“Hi diddle diddle,

I’ve got me a fiddle

Caste’s expression is none too pleased.

Oh dear little cleric,

You think me barbaric?

As I write you a melodic tease?

Hey diddle dute,

I’ve got me a lute

Caste’s glare could curdle the cream

You think that I care?

The longer you glare,

Only provides me with much more steam.

Hey diddle day,

I’m strumming away

And Caste is grinding his teeth.

If he does not relent,

His teeth will be spent

He’ll be sucking food up with a leaf!”

“Would it be considered bad manners if I took that lute and cracked Giordi over the head with it?” Verne asked darkly, his shoulder blade length hair kept relatively in check by the bandana tied around his forehead. He carried a quiver of arrows on his right hip, his bow slipped over his head, braced against his chest. There was always an element of readiness about the blue eyed archer that Judd found quite reassuring.

“To be honest, I’m waiting to see who will break first. You or Caste.” Judd chuckled, leading Zeke down a decline between two boulders, following a path that was leading them steadily southward.

The six companions and their two mounts had travelled past the southern foothills of the ‘Hump’, following a line of lush land between eastern steppelands and the western prairies, populated by wilds herds of horses and roaming nomads. While this meant their feet were less abused than rockier ground, they did have to almost wade through the thick heather at times and cross, not just streams, but rivers.

Suvau led the way. He was a big man, six and a half feet tall and his skin was a very deep brown. This made his eyes and teeth quite startling, framed in his face by his dark, almost black hair which had two braids running from his temples to his crown. He had the harness of Quell in his grasp, leading her down the narrow curves, his wagon hitched and drawn behind.

Judd cringed as the sides of the wagon scraped one of the boulders. “You sure it’s going to fit?” He called.

“I came this way from Omra to Quarre. It will fit.”

Verne raised his eyebrows at Judd. “If it didn’t, I think he could carry it on his shoulders, passenger and all.”

Judd frowned, seeing Aalis on the wagon. Since the business at Quarre, where she had experienced a debilitating hysterical collapse, followed by nearly drowning in water that was about two degrees above freezing, Aalis had been rather weak. She tried to keep up with their long stretches of walking but Judd managed to convince her to sit on Suvau’s wagon. Eventually the exhaustion caught up with her and she had laid down and fallen asleep.

“She’ll be alright, Judd.” Verne said, speaking Judd’s deepest concern. “It’s only been two days. Give her time to recover.”

“I honestly thought she wouldn’t open her eyes.” Judd confessed. “I mean, if Suvau hadn’t done what he did…I think a wolf might have killed her…but it’s really taken its toll.”

“I don’t think it had much to do with the water, to be honest.” Verne observed. “Aalis has always been frightened of large crowds, forts…being condemned as a witch…”

“Judd,” Giordi called to them, slinging his lute onto his back, “Suvau says we’re at another river crossing!”

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“River, not stream.” Judd muttered then sighed. “Off go my boots once more.”

When they saw what they had to traverse, they stared in dismay. It was a ford of intimidating proportions, a wide stretch of river rushing rapidly, tumbling over rocks that were hidden by the frothing flow. Judd pressed the reins of Zeke into Verne’s hands and hurried to where Suvau was unhitching his wagon, Aalis having woken and looking around, trying to get her bearings.

“Suvau,” Judd got his attention and pointed, “we can’t cross that!”

“That,” Suvau chuckled deeply, “is not as high as it was running when I crossed it before.”

“Even so,” Judd put his hands on his hips, “you might be able to cross that but I doubt the rest of us can.”

“Watch.” Suvau strode into the water, leaving Quell’s reins in Aalis’ hands. The water engulfed his ankles then went up his calves and Judd was expecting him to disappear into a deep pool but the water stayed around Suvau’s knees. He turned in the middle of the rapid flow. “It is not the depth you need to be careful of but the force of the water. Here is where the horses must cross as it is the smoothest for their hooves to find grip,” he pointed downstream a short way to where the water leapt off a low ledge that protruded from the river then continued its way, “all others should cross there as you can see the stones for your footing.”

They unpacked the wagon’s contents onto Quell’s back who lifted her head from her long drink from the river. Suvau grasped the wagon’s hitch and dragged it across the river. The wagon was slab sided and at times the water’s flow so strong it tried to tear itself out of Suvau’s hands but he never faltered, only letting go when he reached the bank on the far side.

“He’s strong.” Verne shook his head. “Well, ready Quell?” He led her into the water, taking it easy and making sure the horse could find its footing.

“You can take Zeke?” Judd asked Giordi.

“I can.”

“I’ll go with Aalis and Caste.”

“Uh, Judd?” Caste danced about on the riverbank. “Could I not ride one of the horses across?”

“And if it falls and you’re trapped beneath and drown?”

Caste paused. “I’ll walk.” He conceded with a less than gracious grunt, hiking his tunic and cappa clausa up as he approached the place where he, Judd and Aalis would have to cross. He hesitated then looked at Judd. “Can someone else go first?”

“I will.” Aalis offered, removing her boots, tying them to her belt.

“Aalis,” Judd said softly, “I can carry you, if you like.”

“Thank you but I will be fine.” She insisted.

“You’ve not been well…”

“I admit I have been tired but I had a good sleep and I am well enough to do this.” She put her hand on his arm. “However, I might have to show a little ankle.”

Judd gulped as she hiked her skirts up, gathering the fabric into her fists and stepped gingerly onto the first rock. Judd gaped at her ankle and calf then heard Verne whistle. He looked at the archer who made a furious sign at him to keep his eyes up.

“Right!” Judd fumbled then began to walk after Aalis, Caste following behind.

Moss wouldn’t have had the gall or the tenacity to grow on the boulders that formed the little ledge that the water fell from. This was in their favour as moss was notoriously slippery. However, the water was relentless. Aalis had to step from surface to surface, over the deeper sections, sometimes taking a circuitous route in order to find a way across.

At one point, three quarters of the way across, she slipped, her left foot sliding into the water and she grasped the rock she was on, keeping herself from going over.

“Aalis!” Judd cried, darting forward, not taking care and he put a foot where there was no rock and tumbled into the water, heading for the waterfall. He managed to grab an outcrop and hauled himself sideways, looking up to see Aalis standing over him with her hand outstretched. “I’m supposed to be the hero!”

“Even heroes need help sometimes.” She laughed as he took her hand and stood unsteadily to his feet. “Quickly, before Giordi pens a verse about the treacherous river crossing of Sir LaMogre.”

“He could make an epic out of anything.” Judd grunted, stumbling after Aalis, escaping the river.

“Judd,” Giordi chortled from afar, “what happened?”

“I was feeling a bit warm!” Judd retorted, flicking water from his hands.

“We need to get you out of those clothes,” Aalis said and Judd’s head came up, his face flaming with colour which hers immediately mimicked, “no, no, I mean…you cannot stay in them! Oh, that is no better…you are wet and…and…”

“I get it.” Judd cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder. “Caste, get a move on! I’m freezing here!”

The little cleric was perched halfway, having watched Aalis and Judd’s near misses and was frozen on the spot.

“Caste, you can’t stay there!” Verne roused.

“I…just give me a minute!”

“I don’t have a minute!” Judd shivered.

Caste refused to budge. He made a comical sight, grasping his hems, water slapping at his feet, stuck in the middle of the river, unable to come and unable to go.

Judd grunted. “I’ll have to drag him across…”

“Allow me.” Suvau said and strode into the water as though it was not flowing with force. Caste was trembling, fixated on the water and didn’t see the big man’s approach until it was too late. He grasped Caste by the scruff and heaved him over his shoulder like a small bag of flour then strode back across the water to deposit him on the other side. So swift and decisive was his actions that Caste stood on the riverbank, stunned and unsure what had happened.

“There…there was no need to handle me like that!” Caste blurted.

“You’re welcome.” Suvau said as he walked away.

Caste let go of his hems and brushed madly at his shoulders and cloak.

“What?” Judd folded his arms. “You’re worried he rubbed off on you?” Caste gave him a dirty glare. “Suvau isn’t the criminal Lord LeMewn made him out to be.”

“I don’t care.” Caste retorted. “He’s from Maul! His very presence is an affront to the mandates of the Order of the Grail.”

“Mandates written, again, by those of the opposite persuasion.” Judd shivered and Aalis urged him up the riverbank.

“For good reason! There are accounts of wars with his type from the time of King Hallow.”

“If you distrusted him so much, why didn’t you object when I asked him to join us?”

“It would have been wasted breath. You never listen to me!”

Judd huffed, his frustration covered up with a violent shiver.

“You need to change before you become ill.” Aalis ordered. “Suvau, is there somewhere we could camp nearby?”

He nodded, hitching his wagon back to Quell. “It’s not far.”