Chapter 11 Part 2

Over the last year, Dylan had developed a talent for sleeping in the back of a moving wagon. He had long decided that a bag of meal made excellent cushion and the rocking motion of the wagon was quick to lull him to sleep. So it was with practiced ease that he found a comfortable spot in the wagon and settled down for the ride the next morning.

He saw Armegon talk to his master briefly before they left. Armegon gave Gage a thick rod about a meter in length along with a few quiet words.

Close by, Avery, the enigmatic Forester, talked with Coran. “Your idea to go through Seron is a good one,” the ranger said. “Once you get there, you can get a ferry barge to Keron. That’ll increase your speed a great deal.”

“I don’t want to be away too long,” Coran explained. “When we get to Keron, we’ll drop in on Crystal’s parents and then take a ship to Vermouth. Once there, we can try to figure out where all this nonsense got started and then track it to its source.”

“Don’t try to over extend yourselves. There’s no shame in calling for help,” his father advised.

“Don’t worry father,” Coran laughed. “We’re not without protection.”

“You are my son,” Avery countered. “It’s my right to worry about you, because I love you both.” The Forester leaned and gave Coran a warm hug. It was a comical sight. Avery was a short half elf and Coran was a very tall human. It puzzled Dylan that they should be related. After all Nikki was an elf. So how was it that Coran was human? Perhaps Coran was adopted?

Coran mounted his horse, as did Velar. The two of them rode out ahead of the wagon, which was driven by Gage. Crystal sat on the seat next to Gage, and Rathe walked along behind the wagon. The Minotaan’s huge, long legs gave him a great stride and as long as the horses were not running, he easily kept pace.

They passed unmolested through the domain protected by Avery and his druid wife. The coyodiak, Algol, followed them a long way, but kept very much clear of Velar. When at last Algol did not appear one morning, Gage only voiced the confirmation that they had left the lands that his family protected.

A week later they passed near a small village where Crystal’s grandfather lived. It was the village where they had rested when Coran had been injured by the attack that had killed Kraal. They only stopped for a few hours so that Crystal could visit her grandfather and console the old man, for Kylor had been his grandson as well.

The elderly man displayed every confidence that the guilty ones would pay for their actions. He gave them all his blessings by providing a fresh new set of trousers for each and every one of them, except for Rathe. He apologized for not having a pair of trousers that would fit the Minotaan. Rathe just laughed and assured the old man that it was quite common.

Dylan tried the new britches on and found them well fitted. Crystal approved the fit and told Dylan that the cloth was not only comfortable, but was very strong and tough. She predicted that the pants would last until he outgrew them.

They departed and passed on down the road many hours until stopping for the evening in a clearing near the edge of the road. It was a routine that they had all become familiar with over the last week and each and every one helped as best he could to set the camp.

After supper, Gage would review with Dylan the day’s reading exercise and also would discuss some magical concepts and ideas. One night, Coran gave Dylan a thin scroll case made from wood. There was a cork on one end. It looked similar to the many scroll cases he had seen since his arrival at the Academy.

“My father made it,” Coran told him. “He’s made several of them and each of us has one. I thought you might like one, so I asked him to make one for you too.”

“A scroll case?” Dylan asked. “Thank you. It’ll come in handy when I get some scrolls to put in it.”

Coran laughed. “It was a scroll case once, but that’s not what it’s used for now. Take the end off.”

Dylan removed the cork stopper from the end of the wooden tube. Immediately, a painfully bright light shining forth from the tube blinded him.

“Father cast a spell on a small coin so that it will forever glow brightly,” Coran explained. He replaced the cap and the light was dimmed. “Then he used some resin to cement the coin to the inside of the tube. It gives you a directional light source. They can be very handy.”

“I suppose it could,” Dylan agreed. “What do you call it?”

“Well we call it a light wand,” Coran said indicating Gage, Rathe, Crystal and himself, “but for some reason my uncles and father refer to it as a flash light. I don’t know why. It’s always a steady beam and doesn’t flash.”

Thanking Coran, Dylan stowed his light wand in his pack next to his spell book. Gage had taught him how to write the three spells he had learned in the book. Still there were many blank pages and he looked forward to the day when he could fill the book completely.

They pressed onward for another week down the well-traveled road to Seron. Dylan spent most of the time with his studies, but as they approached the city, he found himself thinking about Cindy. She lived in a village near Seron and he had some hopes that they might get a chance to visit.

When they finally arrived at the city, it was late in the afternoon. The main gates, usually open, were closed and heavily guarded. The guards wore badly fitted city militia tabards and poorly kept swords. Coran scoffed quietly as they approached. “Reservists,” he guessed. “The regular militia wouldn’t be allowed out in public looking like that.”

“Where do you suppose the regular militia is?” Rathe wondered.

“Let us find out,” Gage answered as they came to a stop before the gates. “Good evening,” he called to the guards.

“Good evening roadster,” one guard returned. He walked over to the wagon. “From where do you hail?”

“We originated from Tycho,” Gage answered. “We are on our way to Keron. If you do not mind, we would like to lodge in Seron for the night.”

The guard looked at them critically and long. Then after several long moments he nodded. “Welcome to Seron.” He motioned to his companion who unbarred the gate and gave it a push.

“Why’s the gate closed during the day,” Coran asked as the guard waved them through.

“There’ve been too many creepy crawlers coming sneaking into the city,” the guard said, “ghasts and zombies and such.”

“Undead do not usually come out in the daytime,” Gage noted.

“They have been recently,” the guard informed them. “Most of the militia’s out sweeping the surrounding territory.”

“Thank you,” Gage said politely as they passed through the gate. “That is bad news,” he told the others. “If the undead are getting so bold that they will move about during the daylight, then they are indeed becoming a menace and may even be under a central controlling influence.”

“This is getting worse by the day,” Coran stated.

Seron was much the same as it had been when Dylan and Cindy had accompanied Gage to Keron while still initiates. Gage led them all down the street to a popular tavern. There he stopped the wagon and disembarked. While Gage and Coran entered the tavern to check for sufficient vacancies, Dylan, Rathe, Crystal and Velar remained outside. Many passers by, try though they might, could not help but stare at the red giant of a Minotaan. Dylan could hardly blame them. He remembered how taken aback he had been at their first meeting.

“I suppose they rarely see Minotaans here,” Crystal said with a comforting tone. “Strangely, I think the experience will do them good.”

“I can imagine that they don’t,” Rathe agreed. “Seron is too far inland. My people are seafarers. We rarely get further inland than coastal cities.”

Gage returned to the wagon. “We have lodgings for the night,” he announced.

Coran also emerged from the building. He carried a small chit of lacquered wood. He held it aloft. “We also have stables for the animals.” He directed them to disembark with their baggage while he and Rathe took the animals to the stable master.

Dylan followed his master into the inn. They were shown to a suite of rooms where Crystal was given a room to herself. Dylan was berthed with Velar, and Gage and Coran shared the third room. Rathe, due to his size, was doomed to sleep on the floor in the main room as it was the only place with enough space for him to stretch out on a pallet of blankets.

Though crowded, the night passed comfortably. Dylan’s hoped for reunion with Cindy was not to be, however, for the next day Coran and Rathe procured space on a barge that was bound for Keron. They spent the morning renewing their supplies, and then they had a large midday meal at the tavern before loading their animals and belongings on the barge.

Dylan had never been to the great Caleko Lake before. He knew from his studies that it was fed by many small streams and rivers that came out of the Great Deep Forests and the Orkon Mountains. He knew that the lake fed the Caleko River that flowed down by New Aspberg to Keron.

Dylan wandered about the barge trying to stay out of the way of the crew who were securing their cargo. The barge was quite sizable and could easily hold six wagons with teams.

On the shore, not far from the loading dock, was a low stone-sided building. In the wall facing the lake there were two large windows, through which heavy ropes passed and ran down across a set of supporting wheels into the water. The rope descended into the water, and was suspended only a foot or so below the surface. Several hundred meters out into the lake was a large buoy. From his vantage point, it seemed to Dylan that the rope ran all the way out to the buoy and then came back and returned to the building through the other open window.

“Tis the Caleko Barge Line,” Velar told him as they sat on a bench near the front of the barge. “In yonder house is a large wheel with teams of mules. The mules walk round about in circles turning the wheel. The wheel drives a pulley, which feeds the rope out on the window hither and draws it in through yon window thither.”

Velar rarely spoke, but over the few days, Dylan had gotten used to the man’s funny speech. When he had asked Coran about it, the tall dark soldier had just laughed and said that it was the dialect of the place Velar had come from. That hinted to Dylan that Velar was not originally from Tycho, for he had never heard a Tycarian speak like that.

“Does the rope go all the way across the lake?” Dylan asked. He could not imagine that the rope could run the entire distance across the lake.

“Indeed,” Velar stated. “The afore mentioned beasts will draw the rope, with us attached, to the fist marker. There shall we become detached from the one side and attached to the other. The animals will then reverse their labors and we shall be drawn to the next marker. Thence we shall undo what was done at the former marker and the cycle shall repeat again.”

“Why not just keep going in the same direction?” Dylan asked. If the rope was one huge loop to the other side of the lake, beyond the horizon, and back, he did not understand why they should not just start turning the wheel in one direction until the crossing was made.

“Because, young apprentice, yon tether should drag the abrasive floor of the waters if not for the buoys. Keep this thought in mind and watch and you shall learn much.

Dylan sat quietly as the lake men finished their tasks. When all was securely strapped down, two men approached the rear right side of the barge and with two long hooked poles, they pushed the barge out into the waters away from the dock. They poled slowly to the point where the ropes entered the water, then with their hooks they snagged the rope and threaded it into two slotted attachments to the right side of the barge, one near the front, the other at the rear. When all was set, a hand signal was given and there were noises of laboring animals in the building.

“It’s now one hour past noon,” Rathe said as he joined Dylan. “I’ve often heard of the Barge Line. I’m happy to get to see this.”

Slowly the rope took up the slack and Dylan felt a light tug as the barge was pulled by the heavy rope out into the lake.

The speed increased slowly, but soon they were moving quickly towards the first buoy. When they arrived, he watched attentively with Rathe as the barge captain gave orders. At his command, one of the barge hands pulled a pin and the rope slid free from the slotted attachment on the right front of the barge. He used his pole to prevent the barge from slamming into the buoy as the grip of the rope in the attachment near the rear of the barge kept them moving forward.

Once the front of the barge had passed the buoy, the lake man again used his hooked pole to draw the other rope to him. He quickly treaded the still moving rope into the front attachment. At the same time, another hand disconnected the rear attachment and waited until the barge’s momentum had carried him past the buoy. Then he too retrieved and attached the other rope. By this time the motion of the rope had slowed to a stop. After a brief pause, the rope began to move again, but in the opposite direction. The attachments on the craft caught the rope and again the barge picked up speed and headed towards the next marker.

Rathe and Dylan watched the action of the lake men for a few hours as they continued the routine. At each marker, they would connect to the opposite rope and continued on their southward trek across the lake.

“How long does it take to cross the Caleko?” Gage asked the barge captain at one point.

“It’ll take us every bit of a day and a half,” the captain answered. We’ll pass a barge going in the other direction at the halfway point.”

“All this is powered by those mules?” Crystal wondered. “Surely those animals will be tired long before we get to the other side.”

“That’s true, my lady,” the barge captain acknowledged. After one hundred and fifty cycles, the animals at the wheel house we departed from will be put down to bed, and the power’ll be taken up by the animals on the far side of the lake.”

“I wonder who built it,” Dylan muttered. Though he had not intended to be answered, the captain heard the inquiry and answered anyway.

“No one’s really sure, lad,” he said. “The original builders are unknown. It was the Baron Donegal who lived almost three hundred years ago that funded the restoration of the system. It’s been here as long as memory goes back, but had long since fell into ruin and disuse until the Baron Donegal of Seron had it repaired and returned to service.”

Dylan and Rathe watched for many long hours as the barge crew would switch the towing ropes at each buoy. The direction of the rope’s movement would reverse and the barge would continue onward. As the hours passed and the sun sank low, the barge crew brought out oil lanterns and set them about the barge. The dark fell slowly and the lanterns cast an eerie glow about the cargo and sparkled strangely on the ripples of the water all around.

The stars, overhead, were very bright in the darkness and no clouds were in sight. Both of the moons were very young and set within a few hours after sunset.

Though he tried to fight it by reading his lessons, it was not long before the combination of the rocking barge and the rhythmic sounds of the water soon lulled Dylan to sleep.

He awoke briefly when he heard some loud talking. He looked up from the soft blanket pile he had settled into near the head of the barge. It was deeply into the night and only the barge crew was awake. The talking was conversation passing between the crew of his barge and the crew of another barge passing by in the night going in the opposite direction. Dylan did not really listen too closely to the subject matter except for the brief mention of a fog ahead of them. That he dismissed as the barges were being pulled along by ropes and there was no real danger of them getting lost in a fog. He drowsily went back to sleep.

It was a couple of hours later when Dylan was awaken again by water. He thought it was water that had splashed on his foot as he lay near the head of the barge and breaking waves might have reached him. He opened his eyes and saw the fog that they had been told about earlier. It was very thick and had a funny smell, almost rotten.

A figure crept by him, and he lifted his head to see who it was. He thought it might be Gage moving about as to not wake him, but the fog was too thick for him to positively identify who it was.

“Master?” Dylan whispered softly. He did not want to wake anyone either.

The figure turned towards him and crept nearer. A sudden chill welled up inside Dylan, but before he could move, a cold clammy hand closed on his face covering his mouth. Inhumanly strong limbs grabbed him as he realized that his assailant was not alone. He struggled, and the noise of his struggle drew the attention of the barge crew, one of whom came to investigate with a lantern. As the lantern drew near, Dylan felt a sharp pain where his shoulder met his neck. His vision started to fade and as he suddenly felt the waters close about him. As he lost consciousness, he could hear someone yelling that there were zombies aboard.