Chapter 4: Baysil the Lame

"Come on, drink this. It'll make you feel better."

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to wish away the voice and the hand that tugged at his shoulder.

"Baysil! Open your eyes! This'll do you good."

A warm, hearty aroma tickled his nostrils. He opened his eyes reluctantly, grasping the proffered mug. His arm trembled with weariness, and a strong hand steadied his. The hot drink settled in his belly, sending a tentative wave of energy through his limbs.

He watched Anji carry the empty cup back to the kettle that steamed over a tiny fire, deciding that it might be worth keeping his eyes open after all. The pounding of his heart slowed almost to normal, and he sat up, bracing himself with arms that no longer trembled. A scrabbling noise caught his attention, and he turned his head to watch Kletta slide back down the trunk of the tree that sheltered them.

"Could you see anything?" Darrick asked.

"Not really. I could trace the line of the road for a little way, and there are mountains off in the distance, but it's too misty to make out their shapes.

"They should be clearer in a few days," Darrick shrugged. "We'll be closer, and out of the mists of the lowlands."

"The old records spoke of a pass." Baysil climbed awkwardly to his feet and limped over to join them. "The monastery had once been a fort, guarding an old road into Orris Kayn."

"A road?" Kletta regarded him doubtfully. "A road from where? There's nothing out beyond the mountains."

"I've no idea. The records didn't say. I suppose that there must once have been other nations out there somewhere, or colonies, but if we ever knew of them their names've been long since forgotten."

"I suppose the Orcish armies had to come from somewhere," Darrick agreed. "But I don't see how it can make any difference to us. The important thing is to get where we're going, and then make it back in one piece."

"We aren't doing too well so far," Kletta griped. "All we've met are wolves and wild dogs, but we still nearly lost a couple of us in that last fight."

"We'll do better," Baysil promised. "We're not used to fighting together as a team, is all."

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, and he was glad they didn't have to march any farther this day. The night was peaceful, with only the usual sounds to keep him alert during his watch. Far away he heard a howling that might have been wolves, and once a deeper toned bellowing roar that rose and fell, echoing weirdly before it too fell silent.

The morning dawned gray and cool, with a layer of clouds that closed down gradually as they marched. The road dipped down, rose, dropped again.

"Oh oh." Anji slowed, peering ahead through heavy brush. "We've got trouble. We're walking straight into a swamp."

Baysil tried to see past the others, but the brush was too thick. He contented himself with his assigned task of watching for danger from the rear. The trees were far enough apart for him to see the sky, but the brush on either side of the trail rose high above their heads. At least it was thick enough so that nothing could sneak up on them through it. The brush soon thinned out ahead, and dead trees spread spectral arms to the leaden sky.

"No point in going any farther," Bartan declared. "And it's getting too deep to wade. Even if those of us who are tall enough could make it, the rest of you would sink out of sight."

"We'll have to circle around," Kargh snarled, with a sour look for Bartan's reference to his height. "Which way, Baysil? You're the one who's seen a map of this country."

"I don't remember this part too well," he admitted. "There were streams drawn in along through here. I think they drained to the east."

"Then we'd better go the other way. We'll go around the upstream end of this mess. That'll be the quickest."

"I don't think so. Look at those dead trees ahead. They've only been dead a few years, or they'd have rotted and fallen."

"So what?"

"So the outlet to this swamp's been blocked, and not too long ago. I think we should find out what caused it." Baysil peered through the brush, but even this early the leaves were too thick to let him see far. "Darrick, can you see anything?"

"My eyes are sharp, but I can't see through solid brush," he laughed. "Your idea is a good one. Let's head off to the right."

"We'll have to go back a ways first," Anji suggested. "The swamp looks deeper off to the sides of the trail."

They didn't have to go far before a low ridge led off the way they wanted to go. It was crowned by a stand of large trees, and the brush was scant enough for them to make good time. The ground was mossy under foot, and they moved silently. Only the occasional scrape and jingle of a branch against armor betrayed their passage. As they marched, the sky between interlaced branches grew steadily darker.

"Better stop for a bite to eat before we get rained on." Baysil's words were prompted more by the ache in his leg than the hollow feeling in his stomach, though he would have hotly denied it if challenged.

"All right," Darrick assented after one glance at his pale, strained face. "But go easy on the journey cake. We need to stretch it all we can."

Even as they resumed their march, a thin drizzle sifted through the trees. The air grew chill, and a time or two Baysil would have sworn that there were icy flakes among the rain drops. He was glad to be moving again, thankful that his old cloak had been replaced by a newer one woven by the goodwives of Shurrud.

"We'll camp here."

The darkness had crept upon them almost undetected. The drizzle had slacked off, but clouds still hung heavy and a chill wind blew up the hill from the swamp.

"A poor place to camp," Kargh muttered sourly. "I'll see if I can find us some dry wood."

He disappeared into the gloom, followed closely by Bartan. Muted axe strokes echoed, and they soon reappeared with armloads of half rotted wood that must have come from some ancient snag. The moss that trailed from some of the pieces helped the flames to catch, and soon they had a cheerful fire to warm their bones. An outcropping of granite warded off the worst of the chill breeze and reflected the warmth of the fire onto their backs.

Baysil awoke with the dawn. Above him, the trees were alive with the bustle and chirp of tiny birds, their crimson wings and yellow breasts like flecks of living flame. The clouds had parted while they slept, and shafts of sunlight picked out the tiniest details of leaf and branch.

"We're almost past the end of the swamp, if I'm not mistaken," Tarr broke her habitual silence, much to Baysil's surprise. He'd become so used to her silence that he'd almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.

"Why is that?" he asked gently, not wishing to disturb her mood.

"Look where the sun rises. We are heading almost due north." Her face, pleasant and intelligent rather than pretty, glowed with health. She flashed him a happy glance but he could see that her interest was for the woods and its busy life, not for her companions. Another moment and she was again shrouded by the hood of her cloak, her features set in the aloof mold he was accustomed to.

"Well? Are we going on or not?" Kargh challenged. "I want to get on past this swamp before these Klond cursed bugs drain off any more of my blood."

He brushed away a cloud of the midges that had arisen from the swamp with the first light, and led the way along the crest of the ridge. The ground sloped down, bringing them nearer to the water's edge. Its bottom shelved off more steeply here, and the trees stood well back from its edge.

"Thick brush," Furdick commented. "But why no trees?"

"Ouch!" Kargh stumbled, going to one knee. "Here's your answer. The trees have been cut down."

The stump he'd tripped over wasn't fresh cut, but they could still see gouges that looked like rough axe strokes.

"Someone cut this," Darrick confirmed. "We'd better go easy until we find out who it was."

"Who? Or what?"

Baysil was the only one close enough to catch Tarr's muttered words. He gave her an inquiring look, but once again her thoughts seemed far away on some Arcane plane.

They went more cautiously, and it was mid morning before they reached the outlet of the swamp. The ridge they were following dipped almost to the water's edge, falling away steeply on the right to form a long wooded slope. The sound of rushing water gradually rose from a murmur to a dull roar.

"That's a dam!" Anji stopped abruptly.

The ridge ended at the edge of the water. A few hundred paces beyond it rose again, and to span the gap a rough structure of logs and dirt had been erected. The water they heard poured over a narrow space near the center.

"Look out!"

They ducked, raising their shields as a volley of loud crashes echoed about their ears. The surface of the lake erupted with spouts of spray. More crashes echoed from distant parts of the lake, and then all was silent.

"Beavers," Baysil laughed. "It's all right, we aren't being attacked."

They rose to their feet, looking a bit sheepish. They were well out onto the dam, almost to the spillway, when there was a rush of water and a giant beaver surged up onto the level surface ahead of them. It rose to its hind legs, towering over Anji.

"Don't shoot!"

She lowered her crossbow at Tarr's cry. The creature bared its teeth threateningly, but stayed where it was. Another surge of water behind them and their retreat was cut off. On their left the surface of the lake rippled to the passage of huge bodies, all churning their way toward what at first glance seemed to be a jagged island. A closer look revealed it to be a towering structure of logs and roughly dressed stone.

"Now what?" Anji fingered the release of her crossbow, but neither creature seemed about to attack.

"Let me try something." Kargh returned his axe to its hook on his belt and advanced cautiously, open hands upraised. He spoke a few words in a language Baysil didn't recognize, though the words sounded familiar.

The giant beaver grunted back, the sounds so muffled and distorted that he wasn't sure at first that he was hearing a spoken language. Kargh answered, less harshly. There was a stir of movement as Kletta slipped forward to stand beside him, adding her voice to his. The beaver loomed over them like a forest giant overshadowing two misplaced saplings.

"He says we cannot pass," Kletta translated. "He says to get off their dam."

"Tell him we mean no harm," Darrick answered, glancing at the steep and rocky slope to their right. The stream that flowed over the dam dropped steeply into a canyon. If they went that way they would lose a whole day, maybe more climbing down its walls and up the other side. "Tell him we come in peace."

"We already told him that. I'll try something else." She turned again to speak to the creature.

It answered, and she spoke again, gesturing with outflung hands. Kargh added a word or two, and the beaver dropped to all fours to study him more closely. With an explosive grunt it wheeled and dove into the water.

"What did it say?" Darrick asked anxiously.

"He wanted gold," Kletta answered. "Gold or jewels. I told him we had none, but would have much gold when we returned. He said tomorrow's gold bought nothing today. Kargh offered to chop down trees for them, and he went to consult with their leaders."

"I told you we should have gone the other way," Kargh growled. "Hush now, he returns."

The creature climbed out onto the dam, splashing a wave of water ahead of it. An even larger beaver followed, moving more slowly. It spoke more fluently, and once again Baysil was intrigued by the words he could almost understand. Kargh answered, scowling. The two beavers turned and were gone.

"That was Nylee, one of their chiefs," Kletta told them, forestalling their anxious questions. "We can cross their dam, but first we have to perform a task for them."

"What kind of task?" Darrick asked.

"Nothing much," Kargh answered grimly. "Just cut down a tree."

"So, what's the catch?"

"The catch is that the tree will try to catch us. That's it, right there."

Just beyond the end of the dam stood a huge tree, its leaves a slick and glossy green even this early in the year. The trunk rose tall and straight for six times the height of a tall man before splitting into myriads of branches. The limbs arched outward, the upper ones longer than the lower, subdividing into a maze of smaller branches ending in fan shaped leaves. Even as they watched, a ripple broke the surface near the water's edge. In a flash all the branches on that side lashed out, striking the water's surface. They caught nothing. The tree swayed restlessly, then was still.

"It's caught several of their young, and they move too slowly out of the water to be able to attack it."

"So do we," Bartan scowled. "Did you see how fast the thing moved?"

Even as he spoke it moved again. This time there was a flash of silver as something writhed in the grasp of a limb. It might have been a large fish, but they only got a glimpse as it dropped into the crown of the tree, disappearing from sight.

"Let's get a little closer." At Bartan's suggestion they moved toward the spillway, still out of the tree's reach. Even that far away a too hasty movement triggered a flurry of activity as it strained to reach them.

"Chop it down?" Furdick laughed. "We'll have to kill it first. Anybody got any ideas?"