Chapter Fourteen – Welcomed Waters
Alban had left the now raging river in a hurry with his prisoner in Decebal’s chariot. It was not that he was worried that the owner would show up. Of course, the thought did cross his mind. Neither had he seen Decebal leave the canyon with those who had deserted the late Emperor of Darvania nor had he seen him wash away with the others down the once dried up river bed which now had great, gushing waters flowing quite freely along the desert floor.
“For such a rotund man, that Decibal sure is sneaky!” Alban said aloud to himself. Then he began to think in silence as he rode along.
Alban’s grandfather had talked about a time when the waters flowed freely through the land which, to Alban, had always been a desert. The land was given to the Effulgian Crown in a treaty after the king of Gurther was caught encroaching on the lands of Badgerden. As part of the terms, and as a gift from Badgerden to Alban’s grandfather for helping him in the war, Badgerden gave it to Effulgia when the land was offered by Gurther as appeasement for his invasion when proven to be wrong in his advancement. The lands, bordering Effulgia, Badgerden’s land, Darvania, and the kingdom of Gurther were accepted by Alban’s grandfather with great reluctance and only after intense insistence on the part of Badgerden, as he was most grateful for the preservation of his kingdom. The Effulgian monarch had not wanted to accept any land contiguous to Darvania, knowing the fact that they did pride themselves on war and the strength of their men and the wit of their ruling class. They displayed it far too often for Effulgia’s taste.
Actually, were it not for a dream that the king had the night before, he should not have liked to accept it. He had a dream which told of great restoration in which he found a great chest of gold that had been stolen from his courier on his way to buy iron smelting supplies years before. In his heart, it just felt right to accept, so, he did. Later, when he found out about the drying up of the river, the king still felt a peace within him. Still, it had been all but forgotten for years except by the occasional trade caravan (mostly slavers and merchants), until recent years when the bandits had shown up.
Alban reflected on the story his grandfather had told him about his dream as he rode back to find his friends. He found Freya and Garrve sitting by the fire in conversation. He pulled the chariot right up next to the fire.
“Am I interrupting something here?” he asked.
“What?!” Freya asked, visibly upset.
“I could come back in a while when you have finished if you need more . . .”
“What are you getting at, Alban?” Freya prodded.
“I am just thinking that while you two sit here and exchange recipes, there is a caravan (I guess maybe two or so) that is in dire need of water!”
Freya spewed sarcasm as she said, “Speaking of recipes, I never did get your recipe for that dish that you cooked for the company back at headquarters! Besides, there is no water for a day and a half’s journey.”
“There is a whole raging river no more than ten minutes from here!” he said, as he threw his canteen made from boarve hide at her feet.
“You have found water, and this whole time you carry on like some banterbird?” Freya chided.
“Yes . . . I suppose that a banterbird will fit!” Alban teased.
“But, what about the water?” Garrve questioned desperately.
Alban asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well did you find some or is that part of your torturous strutting?” Freya asked impatiently.
“Torturous strutting?” both men asked in jest, eyebrows raised in quizzing delight.
Then Alban said, “I suppose that . . . well, in fairness, both! That canteen was filled from the river not more than fifteen minutes ago; it’s still cold! I never took any water with me this morning, ask Garrve. However, if you feel so tortured by my presence, I could actually start strutting!” he wryly smiled as he put his hands under his arms and began walking like a bird and yelling, “Ca-CAW! Ca-CAW!.” Freya refused to laugh, in spite of the fact that she loved the whole show, but Garrve laughed a good belly laugh.
“Give some of this water to the weakest of the bunch. Garrve, come with me and let’s get this water wagon filled up!”
Garrve could not help but take a swig, and another, and one more. He handed the canteen to Freya, who took a good drink from it.
“I’ll need my strength to be able to help the others!” she protested when Alban looked her way.
“Do not worry! There is plenty more for the whole bunch of us,” he told Freya.
“It is a good thing that you got here when you did!” Freya said. “There are many who are all but withered away from lack of water!”
“The will have to recover quickly! I have encountered the New Emperor of Darvania; his death may be blamed on me! I cannot help think but that there are Darvanian troops nearby, and they will be on the war path!”
Freya took a bit of water in her cupped hand, then splashed it on her face, and said, “Well, we shall have to get our moves on! I will water the weak and get them ready as able before you return!
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