A glance at the side of the canyon wall showed the thin line of torches weaving slowly downward, but still a good distance away. They hadn’t yet reached the sharp turn and loose rocks. Raymer touched toes to cool, but not cold water. Still, it would soon strip them of energy, but it could be worse.
Ander selected a short log no longer than his leg but as large around. “Lay down in the water and hold onto the log with your hands in front of you. Just use it to keep your mouth above water. Float. Don’t kick, it uses too much energy.”
“Who put you in charge?” Quint demanded, locating a similar log.
“He makes sense to me,” Raymer said, as he used a strip of the blanket to bind around his log and staff. He watched the others secure their staffs to their logs, the only weapons they had.
“Not complaining,” Quint smirked at Ander. “I just wanted to tell whoever it was they made a good choice.”
“It’s going to be dark. Stay together. Talk. Let the next in line know when you hit something or pass by danger,” Ander said, his voice almost cheerful. “I’ll go first.”
“Hang on,” Quint said. He darted back to the fire and put it out. He rushed back to the edge of the river with all they were leaving and threw it far out into the river. “No sense in letting them find we’re gone until morning. I doubt they’ll move too fast in the dark for fear we’re waiting for them in ambush so maybe they’ll stumble around searching for us.”
“I like the way you think,” Ander said, as he eased into the water to his knees. Quint and Raymer followed without comment.
When they reached water waist-deep, they shoved their logs ahead and followed, hands resting on the logs to keep their chins above the surface as the deeper, faster-flowing water took hold and carried them. They allowed the river to set the pace, and their eyes adjusted to the moonless starlight until they could make out the darker shapes of boulders ahead, as well as hearing the changes in the flow of the water.
They drifted in near silence, single file, and talked softly when they saw something to pass on to the others. This would be the easy part of the trip. A quarter moon rose and as Raymer glanced at the canyon wall behind he was surprised to find he couldn’t see the campfires above. He looked for the torches the men navigating the ledge carried and couldn’t find them, either. We’ve already come a long way.
He pulled his attention back to the log floating in front of him, but also started comparing the speed they moved to an estimated walk on level ground. They easily covered twice the distance, but anyone walking on the shoreline would also have to contend with loose footing, slippery rocks, logs, brush piles, and underbrush.
He judged the river moved them at two or three times what a man could walk, and possibly faster. The water felt colder than earlier, the heat leached from his body, but he held on. While they would emerge wet and cold, they would outdistance, and possibly lose their pursuit.
The river narrowed near sunrise when the sky lightened in the east, and the stars in that direction faded to nothing. As the river narrowed, the water flowed faster. Instead of running almost straight as it had all night, there now came twists and turns. The river flowed around and over boulders as large as houses. The sound increased to a roar that prevented conversation.
A glance at the nearest shore indicated their speed was fearful. Despite no sleep, Raymer felt no desire to close his eyes. He came wide awake as a boulder in the water larger than his cell flashed past. The log he floated behind struck a submerged rock, and he felt the pain as his knee contacted it.
His teeth wanted to chatter, but the sunrise brought the promise of warmth. He hoped the ride ended soon. His fingers no longer had feeling. He would lose his grip before long, and he wondered how the others were doing. He hadn’t seen either of them for a while.
The walls of the canyon closed in further.
While the narrow portion of the sky visible became blue instead of black, no sun or warmth reached them. The river ran so fast he fought to cling to his log. Raymer no longer felt his hands and fingers, and he choked on water several times, but there was no beach or strip of sand to swim to and rest.
Ander appeared ahead and held up his fist to draw attention. He pointed to the right bank and started kicking his legs to force his log to move in a direction. Raymer spared the time to look where Ander pointed and saw a small area in a backwater that contained floating debris, and possibly a beach.
As he started to turn to the shore, Quint floated from behind and waved an arm to catch their attention. Instead of turning to the shore, he pointed ahead.
Raymer followed Quint. He shouted at Ander with no response. Ander moved closer to the whirl of water and finally looked behind. A confused expression took hold, but when he saw Raymer’s frantic arm waves, Ander reversed his direction and fell into line behind him and Quint.
At the next bend of the river, it widened and the current slowed. In a calmer area, Quint pointed up to the wall of the canyon ahead. It ended as if it was a curtain hanging beside a window. The wall on the left continued for some distance, but then it also ended abruptly.
Raymer realized that at their present speed, they would be at the end of the canyon wall in less time than if they had rested in the backwater. Besides, going back into the water after a rest would have been hard. As much as he was cold and needed to rest, he held on. As the canyon walls widened, the sun reached the river. Almost instantly he felt better.
The three watched the approaching end of the canyon as the river widened and slowed even more. The mid-morning sun warmed their backs Raymer could feel his fingers again, but the feeling was sharp pricks of pain. Even though they were still in the water, the sunlight and warmth on their backs helped.
Later, the river began a wide swing to the right, in the direction the army would arrive. The canyon wall on the left had finally decreased until it remained only a small, solid rock cliff. At times, it looked no taller than a small tree. A small river flowed from the left to join the larger. Quint untied his staff and abandoned his log. He swam for the shore with an awkward sidestroke as he maintained the grip on his staff.
Ander and Raymer arrived at the shore together, helping each other stand in the soft mud that was the left bank of the river. The warm sun immediately took away part of the chill, but Quint simply pointed them ahead to the rocky portion of the shoreline. He remained behind and sloshed water into their deep footprints until they were obscured. Then he brushed the tracks in the dry sand. Only then did he follow.
“Follow that river,” Quint managed between gasps for air.
All three struggled up the bank of the smaller river and over a crest that prevented them from seeing the valley they left behind. Quint fell to his knees and after several deep breaths dropped to the ground and lay with his face to the sun. Raymer and Ander did much the same. All fell into exhausted sleep.
Near midday, the sun had warmed and invigorated Raymer enough for him to wake. He quietly started sorting through the blanket he wore like a backpack. Grabbing a handful of nuts, he backtracked and watched the far shore and river. Their pursuers would come from one way or the other. Maybe both.
“See anything?” Quint asked from behind.
“Nothing. Be nice to know when they get here.”
Quint frowned. “Be nicer if they don’t reach this place until tomorrow and they stay on that side of the river.”
“Think that will happen?”
“I do. My briefing told me how fast the river flowed, especially near the end of the valley, but I think I’m glad we did it at night so we couldn’t see how scared we should have been. Only fools would attempt the float down it again.”