Blood Loss: The Chronicle of Rael (16 page)

As Rael lowers his visor and heads for the stairs up out of the dungeon, he only hopes that no one looking asks about the wet tracks he leaves behind.

19.

“I have business up the coast in Hul’An,” the captain says in the lilting dialect of northern Tigol as the dinghy is lowered to the calm water with Rael inside.  “I’ll return in a fortnight and wait one day only.  After that, I leave.  Understood?”

“Clearly,” Rael says as the tiny boat hits the water.

Rael had been called east for some time, and he had become rather adept at feeling the direction and relative distance based on the way his blood felt.  He knew that he had to go beyond the Loszian Empire, somewhere past the vast ocean to its east, and that only meant Dulkur.  That meant he needed a boat, or rather a ship, to take him there.  He went south into the small kingdom of Roka and its thriving capital, Worh. 

It is ironic that after the events in Martherus years ago and more recently Byrverus, Rael feels a need to avoid Westerners as much as possible, and yet he found himself in one of the largest cities in the Shining West.  As such however, he avoided the fat and slow Western style galleys and instead checked with the ships’ captains of the slimmer Tigolean vessels.  The first two explained that they had no interest in sailing to Dulkur, but the second informed him of a ship that he knew to be headed that way.

The
Serpent Dragon
is a long, slim Tigolean cutter that favors speed over its ability to carry goods, and so her captain, a Tigolean by the name of Ahireo, tends to carry information more than cargo.  He’s short, even as Tigoleans go, standing only just over five feet tall, but his men obey his orders with so much alacrity as to make one think the man a ten foot demon.  Rael thinks that the two curved and single edged swords at his waist, a longsword and shortsword in their length relative to Western weapons, likely account for this.  Ahireo has the dark brownish yellow skin common to northern Tigoleans, a slender but wiry frame and a headful of silk-like black hair that falls to the middle of his back in a ponytail.  The main has long whiskers of the same color and texture that blend into a beard of the same that drops at least four inches below his chin.  He doesn’t speak Western very well at all, but fortunately Rael picked up enough of the captain’s native tongue for the two to communicate.

“You want passage to Dulkur?” Ahireo had said.

“I believe so,” Rael replied, “but I am not sure exactly where.”

“Then how do you expect me to take you there?”

“I go where I feel led,” Rael explained.  “I will know when I have reached the right place.”

“Such a voyage is difficult.  You want me to sail to the gods knows where.  What if I am not amply supplied?” Ahireo asked.

“You are saying it will be expensive,” Rael concluded, and he reached into a sack attached to his sword belt.  From it he withdrew a fist sized red gem, and he saw the captain’s eyes light up, even though his face remained stoic.  “I think this would cover any expenses you may have and then some for quite some time.”

“Welcome aboard, but I have no room for the horse.”

“Then I will sell him,” Rael said with a sigh.

The
Serpent Dragon
was aptly named for the vessel was only perhaps fifteen feet wide on deck and well over sixty long.  She was made of a light but strong wood that caused her to sit up high in the water.  The crew seemed to have difficulty maneuvering the ship in the tight quarters of the docks at first, but once they were clear enough to open the Tigolean fan sail, the ship shot across the bay and into the Narrow Sea with a speed the likes of which Rael had never seen from a ship.  Five months later and after two stops in Tigol, the ship had found its way to the southern coast of Dulkur. 

They continued north up the coast until Rael suddenly called for a stop.  He looked across a hundred yards of the bluest water he had ever seen to a white sandy beach.  About a hundred feet beyond that started the trees – huge leafy monstrosities that completely blocked out all view of anything beyond them.  Ahireo called for the dinghy, saying, “I’ll not risk beaching my ship in those shallows.  You must row yourself in.”  Rael thought about arguing the point, considering the size of his payment, but chose against it.

Rael uses his oars to push himself away from the
Serpent Dragon
and turn the bow of his tiny vessel toward the beach.  As he begins to row away, he realizes that he has done nothing to require the ship’s captain to return.  It might have been smart to require some form of collateral, something to force Ahireo to come back for him.  As it stands, all he has is the Tigolean’s word, which Rael is not sure has any value in this world.  On the other hand, if he is stranded and if he manages to find his way back, he could very easily ruin the man’s reputation for reliability.

Its sail spreading wide, the
Serpent Dragon
quickly speeds off into the distance while Rael still rows his way toward the beach.  He realizes suddenly how disgustingly hot and humid it is here, as the sun threatens to bake him in his armor as if it is an oven, and sweat pours off of his face.  It is still winter in the Shining West, but it would seem that this place does not know the meaning of the word.  As the oars slosh through the clear water, they disturb fish of all sizes and colors, including some small sharks that swim where the water is only a few feet deep.  Rael was prepared to jump out of the boat and pull it the rest of the way ashore by one of its mooring lines, but the predators swimming about make him alter his thinking.  Rael sets his eyes on the horizon to the west and, unblinking, puts all of his effort into keeping the oars moving.

His oars hit the sandy bottom, and it appears that the boat will go no further, having struck sand.  Rael takes his eyes off the thin white line where blue sky meets blue water and looks over the side of his dinghy to see that he sits in less than a foot of water.  Deciding that a hungry shark would find it too difficult to reach him here, he drops his oars in the bottom of the boat and hops over the side with a splash.  The bow’s mooring line floats alongside it in the water.  This he takes in both hands and loops it over his right shoulder as he begins to trudge toward the trees ahead.  The line pulls taught, and Rael is almost pulled off his feet for the weight of the small boat.  He steels his resolve and digs his feet into the shifting sand, thankful for his heavy boots for even through them he can feel that the sand is nearly white hot.

Once he has pulled the boat into the trees, he almost doubles over with exhaustion.  He realizes that he can barely see for all the stinging sweat in his eyes, and he shakes his head like a dog might, throwing salty sweat all about him.  Still standing, Rael leans his weight onto his knees as his breath tries to escape him, for the air here, though cooler for being hidden from the sun, is thick with moisture.  Coughs threaten to take over.  He knows that if he allows them to start, they may not stop for hours, so Rael tightens all the muscles of his chest and abdomen in refusal to let the coughs control them.

Finally breathing easier after who knows how long, the Dahken pulls himself erect, and he finds himself in a world like none other he has ever seen.  He had read of Dulkurian jungles at some point, and this most assuredly must be one.  Thick trees with ropy vines about their trunks rise to make a canopy at least a hundred feet in the air, and all manner of green plants that range from a foot tall to as tall as a man crowd the floor.  All of these have huge pointed leaves, very little different in shape from a Western longsword and some almost as big.  The ground under foot is an amalgamation of browns and greens from both living foliage as well as that which has fallen. 

Rael starts when he realizes he is surrounded by animal life as well.  Just a few feet to his left, a hairy spider, almost as big as his head with frightening orange and black stripes, sits in a man-sized web sucking the life from a small bird.  A several foot long snake slithers up a vine nearby, flicking its forked tongue to taste the air, and on the ground ahead, an army of red ants attacks a beetle that’s as big as his fist.  Some sort of animal growls in the distance, and it sounds almost like one of the West’s mountain cats, though much larger. 
There must be a thousand things here that can kill a man
, he thinks.

Rael feels the pull in his blood as if it is close, but he almost does not wish to follow it.  The urging is less now than it ever has been, and it is a familiar feeling, not unlike when he went into Byrverus’ dungeon.  He fears that he will only find more evidence of death, but he must go on.  He reaches into the bottom of the boat and retrieves the two and a half foot blade that Ahireo had called a
machete
.

“You will need it,” the captain had said.

“I have my sword,” Rael argued unknowingly.

“Swords are for cutting men.  This is for cutting plants,” Ahireo explained.

After only an hour, Rael finds movement through the thick jungle growth to be exhausting work.  The machete is in fact an excellent tool for clearing the greenery from his path, but the constant wielding of it in short chopping motions causes his sword arm to ache.  However, he finds that he is completely uncoordinated with the thing when he tries to switch hands.  In addition to the labor, Rael cautiously watches where he steps, for he finds that the ground is not remotely level.  Also, there are many holes, both large and small from the burrowing of the gods knows what kind of animals, and he is fairly certain he does not want to shove his booted foot into one of them.  Most of the animals and insects of the area avoid him as he chops his way through.  Those that make no motion away as he approaches, Rael gives a wide berth; if they’re not afraid of him, perhaps he should be afraid of them.

Rael pushes on this way until the jungle grows dark as the sun sets.  He catches glimpses of the bright orb here or there, and as it begins to drop below the horizon, he decides it would be best to stop.  The ground is treacherous enough in daylight when he can see where he places his feet.  Wondering if he can expect to be eaten by predators large or small in the night, he finds a good tree to lean against.  As he dozes away to sleep, huge raindrops awaken him as they begin to fall slowly at first and then so hard that they almost sting.  The tree he has chosen at least provides him some shelter.

When Rael wakes, he thinks he has slept long into the morning, but of course he cannot be sure as the sun is blocked by both the canopy and the gray clouds over top of it.  Rain still falls, a heavy driving rain, and it has done nothing to cool the air of the jungle further.  It has only added to the thickness.  The ground underneath him has turned muddy, and the mud has worked its way into his legguards just as the rain has soaked the linens under his hauberk.  Rael rubs at his eyes groggily, savoring the burning sensation behind his eyelids.  He feels like he hasn’t slept at all, and he wants to go back to sleep.  Rael groans as he pushes himself to his feet.

He pulls the machete from his belt and takes one step east, and then he cries out in pain as a tiny dagger stabs itself into his right calf.  Rael falls to the ground, clutching madly at the legguard over the boot.  He demands that his fingers unbuckle the straps holding it in place, and they only barely obey him as they shake.  Just as he manages to loosen the legguard enough to pull at his boot, a bulbous bodied spider works its way out of the top of his boot and falls to the ground.  Its body and legs are shiny and black, and its abdomen which is at least two thirds of its total size has a row of red dots up its back.  Rael sneers with disgust as he slams his fist down upon the thing.  The arachnid crunches, and an ugly purple liquid splatters the underside of his fist, which he quickly wipes off in the mud with disgust.  Rael tightens the straps on his legguard, grunting with the pain of it, and again stands to continue his journey through this hellish place.

The pain in his right leg slows his progress.  A dull ache continuously radiates throughout his calf, and it turns to a stabbing sensation with almost every step.  Before too long, the pain has spread to his entire leg, and the Dahken can only assume that the little monster has poisoned him.  It’s hard to believe that something so small could be deadly to a man, but nevertheless the pain seems to spread into his abdomen in the form of cramps.  What is sure to be hours into the day, Rael has eaten nothing, and he has no intent to.  He wants nothing more than to stop, to get off his leg, but the closeness of the call in his blood drives him onward.

He stops when the hard bottom of his boot
clops
on an even harder surface.  Rael looks down and then kneels, almost crying out with the pain of it, to examine the ground underneath him.  Using the machete and his free hand to brush and scrape away intertwined weeds and loose dirt, he finds an almost white solid and flat surface.  It looks and feels like stone, but it is almost perfectly smooth, having resisted the elements and time.  Rael continues to clear an ever increasing area, and finds that the surface has two edges roughly twenty feet apart where the jungle’s normal ground continues.  However, from east to west it seems to have no terminus.  It almost seems like a road, though he has neither seen nor heard of its like.

Heedless of the pain now wracking almost his entire body, Rael pushes himself east.  He’s sure this odd discovery has something to do with where he is headed, and he hopes that it is in fact a road that will lead him right to whatever it is he seeks.  He limps badly, but he moves with a new energy.  Rael thinks of the Dahken that Tannes sent to Dulkur to establish a stronghold there millennia ago. 
What were their names?
  Little growth blocks his path now, as it seems to have been unable to penetrate the strange stone over who knows how many years, and this makes his going somewhat easier.  He no longer needs to hack his way through, so he can focus all of his strength on just moving.  His newfound vigor begins to wane, but he keeps himself moving.  Rael wishes he had brought some sort of hourglass, for he has no comprehension of either time or distance in this rainy place where the green on either side never seems to end.