Taking Flight

Kelder had not even considered the possibility of mistaken identity.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get out of here.” He pulled Irith up and began running down the slope toward the river-not with any particular goal in mind, but simply because it was away from the raging Ezdral.

Ezdral, his mind still fogged with drink and fury, saw the figure atop the ridge fleeing, and knew unthinkingly and beyond question that it was Irith, that his vengeance was at hand if he could catch up with her. He charged up the slope, yelling.

“I wasted my entire life hunting for you, you stinking little idiot,” he shouted, “and by all the gods, I’m going to catch you, finally!”

Kelder and Irith stumbled down the northern slope, toward the bridge and the river, in a panic; Kelder kept a firm grip on Irith’s arm. The four soldiers, the toll collectors, turned to see what the commotion was, and in response Kelder instinctively steered away from the bridge, not realizing that that left nothing but the steep bank of the river.

“Kelder,” Irith gasped, “Kelder, let go of me!”

Kelder stumbled on dew-moistened grass, and Irith pulled free. She turned, and saw Ezdral, with incredible speed for a man in his battered condition, charging down at her.

She squealed in terror, and froze for a few seconds. Then, as Ezdral neared, she vanished, and a frightened bird fluttered upward into the night.

An instant later the enraged Ezdral, unable to stop on the steep, slippery slope, lunged through the spot where Irith had stood and went tumbling over the verge and into the river.

He struck with a tremendous splash; a few drops spattered Kelder’s breeches. And then, to Kelder’s horror, the waters closed over the old man and began to calm.

Ezdral did not reappear.

“Irith!” Kelder screamed. “Save him!”

Irith transformed herself in mid-air, from bird to winged girl, and called back, “Are you joking? He tried to kill me! Besides, I’d get soaked.”

“But he’ll drown!”

“He’s an icky old drunkard,” Irith replied. “Let him drown!”

Words failed him, and Kelder, desperate, dove over the bank and into the river.

He struck the water unevenly, arms and legs flailing, and was astonished at how much the impact hurt-he hadn’t thought water was that solid. Then he was in the water-and under it, as he quickly discovered that Irith was right, swimming is something one needs to learn, it does not happen by instinct.

He thrashed wildly, trying to get his head above water, but to no avail; the air rushed from his lungs, and the water closed over his head. He floundered, reaching for the bottom with his feet and not finding it. He tried to call for help, and the water flooded his mouth and nose, choking him. His chest felt as though it were about to burst.

Everything went black, and he waited to die-but death did not come.

Instead, strong arms took hold of him, twisted him around until his face was out of the water. He couldn’t see his rescuer as he felt himself dragged through the current, as firm hands clasped his arms and hauled him up onto the bank.

The pressure on Kelder’s chest became unbearable; his mouth opened, and he vomited what felt like the entire river out onto the grass.

And with that out of the way, he fainted.

Chapter Thirty-Five

When he awoke Kelder needed a long moment to figure out where he was. The ceiling was whitewashed and featureless, with morning sun streaked across it, and at first that was all he could see. He was in a bed, he knew that by the feel of the mattress and bedclothes, but which bed he could not tell.

It gradually sank in that he was in his bed at Valder’s inn.

He turned his head and found Valder’s serving maid, Thetta, sitting beside him, reading something from a small stack of papers. He tried to speak, to ask her what was happening, but all that came out was a croak.

That was enough; she looked up from the papers and said, surprised, “You’re awake!”

Kelder was unsure just how to respond to so obvious a statement, but since his voice didn’t seem to be working yet, that didn’t matter much. He croaked again in confirmation of her observation.

“Just a minute,” Thetta said, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I’ll go get Valder.” She rose, and hurried out the door.

Kelder used the time until her return to see if he could get his voice working, and when Valder and Thetta entered he was able to ask, still in a croak but intelligibly, “What happened?”

“The soldiers pulled you out,” Valder said. “Ezdral, too. They heard the splashing, and Irith yelling, and they came and got you.”

That made sense, Kelder saw. “Is Ezdral all right?” he asked.

Valder grimaced. “More or less,” he said. “He didn’t drown, if that’s what you mean, and he didn’t swallow as much water as you did, or breathe any in-Kelder, don’t you know anything about being in the water?”

Kelder shook his head.

“Well,” Valder told him, “you did just about everything wrong it’s possible to do.”