Wixon's Day Page 19

  Copin and Marquos stop in front of him, his men stood behind them, and the pair have to pause and catch their breath. Copin’s club heaves up and down with his body, blood dripping from its tip to the floor. After the screaming onslaught of the mad attackers, the canal is eerily silent, the pair’s heavy breathing filling the air.

  “I know Kandish voice when I hear it,” the gun-toting man says calmly. “I know Kand’s do good business.”

  “You might have helped us…” Copin growls back, “…a little sooner.”

  “And I might not helped,” the man replies, unfazed. “As I see your friend did not.” He looks at the buildings around them, “You can tell her to come back. We keep you safe.”

  “She probably prefers not to,” Copin says.

  “Yes. I can see. My name is Iva, these are my boys. Don’t talk to them.”

  Marquos and Copin turn to see the darkly clad followers watching them, motionless, swords still ready. Their goggles are not like regular ones; they have unique metal frames individually crafted with miniature valves and levers around the temples. Some of them have leather tubes running away from the eyes, ducking down into their torso clothing.

  Iva demands, “Tell me what you want, and what you pay.”

  “We want passage through Yerth,” Copin says, then pauses for breath. He heaves for a moment, swings an arm towards the boat, “As for payment, I can show you that here.”

  Copin walks by Iva and climbs aboard, grabbing his bag from the deck. He opens it on the bank and draws out a large rifle. It has a long metal barrel, held to its trigger with thin rings, a typical single-shot weapon. Iva stares at it for a moment, then slips his own gun into the holster on his belt and takes the rifle. He looks down the length of the barrel and swings it around, testing its weight, then turns back to Copin and gestures to the bag for more. Copin pulls out a smaller weapon, a repeater pistol, then a third, a small crossbow.

  “There’s more in the bag,” the Kand says wearily. “Enough for all your men, I’m sure.”

  “And it all works?” Iva asks.

  “Of course. You can test them if you like, but I have short ammunition to offer.”

  Iva gives him a suspicious glare, then turns away and pulls the trigger of the rifle. It booms loudly, flaring out a shot that explodes through the nearest wall. Iva gives a satisfied laugh.

  “Very well Kand, now tell me why we don’t take these off you right here?”

  “Because there’s more, at the end of our journey. Much more.”

  “Much more,” Iva smiles and reaches out to the bag, “You may pass, and pay us double on your return.”

  Copin keeps hold of the bag as the bandit tries to take it, staring unflinching into Iva’s eyes as he says “We want safe passage through the whole city.”

  Iva stares back at him, looking a little amused. He concedes, “We can offer protection, but there are no promises here. Where does your journey end?”

  “North. A long way north of the city.”

  “Very well. You continue now?”

  Copin nods, then looks to Marquos for confirmation. Marquos gives his own nod, after a moment’s numb consideration. Iva points up the canal and says “Then let’s go to work.”

  Copin and Marquos shuffle back onto the Hypnagogia as the bandits watch them. The pair share a quick, hushed discussion whilst Iva explains the deal to his men and they start to untie the boat.

  “Can we trust them?” Marquos asks.

  “No, but don’t worry about it. Are you okay out here for a moment? I have to tend to this,” Copin points to the wound on his temple, blood spilling down the side of his face.

  “Do you need help?”

  Copin grins back at him, “I’ve dealt with a few of these in my time. I just need to use your basin.”

  Marquos swings a welcoming arm to the cabin, and the Kand retires down the stairs. The pilot calls out, “Stoke the engine whilst you’re there,” but Iva quickly intercedes “Leave it Kand. We’re better off without.”

  Copin shows no sign of hearing either remark, disappearing inside. Iva approaches the boat and jumps aboard next to Marquos, his men disappearing into the buildings along the side of the canal. The bandit says “You can push this monstrous machine, can’t you?”

  “It moves a lot faster with the engine running,” Marquos tells him.

  “It moves a lot slower if people hear you coming and kill you, don’t it?”

  The pilot gives him a cold look, irritated at being shown up but recognising he’s at fault. He reaches around the side of the boat and starts to unhinge a long length of pole with a hook on the end. Holding it by the hook, Marquos pushes it into the water and feels for the bottom. The canal is deep, but the pole reaches with ample room for Marquos to clamber onto and apply his full weight. It shifts slowly, and the boat moves slightly. Marquos pulls the pole up and pushes down again, barely able to force the Hypnagogia into motion.

  “Tide comes in an hour or so,” Iva says. “It won’t take that long to reach the river, then tide takes you upriver, out of city.”

  “How do you know that?” Marquos asks, giving the pole another heave. Each struggling push makes the boat a little lighter to move.

  “My city, my business,” Iva snorts back at him, unimpressed. “Do you want to tell me what you do here, Estal?”

  “Not especially,” Marquos huffs back, another push on the pole stealing his breath.

  “I see we’ll be best of friends,” Iva flashes him a smile, revealing at least two teeth made from crude, dull metal. “When Kand returns, tell him we not stop until city limits. Keep moving. Speed is safety out here.”

  Without another word, Iva turns and jumps back off the boat. He runs the short distance of pavement into a side-alley and slips away between buildings. Marquos pauses, holding the pole in mid-push, and examines the increasingly urban surroundings. The light is fading fast, and once again he can see no movement in the towers that loom over them. Without the sound of the Hypnagogia’s engine, there is only the rocking of the boat on the water, a gentle sway of waves, to occupy the air. Marquos feels a chill run through him, suddenly abandoned, and regards his own hands, shaking. He screws his eyes shut for a moment and orders himself to be strong. Cannot stop. Not for a moment. Don’t think about it. He heaves the pole back into the water and pushes the boat on.

  11

  Silently pushing the Hypnagogia between the streets of Yerth, alone for all the world, immediately and profoundly dips into Marquos’ heart as one of the loneliest, most frightening times of his life. With no guarantee that Iva’s men are still out there, he dreads every crack of every building that he passes. Daylight leaves him in a matter of minutes, plummeting the city into pitch darkness, and Marquos does not dare light a lantern for fear of drawing attention. Blindly pushing the boat onwards into the night, he stares ahead wide-eyed, searching the black for any kind of detail. He cannot make out the slightest feature ahead, and his only guide is to slowly knock the Hypnagogia into the bank of the canal. At this speed, it should do no damage bouncing off the fenders, but the noise of the weighty boat colliding with the wood that frames the bank is unbearably loud, a crash of thunderous proportions compared to the deathly silence. After two or three collisions, Marquos carefully guides the boat with the tiller in one hand and the pole pushing heavily in the other. Picking up momentum, he pushes with less effort and tries with all his might to keep it pointed straight down the canal.

  Marquos grows painfully aware that no light is coming from the cabin. If Copin is still dressing the wound, how can he do it without light? Marquos resolves himself to the Kand’s collapse and quickly becomes convinced that Copin is not going to return to the deck. He is alone in this alien city, unable to see an inch in front of his face, guiding his boat further and further into the abyss. Resting on the tiller and pushing the pole, all he can do is keep moving, finding some solace in maintaining a rhythmic motion, focusing entirely on the boat. Just keep moving. Keep moving
and forget the rest. At the back of his mind the thought creeps in that the sky is as cloudy here as anywhere; otherwise there would be light from the stars. There is nothing. He feels himself trembling with fear. The gentle sway of waves and the creak of the wood of his boat subside to a new sound; his own quivering breath, coming out in the occasional small whimper that he cannot suppress. Just keep moving. Keep pushing the boat. How will I ever get back? The further I go, the further I have to go back. He knows that only through continuing can he keep himself from total panic, though. Keep pushing the boat. Keep a hand steady on the tiller. Minimise noise, maximise speed. Do not think. Do not think.

  When the cabin door opens, his whole body convulses in fear and he lets go of the pole. It slips down through his fingers and he has to snatch back at it, almost stumbling over the edge of the boat and letting out a panicked gasp. He freezes with one hand clutching the boat wall, the other squeezing onto the pole, and the Hypnagogia sways with his sudden motion. It clangs back into the bank, another resounding echo of a crash. Copin’s voice whispers up to him “Easy man, it’s just me.”

  Marquos lets out a huge breath of relief, his eyes welling up with tears as his fear is released. He is thankful he cannot be seen, hiding his emotion. He quickly probes for the tiller handle again and steadies the boat, pushing the pole back into the canal base, as Copin’s feet squeak upon the stairs. Copin crawls to the floor of the deck and sits there, whispering “How are you controlling a boat in this darkness? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Copin chuckles lightly, “I can’t believe my eyes.”

  “I thought you weren’t coming back,” Marquos blurts out, his tremulous voice a mark of the fear shaking through him. Copin picks up on it at once and slips over to him, placing a friendly hand on his foot and tapping it, saying “Easy, easy lad. I’m here. I wouldn’t up and die on you.”

  “There was no light,” Marquos trembles on, “No light in the cabin. I thought maybe you’d collapsed. Oh Kail, it’s so dark. I think Iva’s left us, I think we’re done. Thank the gods you’re here. Thank the gods.”

  “It’s okay,” Copin replies in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. Iva’s out there. We’re safe. You’re doing a remarkable job, like no boat pilot I’ve seen before. You have to be one of the bravest men I’ve known, Marquos.”

  Marquos is still shaking, and fears that Copin can feel it through his foot. He cannot stop it though, and whimpers on “I’m not, Copin. I’m so scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Copin replies, and his voice is calmly serious. “I know for sure I wouldn’t have the balls to move a boat in this darkness, and you’re doing it right now.”

  Marquos clenches his teeth, pushing the pole, steady on the tiller. Keep moving. Just keep moving. You’re not alone.

  “Listen,” Copin whispers, and Marquos strains to do so. He can barely hear a noise over his snivelling short breaths. He holds his breath and takes in the sound of the Hypnagogia creaking. Listens to the gentle waves. Then a louder splash of water.

  “That’s the river!” Marquos cries out uncontrollably, and quickly clamps his mouth shut as Copin squeezes his foot in warning. The Kand asks “Can you navigate that river? Do we have to stop?”

  “Iva said the tide would be coming in,” Marquos whispers back, “If he’s telling the truth, we can float upstream, as long as we keep the bank to one side.” Marquos pushes the pole harder into the canal, trying to pick up speed, “We can get out of the city, quickly.”

  “There might be obstacles in the river,” Copin comments, but Marquos is filled with new enthusiasm, blurting back “To hell with them! We’ll ride over them!”

  “Easy!” Copin says. “Keep it cool.”

  Marquos pushes the pole heavier, and the boat knocks into the bank of the canal again. With each pushing movement, the sound of the river grows louder. The deep silence of the city makes the casual tide appear torrential, echoing around them with a hurricane force. Only the timely sway, and the stillness of the canal, betrays the calmness of the river. The Hypnagogia suddenly becomes heavier to push forwards, the water resisting it, and Marquos lets out a short laugh, “We’ve hit the sway! We’re almost there.”

  “I can hear it,” Copin comments. “Keep it steady.”

  Marquos puts all his might into pushing again, grunting as he lands the pole into the canal. Copin can hear him struggling and carefully feels his way to standing. Marquos finds Copin’s hands probing over him until they reach the pole, and the two work together to shove the boat along. The Hypnagogia mounts a wave, rising and falling suddenly, and is caught in a drift that swings them sideways, making both men stumble. They reach out to the walls and steady themselves, and Marquos announces “We’ve made it! We’re on the river!”

  “And facing the right way?” Copin demands back. Marquos blindly feels around the deck, pulling the pole up and slipping past Copin to start probing to the port side of the boat. He touches something hard and gives a push, and the boat drifts a little in the waves. The water carries it up and down in a steady movement, completely disorientating in the dark. Marquos pushes the pole down into the water and has to let it go almost its full length before finding the bottom and steadying it. There he sways on the weight of the boat as it drifts one way and then another.

  “This was a bad idea,” he murmurs quietly.

  “Give me pole,” Iva’s voice cuts through the dark from far to the left. Marquos looks towards it with alarm, still seeing nothing but black. The bandit repeats himself with an urgent hiss, “This way. Hold it out. We pull you closer to shore.”

  Marquos holds up the pole and feels Copin creeping up behind him. The Kand feels over him again before grabbing onto the pole as well, and the pair swing it back and forth, towards Iva’s voice, until it is caught. They tug, and feel resistance, and Iva announces, “We pull you close.”

  There must be more than one bandit attached to the pole, heaving it towards the shore, as Marquos and Copin have to hold on with all their strength to keep their grip, planting their feet firmly against the boat walls, and the boat shifts under their effort. It swings around towards shore, and under the sway of the river comes banging into the bank with the sound of wood slamming into wood. As Marquos and Copin pull the pole back, suddenly released from the bandits, they hear the thumping of hands on the side of the ship, running down to the bow.

  “My men take ropes,” Iva quickly explains, his voice now mere feet from the boat. “Keep pushing with the pole, try to keep as far away from the bank as you can. If you go out too far, we be ready.”

  “Okay,” Marquos whispers back. The bandits’ feet patter away from the boat and are suddenly silent again. The pilot takes the pole and slips it along the bank, scraping across the pavement, until it splashes back into the river. He pushes the boat carefully off, then slips the pole down until he feels the base of the river. He gives only a gentle shove, and the tide shifts the boat forwards. He shoves again, directed away from the bank, and they quickly pick up speed.

  “You know what,” Copin whispers carefully, his mouth inches from the pilot’s ear. Marquos tenses and the Kand continues “I’ve a feeling we’re gonna be alright.”

  Marquos frowns, running the sentence through his head. He’s not sure, but he thinks he can actually hear Copin smiling. It takes a moment to settle in, then Marquos lets out a little snigger of his own. He replies “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  Copin chuckles lightly, and Marquos’ smile stretches to a grin. He grabs sideways, feeling Copin’s arm, and snakes his arm up behind the Kand to hug his shoulders and whispers into his ear, “You bastard. I thought you were dead. I really thought you might’ve died.”

  “This boat isn’t fancy enough for my grave,” Copin replies, hugging Marquos back. “And I’ll be damned if the last person to hear my voice is some snivelling little Estalian!”

  The pair hold onto one another as they start drifting up the river at a more reaso
nable pace. As the pilot lets his arm slip away from Copin, giving the pole another shove into the river, he asks “Where the hell are we?”

  “A long way away,” Copin murmurs back. “And loving it, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah,” Marquos replies without sincerity. “Absolutely.”

  12

  It takes over an hour of steady movement up the river before the Hypnagogia is pulled to a stop and Iva reappears at its side. With the knowledge that the bandits are guiding the boat to one side, and Copin is safe at his side, Marquos starts to find the gentle rocking of the boat relaxing as the darkness denies any sense of sight or location.

  “This is as far as we go, my men moor you,” Iva’s voice says, the ropes pulling the boat to the river bank. “I join you inside, give us some light.”

  Marquos hesitates, but rests the pole down and feels his way towards the cabin. He climbs carefully down the stairs and uses his hands to find the nearest lantern hung in the cabin. He releases the gas valve and lets it hiss for a moment before sparking the switch so it flares into light, then immediately turns the valve down to its lowest. He squints as the lantern glows in his face, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust. Copin slips down behind him, whispering “Move on through, would you?”

  Marquos steps into the cabin, holding the lantern up, and marvels at the simple ability to see again. The depth of objects, the colours, the textures, all seem wondrous after so long without. The pilot finds himself breathing out with heavy sighs of relief. As Copin moves into view he sees the long wound down the Kand’s face, carefully stitched back together, clean and dry.

  Iva follows the pair into the cabin and closes the door behind him. Still hushed, he tells them, “We reached city limit. You run into mountain river, so tide cannot help you here. All I say is you travel with small light and keep your engine quiet. If possible.”