Amber Magic

Chapter Two

The final reddening rays of sunlight streamed down from the heavens to touch mountains, sea, leafy treetops and thatched roofs. Near the western border of the River Haven, at the foot of the Black Mountains, the dying light illuminated a rain cloud. Silvery-gray droplets fell from the cloud's belly and shimmered into arcs of crimson, orange, amber, green, blue and violet. Together, the arcs formed a brilliant rainbow. Everyone in the Haven who saw it knew that somewhere, at the impossible foot of the rainbow, danced a ring of the elusive Faerie.

To the east of the rainbow lay the Berrywine River. There the sunlight fell upon the backs of Brand and his older brother Jak. The warmth of the sun was slight, but it felt good on Brand's bare head and helped keep him from shivering beneath his cloak of gray, homespun wool. Brand glanced to the west and shivered at the sight of the rainbow, its presence chilled him anew. He hunched over his pole and worked harder.

He and Jak were speaking little now, saving their energies for punting the loaded skiff quickly to safety before the light failed completely. The short mast at the center of the skiff was unadorned by a sail as the wind was blowing upriver and into their faces. They had only the current and the power of their limbs to move them down the river.

Their hardwood poles glinted wetly. A dragonfly landed on the tip of Brand's pole, making him smile and pause briefly before it flittered away with a shimmering movement of its translucent wings.

They rounded the last of the Thorn Rocks and entered the deep, slow-moving eddies on the far side. Brand was forced to shove his pole down to where his hands touched the inky river in order to reach the bottom. Soon, they were able to do little more than drift between the spots where they knew the bottom was in range of their long poles.

So busy were the two young men with their task that at first Brand ignored the movement of a shadow in the white-barked birch trees on the west side of the river. The second time, however, the water seemed disturbed, and he looked up. What he saw amongst the trees left his mouth open wide, gaping.

The shadowy figure of a man on horseback stood there-at least it was man-shaped-on the shore, but still hidden somewhat by the long afternoon shadows of the trees. His surprise was not in the sight so much, although it was strange to see a man in the River Haven all clad in black and staring silently, but rather in the feeling that overcame him. Later, he could only describe it as dread-the feeling of a cornered rabbit that turns to face the fox's teeth. Instinctively, he hunkered down, losing his grip momentarily on his pole as it slipped from his fear-numbed fingers.

Then he saw a silvery glint of something in the shadow's hands. Something long and bright.

“You're losing your pole!” shouted Jak, turning back to see what the matter was.

Sure enough, it had slipped completely from his hands and was sinking fast. Brand made a grab for it, caught it, and nearly fell in. After a precarious moment, he regained his feet, years of boating experience coming in to save him. He turned back to the shore, ignoring Jak's perplexed frown.

“What's gotten into…” began Jak, but he halted, following Brand's wide-eyed stare.

They looked together at the trees along the western shore. There was nothing there.

“What was it?” hissed Jak, stowing his pole and unlashing the crossbow. “Was it a merling?”

Brand shook his head. “It's gone.”

“That's the edge of the Deepwood and the Deepwood is full of merling dens. It probably slipped into the water. You get the boathook. If I see its froggy eyes pop up, I'll chance a shot at it,” said Jak, hurriedly putting his foot into the stirrup of his crossbow and cocking it.

“No, no merling…” said Brand. “It was a man-maybe.” He quickly described what he had seen, leaving out only his feeling of cold dread.

Jak stared at him for a long moment, and Brand feared that even his brother was not going to believe him. It did seem very odd, even to him. But finally, Jak nodded, placing a bolt into the slot of the crossbow.

“It's been a strange autumn,” was all that he said.

They watched the water and the trees for a time, but nothing else happened.

“We must get our offering to the village before dark,” said Jak when it seemed clear that the shadowy figure would not return. “The Harvest Moon is almost full tonight.”

Brand quietly agreed.

They spent the rest of the trip tensely watching the western shore. The river moved below them, carrying the skiff rapidly downstream in the narrow portions, barely creeping or swirling backwards in the wide slow parts. They knew every mile of the river, every deep, backwashing eddy and pole-catching snag. More importantly, since the river changed somewhat with the seasons and the years, they knew how to tell a new snag just by the way the current wavered as the water passed over it. Like all the folk that lived in the River Haven, they felt most at home when near running water, or preferably on running water.

Feeling the chill breath of the night that lay ahead, Brand half wished he had worn his newest thigh-high boots, dreading the intrusion of river water and squishy delta mud when they had to wrestle the cargo up to the docks. The trouble was that his older boots were no longer thigh-high as he had grown so greatly this past year. Somehow, he had not yet been able to bring himself to wear his new boots on the river, wanting both to keep them clean and new, and at the same time wanting to savor the comfortable feel of the old ones.

Autumn had come early this year, very early. It seemed that winter was already on its way, although summer had only just ended. The Black Mountains to the east and the higher peaks of Snowdonia to the north were already dusted with caps of snow. Hail had damaged much of the crops, ending hopes of a good harvest. Worse still, there had been many signs that things were not right in the River Haven. Rainbows occurred almost daily, earning frowns and concerned looks cast over hunched shoulders. Reports of wolves, merlings and worse things had become commonplace. All over the Haven, from the High Marshes to the Glasswater Lake delta, came word of things appearing from the forests and mountains, and even out of the Berrywine River itself. Fisherman and hunters made sure they were home by dark, and the shepherds hurried their flocks into their pens early each evening. Up on the Isle of Harling, as far up the river as folk from the Haven ever ventured, a hill giant was supposed to have wrecked a farm with his two great fists. Although many scoffed, everyone was glancing back at the trail behind.

Brand looked down at the crossbow and the boathook that lay atop the skiff's netted cargo of broadleaf melons and berrywine casks. He wondered if a single steel-tipped bolt could stop a hill giant. When he looked up, he noticed that his brother Jak was eyeing him sidelong. Jak was three years older, but Brand was taller. They didn't bear much family resemblance, Jak being blond and brown-eyed, while Brand was dark-haired with eyes like clear blue water. Both, however, had well-muscled shoulders from long years of battling the river's currents and eddies. Jak gave Brand a hard look. Brand blinked for a moment, reminded of first his father and then his mother, both dead these last seven years. In years past, they had all traveled for the offering to Riverton together as a family.

Jak huffed at him then and he was reminded that he wasn't punting, nor was he watching for trouble as was his assigned task. Worse, they were close to the Talon Rapids, where the going became the toughest. Blushing, he put his back into it and turned to watch the shores again. Jak returned to his work in the prow, shaking his head.

Both heaved a sigh of relief when they rounded the final bend into the wide slow section of the river that surrounded Stone Island. In the blue-white twilight, Stone Island was an impressive sight. On three sides the island rose up on cliffs of hard granite, twenty to fifty feet high in most places. Atop this gray wall perched a hilly land of forests and glens. The fourth side, the eastern side, dipped down to the water and cradled a lagoon and the village of Riverton. Chosen long ago as a good site for a community as it was well-protected from storms and floods, Riverton had been the prosperous center of the Haven for as long as anyone could remember.