Daoda's Gift baked the four fugitives as they ran beside the river. Lon snatched glances at the waterfall any chance he got and because the mountain was so tall, some piece of the spectacle was always there to behold. The attraction mesmerized his eyes and seized his mind as he jogged ever closer through the thickening jungle.
Wherever possible, the lad chose paths under the lindens that grew by the stream. It was a few degrees cooler under their boughs and these waterholes offered the best chance of finding edible game. Sadly, for the hungry runners the creek was entirely void of animals and yet this region teemed with life. As they progressed Jarl pointed out paw prints, hoof marks and tufts of brown and white fur on coarse bark trees. The group constantly passed grass beds that were trampled and matted with dung.
The trumpet blast meant they were prey to be hunted, yet when Lon gazed around this empty land he felt only freedom and happiness. Their escape route was so obvious, but so daunting that he doubted any soldiers would dare pursue them up the mountainside. It was a simple plan and with these hearty companions he was sure it would succeed. He was firmly in command of his destiny now and he'd even built-up some momentum. The murderous priest would be hard pressed to catch him out here. With these friends he could easily cross the hundred mile square island, infiltrate the port in disguise, and find passage away somewhere in under a month; that was achievable. His mother wouldn't recognize him when he came home, but in time she'd accept his changed body because he was still her son and still Lonastasius Treanole and still entitled to his birthright.
The terrain changed and the ground became soft as they approached the mist maker. Lon felt its hot moisture in the air around him. This is a rain forest. The meandering river straightened and the water ran faster as the ground ahead sloped higher. Sturdy conifers found deep soil here and grew tall with wide trunks. Their mass blocked everyone's view of the falls.
All four runaways dripped with sweat as they groped ever-higher uphill. Tharus removed his slave tunic and tied the ragged garment around his waist. Clyde was still fully dressed, and he huffed and puffed at the rear of the party. He appeared uncomfortable in his quilted jacket, heavy trousers and boots. The sight of him trailing behind made Tharus and Jarl queasy and they quick-marched ahead so they wouldn't have to consider him part of the crew.
The riverbank was smooth rock, and in some places it was slippery and dangerous beside violent rapids. The roar of the falls overhead deafened their ears and yet Lon still couldn't see the impact point. It was clear the smooth cliff behind the downpour returned the sound. The steady pace he set for the pack stalled in the dense thicket that surrounded the spray-shrouded mystery above.
Lon decided to leave the river and find a new route around through this last ring of trees. Tharus and Jarl followed, and Clyde trailed behind. The young lad really wanted to see the lake at the bottom of the drop. He'd worked towards this momentous discovery all day. But he froze when he sensed movement in the canopy. He looked up just in time to see a brown smear move through the trees.
"Monkeys !" Jarl shouted. The sight of the furry critters excited some latent instinct in his brain and he tore-off after the chattering chimps. He only got a few paces before it became clear there was no apprehending them. The hungry lion looked back at Lon and Tharus and he twitched his cat-ears and waggled his shoulders to encourage them to follow.
Tharus was ready to try, and he stepped forward, but the sea drover wasn't interested in the lionfeigor's loose foray to find monkey meat and he shook his head no.
"You'd have to fly to catch them." Clyde huffed, out-of-breath, as he caught up to the others.
Jarl glared daggers at the scribe and sneered contemptuously as his expensive clothes, soaked with sweat.
The clerk pretended he didn't notice or didn't care as he continued-on towards Lon, their leader.
The tension dissolved when the sea drover turned his back to hack ever higher up-slope. The trees blocked his view. He just wanted to discover the natural wonder, and see how the falling water made the thunder.
The others watched and lined up behind the lad. There wasn't much they could do to help his personal struggle with the shrubs. The branch-wood here seem fused together in a natural palisade that proved almost impregnable. Lon had never seen trees so tightly knit. In all his timbering he'd never encountered such thick undergrowth. After several minutes of masticating the leafy boscage with his blunt blade and only progressing a few more feet for his trouble, he finally came to a rock wall with an acute overhang that completely blocked their path.
The way forward was still possible, but each of them would have to jump and grab the stone ledge that jutted forward overhead. From that point, each would have to pull themselves up by their arms. What made it even harder, was that the shelf above was so narrow it'd be difficult for anyone else to help. Lon handed his saber to Clyde and prepared to go first.
The sea drover jumped to show how easily it could be done if you were young and healthy and had enough upper-body strength to raise your own weight. Yesterday morning this same exercise would have been impossible for him with his gangrene shoulder. He remembered how Minister Horne had helped him up the boat ladder. He shivered away that haunting recollection before he knelt and took back his saber. Then he cleared the path for Clyde.
Everyone watched the overweight clerk ready himself for the trial and the young lad gave him an encouraging nod. Could he do it? If he failed here, there'd be no hope for him higher-up on the mountainside.
Lon held his breath. He didn't want to leave Clyde behind. He watched him run and jump and grab the ledge. So far so good, but that was as far as he got. He grunted and groaned and his legs dangled. He couldn't raise himself. The shapeless scribe struggled and was stuck.
"Help?" Clyde asked. His arm muscles were clearly not strong enough to hoist his bulk and so he needed some assistance. Lon wormed-in close and got a hand on his silk fabric'd shoulder. But then he saw how Tharus and Jarl wouldn't help. They'd stepped back and now watched with wry smiles as the wealthy runaway dangled by his arms.
"Jarl, Tharus. Push on his legs." Lon commanded as he fought the brambles to get even closer so he could hoist Clyde's shoulder. When they still didn't move, he shouted down at them. "You two are the ones holding us up."
"We didn't enlist to help nobles," Jarl growled.
"No?" Lon tamped down his frustration. "But he'd help you. Don't think we're not going need everyone."
The big cat growled.
"Jarl. You told us about Asgul. Your company split-up. Right? If you hadda stayed together..." Lon caught the big cat's eye. "You help him. He'll help you."
"I always pay my debts," Clyde gripped the ledge.
"Shshh," Lon quieted him least he ruin the persuasive argument he'd just presented.
The lionfeigor and the lizard turned to regard each other before they reluctantly stepped forward to push.
Lon pulled the noblekin from above and together all three renegade captives raised the runaway Crolean valet up through the brush. Clyde smiled thanks and wisely keep quiet to follow wordlessly behind.
The sea drover was the first to crest the hill and breach the treeline that ringed the shore above. The waterfall's thunder boomed in his ears. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and he gasped at the awesome spectacle laid out before his eyes.
An immense shaft of water as wide as the Annabelle poured down two hundred and fifty feet to strike a mile -wide plunge pool below. The torrent held its shape all the way down. The thick spike of water made a churning maelstrom that swirled about and hung over the world below. The towering vapor cloud loomed over the lake and this stormy churn hid the actual point-of-impact. Water particles hung suspended in the air and the late afternoon sun made rainbows in every direction.
The waterfall's basin was a natural greenhouse that absolutely teamed with life. Long-legged birds fished in the shallows, monkeys chattered in trees and the four escapees could see a herd of water buffalo graze on aquatic plants at the far end of the bubble. There was no cave behind the falls either. Lon ran his eyes across the smooth rock face on the other side of the lake. The cliff behind the water drop contained no cavities whatsoever and that meant the river had never dribbled down its side but had always leaped out and landed free and clear of the mountain's foundation.
Jarl fearlessly waded into the lake and cupped his hands to scoop the cool refreshing liquid into his mouth and slake his thirst. They all did. Then the big cat chased the first edible game he glimpsed. This happened to be a hairless marsupial that chose exactly the wrong time to visit the lagoon. The critter squealed and ran for safety. Jarl pursued.
Tharus lingered at the shoreline for a moment and then vanished when he saw fish scales flash below the surface.
Clyde drank liberally and refilled his water skin before he lay back on the smooth stone shoreline. He rested his legs and arms and his brown hair pillowed around his head. He gazed-up at the water spout high above and a confused look crossed his handsome face.
"I worry it's not possible for me climb up there." Clyde pointed-up at the almost invisible shelf from which the water issued.
"That's fine. We're not going up there."
"We're not?" The noblekin sat up and stared at him, "But, I thought you said..."
"We're going up there," Lon pointed out a far more realistic approach that was essentially a giant staircase made of granite steps. The ascent was followed by short vertical climb at the apex. The endpoint was just below the same water-filled ledge, but one hundred feet or more from the spout. He pointed out their route and brought his finger to the falls. "You can see it's the same ledge," he said as he traced the hidden contours of the water sill against the smooth cliff face. "There must be some width to it." The lad pointed up even higher, "After that we go around, and through, and I'll just bet that there's another lake even bigger than this one up there."
"We'll find out." the minister's assistant smiled and retrieved some of sea cabbage cargo for a tasty snack. When Lon saw the leaf it reminded him of the disparities that existed in the party and he decided they should speak now while the others were absent.
"Clyde. We need to tell them something of your real mission, and about Horne. The artifact. The Samadino book."
The noble from Barobell looked Lon in the eyes and shook his no in solemn disagreement. "There's no reason to tell them. If we're captured, or get separated... It's better they don't know."
"Better for who?" Lon asked. "For you?"
"I walk a fine line."
"So if we're seized you can say you're just a prisoner?"
"I made my position clear to the Minister back on the beach." Clyde said in his own defense.
"Will you come with us to the Port? You have trade connections there?"
"Yes, that is something we should discuss." Clyde stood up on his feet and faced him. "Lon. The port will be crawling with them." He spoke slowly as if explaining something difficult to a child. "One Crol expedition, will bring a fleet here, and more will surely come as each of them learn of this, er, these developments..."
"So what are you saying?"
"Your route off the isle is fraught with peril I'm afraid, but I will happily accommodate..."
"You're not coming?" Lon interrupted.
"My agenda is to Prince Ka..."
"So you're just using us?"
"Us?" Clyde asked. "Are you with them now? Because of your brief time in bondage with these.. er honest folk? I'm from Barobell. I know Amon's Code."
"We are not the same." Lon clarified, "I'm one of them because we three are bound together to get off this island and get away from this place." He thought it about more, and then reasoned, "if we get caught, we die. And you? Probably not."
"I will pledge my life for your safety." Clyde resolved, "I pledge my crest to you for the rest of your days, and let's pray to Kluth we all live long lives."
"Your crest?"
"The Tolden of Barobell. Someday I may inherit it all." The clerk stepped close so he didn't have to yell as loud over the falls, "and then we can travel in style."
"You do not have any wealth, do you?"
"... in my sea chest aboard the Annabelle... There's some baubles."
Splat. A dead fish landed on the flat rock beside them. The organism had its stomach removed and most of its head was missing but one eye remained. When they turned to spot the source, they saw a green arm telescope out of the water and lob another shiner up on shore. Tharus fished in Septhalese style; he could out-swim the creatures he caught and cleaned underwater. He used the blood and guts to attract bigger prey. The swamp-feigor could stay submerged like that for minutes at a time.
They heard movement in the shrubs and turned to look just as the bushes shook apart and Jarl emerged with his blade in his hands and a worried expression on his face. "Lon come see this," he huffed as calmly as he could manage. Something had upset him.
Lon gave Clyde a lingering last look which suggested there was more to discuss. Then he turned and followed Jarl.
The big cat led the white-haired lad up a slight rise from which it was possible to survey the sloping terrain they 'd just traversed. The sea drover followed the old soldier up the knoll that was a mini rampart on the ridge. When he got to the top he saw at once why Jarl was so anxious.
Seven furlongs south where the yellow ground was dry grass, the young lad saw the hunting party. There were twenty of them and he watched as they searched about the first watering hole where the fugitives had relaxed an hour ago. What troubled him was how the enemy all wore the black and gold armor of the Crolean elite guard.
"They'll follow our tracks." Lon whispered. "They'll be here in an hour".
Jarl knew all this of course, and they both knew these elites were better soldiers than the ill-trained sailors they'd slain on the beach; these feigor were the rowers from those two new black triremes and each oarsman was a skilled javelineer. Individually they were formidable, but in proper formation they were devastating. Very few fighting forces alive on Tokal could overcome Crolean elites massed on the field.
"Look closer. See their guide?" Jarl pointed.
Lon followed his outstretched finger to focus on the figure who lead the squad; here was a nearly naked scout whose shape and form was unmistakable. The tracker was Hastegus.
Hastegus leads them? How? He must have volunteered some inside information as the Crols would never put a condemned prisoner in such an exalted position. He must have suggested that he was the best choice because he knew the shape of their feet. Or because he knew the escapees better than anyone else and so he could best track them in this foreign land. He'd risked his life for the job, and he'd be slaughtered if he failed. Yet there he was, alive on the island. He'd been reborn in a manner and now led a force just like he'd predicted. But was it the role he'd envisioned? Lon wasn't sure how he felt right now. Just yesterday he'd believed Hastegus was a loyal friend, and so this was betrayal. But even more disturbing, deep down, he felt like occultist should have been selected as sacrifice and he should be the sea drover.
Jarl had more to say. He shifted his weight awkwardly and cleaned his blade on a leafy bush as he gathered his thoughts. "Wait. Lonastatius. I want to ask you something."
Lon raised an eyebrow at the use of his full name.
"I don't know exactly who or what you've become..." Jarl began.
"I'm the same. Just healthier," Lon said.
"No. I don't believe you're the same as you were. I don't believe you know what you are." Jarl didn't let Lon interrupt again, "I'll climb with you. I'll help your friend. We'll get to whatever is up there, but after that, I'll go my own way. Tharus will come with me likely."
Lon winced. That hurt. "But we're all bound for the same port?" He lied. Clyde had just made it clear that he had other plans.
"Lon, I'm minuchin. I'm a Lambspetal lion and Tharus is a Septhalese swampkin; we don't travel with confirmed Alocerians who've called for our extermination." Jarl pointed with his sword in the direction of Clyde on the beach, some distance away through the trees.
"He isn't that."
"He's an attendant to a Crolean grand high minister that's mastered mind control. Could you imagine the person it would take to fill that position? And now to run? Such a feigor could pretend to be anyone. Do you understand? Didn't you see him wipe Horne's ass on the boat?! Are you blind?"
"He knows things about... The ring. And what happened to me."
"Lonny," Jarl growled, "his boots will fit me. These pinch."
"Don't touch him. He's loyal to me."
That caused Jarl's eyes to widen. "To you?"
Lon grew frustrated and for the first time ever he considered punching Jarl in the mouth. He knew he could do it too; he was younger and healthier, and he had muscles now. He wanted to make the closed-minded feline comprehend what he could see so clearly; Clyde wasn't a Crol, but the son of a rich noble who merely got swept up and is now being used by strong forces to help solve a timeless mystery. He knows Amon's Code. You just can't fake the Forest Law.
"You call yourself minuchin," Lon scowled, "he doesn't. You say he's Crolean, or Alocerian, but he isn't. You think he's loyal to Horne, but that's not true either... And you say I'm blind?"
The yellow-faced lion rubbed his whiskers in quiet contemplation, and the two feigor stood and regarded each other for several seconds.
"Wanna test his loyalty?" the experienced guard captain asked, and when Lon didn't say anything, he continued; "tonight, I'll suggest making a fire. Something I'd never do mind you, and let's just see what he says. Okay?"
"That's not fair," Lon said, but then he thought back on how Clyde had made the torch on the beach and how he 'd fashioned the bonfire on the hill last night, and he went silent.
"A feigor on-the-run from Crols should not want a fire. So let's see what he says." Jarl grinned at his own plan.
The young lad thought about how Clyde had wanted a cooking fire with butter and salt when he'd tasted the raw crab meat. He'd likely fail Jarl's test but that didn't mean he was an enemy agent. Did it? After some consideration, he reluctantly agreed. "Okay."
The white-haired leader returned to the lake and Jarl trailed behind. They found Tharus had surfaced from his swim and now sat surrounded by mangled fish. The lizard was the happiest Lon had ever seen him. Some of the critters he'd caught still flopped with life at his side. The reptilian filleted a juicy specimen in his hand and fish guts dribbled from his chin. He hummed with pride as he cleaned his bounteous catch with only his razor-sharp teeth and talon hands; the sword he'd taken on the beach lay unused at his side.
Jarl nudged Lon and pointed to Clyde who was ten feet away and collected driftwood. He'd already made a small pile and now worked to gather a second load.
"What are you doing Clyde?" Lon asked.
Clyde just looked at Lon and held forth the tinder. It was pretty obvious.
"We'll need to get our sstrength up before the climb." Tharus answered on his behalf. "We'll roasst these fisshes and I'll get ssix more for tomorrow."
"They'll be no fire." the young lad poured cold water on the idea from ten feet away. "Gather up... Let's go." Then he looked directly at Clyde. "Fill your water skin."
"I have already," Clyde dropped the sticks in compliance.
Tharus wasn't so quick to jump. He raised a bumpy white eyebrow and frowned a nonverbal challenge. Before Lon could explain, Jarl updated them both.
"Hastegus tracks our footprints," the lionfeigor revealed and he pointed with his sword in the direction they'd just come.
The swampkin's eyes widened at the new information. "Hassssstegussss," he said as he contemplated the new development. He dropped the fish and it flopped on the killing rock between his legs. "How long do we have?"
"No time for Septhalese fillet. Let's go." Lon said. Clyde hustled into place behind him.
Jarl motioned the two should begin the trek. He waved them away down the smooth stone shoreline, but the young lad didn't leave just yet. Lon noticed for the first time that the crafty lionfeigor had converted his ragged tunic into a handy cloth bag.
"We'll catch-up" Jarl said and waved them on, but again Lon didn't move. He watched as the big cat helped Tharus scoop-up his fresh-caught fish into the cloth bag that he'd made. That was smart. The furry feline really didn't need his upper garment. His skin was like leather and much thicker than others. The natives of Lambspetal grew-up in the desert which had refined such characteristics. Jarl collected the swampkin's fish and kicked his friend to his feet.
The reptile grumbled as he rose but understood the urgency. He snatched up the specimen between his legs and ate three quick bites before throwing the remains in the water. Then he collected his own sword and slave tunic and fell into line behind Clyde.
Jarl came last. The big cat secured the fish sack and paused to study the shoreline. He checked to see if they'd left behind any little details for Hastegus to find, and of course they had. There were fish guts a-plenty on the rocks, but there was no time to clean them away. Even then, the tracker would surely spot the attempt. So, he must have resolved to let the clues be found; the lion slung his pack over his shoulder and followed the others north along the smooth stone shoreline of the loudest lake in Tokal.