I awoke slowly, the world gradually fading in around me. I noticed the grass first – I wasn't in bed, and I was outside. The air was full of a scent I didn't recognise, and I could hear birds singing and water running. No cars. No people. That wasn't right – I had been walking home from the pub last night in the small town I lived in – it's not like it's a major city, but it's still going to be busy on a Saturday. Now that my eyes were open, the trees around me didn't look familiar at all – thick trunked monsters with branches far out of reach, covered in a bright green moss that was covered with dew.
I felt the usual morning urge, and stood to relieve myself. As I did, I saw the river that was the cause of the water sound – only a few meters across and clear to the bottom only a few metres down, rattling over stones and more, darker, moss. I decided it probably wasn't a good idea to urinate into the water, and chose a tree. I studied the bark closely as I did, watching small red insects chasing small black insects across the golden flecks in the brown ridges. Shaking myself off, I pulled out my phone, determined to find out where I was, and maybe call a taxi. No service, which was odd – there had been a lot of press a few years ago about the fact that coverage was almost total for the entire country now, after a massive political push. I remembered a program I'd watched a long time ago about being lost, and there had been something about people building near rivers, given we all need water to survive. I couldn't remember whether I was supposed to go upstream or down, so I pulled out a coin and flipped it – it came up tails, so upstream it was. My knee was having a good day – even after the operation six years back it still ached, and I wasn't looking forward to the effect of walking for any distance. Sadly, there was no hope for it, so I walked to the edge of the river. Taking a few gulps, and wiping my hands just in case it helped, I went upstream.
The sun was cool through the trees, and the air smelled fresh. I felt revitalised, healthier than I'd felt in years. I resolved to do more exercise, for probably the fiftieth time this year, knowing that I'd be likely to just ignore that in favour of Netflix and the computer. It was clearly morning – I could see that the sun was low on the horizon, but it didn't feel like evening. The grass at my feet was wet, but also low cut so it wasn't too bad on my shoes, and that's when I realised that my back was dry. I was dry, even though I had been lying on the ground, which was damp everywhere else. I ran back to check, and the ground around where I'd awoken was completely dry for a few metres around, in what seemed to be a perfect circle. That was more than strange, it was impossible. I stroked the grass gently and that's when I saw something stranger. My skin looked clear – the odd spots and wrinkles that had started appearing after I turned 40 were gone. There had been a scar on my knuckles from an accident with a window as a teenager, and it was gone. I checked, frantically, and my appendectomy scar was gone, too. As was most of the hair on my stomach, and a good amount of the fat that had been there. I'd never been overweight, but a 52-year-old man who doesn't do much exercise isn't likely to be as slim as they were at 20, no matter how much you fool yourself. That was gone, and whilst there didn't seem to be any visible abdominal muscles, there was a tension there I hadn't had in decades. I stretched out my legs – bouncing on the spot to test my knee – there was no pain, not even a hint.
“You're very strange.” said a light female voice behind me, and, being in the middle of a bounce, I almost literally jumped. I turned to see a short figure; I guessed about 4 foot tall, a slim girl with light bluish skin and darker blue hair with silvery highlights. I gaped at her as she stared at me with an innocently curious expression, the look of a young child. Her figure was petite, but she was clearly mature, and I almost wondered if she was mentally unwell, but then I saw her eyes properly. They were a light greenish-blue, and seemed to glow and shift. She had no pupils and no white, both orbs were the same colour as a glacial cave I'd seen once, with the same changes as light hit and moved through the thick ice. She wore a thin-looking dress that hung from one shoulder and came to the top of her thighs, but as I looked closer seemed to be part of her body.
“Can't you speak?” she asked, seeming concerned. Her voice was high pitched, like a child’s.
“I can.” I said, swallowing. “I just was surprised – I've never seen anyone who looks like you before, and I don't know where I am, and you aren't human.”
“Well, of course I'm not. I'm a Naiad, and you're weird even for a human.”
“Where I'm from, there aren't any Naiads.” I said, then stopped. “Except maybe there used to be, there are myths. But you're speaking English, so you must have been hiding for centuries.”
“I'm not speaking Anles.” she pronounced the word oddly, slurring it. “We're speaking Trade. My mother made me learn it when I was little, but my part of the river doesn't go near people so I don't really get to speak it much.”
I started to argue, then stopped. Alright, so she didn't sound that intelligent, but I wasn't going to just tell her she was lying. After all, maybe she wasn't. Maybe this explained everything. Well, probably not everything, but a good few things.
“Where am I then?” I asked. “None of this looks anywhere like anything I know.”
“You're in the Wildlands, by my river. Well, my part of it anyway.”
“And where's that? Actually, let me ask you – am I on Earth? In England?”
“I don't know either of those places.” she replied, brow furrowed. “My river goes through the Wildlands and then through Faris so my sisters have told me about that, but then it's the sea and I don't know that at all.”
“So, what is the Wildlands?” I asked, becoming more confused by the moment. I was certain now that this was real because I'd never had any dreams as vivid and odd as this before. I was still not certain why I was here or how, but I also wasn't sure how this Naiad could help with any questions like that.
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“It's the place in the middle of the world, where the Gods have decreed no mortal can rule. I mean, you can have towns and villages and things but no kings or countries or anything.”
“You?” I asked. “Does that mean you're not mortal?”
“Oh, no, I sort of am,” she grinned, looking more like a child at that moment than the grown woman she had before.
“I'm a Naiad. We are the river, or at least a part. I run for about ten miles or so, and I will follow my water to the sea, eventually. I cannot be killed until then, but I don't really know what happens. My oldest sister thinks we merge with a sea goddess, but she's just guessing. Oh, and I’ll merge with my cousins when our water meets, so it would make sense to merge with the sea as well, but who knows, really.”
“And how long does it take for you to reach the sea?” I asked, fascinated.
“Oh, a few thousand years or so. We're right at the top of the river and it's a really long river.”
I leant against a tree, legs suddenly weak for some reason. I regretted it a moment later as the dew soaked through my shirt in a moment. I swore, and tried to look at the wet patch through the time-honoured manner of raising my arm over my head and twisting both neck and hips like a dog chasing its tail. The Naiad giggled, and her hand brushed my shirt. Instantly it was dry, and a small pebble of water sat on the tip of her index finger.
I was speechless for a moment, and briefly stammered out a question, sounding no doubt like a complete idiot.
“I am water.” the Naiad said, shrugging as if that made sense. Which maybe it did to her, but all I could think was that it was magic. Her face took on an air of complete focus, and the pebble shrunk to a bead, then a droplet and then was gone without any sign it had ever been there.
“Do you know where I could get back to civilisation?” I asked her, trying to focus on something that I could actually control – an old tactic I'd picked up from a counsellor after my wife had died.
“Oh, there’s a few humans about in towns and things. I'll ask my sisters.”
Her eyes went blank for a moment – not the blank of an unfocused stare, but her blue-white eyes darkened to a deep endless blue, that of the moment where the sea turns from a playground to a terrifying unknown. She was silent for a long time, and I jumped slightly when she spoke.
“We're a long way from anywhere.” she said, chewing her lip in thought. “I can only know what is near my river, so there might be places we can't see. The Wildlands are huge though, and we're near the middle, where people don't go.”
“How long would it take to walk to the nearest humans?”
“I don't know, twenty or thirty days maybe? It's quite hilly and the trees get in the way, and you probably don't walk very fast.”
“Well, that's an arse.” I sighed. “I don't suppose the river gets deep and there are boats about close by? Stocked with food?”
“No boats without people. Lots of food around though, there are nice berries and nuts and things. Oh! You eat meat, so there's rabbits and deer and things around too. Also birds, but people seem to need things to catch those, and you don't have any. Or any fire to burn it, like my sister says people like.”
“Do you know what berries and nuts are OK to eat, and where to find them?”
“Oh, no, I don't eat!” she giggled.
“Right, so I'll probably starve before I can get anywhere then. Bugger.”
“Well, that's sad, we've just met.” She looked at the ground, a slight pout on her lips for a moment. Then, she looked up, a wide smile on her face.
“I know the perfect place. There's a cave, and a lady lived there for a while when I was little.”
“So she probably has access to food, and at least it's inside. And maybe she knows a way to get somewhere safe.”
“Maybe, I never talked to her.”
“How do I get to her then? Just follow the river upstream?”
“Oooh, that's a good idea, yes. There are cliffs and hills and things so it's quite hard to find, but the cave entrance has little signs pointing towards it on the trees. Little blue ribbons, so if you follow them you can find them.”
“Will you be coming with me?”
“I can't, my part of the river left there a while ago, but it's only a few days' walk.”
“That's a pity. It was nice to have you as the first person I saw here. Is your sister going to be able to help at all?”
“Oh no, she's far too young at the moment. She can't even speak yet and she's much too shy.”
“Well, that's a pity.” I sighed, and looked upstream. “I suppose that I'd better get on. Could you show me some of those berries at all? Might as well risk it, and better I have slight food issues than starvation.”
The Naiad laughed happily, and skipped into the trees. I followed, and I managed to pick a few blue berries from a low bush, and a couple of mushrooms that I washed before eating. We said goodbye, and I watched as she walked into, no, onto the river, and then melted into the water in only a few moments. I stood there in shock for a moment or two, then shook my head. I was definitely going mad after all. I turned off my phone to conserve power, then laughed at myself for being a fool and headed upstream.
I felt as though I had more energy than I ever had before, even when I was young. My body moved easily over the rocks and tree roots that got in my way, and it was clear enough on the ground that walking wasn't too much of an issue – for some reason the low bushes and gorse didn't grow within a few metres of the river bank, for which I was grateful. I made good time, I thought, stopping a few times to grab more food and grazing as I went. The weather was good – cool, and I didn't get too warm with the exercise. Especially as I was wearing jeans and trainers, which wasn't precisely ideal walking gear. I heard the occasional rustling of something moving in the woods somewhere, but didn't see anything. I could hear birdsong and spent some time trying to remember what birds at home sounded like, but gave up when I realised I had no idea what I was doing.
I stopped for a few moments around noon – or at least when the sun was directly above me, which I guessed was the same thing. Sitting on a low rock, I trailed a hand in the shallow water as it jumped over a low drop – the ground seemed to be rising slightly, and I could almost walk across the river now. I wondered if that made it a stream, but as I started walking again I decided it didn't really matter.
I walked until the light faded enough that I couldn’t see the ground safely, and found a small depression in the ground to lie down in. There was a slight breeze, and as the trees swayed I caught the occasional glimpse of stars and bright moonlight. I thought back to my wife, Fiona. She would have laughed at the idea of me sleeping outside – I had never liked the outdoor adventure holidays that she’d loved, but at least we got tents on those. Paul had hated them too, but he’d been a child so didn’t have much of a say in it until he was older, and then I’d started getting the holidays I’d wanted. Then Tim had joined our family, and he’d loved finding rocks and wood that he could make into weird sculptures, so we were back to alternating years. By the time the boys were old enough to leave home, Fiona was too ill for the holidays she’d loved. I stopped that train of thought as it began, and drifted off to sleep thinking about the time my boys had built a functional water wheel out of junk they’d found by the river.