Soth nodded. “Now that’s a name I’ve heard,” he said with a grin. “Why is he called the River Man if you don’t mind my asking?”
The man sighed in resignation as his wife explained. “Being the second son in the royal house, it was never thought he would one day be Warlord of the Orack Tribe. From the stories that have been told, he was a wild one in his youth. And since his older brother would become Warlord, he was allowed to do pretty much as he wished. His one love was being on the river.”
“And that’s why he’s called the River Man?” inquired Soth.
“The name didn’t come about until his eighteenth year,” she stated. “You see, that was when he ran the Wrath of Hennon.”
“Wrath of Hennon?” asked Chyfe.
She nodded and pointed in the general direction of the river flowing outside the city walls. “The Cariz River which flows to the south from the lake enters a deep canyon far to the south. There it is joined by two other rivers, the Fean and the Ungen. They say that during the spring rains, it is death to ride the waters.”
“I take it he did?” Soth asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes, in the spring of his eighteenth year. The fact that he survived gave rise to the belief that water cannot kill him. And thus, he’s called the River Man.”
“Interesting story,” Soth said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“You’re welcome young man,” she said.
About that time, Seth returned from speaking with the guards. They moved away from the couple and gathered together. “They don’t know anything,” he explained to the others.
Riyan turned toward the wall and gazed at its imposing height while he contemplated what they should do. He finally came to realize there was nothing they could do until they discovered Bart’s exact location. Off to the side of the plaza was one of the eateries common to the city. He suggested to the others they move there and wait in order to avoid arousing suspicion. As they headed to the eatery, Riyan couldn’t help but worry for the fate of his friend.
The crevice was growing narrower the further he went. Also, water continued to be a nuisance as it trickled down the sides making hand and footholds treacherous. From time to time his feet would slip on a patch of algae and it would take a second or two for him to find a secure placement before continuing.
He had long since ceased debating the folly of this venture. What had he been thinking? But he was still loose, and as long as that situation continued, there was a chance he could get out of it.
Bart’s thoughts kept returning to the magic user with the ball of purplish light upon his palm. Whatever that ball of light was, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had led them to him. But how? He was sure he hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence as he passed through the hallways. He had been most careful about such things.
How far had he climbed so far? In the absolute darkness surrounding him, he couldn’t be sure. Bracing his feet in cracks along the sides of the crevice, he paused a moment to give his aching arms a break. Between swimming against the current and now the climbing, they were beginning to feel it.
“Couldn’t have been too far,” he said to himself as he rubbed his arms. Shivering from the cold, he tried to bring a hint of warmth back into his body.
In his pack, the waterlogged Cloak would afford him little protection from the cold. Nestled in the bottom alongside his lockpicks and darts, was the tube lantern and a half dozen small candles. He longed to use his tube lantern, but if someone saw light coming from where there shouldn’t be any, it was all over.
Thoughts of Riyan came to him. What were they doing? Had the powers that be connected them to him? He thought that unlikely, but strangers were always the first ones to be questioned when troubles arose. And a Byrdlon trespasser would raise many questions. Worry gnawed at him and so his thumb rotated the ring on his finger as he thought of Kevik.
Kevik, he said in his mind.
After a moment, he heard Kevik’s questioning thought. Bart, are you okay?
For the moment, he replied. I’m not sure where I am. Then he sent a mental picture of himself crawling through the crevice.
We’re by the castle’s gates, Kevik told him.
Be careful, warned Bart.
We are, assured Kevik. There was a pause for a moment then Kevik said, Riyan wants to know how we can help you?
You can’t, he replied. I’m going to try to make my way from the castle once night has fallen. Go back to the inn and wait for me there. If trouble develops, get out of town as best you can.
What about you? Kevik asked.
Bart thought a moment then replied, I’ve got the Cloak.
Alright, Kevik said. Good luck.
You too, Bart said. Once the connection between him and Kevik was severed, he reached up and took another handhold as he continued to climb.
“Well?” asked the man with the air of command.
“He’s alive,” the magic user stated. With the purplish ball spitting micro bursts of lightning, he moved rapidly along the hallway. Then all of a sudden, what he had been detecting suddenly disappeared.
Coming to a stop, he turned to his lord and said, “I lost it.”
“Do you know where he is?” asked the lord.
“Somewhere below us,” the magic user replied.
The River Man nodded. Turning to the captain of his personal guard, he said, “I want men posted in every corridor.”
“I’ll have to draw on the city guard to do it,” his captain told him.
“Then do it,” he commanded.
His captain bowed then turned and hurried down the corridor to carry out his lord’s command.
“Is there anyway you can locate him?” the River Man asked.
“If he again makes use of magic, I can find him,” assured the magic user.
The Warlord of the Orack Tribe turned to the magic user who had served his father before him. “See that you do,” he said. “Circumstances are at a delicate balance now. We cannot afford to have anything come to pass which might unravel all we have worked for.”
Looking grimly at his lord, the magic user nodded.
The crevice had narrowed to such an extent, that Bart had been forced to remove his pack in order to continue. Now it dangled below him from a strap secured to his left ankle. If the crevice narrowed any further, he would have to return back the way he had come. That was a prospect he didn’t even want to contemplate.
Having set a foothold, he straightened his leg and raised himself another few inches in the crevice. A sharp jutting edge of rock scraped his back as he moved. His chest was pressed against the side of the crevice as well and he thought that he may have come as far as he was able.
Bart tried repositioning himself and managed to move his back from off the rock. Reaching up for another handhold, his hand moved along the side of the crevice searching for one that would support his weight. Then all of a sudden, the rock wall ended and his hand was in open air.
Elated that he may have come to the end of the crevice, he felt around the open area and found a flat surface running perpendicular to the opening. In his mind he pictured the crevice opening out onto a floor.
It was still completely dark, not even a vague shadow that might hint at the possibility of light. Moving with renewed determination, he took hold of the opening’s edge and pulled himself up.
One side of the floor extended outward a foot before ending at a wall. The opposite side extended further than he could reach. The water that had been dripping down through the crevice was coming from where it flowed down the wall and across the short distance to the opening. The rest of the floor on the opposite side was relatively dry.
After Bart climbed his way though the opening, he pulled up his pack by the strap attached to his ankle and set it next to him. He then laid on the floor for a moment to rest, glad that he was out of the crevice. Scanning the darkness for any tell-tale sign of light, he failed to locate any.
His breathing echoed faintly along with the drip, drip, drip of water. Despite the risk of being seen, now that
