Darkwell - Douglas Niles [96]
He and Robyn sat in the bow of the little craft, while Pawldo rode beside Tavish in the stern and Yak sat amidships. Canthus bounded nervously from one place to another, while Newt perched on the prow as a living figurehead.
"Yippee! Here comes another one!" The faerie dragon's exhilaration was not shared by the other passengers as the boat darted down a narrow, foaming chute to burst into more placid waters.
"Ride water!" shouted Yak, his face split by a gap-toothed grin. "Look!" The giant pointed at a craggy rock formation and stood up to get a better view.
"Sit down!" shouted Tavish and Tristan together as the boat heeled dangerously to the side. Puzzled, Yak sat and the craft righted itself.
"That was a close call!" groaned the king, wiping spray from his face.
"What was so great about that rock, anyway?" demanded Pawldo.
"It probably reminded him of his mother." Tavish seemed to be enjoying their ride down the rapids.
For a short time, the vessel bobbed peacefully as the water meandered through a wide, deep stretch. Then the walls narrowed, looming above them, and again the river became a raging torrent. The boat raced between the rocky sides of the gorge, but Tavish's steady hand on the tiller kept them in the center of the channel.
"The water's deep enough to cover the big rocks," said the bard. "That helps a lot!"
"How long do you think it'll last?" Tristan looked at Robyn, still amazed by the power she had displayed in bringing the river to life.
"I don't know. The wind spell lasted for a long time, but faded as soon as I reached the vale. I suspect it's harder for the magic to work here, so I assume we only have an hour or so."
"We're making great time, anyway." Tristan had been surprised and delighted by the speed of their boat. "We've already made half a day's progress!"
The gray sky still glowered its threat of snow, but for the time being, no flakes fell. Nearly a foot of snow lined the banks of the river, however. The temperature remained below freezing, and in places where the water splashed up on the rock walls, it left an icy sheen. Only the forceful current prevented the entire waterway from freezing.
Best of all, there was no sign of the deathbirds. The flock would have been hard put to keep up with the racing boat, and the depth of the gorge often screened the river from view from the sky.
Once more the river widened, and they relaxed their holds. Tristan noticed that his knuckles were white from the strain of gripping the gunwale, and he stretched his fingers in relief at the temporary respite.
The water rolled, a deep gray-green below them, washing against what was now a flat shore.
"We can beach the boat anywhere along here" offered Tavish. "It'll be a lot harder to do once we drop into the rapids again."
"Let's take advantage of the river while we've got it." Tristan spoke for all of them in preferring to stay with the boat, however hair-raising the rapids, to another long overland trek.
Soon the rumbling of the torrent grew in volume again, and they saw the walls of the gorge rising high above the water before them.
"Sounds like a pretty fast one," admitted the bard, looking a little worried for the first time. "Everybody get a handhold!"
Tristan looked ahead and saw the water drop away. He couldn't see what lay beyond, but the roaring grew to a thunderous crescendo, and then the boat flew into the chute.
The gorge became a blur of rock and snow as the craft heeled and lurched through the rapids. Spray flew from all sides, drenching and chilling them, but none of the companions dared let go of his precious handhold. The boat crunched into a rock, jerking to a sudden halt before breaking free to race along with the current again. Tristan, alarmed, saw water spurting through several of the planks in the hull, but he dared not let go to bail.
The river dipped into a hole and flew out the