Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

Chapter Sixteen

It took Tanden only a few hours to settle the trading they had underway. He spent the rest of the day with Elorie, simultaneously practicing Moattish, Shani and Staedish.

Soren spent the day showing Ara the Wanderlust's various ledgers and records. There were lists of cargo, the crew and their salaries, maintenance records for the ship, and plenty more. Countless lists of numbers. Ara seemed overwhelmed, but determined to understand what everything meant. And Soren found spending time with Ara relaxing, even if the task at hand wasn't very enjoyable.

They left early the next morning, so early that fog still hovered over the river. It dissipated quickly as the sun rose, warming the air.

It was a beautiful day. Puffy clouds lazily drifted in the bright blue sky. Fishermen were out in abundance, often pausing to wave at the Wanderlust as they sailed by. They passed two medium sized merchants who were heading downriver to Balagada. Flocks of birds flew overhead.

Everything was bright and sunny and pleasant. Even Tanden seemed more like himself, bustling around the ship helping with tasks. Soren noticed that he avoided tasks that would take him up the rigging, a decision he wholeheartedly agreed with. A sailor had to fully trust his hands and feet in order to go up the rigging. While Tanden's foot was obviously much better, it wasn't quite ready for that.

The next few days along the river were very much the same. Nice skies, good winds and on either side of them, the beautiful, lively jungle. The riverside was dotted with small villages. They sailed past at least once a day, sometimes two. On the third day, the river cut a canyon through a hill. The rocky cliffs were covered in vines and little trickling waterfalls. In some places, the rock face had been carved and painted with images and letters.

Tanden took the helm through the canyon, as he usually did when they were sailing through riskier areas. Ivern was posted at the bow, to keep an eye out for shallow rocks or other obstacles, while Roan and Jerios stood on watch at either side of the Wanderlust, continuously gauging the distance between the ship and the cliffside.

Soren stood beside Tanden, watching the other three men for any signals. But more than once wall paintings would catch his eye. One, a particularly large handful of letters, distracted him so much that he turned to watch as it passed.

"I can't read it," Tanden said, before Soren could ask.

Elorie and Rico were leaning against the bulwark nearby. Elorie watched the letters go by and crossed her arms. "It's an old language, not quite Alvarian. Only people who study such things would be able to read it. I've been told before that it's a warning. An ancient local tribe telling another not to cross into their territory."

"Alvara was made of tribes?" Tanden asked.

"A long time ago. Before the pyramids, maybe." Elorie shrugged. "I know the river, and languages, but I'm not a hist—"

"Captain!" Ivern shouted, his voice carrying easily and echoing along the canyon.

Soren spun, terrified that he was about to feel the Wanderlust's hull grind against a shallow rock. Instead, Ivern was pointing up. It took Soren a moment to see why through the rigging and past the sails.

Up ahead, there was a living bridge, stretched across the canyon. It was larger than any of the ones in Balagada. It was really quite spectacular.

"Soren." Tanden's voice was tense. Having obviously found the bridge, his gaze hadn't wavered. "We're not going to fit under that."

Soren's eyes darted to the bridge. It took less than a heartbeat for him to realize Tanden was right. Their mainmast was too tall. But, Soren thought hopefully, maybe not by much.