The afternoon sun made the air thick with humidity. The chattering, chirping hum of the insects around them filled the air. Occasionally, they found themselves in a cloud of pesky gnats or tiny little biting flies. A larger scarier looking thing, half dragonfly, half scorpion, hovered and buzzed about them menacingly, until Cole came out and zapped it with one of his sizzling crimson bolts.
“I can climb it,” Gerard’s voice held only the slightest trace of bravado when he spoke.
He seemed, to Shaella, to be speaking more to himself than to her. She only nodded and smiled sweetly at him.
“Once, it was wider than it is tall. You can see what I mean, if you look at it from the sides.” Shaella indicated the Dragon’s Tooth Spire looming ahead of them in the distance. “The entire river used to flow down the channel we’re in now. It was far deeper then. Somehow, it split around the fire mountain. Over the centuries, it wore at the sides and deposited all of this.” Her arm swept around broadly, indicating the whole of the marshes around them. “The marsh is bigger than Westland.” She turned to face him, and her look grew serious, as if what she were about to say was of great importance. “Right now, we are in the biggest, most powerful land in the entire realm. What’s more, is that not a single one of those self-righteous and mighty Kings even knows it.”
“But it’s empty,” said Gerard. “There’s no one out here.”
“Oh, but there is.” She kissed him on the lips quickly. “You just don’t see them, but you will.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night, if the Water-Mage’s strength holds out,” she answered.
He pulled back from her quickly, swatted at a buzzing sound near his ear, and then ducked, reflexively. Whatever it was, it had already absconded. Grinning at the silliness of how he must look, he recovered.
“So, do you have a plan yet? Have you decided what I’m to do once I climb to the top of that thing?”
“Yes, there is a plan,” she answered coolly.
She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to consider what she might have to do while he was up there inside the dragon’s lair. She wasn’t so sure now that she could do it.
“We’ll talk about it later.” She kissed him again, deeply this time, trying to drive the worry from her mind and that subject from his.
That night, they made love in the moonlight on top of the pilot-house. They tried to be quiet, but it was impossible. The act ended up being humorous and awkward. They spent most of the night giggling like children.
When Gerard woke, he was alone. He sat up and looked around. The sun was only slightly above the horizon, and only one or two white fluffy clouds were in this part of the sky. Far behind them, the entire northern horizon was a dark gray line.
The loud “CHOOK!..CHOOK!..CHOOK!” of some creature grabbed Gerard’s attention. A large, hairy mannish thing sat in a tree, voicing its disapproval of their presence in its domain. Somewhere, not far beyond the beast, a whole tree shook violently, sending a squawking flock of angry birds up into the air.
For the most part, the marsh had risen up out of the water around them. Very few open spaces could be seen now. The jungle that surrounded them was dense and steamy. The trees along the edges of the waterway leaned out over it. Their limbs hung down, the sagging branches heavy with beards of blue colored moss and long stringy leaves.
As he climbed down from the pilot-house, and its higher vantage point, Gerard began to feel enclosed. It was like moving down a roofless corridor, or a narrow, forested wagon trail.
The site of something so personally familiar to him, that it was startling, caught his eye. A large, full grown hawkling was perched solemnly on the back rail of the boat. It was as out of place as anything he could imagine. It cocked its head towards him and blinked. It was big and healthy, but to Gerard, it seemed that something, some glint of existence, was missing. It didn’t seem to be proud or even aware. A flash of sunlight reflected off of something at the bird’s neck and Gerard moved closer. It was a jeweled leather band, a collar. He went toward the hawkling, half expecting it to launch away, but it didn’t. It sat there passively, as he fumbled at the band around its neck. He tried to unclasp it, but found that it was held in place, by a solid silver ring. Perplexed, he started to look for a dagger to cut the thing off.
“Don’t release it,” Shaella barked angrily from the pilot-house. “How can I reply if you cut it loose?”
“How can someone keep such a creature bound like that?” He wasn’t sure how he knew that the collar was like a shackle around the bird’s spirit. Maybe it was the ring’s magic telling him; maybe he just felt it. Either way, he knew.
“How could you of all people ask such a stupid question?” she snapped.
“What do you mean?”