7

 

Desperate Flight

 

They moved swiftly through the barren Waste. The silver moon shone with great power over the landscape and illuminated the rugged terrain before them. The heavy fog that once had trapped them was nothing more than a thin mist hanging in the moors. Aaron led the way, followed closely by Braden then Lorik who occasionally looked behind to see that no one was in pursuit. Hours passed, and the miles seemed to roll continually on as they ran by the light of the full moon. Aaron couldn’t have guessed how far they had come, but on he ran, amazed at how swiftly they crossed the region. Unlike their approach to the castle on the hill, the way south was unhindered by shifting bogs or a changing landscape.

“Sir,” Lorik gasped. “Sir, I can’t… I need to rest.”

Although reluctant to slow down, Aaron knew that his sergeant was right. They stopped, taking refuge on a small spit of land with two streams of water coursing by on either side. They had forced themselves to cover many miles in a brief period of time, and Aaron hoped if their captor didn’t know they were on the moors, he wouldn’t expend the energy to manipulate the landscape against them. The moon sat upon the horizon, descending behind the mountains as the night drifted slowly into dawn. Aaron would be glad for the daylight, hoping the morning would bring a refreshing outlook upon their grim circumstances.

He sat with the other two and opened the satchel which Braden carried. He distributed a small container of water. “Drink, sparingly,” Aaron suggested, “we might need to stretch this for some time yet.”

“How far do you think we’ve come?” Lorik asked.

Aaron gazed back to the north, surveying the horizon. The failing moonlight dimly lit the massive hill and the castle on its summit in an outline of grey against the darker sky. “I would guess that we’ve covered more than three leagues. We still have a long way to go if we are to make it out before the lord of this desolation realizes we’re gone.”

Braden sat in quiet contemplation. He looked up as if to speak, then hung his head in thoughtfulness. Again, he looked up at Aaron, his brows furrowed in perplexity. “Captain,” Braden said, “the creature that freed us, do you know who he was?”

“His name was unfamiliar to me,” Aaron replied. “He said he was once called Mellenden, the High-Born.”

Aaron saw the obvious trepidation of his dwarf companion even at the mention of the jailor’s name. “And, so?” Aaron inquired.

“Captain,” Braden said, his voice trembling, “Mellenden was lord over the elves, or the High-Born, as they call themselves. He ruled in the ancient times, during the Great War and was once friend to the King. If that truly was the ancient lord of the elves, I can’t begin to imagine what caused him to turn and side with the king’s enemy.”

Aaron was moved by his friend’s grief. “Braden,” he said, “nothing is as it seems. These last few months I’ve come to realize that the history I once knew is a lie. It could be that the history that you’ve always known has been changed as well.” Aaron paused as he thought about his own understanding of their circumstances. “What we must do is press on to find the book and discover for ourselves what the truth is. Maybe this creature was the lord of the High-Born, maybe it was a cleaver deception. Whatever the truth is, we must continue.” Aaron paused again, thinking of their captivity. “If this was the one you speak of, I am grateful that he was in a position to help us. Perhaps, as he said, he finally redeemed himself from a past mistake.”

These words fell hard on Braden’s thoughts. “You’re right, of course,” Braden said with deep sadness. “Our history records Mellenden possessing great nobility and strong courage. If that was truly the lord of the elves, I just cannot fathom what happened so that he would be willing to betray the King. But, perhaps in the end, he showed a glimpse of his former nobility.”

Far to the east a faint glow steadily grew as the first light of dawn crested the eastern horizon. Aaron repacked the water flask into the satchel, hoisted the pack over his shoulders and prepared for another long run. “Men,” he said, “it’s time we leave this place. We are several leagues away from the edge of this land, and we still have to navigate the river Dalyn warned us about. If we can keep pace as we did coming this far, we should be able to cover the entire distance before nightfall.”

The three set out southward, running at times, desperate to put the Waste far behind them. Hours passed, mile after weary mile. Aaron looked back and, having come so far south, he could not distinguish the castle nor hill upon which it stood with any of the other surrounding landscape. The sun marked time across the sky, bright, clear, and growing warmer by the minute. Unlike their initial experience, the surrounding countryside seemed unaffected by their passage. Aaron held out hope their escape had gone unnoticed. He wondered what would happen to Mellenden when their flight became known. That thought passed quickly when a shadow passed over the sun.

He stopped, with Lorik and Braden at his side. High above them, winging northward across the sky, a large shape with massive leathery wings crossed over their position. “Hide!” Aaron ordered. The three of them found covering under a large, scraggly plant. Circling, the flying creature seemed to be looking for something.

“Captain!” Lorik whispered. “What is that thing?”

“This is the creature that Rayn and I encountered in the forest—the one that killed Lieutenant Morryn,” Aaron replied. “I had hoped to never see one again.” His voice wavered as he watched the sky.

Braden sat trembling, huddled under a large bush. “Captain…” he whispered with great anxiety. “Captain… that is a deladrin. It was those creatures that took the stronghold in the Kanton Mountains and sent the dwarves fleeing for their lives!”

“What could it possibly want in this desolate land?” Aaron inquired, hoping that the creature didn’t see or sense their presence.

“It wants us!” Braden choked out a whisper.

“How could it know that we are in the Waste? How could it know that we are even alive?” Lorik’s questions only served to frustrate Braden even more.

“Don’t you understand?” Braden asked, anxious yet trying to keep his voice quiet. “All these evil creatures are one with their master—the usurper! They are under his power, and if he knows we are alive and in the Waste, he won’t stop until he finds us and destroys us.” Braden looked toward the creature still circling high overhead like a vulture over its prey. “Once we were captured, the enemy knew that we were still alive and still after the Book of Aleth. The fact this creature is overhead only serves to show the emperor knows that we’ve escaped. He is still looking for us.” Braden fell silent as the winged creature descended, nearly hovering directly over their position. Then, as quickly as it came, it winged its way south, disappearing beyond eyesight.

Aaron stood from under the brush, glad to have the beast gone and even more apprehensive about their journey. With little food and no weapons, they were not equipped to campaign against any creature such as the deladrin, let alone a stronghold occupied by such ferocious beings. Aaron scratched his head, puzzled, and turned to Braden. “If these creatures possess the book, why don’t they just deliver it to him?”

“Sir—” Braden began.

Lorik interrupted. “Think about how many border skirmishes we’ve had to deal with. If this book contains the power to overthrow the emperor, I suspect creatures such as the one we’ve just seen would try to keep it for themselves.”

“Lorik is correct.” Braden injected as he brushed the dirt from his garments. “These who follow the usurper might be under his dominion, but they are certainly not without ambition. There is a continual struggle to overthrow the emperor and gain the most prominent seat in all of Celedon. However, no one has the power to withstand the usurper, let alone challenge him… not without the aid of the Book of Aleth.”

“Then why don’t they use it, if it contains such power?” Aaron questioned.

“I’m not a lore-master,” Braden said, frustrated. “It is said that great magic protects the book, so that no one can draw from its pages the mysteries that lie hidden there. No one, that is, except the one for whom it waits.”

Aaron gave up asking questions when he noticed a large, cloud-like form far to the north drifting across the Waste, moving south over the terrain and directly toward their small band. The other two also saw the cloud moving steadily toward them, and they knew that their escape had been discovered. To the south Aaron could see a slight winding ribbon set upon the landscape—the Dead River. It flowed far ahead of them, perhaps another five miles away.

“Captain!” Braden’s voice was desperate. “Captain, what do we do?”

“We run!” Aaron took off through the Waste, avoiding bogs and leaping over small streams. Up and down gullies and ditches, Aaron kept a steady, swift pace with Lorik and Braden close behind. The mist, thick and grey, continued to move toward them, steadily gaining ground. Nothing seemed to hinder the ancient magic that loomed behind the companions; not even the breeze blowing from the south affected the ever-approaching cloud.

After an hour of sheer determination, Lorik collapsed to the ground, unable to keep pace. Aaron stopped, hearing his friend fall, and rushed to help him up. Braden ran up from behind to support the sergeant and get him to his feet.

“I can’t keep up, Captain.” Panting, Lorik spoke his despair.

“Rest for a moment,” Aaron reached into the bag and retrieved the water pouch, giving it to the sergeant and Braden. Behind them, but much closer than before, the cloud of death continued to drift toward them, no more than ten miles away, and still moving.

“We can’t stop long, Captain!” protested Braden. “That cloud will not rest or grow tired from their travels. We must get out of the Waste before we become permanent residents.”

Aaron agreed, but still waited for Lorik to regain his strength. Much closer than before, the ribbon of the Dead River stood as an impassible barrier to their escape. Aaron didn’t know what or how they would cross the river when they arrived, but hoped a solution would present itself before it was too late.

Lorik tired as he was, struggled to his feet and drank again from the container of water. Heaving a sigh, he lunged ahead and began running again toward the southern border of the Waste. Braden and Aaron followed quickly through the marshy landscape.

They had traveled downhill for miles after they had left the castle on the hill. Now, however, the ground leveled off and showed more signs of vegetation. Brown, spindly branches reached from stunted trees and brush to block their passage as they tried desperately to keep ahead of the cloud. Exhausted from the frantic attempt to leave the badlands, Aaron forced his legs to move, fighting against the burning pain of his tired limbs. Behind him the ghost cloud still drifted against the currents of air, coming closer—perhaps only two or three miles away. It was large, menacing and from a distance Aaron could see the distinctive shapes of ghostly figures drifting in and out of it.

Ahead the river disappeared from sight, hidden in the brambles and brush that blocked all but their immediate view. Heavy thorns and briars clutched Aaron’s garments, biting exposed skin and leaving his hands and legs burning from welts with each stinging scratch. Blood trickled down his arms and legs from the many razor-like thorns that were able to penetrate his outer garments.

“Too bad I didn’t get my sword,” Aaron said as he pushed through the brambles. “I’d hack my way through this nightmare.”

“I would just as soon have a torch and burn this confounded patch to the ground!” Braden muttered.

Lorik, ahead, still trudged forward with sheer will-power. He pressed on; following what appeared to be an overgrown path leading through the brush.

Aaron followed close behind and was inspired by Lorik’s determination to press harder in an effort to maintain their speed, desperate to stay ahead of their pursuers, now close at hand. Once, Aaron looked back, and could faintly see a thin line of grey clouds drifting above the overgrown terrain, no more than a mile distant. High overhead the sun was beginning to make its descent to twilight, the day almost completely spent. Faint rays of golden-orange danced across the sky, the precursor to a glorious sunset.

In a rush of motion and the sound of rocks tumbling against each other, Lorik disappeared! Aaron and Braden heard a splash of water and rushed ahead to find their fallen companion. They almost fell in as well when they came to a low ledge, hanging over a massive river that slowly meandered through the region. Ten feet below, hanging onto a mangled log wedged against the bank of the river was Lorik, tugged at by the currents that swirled around his body. Completely drenched and dazed from the fall, Lorik was disoriented and confused, as his eyes began to glaze over and flutter. Braden quickly climbed down the ledge, making his way to the log where Lorik clung, and reached for his fallen friend.

Aaron, meanwhile, searched the overgrown path they walked for any branch or vine he could use to pull his companions to safety. He found a dead sapling and pushed against it until it snapped at its base, leaving him a twelve-foot pole to help his trapped friends. Looking over the ledge, he saw that Braden was able to dislodge the sergeant and haul him to the bank of the river. Lorik was almost unconscious and barely able to move.

“Braden!” Aaron shouted. “Braden, grab the end of this!” Aaron lowered down the long pole which easily reached Braden who stood only ten feet below.

“Captain,” the dwarf called, “I need your help. Lorik’s hurt!”

Aaron clambered down the cliff’s edge, careful not to slip on the shale-like rock. He stopped where Braden had hauled the sergeant out of the water. By that time, Lorik was completely unconscious. The sergeant’s skin was ashen-pale and cold and clammy to the touch. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead, unmoving. One good sign, thought Aaron, was that Lorik still breathed, though shallow and unsteady. Apart from a few more scratches, and being completely soaked, Lorik appeared to have suffered no other injury from his fall.

“He must have swallowed some of this poisonous water,” Braden said as he looked out over the brown, murky river that drifted past them. “Hand me the bag.”

Aaron handed the satchel to Braden and took his sergeant in his arms, hauling him onto his shoulders. Laboriously he climbed up the rugged ledge, hands and arms gashed and pierced by the sharp shale that continued to shift under his weight. Fortunately the ledge was low, and Aaron was able to reach the top and carefully set Lorik down on the dry ground. Right behind him, Braden scrambled up the face of the ledge, sending a cascade of rock and debris into the swirling river below.

Lorik’s breathing was shallow and rapid. His body shivered as a fever set in. Aaron looked to Braden, his eyes clear and determined. “What about those leaves? If they healed you, they might be able to do something to stop the poisonous water that Lorik ingested.” He looked back and watched as behind them, less than a mile away, the cloud of phantoms continued to drift closer and closer, their ominous presence a constant reminder of the danger they were trying to escape.

Braden quickly reached into the satchel and pulled out two folded leaves. They were dry and crisp but held their deep color. He rubbed and crushed the large, broad foliage of the Terapan tree into the palm of his thick hands, creating a powder from the leaf. Mixing it with some water from the flask, he dripped the concoction into Lorik’s mouth.

The two watched the sergeant, as slowly, but clearly his color improved from the ashen-grey to a healthy tan. The fever that struck him broke almost immediately and his shivering stopped. Lorik’s breathing improved so that he sounded like a man in a deep sleep. Carefully Aaron nudged his sergeant, trying to rouse him. Behind them, the cloud crept closer.

Lorik’s eyes fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. He tried to sit up, struggling to prop himself with his hands against the stony ground. “What… what happened?” he asked.

“You fell in the river!” Braden exclaimed.

Gasping as if he had just run a marathon, Lorik tried to compose his thoughts. “I dreamt that I was imprisoned, chained with iron in some stone dungeon.” He paused as he thought about what he saw. “There was a stranger there, someone I didn’t know, and he was laughing at me, mocking my imprisonment. Then, all of a sudden, a light burst into the room from all around, filling my vision and I could hear the strange figure screaming in pain and anger. Then, the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground being wakened by the two of you.”

“Fortunately for you,” said Aaron, “we still had the leaves from the Terapan tree. We just about lost you.”

Lorik gained more strength as he waited, stood and stretched his sore muscles. “What do we do now, Captain?”

Aaron looked out over the river that drifted below them. The brown, cloudy water, poisonous to the taste, casually flowed westward, through the filth of the Waste. Eventually it would turn south and join with the Hoppe River, making its way to the great Inland Sea. “We need to get across this river.” He said as he looked up at the cloud. “We have very little time before that cloud descends upon us and we are taken captive again. Sergeant, how are you?”

Lorik was amazed at the strength that he felt in his body, “Captain, I feel as strong as ever. That medicine of Braden’s is rather effective.”

“Good!” exclaimed Aaron. “I need you and Braden to gather some braches that we can strap together as a raft. I want us to be on the river in ten minutes.” Lorik, Braden and Aaron all climbed down the shale, back to the edge of the river. As quickly as they could, they searched out large branches and small, fallen trees.

In desperation, all of them dangerously rushed along the edge of the river when Lorik shouted out, “Captain!”

Fearing he had fallen in again, Aaron rushed to the sergeant’s location, followed by Braden. Lorik stood straddling a log, looking as if he had just conquered a giant. When Braden and Aaron approached, Lorik stepped aside, revealing a small, abandoned raft. It was nestled in some thick brush, tangled over and stuck.

“Hurry!” shouted Lorik as he pointed up in the sky. Overhead, the cloud that pursued them was near at hand, less than two hundred yards away. Braden and Aaron rushed to help free the abandoned craft, pulling at the tangled branches that webbed in their hope of freedom. The raft was a collection of logs strapped together with leather cords, and looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time.

They dislodged the craft, and with great effort hauled the raft to the edge of the river. Just then, the silent cloud crested the ledge and began descending down into the river channel. Aaron rushed both Braden and Lorik onto their getaway and stood on the shore, shoving against the weight of the raft. Once in the water, their small craft was caught in the current and Aaron lunged to jump onboard, just making it before the cloud enveloped them.

All around them, the misty shapes of people long deceased swirled in the fog that engulfed them. The raft, however, drifted undeterred as the currents of the Dead River carried it westward. Aaron and Braden could feel the effects as the cloud began to take hold of them. The air became thick with the forms and shapes of phantoms, pale and grey, as they swirled around the small raft. The men again found their breathing difficult, gasping for air as the cloud’s effect took hold. Braden was first to lose consciousness, falling to the deck with a thud. Aaron fell next, almost slipping into the water as Lorik grabbed his captain in the nick of time.

Lorik remained unaffected by the cloud’s influence. He watched as the phantoms passed back and forth before him, grabbing at the vessel but unable to move or alter the course of the craft. Drifting along, they slowly moved farther down the river, shrouded in fog and unseen by any who may have had a watchful eye over their movements.

The river lapped at the edge of the raft, gently transporting them out of the Waste. Lorik thought that they would end up west of their goal, but knew that escaping the desolate land behind them was worth such a detour. Tired, and no longer fearing the phantom creatures, Lorik checked on his two companions who slept fitfully on the raft. Then he settled down and watched as the phantoms of the mist continued their vain attempts while their raft drifted casually along the river.

 

****

 

Aaron woke first, head pounding. Each heartbeat echoed like an anvil in his ears. He sat up and visually explored his new surroundings. Still on the raft, the river bore them along its slow, methodical current. The fog had vanished along with all the phantoms that swirled in the mist, while high above the sun filled the world with its radiant light. Aaron recalled that it was twilight when the ghastly cloud finally reached them but now the noon sun shone brilliant in a crystal blue sky.

They were no longer in the Waste; the landscape had dramatically changed. Green fields bordered either side of the river and tall grasses on high, rolling hills waved in a gentle breeze. To the south, but much closer than he had anticipated, just beyond the hills, the Kanton Mountains loomed large and dangerous. Massive spires of granite rock and shale, rising to snow-capped peaks, looked down upon the drifting travelers with an air of terrifying elegance. He couldn’t tell how far they had come, but was glad to be free from the land behind them.

Lorik woke next. He rubbed his eyes and sat up to look around. “What time of day is it?”

“It’s just beyond mid-day,” Aaron replied hoarsely. “I don’t know how many days we’ve been asleep on this river.”

Braden stirred, and sat up abruptly. “I wish I didn’t do that,” he said as he leaned forward with his head in his hands.

“Do what?” Lorik asked.

“Sit up so quick,” Braden muttered. “My head is pounding like the anvil of a blacksmith’s shop.” He glanced up through squinted eyes at Aaron. “Where are we?”

“That’s a good question,” Aaron said. “The best I can tell is that we are drifting west, and to the south of us are the Kanton Mountains.”

“So we haven’t passed the Gap of Anador?” asked the dwarf, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“The gap of what?” asked Lorik.

“It is a gap where the Kanton Mountains are divided with massive cliffs on each side. This river should turn south and meet up with the Hoppe. The combined rivers flow through a great channel between the two arms of the mountains and, ultimately, flow into the Inland Sea. Before the central region of Celedon was left in ruins, the Gap of Anador was used as a fortified defense. Two great towers were built to protect the river from any intruders and it held for years, until the usurper mounted his all-out offensive against the King. When the gap was taken, the entire region of the central plateau was left open for his invasion.” Braden put his head in his hands again.

“I know where you’re talking about,” Lorik said. “We don’t call it by that name, however. It is known as the Hoppe Gorge, though I’ve never seen the ruins of two great towers.”

Aaron looked at his two companions. “Well, at least we know where we are. The question is, where do we go from here? We have little food and water, and I don’t think I would trust this river, yet, to drink. Should we try and row across to the shore or let the river take us farther along?”

“Captain,” Braden said, “if we are to get into the old dwarf stronghold in the mountains, we must do it from the southern face. There is no way to enter the ancient stronghold on the north side of the Kanton Mountains. There are some secret passages that I know of, tunnels that, perhaps even the deladrin never located.”

“So we sail through the gorge, then?” asked Lorik.

“Not through the gorge… I don’t think that would be best,” Braden said. “Once we reach the old towers, we must leave our raft behind and begin hiking along the southern edge of the mountains. The Tower of Kanton is on the eastern side of the river, and that is the tower we should make for. On the western side of the river is the Tower of Anador but there is no longer a bridge to cross the gap.”

“That will be our road then,” Aaron answered. He looked at Braden. “Do you know a path through the mountains that will take us to the old stronghold without being noticed?”

Braden thought. “It has been a long time, and I don’t know if it still exists, but there used to be an old path through the mountains, a trail that once followed a ridge along the southern edge from the Tower of Kanton to the main entrance. The dwarves would use it when traveling between the two.”

Aaron nodded in agreement.

Lorik looked down at the small satchel. “Captain,” the sergeant asked, “what about food and water? Our pack is nearly empty.”

“We tighten our belts, Sergeant,” Aaron replied, “until we are able to re-supply. I don’t see what other option we have. It is unlikely that we can enter into any city or town and expect to receive help. We are ragged, and without any gold. Besides that, we have betrayed our former lives for what we are pursuing. Every guard in every town will have been alerted to capture us.”

Lorik nodded in agreement. “We will still need to find some supplies.” He looked to Braden. “Do you think that when we’re off this raft, you might be able to scavenge up more… well… provisions?”

“I’m not sure,” Braden said. “The mountains are scarce and hold little in the way of food. But, when we are there, we might be able to find something.”

The river gently flowed to the west as it followed the edge of the rugged mountains. A long, sweeping bend in the river turned the watercourse south, bending toward the spires of the Kanton Mountains. The water they floated upon had cleared; no longer the murky brown but a deep blue. They drifted through a wide plain with grassy fields on both sides that waved in the gentle breeze. Several miles ahead the water started to churn. To the northwest, they watched the definite signs of the Hoppe River winding its way from the north. Ahead, the Kanton Mountains continued to grow in their view, rising right out of the plains and reaching like spires into the air.

The day warmed in the bright sunlight, and the air buzzed with small insects and birds dashing back and forth. After spending days in caverns, dungeons and the Waste, Aaron was grateful to see their surroundings come alive. Occasionally they would watch some creature venture to the river to refresh itself in the heat of the day. Once, a massive bull-elk lumbered from a dense thicket and took a long, slow drink from the river.

It dawned on him, then, that the water had become safe again to drink. He gave Lorik and Braden a sly smile and scooped a handful of water into his mouth. The other two gasped, eyes wide with surprise, and watched to see if the ill properties of the noxious river would have any effect on him. He sat there, waiting… nothing! The water was clean, crisp, and Aaron’s heart felt lighter for the opportunity to take a full drink. The other two joined in and soon they were splashing and carrying on like boyhood pranksters instead of hardened soldiers. Aaron leaned back on his arms, dripping wet from a most remarkable splash he received at the hand of his sergeant, and enjoyed a well-deserved laugh.

“I haven’t felt this free in years,” Aaron sighed with great relief. “I think I’ve been too long in the service of the emperor.”

“That’s no longer an issue, Captain,” Lorik said.

“You’re right, and with that I don’t think it right that you call me by that title any longer. We’ve known each other for too many years to allow regulation to hinder friendship. I may have been your superior in rank, but you are mine in more than that.” Aaron looked intently at Lorik, deep respect and gratitude in his eyes. “We’ve cast our lots together for good or ill, and I think that beyond this point we are fellow adventurers and friends.”

Lorik took a hard look at him. “Perhaps,” he said, “but you are the leader of this quest, and I believe that you will guide us to success if anyone will. I will follow your leadership until my time has ended upon this world. There has always been an air of destiny that surrounds your life, and I am anxious to be there to see it fulfilled.”

“I will follow you as well, Captain,” Braden said. “When I agreed to lead you to the old stronghold I had only one motive, to finally escape my long imprisonment. But I can see, now, that there is a certain providence which follows you… or, perhaps, leads you. That alone is enough for me to consider you the captain of our small band.”

Aaron was stunned by the loyalty the other two displayed toward him. His guardsman followed him because he held superior rank and could inflict punishment upon them. Now, here, Aaron knew two men who showed a devotion to him from the heart. He felt humbled by their response and didn’t know quite what to say.

Looking at them both he sighed. “Very well. I will try and lead us to our purpose, and hope to do so quite soon.”

Aaron glanced up and noticed the river beginning to change. It drew their little craft with increasing speed as the Dead River began to merge with the Hoppe. Small whitecaps formed on the surface as the waters churned with mounting violence.

They were carried into the rapids, unable to control their vessel, powerless against the current. Spinning, turning, they continued downstream, each of them trying to steer the raft with their hands, splashing against the waves to no avail. Aaron’s eyes widened with amazement as he looked downstream. A massive canyon, like a giant wound between the eastern and western expanse of the mountain range loomed before them. Enormous granite walls rose up from the swirling maelstrom, forcing the waters of the two rivers into a narrow ravine. On each side of the river, high on the face of the walls stood the ruins of two massive single towers, seemingly carved right out of the stone.

Lorik pointed. “Look!” he shouted. From the tower on the east mountain face a path meandered down the cliff to the edge of the water.

Their raft drew closer to the canyon. Water splashed over the edge of their vessel as the river churned with greater force. They had passed beyond the joining of the two rivers and the rushing waters grew more violent with each moment. Aaron knew that they had no power to guide their raft to the edge of the canyon and make landfall. As he looked at his two companions he feared for their lives but determined that they needed to abandon their vessel if they wanted to have any chance of reaching the eastern path into the mountains.

“We must swim for it!” Aaron shouted. “We must make for the eastern shore before it’s too late!”

The river coursed along, carrying them faster toward the chasm. Aaron strapped the satchel around his shoulder and neck, making sure it was secure, and dove into the rapids. The cold water crushed against his lungs, forcing him to exhale. He came to the surface, gasping for air. The turbulent rush tried to steal his strength, but Aaron forced his muscles to obey and started swimming. With powerful strokes he angled his approach to the eastern shore. The strong current pulled at him, and Aaron knew immediately that if he missed the landing, he would be carried along with no chance of escape.

Behind him Lorik and Braden had jumped in as well and fought their way toward safety. Braden seemed to have the easiest time of it, his strong, stout arms and powerful legs propelled him toward the shore. Lorik struggled against the currents and found that his angle of attack toward the shore was miscalculated. He began to drift beyond the possibility of survival.

Aaron made landfall, dripping wet and exhausted. He looked out to the river and saw his sergeant fighting against the current with mighty strokes of his arms but feared his friend was lost. Braden was near land when he turned his head to see the sergeant struggling, drifting perilously close to the point of no return. The dwarf changed direction and swam with great strength to Lorik. Both he and Lorik now struggled together against the current, fighting with all their might in a valiant effort to reach the eastern landing.

Aaron looked on, helpless as his two companions fought against the torrent of the river. The massive flow of water continued to send them downstream and past the landing area. Lorik and Braden reached the eastern wall, and though the current swirled around them, they found it possible to use the jagged face of the cliff to slowly make their way back toward the captain. Aaron searched in vain for a rope, vine, anything he could use to reach his struggling companions. However, the dwarf’s strength proved to be more than a match for the river and, finally, the two crawled to the shore.

Aaron rushed down to the river and hauled Lorik out of the water. The sergeant gasped for air. He buckled over in spasmodic heaves as his body ejected the elements of the river. Aaron went quickly back to retrieve Braden who, though strong as he was, was completely spent in his effort to rescue Lorik. The dwarf collapsed in a heap on the shore, exhausted and unable to move. Aaron sat, worn from the exertion and the emotion of the moment. He glanced at the river which almost claimed the lives of his friends and watched as the tiny raft that had delivered them from the Waste continued its journey south. It fractured in the torrent and finally vanished beyond his sight.

Aaron lifted his eyes to look at the ancient structure that loomed above him. The massive, broken tower seemed to gaze down upon him like a menacing sentry daring him to approach. Its dark, grey stones had collapsed in many places around the parapet, exposing the inner structure to the elements, but its granite wall still stood firm. It was perfectly round, with smooth stone quarried directly from the cliff walls. Leading up to it was a worn, winding stairway carved directly into the rock face. The stairs switched back and forth up the face of the cliff until it reached the tower, several hundred feet above where they stood. It served as a formidable defense against any attempt to pass through the river.

Aaron was impressed, but had more urgent matters to attend to. Lorik began to stir. Braden also regained some vigor and limped the few feet to sit next to him.

“Well,” panted Lorik, “we’ve come this far.” He looked toward Braden, gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you… thanks for coming after me. I would never have made it if it weren’t for you.”

Braden shrugged it off. “Garam said something when we entered into the underground caverns of Charis; he said we’d only make it if we stick together. I intend on making it.” He gave a brief, jovial smile and turned to look up at the tower above them. “Captain,” he said, “I think we should make camp at the top, perhaps even in the tower itself. It is still the most fortified location and we will be free from watching eyes.”

Remembering the deladrin that had flown overhead was all the encouragement Aaron needed to climb the stairs. Lorik regained his strength and followed after Aaron with Braden right behind him. So, together, the three companions inched their way up the cliff face, following the narrow, carved stairs that lead to the Tower of Kanton.