Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 30 On The Road Again

The small flotilla made it all the way to Mudwallow Bridge town by mid day, after sailing through the night; confidently following Moonrise up the wide river channel. They kept on, up the canals operated by the thriving lumber operations in the local managed forests, sailing past frequent barges and rafts of new cut timber, guided by beaver, otter and muskrat folk primarily.

Those fellows waved at the merry river boats, draped in the ducal ensigns of Rummel, Belen and Lemur, but they eyed Moonrise warily, with her flag bearing the treble clef of house Ward, flying gaily in the breze.

The ducal barge put in briefly, disgorging a platoon of ducal guards and a few sailors to secure the town against possible goblin troubles. Within the hour, the small armada sailed on, heading into the first in a series of locks maintained by the lumbermens’ and canal workers’ guilds.

Locks designed for the local lumber rafts were not going to fit the imperial frigate, while duke Rummel’s barge should have been able to pass, she failed the test. Or rather, someone had cut corners and not built the locks to the specifications laid out by the duchy… No amount of bureaucratic hand wringing was going to get seventy five feet of ducal barge in sixty feet of lock.

With some amusement and official embarrassment; the duke’s barge returned to Mudwallow Bridge and moored there beside the frigate, to await their manifold graces’ return journey.

Moonrise cast off, now packed to the gunnels with nobles and notables, three pirate princess clones, way too many guards and whatever the hell the imperial Whispers were.

Those shadowy, difficult to spot characters in their distinctive insectile armor should have been obvious aboard the little, crowded ship…

People did encounter them often, just never where or how one expected. Wherever Gabbie was, at least two of them were always nearby, hiding…

Tallum stepped into the lounge privy, to answer nature’s call, idly wondering why the sign on the door was inscribed ‘head’. He disregarded that, assuming it was some madness of Gary’s, as he unbuckled his belt and sat; preparing to unburden himself in a blissful moment of privacy and quiet…

“Uhh, excuse me?” The giant asked, when he looked up, his face reddening with anger, embarrassment and confusion.

“Oh, excuse me.” Tarantula said awkwardly, from her position clinging to the ceiling above the sink. “Her imperial majesty is in the lounge, next door… security…”

“Get. Out.” The giant rumbled from above and below, glaring fiercely at the small, black armored woman, who was intruding on his thunderous deuce.

“You could just pretend I’m not here….”

“OUT!” His bellow shook the tiny room, dislodging the stealthy ninja in stylized spider armor, who fell to the ground between his feet, becoming awkwardly and very uncomfortably entangled in his trousers.

Fortunately, the ship reached the last navigable section of waterway early the next evening, mooring up in a storage pond at the base of the grassy foothills. They set up near a small cabin by the lock and sluice gates, overlooked by a tall manor house surrounded by neat gardens and acres of grassy, low hills, dotted with horses.

The kids ferried to shore on Missadventure, swarming over a waterside meadow of tall grass and tree stumps, sure signs of the lumber trade. They spent a fair few minutes in preparation, creating a ritual far more complex than their usual.

Stakes were driven in around the perimeter, lengths of cordage got strung out, chalk paint was used to draw glyphs on the grass, stumps and stones. All six kids of team Ragamuffin scurried about their tasks with practiced confidence, working briskly at their tasks until the music started with Wilf singing lead, drenching the zone with his rich, warm voice.

Gone to buy sugar, it’ll take all day…

Off to get honey,

from the girl round the way…

She’s got bee stung lips,

And hips that sway…

Sweet miss Sophie, she polished her trophy,

She rubbed it. rinsed it, got it all soapy…

Well buffed and shining, it was a fine thing,

Admiring her work, she gave it a jerk,

Sophie played with her toy, smiling with joy

tugging and pulling, in just the right way…

Her husband’s not coming in to work today!

Wilf kept the lyrics mostly clean… but he couldn’t resist some verses that hinted at the awful, obscene and salty stanzas he was holding in reserve.

“What an odd ditty, I haven’t heard that verse before…” Sir Rolf mumbled as he turned a darker hue. The young nobleman had zero clues that the well known, cheerful nonsense children’s song had a terrible secret; a canon of raunchy and rude lyrics that was impressive in both depth of perversity and scope of depravity.

“Bugger me with a pinecone!” Rolf grumbled, as a stray breeze gently tossed a bit of dust into his eyes at the crucial moment, forcing him to blink them clear. When the young ducal heir looked back, the little hamlet and trading post stood by the waterside, with its inviting little dock and everything; all to the sprightly, merry tune of a Wheatford favorite.

Angie blushed a little and sighed tolerantly, when her husband nearly lost his control and used bad language.

“Missed it again! Gods, this witchcraft is… infuriating!” He fumed, in a profound (for sir Rolf…) lapse in knightly restraint and decorum. He sighed long and slowly, as he turned to a very excited and eager young unicorn.

“Hurry up, Rolf… gods you could just ride me bareback you silly boy.” She fumed and fussed until Angie stroked her big, muscular jaw and gave a scratch under her chin.

“We must keep up appearances, my dear. You can go play with the horsies once we have met with the local lord.” Angie nuzzled her friend, while her husband mounted up. With a swift, practiced movement, she took Rolf’s hand and vaulted into his arms. Angie made herself comfortable on his lap, with her calf hooked around the offset horn of the custom saddle; they rode Ester up to the manor house on the hill.

#

The majority of the nobes’ bodyguards had swiftly dispersed through the houses and gardens; satisfying themselves that everything was safe and secure, before returning to guard their primaries. Unfortunately, in every noble’s bodyguard they have at least one…

“Her imperial majesty will not be subjected to sharing a roof with common Adventurers!” Dermaptera argued with as much dignity and decorum as he could muster, while dressed in pincher bug themed armor. “It is an affront to even hint at…”

Isopod’s huge, brown armored hand landed on the smaller Whisper’s shoulder. “The empress is already in her chamber, comfortably taking her ease, friend. She would prefer to let these household arrangements stand unchallenged.” The man in heavy rolly-polly armor smiled at the younger fellow, with a comradely pat to the smaller man’s shoulder.

That only seemed to incense the fellow even more, as he turned away and joined two of the like minded ducal guards, who were lining up to rush Becky and Amy with similar complaints on their flustered, outraged lips.

As the small knot of armored flunctionaries surged toward the pair of young women, two complete sets of dukes and duchesses and the empress herself joined the pleasant little tea party on the patio.

Becky and Amy sat back, sipping their tea and enjoyed the interplay between the comfy nobles and their earnest, insistent retainers.

“This ‘unseemly state of affairs’ is precisely why protocol minister Ziang was not invited to join us on this voyage, Earwig.” Gabbie scolded her junior Whisper softly, using his hated nickname with a slightly vicious smile. “Now go see about your actual duties; I’m on vacation, you ninny!”

It took a little finagling and convincing to get the protocol obsessed retainers in the imperial and ducal parties to chill out and get in line.

“Some people just can’t say yes to a good time.” His grace, duke Julius Rummel muttered around his pipe stem, his handsome, sandy blonde head wreathed by fragrant smoke, inside and out.

“Jules… try and stay focused.” Duchess Grace mumbled softly, as she climbed into his lap and stole away his pipe.

#

On the western slopes above Wheatford, a wide, level road of hard baked clay led up into the hills, which became desert dry a mile or so ahead, when the party prepared to make camp. “Bit late in the day, sundown will come soon.” The lord of Shiraz grumbled, as the ducal seat began to receive information from his lower regions, news that had been delayed by bouncing on an unfamiliar, hard leather saddle.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Oh, gods… I haven’t been riding much lately…” He mumbled, when the twinned demons of throbbing and chafing manifested in his pants.

“We have an emollient for that, your grace.” Adam Belen mumbled so softly that the duke’s mount might have heard, but no other. “My sister will bring it to the lady Jaspreet, discreetly in a few minutes. She can apply it to your lower quarters, in your quarters.”

“My quarters?” He asked in amusement, and some discomfort. “In one of these tiny hovels your children are erecting?”

All around the field, small, colorful tents were appearing, as if by magic. He paused to watch the process, as two teenagers swiftly unrolled a silk and canvas bundle and began propping it up with cleverly jointed, socketed sticks of bamboo and guy lines tied to stakes driven into the soil.

“No, your grace, we will be making accommodations for you that are more suitable. Observe the coachmen, please, your grace.” Adam murmured quietly.

As they watched, two coachmen hopped into one of the carriages and began fiddling about, sliding the plush, comfortable bench seats forward and folding them into a wide, comfortable looking bed. Pillows, sheets, blankets and a down comforter appeared from hidden storage spaces, as the men worked silently.

A narrow walkway on either side allowed egress from both doors, should someone need to exit during the night. The workers swiftly dropped stabilizing legs down into the ground, turning the carriage into a tiny cabin by the wayside.

The remaining two carriages received the same treatment, establishing a cozy camp around the AdventureWagon™ that accompanied the Belen warrior team. That small cart had unfolded out into a serviceable camp kitchen and started sending pleasant aromas out immediately, tended by a small team of servants in Belen livery… That meant they were probably retired Adventurers too.

“Bloody Wheatford…” He muttered, as the scent of dinner called him away with its siren song.

#

Rolf and Angie walked back from the manor house, because Ester was romping about in the pastures with her non magical cousins, doing horsie stuff… She was done with boats for now, that was clear.

At sundown, Ester made her way back into the little hamlet that had popped up by the water side, smiling and exhausted in her human form. She staggered to the bath and vanished; with only a tired wave at Rolf and Angie, over by the fire pit enjoying the evening. Rolf spoke softly to the exhausted young mare when she dragged herself out of the baths, wrapped in a robe and sat at his feet for him to brush and braid her hair.

“We will be heading overland for three days… or perhaps less, Ester.” He murmured, as Angie played something soft on her long, monster bone flute. “The local lord, sir Penryn will provide our mounts, so you will have plenty of company, my dear.”

“Mmph… About time.” She mumbled through a massive whinnying yawn. “Making me slosh about on the water all this while…” She probably had more complaints, but a soft, snuffling snore began rumbling up from the tiny, platinum blonde child asleep at his feet. The burly blonde lord gently scooped her up into his arms and folded her away, back into the hidden recesses of his soul. Her clothing tumbled to his feet, left behind as she vanished, unable to follow her into that place.

“Well, Off to bed then.” Angie announced with absolute certainty.

#

Morning on the uplands above Port Clement came swaddled in thick clouds of fog, drifting slowly up the hills, as the sea breezes freshened and the day warmed. The company formed up in the cottony morass, finding each other by the tinkling of the bells on each horse’s halter.

Were they riding downhill into the sun, only a blank sheet of white fog would be visible… Instead, their shadows lurched out into the haze, cast in long and disturbing forms as they rode.

At least, they all tried to pretend that was the case; that everyone’s shadow was distorted and seemed to move of its own volition and in improbable ways… not just the shadows cast by the three Ward kids.

Rio’s especially seemed to take shapes that were unrelated to what was going on, pretty much most of the time.

“Just don’t look at them…” Amy whispered to the newer members of duke Julius’ guard. “There’s nothing there but shadows, I promise. See? The horses don’t mind…”

Amy had changed into light armor for today, still in bright, cobalt blue and decorated with colorful, whimsical images. Today the Ward kids wore light cloth and reinforced wooden armor, with helmets that sacrificed face protection for unimpeded vision. Stiffened, vented plates of laminated and enchanted hardwood and spider silk covered their vitals, knees, elbows and forearms. Half fingered, reinforced gloves and close fit goggles finished off the odd uniform. The colors varied widely, as did embellishments and the general shape, with an emphasis on lightweight protection and full range of motion.

The older Adventurers and team Ragamuffin each straddled odd constructs of wood and metal, with spun steel, spoked wheels with a bronze and brass metal tangle of rings and chains mounted to the incomprehensible things. Most bore a quiver of light lances or a sheathed cavalry sabre, as though these things were their mounts…

The odd Adventurers all sat there at the head of the column, as though they were ready to leave… waiting as the party of nobles, guards and guests mounted up behind a bright blue and green Adventurewagon that made Dannyl smile.

“The old mystery machine!” He cheered and gave Otho the dog a good scratch on his rump, making the giant familiar’s hind leg thump in his harness.

“We fitted it with all the latest advancements from Wardco labs and Adventureworks…” Amy said smugly, while jabbing a thumb at Wilf and Rio. “We’ll have a comfortable journey, I think. These two did all the work, they’re the best.”

“What about your boat and houses…?” Someone asked from the mist.

“Oh, they’ll be just fine.” The small blue dynamo answered her unseen and unfamiliar querent. She smiled smugly and let out a sharp whistle.

“We’re outriding this morning folks, stay within earshot of each other and stay on the road. Tallum and Ivy are riding trail, so try and keep up.”

With that, she hopped onto what must be a saddle of some kind and began cranking her legs. Somehow, that motion propelled her up the road at a steadily increasing speed. Rio joined her at the head of the column, with the rest of Team Ragamuffin following in a loose formation, pedaling along silently on swift wheels.

The horses followed Ester, when she began trotting after the kids, setting an easy pace for the climb into the foothills, where the grass became sere and sparse. Soon the whole party got on the road, including two coaches borrowed from lord Penryn for the trip. They were not grand, nor were they luxurious, but they were well sprung and comfy, even when filled to capacity with noble ladies and an empress.

By late morning, the party was strung out along a quarter mile of open road, enjoying a relaxed canter through the high plains and into the beginnings of the desert.

They called a break, near a small spring that vanished back into the sandy soil a few dozen yards from the rocky cleft from which it sprang, bubbling merrily over the stones.

The less practiced equestrians in the group stretched, groaned, slipped off into the bushes to rub ointments and balms on places and generally tried to stomp feeling back into their bottoms. That included the three young women in the uniform of imperial naval captains; those three worthies zombie walked into a nearby thicket to smear Frankie’s saddle salve to some tender locations in private.

Bethany found herself staring down the road at the distant lake and manor house through a spyglass, before silently handing it off to each in turn.

No sign of the little cluster of cottages, or the boat were to be seen, nothing all remained on those sparkling, distant waters.

“Do you think someone sailed her away…?” Elaine asked very softly. The usually bold and expressive woman seemed far less confident standing ashore and on a dusty hillside far from the sea.

“No one stole Moonrise, we took her with us.” Amy said softly, as she stepped into the three naval officer’s little private thicket.

“She’s one of my family’s treasures, so we can pack her up with our houses. Hi, I’m Amy Ward, Gabbie said you wanted to hang out, but were feeling shy.” She smiled at Bethany Wagner, who was busy rubbing a pale blue ointment on Hermione’s butt, in a very embarrassing way.

She shot a wink at Elaine, the smallest of the three women, who had done her best to slip back into the bushes in surprise when the cheerful young girl stepped into their group.

“It’s just us girls… and I know how saddlesore you must be already.” She murmured gently. “Come on, we’ll get you girls slathered up, then have some lunch.”

She produced a pot of the same pale blue unguent from her pocket and dipped two fingers in with a wide smile on her dark face, her cheeks shining like ripe plums in the summer sun.

“Show doctor Amy where it hurts!”

#

Three shaken and upset young captains of the imperial navy staggered from the thicket a few minutes later, their uniforms once more in proper condition. Amy swaggered out in the midst of the pack, chattering merrily with her new friends.

“I feel a little bad about setting her on them like that…” Gabbie mumbled to Jocomo and Becky over lunch.

“They are all three former captives, liberated from slavery by your antics over the last few years.” She smiled as the brash young admiral bullied her new friends into relaxing a little.

“Look, Eliane just took off her hat and jacket… How remarkable!”

The three captains found themselves seated on a blanket under a wide spreading oak tree, having lunch, while the pirate princess and her crew of cutthroats tended to the nearly thirty horses in the party.

Eight were the coach teams, fine animals, all well matched in stride and gait. The rest were a mix of retired warhorses, ponies, aging mares and the kind of workaday horses that really kept most farms and outlying manors running. In the loose rope pen, the guards and Adventurers did the necessary work of the equestrian arts. They were all brushing, grooming, cooling, watering and tending the mounts with the kind of care and attention that bespoke experienced riders and warriors.

“...just relax and enjoy the journey, we’ll have lots of fun!” She giggled, as her curry brush whisked a few clinging cockleburrs from an aging peibald mare’s fetlock, eliciting a snuffling whinny of thanks. None of the sailors were quite certain whether the mad girl was speaking to one of them, all of them, the horse, or perhaps all three and all of the horses… In any case she was the focus of the entire corral’s attention as she bustled about.

Her crew moved briskly and quietly, working at their tasks efficiently, while Amy swanned about, making a scene and distributing small squares of a sticky semi-solid apricot flavored gel to both horses and riders.

“These will help recover from the day’s exertions” She sang happily as she passed out her treats to everyone who came in range.

When the horses were cooled down and relaxed, the odd young Adventurers sprawled out on the blanket around their three new friends with casual and tranquil ease. The big man in red armor produced a few wicker baskets containing a vast picnic feast, enough for at least twenty men and began attacking the victuals.

“Eat, there’s plenty… we have more miles to travel today…” Amy chirped merrily, in a brief moment when she wasn’t chewing on something.

“We are going to be hanging out on the road this afternoon; the old people are riding at the front for the next leg.” Her naughty wink at the high priestess brought an involuntary giggle to Hermione’s lips, which she quickly squashed with her fingertips. The expression of abject embarrassment that washed over her face drew a sad sigh from Amy.

“You really need to lighten up, come with me. Maya, come on, girl time! Boys, no peeping.” The blue clad girl and her diminutive comrade dragged the three naval officers into a nearby thicket with some means of compulsion the veteran captains didn’t understand.

“All right, costume change…” Little Maya said sharply to her elders, once they were alone. “You are going to ruin your uniforms, be super uncomfortable and look like idiots if you keep dressing like that on the road.”

She clapped her hands twice and grinned.

“Let’s see what we can do for you darlings…”

“We have no other clothing, our uniforms are required…” Bethany began, weakly.

“Nope.” Amy announced from behind her, drawing their attention to where she stood, beside a small collection of garments hung neatly from hangers, dangling from a few convenient boughs. “I asked Gabbie, you girls are on leave… I had Wilf put a few comfortable traveling options together for you. These are gifts from house Ward, friends.”

Her smile became a little predatory. “Now we address your crippling style and comfort deficits.”

#

“I like sewing, it’s relaxing and quiet… don’t always have to have fire, sparks and smoke…” Wilf muttered softly to the boys, when they grinned rakishly at him; after the girls were safely out of sight, of course.

“Laugh all you want… I don’t care.” The big craftsman sniffed with elaborate dignity. “I’m an artist.”

“You really are, young man…” Elaine murmured softly, as she emerged from the thicket a moment later, dressed in imperial style common clothing.

The small, powerfully built woman wore loose, neutral colored trousers, a wrap around and tie style shirt and a long, pale gray vest with decorative embroidery depicting a bamboo forest; as though it were sketched in a few bold strokes with ink and a brush pen. She topped it with a conical straw hat and smiled up at the young giant.

“Civilian clothes again after so long…” She sighed happily. “...and the fit and feel. Thank you, young man.” She giggled musically and sank back down onto the blanket, rooting around in the basket for another goat cheese, black olive and lemon zest sandwich.

Within a few minutes the others emerged, dressed in well cut and fitted casual traveling clothes, shyly adjusting their garments constantly, as they mounted their horses among the giggling teens on strange machines.

Riding among their softly whirring ‘bikes’ on actual horses felt awkward and weird at first, even though the horses seemed to accept the group of odd kids eagerly; The beasts were constantly nickering and chuffing happily at the young Adventurers and following them down the road.

“Is it just me, or is your horse just following them and ignoring you?” Bethany asked Hermione softly, in a quiet moment.

“I knew it!” She whispered fiercely in reply. “I never ride these awful things so it was… Ouch!”

Hermione’s mount took a brief, inexplicable stumble on the smooth, wide road; bouncing the naval officer just enough that her forehead rapped sharply against her horsie’s skull, just a little.

“Gods…!” She gasped, while rubbing her sore skull bone. “Wretched thing! That felt deliberate!”

Eventually the young captains found themselves drawn into the odd group of young people and their bizarre antics; following the strange group into the wilderness, even so far from the sea.

#