Page 36 of Aubade Rising
The boat trip to Tanwen is significantly less pleasant than our ferry to Cathair. It’s small and cramped. Eskar is silent as we travel inland the next night, focusing on overcoming the current as he wields. Unlike yesterday, the weather is dark and gloomy and, when dawn comes, it is miserable. Visibility is limited, trees block most of the light on each side and the sun is too weak to penetrate. The trees have changed since we left Cathair. On the first night they were varied, with berries and blossom and had plenty of space in between. Now they are pine: uniform, densely packed and towering. My body protests from a lack of rest and the cramped conditions but I don’t say a word; this is my expedition after all.
We stop to make camp again in the morning, Eskar drenched in sweat and sickly pale. I sit by the small fire he’s permitted while he sits in the cold river to replenish his magic. Judging by his gritted teeth, he’s not mastered warming the water. He returns, skin wan and shaking and I offer him my cloak and hat to help him warm up since we will be in shade until the sun rises fully. The next three days are the same, starting at dusk, stopping at dawn. We don’t see a soul as we battle the current upstream, lit by a waning moon.
On my watch, during the day, I don’t see anyone on the river either. The lonely landscape is packed with wildlife, the river teeming with fish. At one point I see a raft of otters with pups diving around them. They regard me curiously as I peep through the reeds.
Every so often, we come across a tributary where another river joins ours and runs back to Cathair. These must produce stronger currents because Eskar flinches and plunges his hands deeper into the water. With every tributary we pass, our river channel gets smaller, the banks closing in. Through the trees, I often find eyes looking back at me, unblinking. I tell myself they belong to deer, but when I mention it, Eskar’s face becomes more drawn with worry. We stop lighting fires after that and I don’t get much sleep.
Chapter 34
The following night, the river narrows to a stream where I can nearly touch both sides of the bank. Without warning, Eskar pulls over and declares this is the furthest we can go by boat before climbing out and collapsing on the ground, exhausted. I agree. Each night the impact of constantly wielding his magic and draining himself to the verge of burn out before sleeping on a cold floor, has taken its toll on him. And now he’s reached his limit. We’ve been rationing portions so we’re also low on food: the little we have won’t last much longer.
We hide the little boat a short way inland and mark the trunk of the closest tree by gouging into the bark so we can find it again if the villagers are as unfriendly as Haelyn warned. Eskar sleeps until dawn. I keep watch in the darkness, twitching at the snapping of branches and the rustling of needles on the tall pines but we’re left alone.
The walk to Tanwen takes all day and our feet ache by the time we approach the town gates. The small town is bleak, barely distinguishable through the wooded pines and disappearing into the blackness. A high wall wraps round it, the sides made from rough wooden vertical planks, their tips uneven and pointed. It couldn’t look less welcoming. I almost consider risking another night in the forest.
Thankfully, darkness cloaks us as we wander towards the inn Haelyn described. Every road we walk down is deserted; every crossroad bare. The wooden houses and buildings have small windows and closed curtains, discouraging unwanted callers. The revolting smell of rotting hay, or actually mould, permeates my hair, my clothing, everything we are carrying. It turns mystomach. The air is damp and I suspect the thatched roofs are the source of the odour. No part of me wants to stay long in this awful place. The only familiarity is the stone aqueduct high above the wooden ramparts, holding judgement over the town. I’ve never been to the end of an aqueduct before. This one has a watchtower protecting the underground bore that feeds the water source, the creaking algae-covered metal pipe reaching out of the ground.
With little signage, we walk past the inn twice before finally identifying it. It’s quiet inside; a lone barmaid polishes glassware behind the bar. She looks up, surprised. “We’re closed.” A sharp, suspicious tone and an unwelcome stance. I doubt we look like patrons they would welcome here. The inn is shabby at best but we look considerably worse.
Even with the empty tables and wonky chairs, it looks serviceable enough. Cleaner and dryer than camping. I’d come to regret not making the most of the bed at Eskar’s apartment in Cathair and this will be a brief respite before we venture out to the Haag.
Eskar steps forward into the light from candles swinging in glass holders above, keeping some of his features slightly in shadow.“We’re looking for rooms.” I tense at this. Given our reception in Cathair, perhaps the Governor or the traitor at court has influence here too.
She freezes and looks at us a second time, taking stock of what’s underneath the grime. Putting the glass down, she comes round the bar. “You’re not from around here.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Eskar crosses his arms.
She huffs. I’ve never seen anyone less thrilled to do business. My body sags with relief. She isn’t keen to house us. I doubt she’d be so reluctant if she was working on someone else’s orders.
“Wait here,” she gestures to an empty table by the unlitfireplace.
Eskar gestures not to talk; he’s tense and wary too.
Finally, when the rooms are ready, he does a thorough search of mine, checks out of the window, up and down the street, before deeming the room safe enough. His room is across the corridor.
Once we’ve settled in, we make a plan. Eskar is keen to leave tomorrow, before word of our arrival spreads through the town.
We’ll stock up on food from the market in the morning before travelling into the Haag. Until then, I sink into the lumpy mattress with scratchy sheets and breathe a sigh of relief. We are somewhat safe at last.
The market is bleak. A cluster of broken, barren stalls and the people manning them don’t look much better. They line the street unspeaking and unwelcoming. The childrens’ drawn faces hint at a hard winter that has taken its toll. Spring hasn’t arrived here yet.
Eyes follow our progress from stall to stall, hungry for information and our money. With no other customers and the majority of stands empty, we pick our way through the slim offerings. There’s one baker’s stall; the bread looks stale and flat. The townsperson manning it seems more like a guard, silently challenging us to comment on the selection, arms crossed. Tension is thick in the air, as if the people of Tanwen are spoiling for a fight and will relish the violence, exactly as Haelyn warned.
We pay for some loaves, not even trying to haggle. This was a bad move; the baker’s forearm flexes menacingly, not moving to package our purchases. Mouth dry, I try to apologise but Eskar interrupts, explaining we are not trying to patronise but have questions about the Haag that maybe he can answer.
Mollified, but by no means forgiving, the baker takes ourmoney, counting the coins twice before acknowledging us again. Eskar changes tack, asking about the market, how often it meets, whether we’re the only strangers in town. Patience running thin, the surly man points down the road with a rough grunt. “Speak to Sal, don’t go asking more questions round here.”
He points to the least dilapidated building in the town and I nod in thanks and start to walk away. Eskar stops me from making my way there and pulls me back to the inn, his hand gripping my forearm tightly.
As we leave the market I turn back, seeing a crowd congregating round the baker’s stall.
“Why aren’t we going to speak to this Sal person now?”
“We’re being set up. See how the baker was unsurprised by my questions, despite the barmaid being unprepared for our arrival. Word’s got out.” He’s increased his pace and I hurry to match it. “We need to leave now.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He stops and turns, looking down at me with stormy eyes, fixing me to the spot. “Because I’ve been here before, I know how this works.” He glances over to the alley as if he senses movement. “You have everything with you?”
