The Journey by River

They rode from Pelara to the main road, stopping at the gate opposite the one they had first entered. As Elrin's mercenaries passed through, Wells reined in his horse, taking a final look back at the village.

Elrin drew up beside him. "Something wrong?"

A faint, bittersweet smile touched Wells's lips as his gaze drifted down the familiar street. "No," he murmured. "I was just realizing this is the last time I'll see home."

The words sent a jolt through Elrin. "The last time? What do you mean? We have to come back this way after the Burning Plains."

Cirus, his expression unreadable, turned to them. "Yes, of course," he said, his tone a little too slick. "I'd forgotten." He offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes, then spurred his horse through the gate. "Halia!" he called, his voice echoing in the morning air.

A knot of suspicion tightened in Elrin's gut. How could Cirus simply forget a crucial part of their journey back to Tor Alian? It was obvious he was concealing something, but what?

Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, Elrin urged his horse through the gates. Beyond Pelara, a vast grassland unfurled, bordered by the dark green smudge of Holtwood to the east. High above, Aria danced and dove against the brilliant, cloudless sky. Despite her joyful display, the utter emptiness of the road ahead was unnerving.

They rode all day at a relentless pace. Around noon, a sliver of blue-grey appeared on the horizon. "The Cinian," Cirus told Wells, pointing. "Or the Graywash, as our people call it." The road remained desolate, save for one party of travelers heading south from Neara. As the setting sun cast long shadows across the plains, they made camp for the night, sleeping in shifts with two guards always on watch. After a quick breakfast, they were on their way again.

Another two hours of riding brought them to a dilapidated village consisting of a few shabby huts and a struggling farm. Cirus dismounted from Situs. "Wait here," he instructed. "I'll go arrange for boats."

Soren surveyed the bleak settlement from his saddle. "What is this place?" he asked with a sneer.

"I'm not certain," Elrin admitted. "I've never traveled this far north on the river."

As Cirus knocked on a hut door, a group of filthy children emerged from the other hovels. They approached the armed company hesitantly, then gasped collectively. One, bolder than the rest, pointed at Isena. "A centaur!" he cried in awe. Instantly, their caution vanished as they swarmed around her, bombarding her with questions, which she answered with a patient, practiced smile.

Perched on Wells's shoulder, Aria snorted. "I'd tell the brats to get lost," she whispered.

"Be nice," Wells muttered back.

Their interrogation was cut short when a heavyset woman, as grimy as the children, stormed out of a hut. "You ungrateful rats!" she yelled, hiking up her skirts and charging. The children scattered with gleeful shrieks, treating it like a game. The woman wheezed after them, shouting, "I was in the middle of your lesson! Get back here!"

Soren chuckled darkly. "This makes me glad I never had children."

Just then, Cirus returned, tucking his coin purse into his cloak. "I've secured two boats for us," he announced. "Unfortunately, we can't take the horses."

They dismounted. "What will we do with them?" Wells asked, patting Solea's nose, reluctant to leave the mare he'd grown fond of.

"Relax," Anais said, dismounting from his own horse, Mage. "There's a spell for this." He stood on his toes and whispered into Mage's ear. A flash of light came from his ring, and the horse turned, setting off at a steady trot.

"Where did you send him?" Aria asked.

"Back to Pelara," Anais replied. "Here, I'll do the same for the others." One by one, he sent their mounts galloping south until they were mere specks on the horizon.

"Now," Elrin said, "show us the boats."

Cirus led them to the largest hut, built directly over the river with its back wall open to the water. Inside, six boats were stored beside a rack of oars. Two grizzled men played cards at a small table, barely glancing up. Moored to a small pier outside, two grey rowboats bobbed on the Cinian.

"These will do?" Soren asked, eyeing the boats skeptically.

"Of course they'll do," one of the men said without looking from his cards. "Only place to get boats for the Burning Plains. We get plenty of customers."

"Aye," Soren muttered, "but how many come back?"

"Soren, not now," Elrin said calmly, then nodded to the men. "We appreciate the assistance." He stepped cautiously onto the dock and into the first boat, which rocked under his weight. "If I can get in without sinking, so can the rest of you."

"Not I," Isena said, her posture rigid. "I'll run along the bank."

"I'll go with you," Aria chirped suddenly, the first words she'd spoken since they entered the hut.

"What? Why?" Wells asked. "What if I need your help with magic?"

"I'll be right there!" she insisted, hopping from his shoulder to Isena's. "Just shout if you need me."

Wells rolled his eyes. "If you insist. Who am I riding with?"

"With Anais and me," Cirus said. "His strength will be useful."

Soren and Elrin climbed carefully into the first boat. Cirus and Anais boarded the second. Wells followed them, the sound of water lapping against the planks strangely comforting. "Isena, if you would," Cirus called. "Wells, untie us."

Wells and Elrin untied their respective ropes. With a push from the dock, the two boats drifted out onto the current. As they began to row, Cirus shouted a final "Thank you!" to the men in the hut.

Wells sat on a rough, uncomfortable bench, the boat in constant motion. To his right, Isena ran effortlessly along the riverbank with Aria flying just behind her. The squalid little village quickly vanished from sight. It was the fastest Wells had traveled in Remira, yet time seemed to stretch, filled only by the rhythmic splash of oars, the murmur of the river, and the occasional croak of a frog from the reeds. The landscape was an unchanging canvas of grassland under a steadily climbing sun.

By what Wells guessed was midday, a towering wall of green rose in the distance. He had taken over rowing from Cirus, who now napped behind him. "How long until we reach Holtwood?" he asked Anais.

"Nightfall, I'd guess," Anais grunted, sweat beading on his brow.

"Feels like we should be there already," Wells grumbled.

"Be glad we're not on horseback," Anais retorted. "Following the river's bends on land would have taken two full days just to reach the edge."

Wells scowled, muttering to himself, "This would be easier with a car."

"A what?"

"Never mind." He returned to the monotonous ache of rowing.

Anais was right. By sunset, they were engulfed by the vastness of Holtwood. The trees were unnaturally tall, their crowns scraping the sky like green-furred mountains. They stood like ancient, silent sentinels, their thick trunks guarding the land of the centaurs. As the forest closed in, Isena picked up her pace, her joyous laughter echoing through the trees.

The dim light of the forest was startling at first. Everything was cast in deep, emerald shadow, and the air grew noticeably cooler, a welcome relief from the open sun. A dense, interlocking canopy of branches replaced the sky, creating an atmosphere that was both beautiful and haunting.

Abruptly, a massive statue appeared on the northern bank. Carved from a single piece of white marble, it depicted a centaur rearing up on its hind legs, its right hand placed solemnly over its chest. It had to be fifty feet tall.

"We've crossed into Elara," Cirus said, having woken from his nap. He was now rowing beside Wells. "That is a statue of the first king, Holst." He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Elrin! We'll make camp here for the night!"

Isena helped them haul the heavy boats onto the sandy bank. Unlike the sweaty, exhausted men, she seemed to have barely broken a sweat. Aria swooped down from a branch and landed on Wells's shoulder.

"How was the boat?" she asked.

"Fine," Wells said, stifling a yawn. "But I'm sore all over. All I want to do is sleep."

"And your training?" Cirus interjected.

"Cirus, can't it wait?" Wells pleaded. "I'm exhausted."

"I can row alone when you need to train," Anais offered. "Eventually, the current will be strong enough to carry us anyway."

Cirus sighed. "I suppose you have a point. Very well, we'll start tomorrow. But you had best get to bed early."

Wells gratefully collapsed onto his bedroll. Aria fluttered down beside him. "You can't dodge your training every night, you know," she whispered.

"I'm not dodging," Wells retorted. "I'm just tired."

"Right," she said dryly. "And I'm an empress."

That night, Wells's sleep was fitful, troubled by hazy dreams of shadowy figures muttering unintelligible things. He awoke with a start in the dead of night, his heart pounding, and saw Elrin standing watch over the crackling fire. After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Wells fell back into a deeper, dreamless sleep.