Chapter Five

Freddy

T he rain continued for several hours, punctuated by bright flashes of lightning and heavy rolls of thunder. Despite Rupert's loud and pointed grumbling about the weather, he wielded his barge pole masterfully as he navigated the gray waters. As the miles went by Freddy's spirits began to lift, until they passed the point where a smaller tributary, swollen and flooded from the rain, joined the Serpens. The barge began to pick up speed as it raced over the choppy waters. Rupert shouted as the barge pole was ripped from his hands.

"I told you it was a bad day for it!"

His yell was barely heard over the clap of thunder that rent the air. The sheets of rain were falling so quickly that Freddy could barely see more than ten feet in front of them. The barge, without Rupert's direction, careened from side to side as it rode the swift current. Freddy clung to the railing with a white-knuckled grip, praying to the Almighty that the barge wouldn't be thrown against the bank and dashed into pieces. The Ackens bridge came and went, passing overhead like a dark shadow.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the rain slowly began to let up and the clouds began to break apart, allowing bits of sunshine to peek through. The river widened and the current abated enough that Freddy felt like he could let go of the railing and stand without the risk of falling in. Shea joined him, studying the northern bank.

The clatter of two long-handled, wooden paddles hitting the deck caught their attention. Rupert called out, "You two young'uns ought to make yourselves useful. We're going to land on that bit of shore over there."

Freddy followed the boatman's pointing finger to a wide strip of sand nearly a quarter of a mile downriver. He scooped up the paddles, tossing one to Shea, and took up a position on the side of the barge opposite his friend.

"It's time to prove your pirate look isn't all for show," he called as he dipped the paddle into the water.

Shea rolled his eye. "Very funny, Kai. There are plenty of reasons for wearing an eyepatch that are not related to piracy."

"Like what?" Despite his goading, Freddy kept a careful eye on Shea's movements, adjusting his own strokes until they were working in rhythm.

"I don't know," his friend drawled. "How about a war injury?"

"That's boring. Being a pirate is much more glamorous. Don't you agree, Rupert?" Freddy grinned over his shoulder at the old man.

Rupert crossed his arms with an unamused grunt. "You're askin' me if a criminal is more appealing than a hero who has sacrificed for his country?"

"Ha!" Shea laughed victoriously. "I knew I liked you, Rupert."

The old man just glowered, but Freddy thought he could see just the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he conceded, letting the words trail off with a shrug.

The barge slowed as they steered it into the shallower water near the shore, and finally came to a stop with a dull, grinding sound. The three men hopped over the railing and pulled it higher onto the sand. Freddy pushed his damp hair from his face as he looked around. The ground behind him climbed up towards a grassy embankment dotted with pink and yellow flowers. A tall willow tree hung over the water to his left, and dragonflies darted over the water, happy to dance about now that the sun was shining again. The trees were not as thick here as they were near the palace, but there were still enough to keep him from finding any distinguishable landmarks.

"Any idea where we are?"

Rupert brushed his hands against his trouser legs, clearing them of sand. "If I remember correctly, we're about twelve miles west of Ackens. Here, on the Anuran side, the closest town is Straborough, about half a mile to the northwest. That's where I'm headed. There's no sense in tryin' to get the barge back upriver until tomorrow." He paused for a moment, as if debating his next words. "You boys are welcome to come with if you want."

Freddy looked over to Shea, who nodded to him in deference. He smiled at Rupert. "We appreciate your offer, but I think we'll try to get at least a few miles in before nightfall. Thank you so much for the ride."

The old man shrugged. "If that's what you want. I'll be takin' my leave now, then." He started up the slope, then stopped after a few steps to look over his shoulder. "I hope you find your lady love. She must really be somethin' special."

Freddy's smile softened. "She is."

With a final nod, Rupert disappeared from sight, his pale hair glowing like gold in the afternoon sun.

Shea handed Freddy his bundle of belongings, and he carefully peeled his jacket away from his lute, relieved to see that the instrument had remained mostly dry, despite the deluge. He looped both the lute and his bag over his shoulder and spread his coat out over his arm to dry as they walked. "On the bright side," he said cheerfully as they started the long trek back to Ackens, "now that we look like drowned and bedraggled cats, it's unlikely that anyone will recognize us."

Shea snorted. "Speak for yourself. I'm cleaner now than I was for most of the last four years."

"Ah, yes." Freddy nodded sagaciously as he pretended to study his friend. "I am bedraggled, but you look like a proper rogue. So proper, in fact, that I would not be surprised if some kindly old lady invites you in for tea."

"You're ridiculous."

"What's that? I'm charming? Why, thank you." Freddy held a hand to his chest. "I'm truly flattered."

Shea rolled his eyes as he fought a smile. "Save your attempts at banter for Lizzie. I'm sure she'll actually appreciate it."

Freddy's smile froze in place for a moment as a thread of ice cold doubt coursed through his veins.

"But will she?" it whispered. " She's done nothing but give you false smiles and cold, polite answers the last ten years. She treats you like a stranger she's forced to make conversation with."

His heart argued against the doubt. "But she's done that to everyone. Something happened to her; something changed her. I'm not giving up until I figure it out."

"Why? She doesn't love you. Is all of this really worth it just for her to break your heart again?"

Shea cleared his throat. "You're looking troublingly pensive right now."

He gave his head a small shake, shoving the doubt back down where he could no longer hear it, and raised his eyebrows in mock offense. "Should I be hurt that you think me incapable of deep thought?"

"The thinking isn't the troubling part. Rather, it's the expression on your face that reminds me of a kicked puppy."

"Again, should I be hurt?"

"Fred." Shea's voice took on a serious tone. "What's wrong?"

Freddy sighed and scuffed the ground in front of him. "How are you so annoyingly good at reading people?"

"Years of training and experience on the battlefield trying to determine in a split second if someone is going to run away or try to kill me."

"Ah, yes. I suppose that will do it. I promise I'm not planning your demise."

"Stop trying to deflect."

Freddy shoved his free hand through his hair, flinching as the tangles pulled against his scalp. "I'm not deflecting, I'm defending. I can see it on your face now—it's the same expression that Hadrian wears when he tries to talk me out of anything having to do with Lizzie."

"So it's Lizzie, then?"

He said nothing, unable to speak past the lump in his throat that stubbornly refused to go away.

Shea's next words were soft. "Do you know what I think?"

A bark of humorless laughter escaped him. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway."

"I will, but only once." Shea paused as if giving him time to protest before continuing. "I think that loyalty—be it to a person, a country, an ideal—is something to admire. I think that we all have people we believe to be worth fighting for, and loved ones who are worth fighting to protect. Lizzie is one of those people for you, yes?"

Freddy swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"Having only a cursory knowledge of the situation, I can't speak for anything other than what I have been told and seen. Lizzie is a childhood friend, someone you care about deeply. Your love for her goes deeper than mere attraction, founded as it is in friendship first and cultivated over your formative years. You see in her someone worth pursuing, even through the muck and mire of hurt feelings and mixed signals because you believe that the person she is at her core is not the persona she presents to the public—which is that of a cold, untouchable, rather heartless young woman."

Tears, unfamiliar and unwelcome, clouded his vision. Freddy blinked quickly, trying to clear them before they could fall.

"As I said, loyalty is a quality I admire; I understand the need to fight for those we love. I also know that, despite your tendency to use humor to diffuse tense situations, you are not reckless in your decisions. If this is the path you choose to pursue, I will follow after you as a brother-in-arms. But you should also know, Fred, that I will not for one second hesitate to pull you out of the line of fire. You might be willing to fight for Lizzie, but I am ready to fight for you ."

"I…that's…" Freddy's voice broke from the weight of emotion.

"Like I said, I'll only say it once, and I've reached my quota for inspirational words for the day. Just know I'm here for you." The firm pressure of Shea's hand on his shoulder accompanied the words.

Freddy nodded. Shea dropped his hand after one final, reassuring squeeze, and they continued walking in silence.

Shea is right. Lizzie is worth fighting for. Even if she stays cold and aloof for the rest of her life, she's still important to me. I just hope that somehow, someday, she understands just how much she is loved. And even if it all ends terribly and she tells me to leave forever, I at least know I won't be alone.

They traveled on a narrow road that kept course with the river, and by the time the shadows began to lengthen they had managed to put nearly five miles under their shoes. An orchard of cherry trees in full bloom appeared on their left, with the soft pink flowers on the trees matching the streaks of color in the sunset sky. Their sweet, delicate scent carried on the breeze, combined with the fresh, clean scent of recent rain.

Freddy breathed deeply, breaking the silence for the first time in hours. "Do you think cherry trees will grow in Kysta? I wouldn't mind being surrounded by this smell every spring."

Shea chuckled. "If someone could figure out how to bottle it up, he'd be a rich man."

"I'm fairly certain someone has. It's called perfume. Though, I have to admit, it never smells quite as good as the real thing."

"Really?" Shea cocked his head thoughtfully. "I suppose that's not the kind of information one acquires on the field of battle."

A row of trees was planted close enough to the road that some of the branches extended over. Freddy reached his hand up to run his fingers over the soft petals. "It's acquired on the floor of a ballroom, which sometimes feels a whole lot like a battlefield. The weapons are words and whatever obscure and ridiculous language those young ladies are doing with their fans, and the casualties are my sanity and patience. How in Eukarya they expect a man to be able to interpret the different way they hold those things is beyond me, but inevitably I end up offending some young woman because she was holding her fan in her left hand rather than her right, and I asked her to dance. Or she was waving it beside her ear, and I didn't. How am I supposed to know? She's just using a fan; I assume she is overheated."

Shea's laugh rang out through the trees. "On second thought, maybe you should avoid planting cherry trees. They seem to bring up some traumatic memories."

"What can I say? The ballroom can be a frightening place." A flash of red tucked away between the trees caught his eye. "Look! It seems the orchard is home to more than just my bad memories. Do you think they'll spare a meal for a couple of poor, wandering artists?"

"You're the only artist here. I am not singing for my supper."

They turned off the road and started walking between the sweet-scented trees. A small red house with a thatched roof and blue and red shutters grew larger as they approached. The window panes were a patchwork of blue, red, and yellow glass, and a well-tended garden bloomed with every color of flower imaginable, spilling out from the right side of the house and appearing to wrap around behind. A figure in a dark green dress and wide-brimmed hat knelt on the ground in front of one of the blooming bushes with a pile of weeds beside her.

"Good evening!" Freddy called out cheerfully, making their presence known.

The figure rose and turned, revealing a round, wrinkled face with a kind smile. The front of her hat was painted with flowers to match the garden behind her, and the wide pockets of her brown apron were also filled with blooms.

"Well, this is certainly a pleasant surprise!" Her voice was low and melodic. "What brings two such fine young men to my door?"

The top of her hat would have barely reached the bottom of Freddy's chest, and she had to tilt her head back to look up at them as they approached. Despite her miniature stature and gray hair, she buzzed with a spry energy, reminding Freddy of the tiny hummingbirds that Lizzie would drag him into the garden to watch for hours when they were young.

Freddy bowed chivalrously. "I'm Malakai, and this is Shea. We were on our way to Ackens this morning, but the river took us a bit further than our destination."

She laughed. "I would certainly say so. My name is Chrysanthe, but nearly everyone calls me Chrys. Come in and join me for a cup of tea. My home and my garden are always open to travelers."

Chrys motioned for them to follow as she sprang lightly up the wide steps that led to her door.

"What did I tell you?" Freddy whispered to Shea as they trailed behind her. "So proper that an old lady would ask you in for tea."

Stepping into Chrys' home was like walking into a florist's shop. Hanging planters were suspended from the ceiling, potted plants with wide, green leaves filled the corners of the room, along with miniature citrus trees. Vases of flowers rested on nearly every surface, each arrangement expertly and artistically done. The streams of muted, colored light from the windows gave the small space a warm, almost magical feeling. The house was one room, with a quilted bed tucked up against the back wall opposite a fat, round stove. A table and chairs filled the middle of the room, and the rest of the walls were lined with rustic wooden shelves that held a variety of pots and canisters.

Chrys busied herself at the stove, starting a fire and filling a kettle with water from a floral pitcher. "Have a seat, boys. I'm sure those legs are tired from all of that walking." She pulled back the edge of a thin, faded rug, revealing a cellar door.

Freddy jumped back up from the surprisingly comfortable wooden seat he had just taken. "Let us help you first."

She waved his words away as she pulled up the door with ease and grabbed a fistful of her skirts. "No need. You just rest." She disappeared into the dark hole, only to appear a moment later with a jar of ruby red cherry preserves. Freddy's mouth watered at the sight.

Chrys bustled around the room, stubbornly ignoring every offer of help the young men made. She set a loaf of soft, fresh bread in the middle of the table, along with a bowl of creamy butter and the jar of preserves. "Eat as much as you like," she directed with a grandmotherly smile. "I have more cherries than I know what to do with."

Freddy woke up the next morning slightly disoriented and with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the wooden floor. He blinked slowly as he stared at the ceiling, calling the events of the night before to mind.

Between Chrys' entertaining conversation, the delicious food, the hot floral tea that warmed him from the inside out, and the fact that Freddy's clothes were finally no longer damp, the evening seemed to fly by. When Chrys rose to begin clearing away the empty plates and cups, Freddy was surprised to look out the windows and see that night had completely fallen. It had taken both of their powers combined to convince Chrys that they were not about to put her out of her own bed and would be completely comfortable on the floor—a statement that Freddy was now certain was lie, given the way his head lanced with pain every time he tilted his head to the right.

He sat up slowly, kneading the stiff muscles at the base of his skull, and looked around. The stained glass windows made it hard to tell just how much of the morning had passed, though there was enough light streaming in that he was certain dawn had already come. Beside him, Shea's breaths came deep and even as he slept.

Apparently we should add ‘ability to sleep soundly on uncomfortable surfaces' to the list of skills he acquired in the army.

Chrys shifted, also still asleep and bundled under brightly colored patchwork. Freddy tiptoed to the front door and slipped out.

The cool, fresh air of the morning greeted him. The sun was still fairly low in the sky, suggesting that no more than an hour or two had passed since dawn. Still, after the delay caused by the river the day before, Freddy was itching to leave as soon as possible.

Hopefully Lizzie won't have gotten too far ahead. Even if she's riding, as Audrey said, the storm yesterday would have slowed her down a bit.

He wandered into the garden in an attempt to calm some of the nervous energy that hummed just under the surface of his skin. He forced himself to slow down and breathe, focusing on the color and shape of the flowers and the fresh, clean scent of the morning. Even the uncomfortable way the dew on the grass soaked into his socks through the holes in his boots was a welcome distraction from the anxious thought that every moment that he was delayed, Lizzie was getting further and further away.

Chrys' garden was a delightful mix of order and natural chaos. Rather than straight paths through the flower beds, the walkway twisted in a meandering maze. The plants were all expertly pruned, and the ground cleared of weeds, but the way that the bushes grew into one another and the seemingly random conglomeration of colors and shapes made it seem just a little wild. Cheerful birdsong floated on the breeze above him, as the feathered residents of the garden spoke to one another from the trees that grew at irregular intervals.

The sound of the birds tugged at fond memories, and Freddy lowered himself to the ground by the trunk of an apple tree. He leaned his head back against the rough bark, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to get lost in his memories.