped them away, and then ducked down as far into the canoe as she could to avoid further encounters. At one point where the cave widened (though the ceiling was no higher) the craft beached again before the waters collected enough to spill over an obstruction and they renew their downward course.
At one bend in the tunnel, a portion of the sandy wall had caved in, letting in a slanted ray of light and leaving a hump of silt for the canoe to shimmy over.
Delaney peeked up to see Shaska and Windglow bent over, pushing the hilts of their paddles into the water bed and against the walls, forcing the canoe forward.
When they finally worked the stalled canoe free, they floated into a black cavern. Unable to see a thing, Delaney felt her stomach fly up into her chest as the canoe pitched suddenly downward. A splash of cold water struck her face as the canoe flew off at an alarming rate of speed. In panic, she grabbed the sides of the canoe.
“Yeahhh!” yelled Humbleton. “Now the fun begins! Keep your hands inside the boat!”
As they shot downward through the heart of the mountain, Delaney discovered, the hard way, the reason for Humbleton’s command. The canoe slammed into the left wall, nearly pinching her fingers off. Stifling a yelp, she pulled her hands in and slid off her seat to cower in the bottom of the craft.
The journey had barely started and already she was wet, cold, seasick, and nursing four throbbing fingers. Delaney, you tool! Why didn’t you leave well enough alone and stay put in Tishaara? Or go with Roland and Berch? Whatever they’re up to, I’ll bet they aren’t puking their guts out in some runaway watermark ride. I hate this! I hate it!
How long they careened through the darkness on this invisible rapids, bouncing off rocks, nearly capsizing on several occasions, Delaney could not have guessed. She shivered and pulled her cloak tightly around her, fighting off the nausea that surfaced with each light bobbing of the craft.
Eventually the current slackened.
Windglow was able to get a torch lit, which he hung over the prow of the canoe. They found themselves in a low-ceiling cavern strewn with smooth, milky stalactites and stalagmites. As they floated in these quiet waters, steering through a maze of these spindly pillars, occasionally ducking under a low arch, Humbleton leaned over Delaney’s shoulder.
She jumped at the touch of his cold, hairy cheek next to hers, but he kept boring in. “Hello, my gorgeous apparition. Humbleton at your service. But you, my dear,” he leaned even closer, and whispered conspiratorially, “you may call me Hummer.”
“Everyone calls him Hummer,” clarified Shaska.
After initially recoiling farther to one side of the canoe than was safe, Delaney recovered her poise and held her ground. Such familiar behavior was hardly what she had come to expect from a Tishaaran but she had dealt with similar types and worse back home. Watch it, you freak, or I'm going to hurl right in your face.
“What's up, Hummer? I’m Delaney.”
“Ho, ho! Delaney, is it? Delaney, Delaney--Goddess of the River! Now that I have your name, I shall cherish it forever. Delaney, let me introduce you to this ravishing-”
“We have met,” Shaska cut him off.
“I dare say, things could not be any better!” declared Hummer, lifting his hands and spreading them wide. “Gliding through a magical underground paradise with the finest, most inspiring collection of warm, living protoplasm ever assembled. Old Windglow--what a splendid, virile specimen of Tishaaran manhood in its very prime. And I am but one of the teeming masses who have worshipped the ground blessed by the feathery touch and sweet scent of Shaska’s glorious feet from the moment she appeared in the realms and put all the wonders of the natural realms to shame. Now we add Delaney to the mix. A sharp and graceful lady, I can tell it already! And as for me? Your humble servant is an absolute peach. In all modesty, I confess to being the person out of all the persons in the world you would most want to share a journey of this kind! We shall show these Raxxars and anyone else who challenges our mission to Orduna, shall we not, my dear Delaney?”
Delaney could only respond with a foolish grin. Although Hummer undeniably meant well and oozed affability, his overexuberant spirits had the effect of reducing those around him to mere spectators. Delaney did not like being reduced to a spectator at someone else’s show. Furthermore, she was a little peeved that, on top of Roland’s insensitivity, this Tishaaran had gushed about Shaska’s beauty without a mention of anything corresponding in her. Sharp and graceful! Is that the best you can do?
While her initial reaction to him had not been favorable, she tried to reserve judgment. She could not remember ever meeting anyone so over-the-top in his oratory--like a bad actor stinking up a community play. How he had developed such an overpowering personality among the meekly solicitous Tishaarans was beyond her.
“At last they broke out of the tunnel into a blinding, cloud-filtered daylight that reveal a meadow where the tops of foxtails and other dead grasses poked up over the banks. As they drifted into the shade of a thin stand of undernourished willows, Hummer called out, "Say, Windglow, good fellow. I know these rippling muscles of yours could power us to Mbongor and beyond. But would you be so charitable as to let me have a go at paddling before this muscle tone of mine melts from disuse and renders me repulsive in the esteem of the ladies?”
Windglow handed him the paddle. As the two carefully traded places, the canoe wobbled and tipped enough to scoop up a shot of water. Delaney screamed and Hummer laughed. “No more fears, dear princess. Steersman Hummer reporting for duty. Your safety and enjoyment are my sole purposes in life."
“I must remind you not to take any unnecessary chances,” said Shaska, glancing severely at him. “Remember, we are on a mission. Possibly one of the most serious missions any Tishaaran has ever undertaken.”
“Hold, my friends,” he said, acting wounded. “No accusations and inferences, please. No allegations and impugnations. You shall find my deportment as tame as a sleeping kitten and safe as a warm breakfast muffin.” He dug his paddle deep into the clear water and steered the canoe near the right bank. Almost immediately, he began threading his way through every obstacle he could find: gaps between semi-submerged stones, bare clearance over tree stumps, and swiftly spinning eddies. At one point, he built up extra speed so that he could blast over nest of jammed logs.
His every action warned Delaney that he could be a difficult character to control. She tried to gauge what chance Windglow might have of reining him in should the new steersman stray too far from the path of good sense. Windglow seemed as he had during their flight from the Second Realm, before the wolf episode had unnerved him--willing, upbeat, knowledgeable, but hesitant, too eager to please, and easily distracted. It was Shaska who kept watch on Hummer with a parental eye while Windglow sat obliviously, studying the corners of shaded, quiet portions of the stream.
“Are we done with the Raxxars, now?” asked Delaney. “Like for good?”
“Raxxars!” shouted Hummer. He kicked off his boots and straddled the canoe, plunging his feet into the icy water on either side. “I daresay we have flown past their foul nests, free from their prying eyes. Nor shall we see another razorfoot this journey. Rest assured Delaney, if those pathetic excuses for overgrown bats dare show their warty beaks in these waters, I will personally paddle their fannies purple.”
Shaska could not help but giggle. Hummer followed up with a playful mocking of her low-pitched laughter that was so accurate that even Windglow broke into a chuckle.
“Ah, a dog’s life,” said Hummer, with a tremendous yawn as he stretched his back muscles. “Floating lazily down the river of life in the golden sunlight with nary a care in the world. We are indeed blessed beyond all the creatures of the earth.”
“We have a blathering snarkfiddle for a steersman and you say we haven’t a care in the world,” grumbled a familiar voice.
“Oho! Puddles, you little fuzzball of a sherrott,” said Hummer. “Trying to despoil my reputation in front of these impressionable young damsels, eh? Here is my studied opinion of your opinion!” He plooshed a jet of water over Puddles, most of which splashed Windglow’s shoulder.
Windglow laughed it off as he dried his pet on the inside of his cloak, but Shaska scolded the perpetrator. “You know better, Hummer. It is too chilly to be risking wetness.”
Hummer conceded the point. For a brief time the reprimand seemed to temper his bubbly spirits. He retracted his feet into the boat and turned the conversation to more serious, if mundane, subjects such as their menu for the week.
After a time, the current quickened enough so that Hummer ceased stroking with his paddle and instead began using it as a rudder. The renewed rapids wound through a series of tight turns, and the canoe shot out of each as if hurled from a sling. Careening out of the last of the high-banked bends, they sped into a long straight-away, where the banks rose steeply on either side of them. Delaney saw no trees. The uncombed shocks of grass peeking over the banks to witness the canoe’s descent. As she squinted against the damp spray, she became aware that those around her seemed to be enjoying this terrifying flume ride. The suspicion that she was the only coward in the bunch did nothing to bolster her confidence.
The river plunged so steeply that when Delaney looked down the chute in front of her she could see a wide vista of brownish hills, occasionally topped with white snow fields. Although she continued to crouch low against the smooth sides of the canoe, the wind flowed over her and began to strip away the body heat that dampness had loosened. She held her breath rather than give in to the urge to scream or to plead with them to either slow down or let her out.
“Hummer,” called Shaska, her hair whipping across her eyes as she looked behind her. “Have you ever done this stretch before?”
“No!” howled Hummer, waving a fist in the air and urging the craft on to an even faster clip. “Fear not, though. I have braved more fearsome rapids than this without getting the bottom of the boat wet!”
“The bottom stays pretty dry when you capsize,” noted Puddles.
“Do not take chances,” shouted Shaska. “Keep the craft in the center. There is a jump coming up.”
“A jump?” squawked Delaney. “What do you mean by jump?”
But Shaska could not hear her small, terrified voice over the roar of the cascading water. At any rate, her focus was locked on where Hummer was taking the canoe. He had teasingly nudged their craft so close to the bank that , despite her fear, Delaney let go her grip on the sides of the canoe for fear of scraping their knuckles.
“Hummer!” Shaska shouted, firmly, waving her arm to the left.
“As you say, my dear!” bellowed Hummer, cheerfully. “How can I refuse when the words come from such inviting lips?”
“Cut the crap and steer!” demanded Puddles.
The rumbling of the approaching peril grew louder and louder until it was deafening.
Delaney could take no more. “Get me out!" she shrieked. Put me on the shore, now!”
Hummer laughed uproariously. “What? And have you miss the opportunity of a lifetime?” he shouted above the din.
“I don’t want it. Get me out of here. Now! I mean it!”
“The timeliness of your request is, how shall I say, problematic. You might make note for future reference to submit requests in a more expeditious fashion. “
The canoe began to spin broadside as the river hurled them forward.
“Hummer, straighten it out!” demanded Shaska. Hummer jammed his paddle into the water so hard that the force of the canoe’s momentum nearly ripped it from his hands. But at least the canoe was righted, temporarily.
All at once, the stone walls that lined the river fell away. Delaney’s heart lodged in her throat as the canoe soared in a watery arc high over a canyon floor. Convinced they were plunging to their deaths, she could not hold back a scream. For an instant she felt something akin to immortality as they rode a cloud buffeted by the jet stream, removed from the constraints of gravity. She wondered if she were sailing on into another world or perhaps back into her old one.
It all happened so fat that only upon later reflection did she realize they were riding a mighty falls, except that the falls was tilted back and spewed them up and out instead of dashing them to the ground. Their canoe flew toward a frothing mist where the cataract descended into a saddle between the rocks on the far cliff.
“Yee haw!” shouted Hummer as they flew across the chasm.
Weighted down with people and supplies, the canoe failed to carry the gap as easily as the water. After reaching the apex of its arch, it wobbled, and tipped precariously and then dropped into the torrent.
Delaney had no time to react to the blast of cold water before they struck the outermost edge of the precipice. She nearly flew out of the craft as it skipped sideways across the surface and than splashed hard into the eddying pool.
Upon opening her eyes, she was astounded to find that she was alive and in one piece. Nor was she stranded on some piece of flotsam, the broken bodies of her friends scattered among the shards of the wrecked canoe. Instead, she was lying on her side at the bottom of a very soaked but intact canoe. Somehow the craft had righted itself and stayed afloat even as a torrent of water crashed down on them. Had they capsized, the blast of water jumping the canyon would have pounded them deep into the pool. But the canoe overrode just enough of the force to skip downstream and out of harm’s way.
The others remained in much the same positions they had held before the jump, In various postures of shell-shock, nursing a rash of minor injuries. Windglow dabbed at a gap where a tooth had lodged just moments before and sopped up the blood with the end of his tunic. No one said a word as the current drove them into a barren backwater as devoid of life as a desert salt lake.
“I hope you enjoyed that,” said Hummer, with a rueful glance upstream as he lifted the spare paddle from under Windglow’s feet and guided them into shore. “That’s all the adventure we’re likely to get for awhile.”
Promises, promises.
When they touched shore, Delaney barely made it to shore on her wobbly legs while Shasta helped Windglow unload the surviving food packs. They need not have bothered; the contents were waterlogged beyond reclamation.
“It is hardly an hospitable or idyllic setting,” said Windglow at last. “But I think we should camp here. That is quite possibly as much travel as we should attempt for one day.”