Chapter Two: Father and Daughter

Peregrine slunk along up from the shore, following the footsteps left behind under the trees, her body tense with coiled expectation and readiness, her eyes never still as they darted constantly about.  Besides the rush of the river and the falls, no other sounds could be heard.  The air hung deathly still, with not a branch creaking or swaying, and not a bird singing their merry tunes.

The trees thinned out as she neared the southern end of the island, and she walked out onto open ground, to where a ledge protruded out over the waterfall, white mist rising up around it.  The view, Peregrine conceded, was a spectacular one, if one liked that kind of thing.  The ledge looked out over the river valley as it continued on towards the south, of endless forests and rolling hills, and the swift running river snaking its way through it.  The setting sun glowed spectacularly upon the horizon, bathing the entire scene in rosy hues, and wisps of royal stained clouds clung to the sky.

What stood out most, though, was the small house that had been built there of stone, with a thatched roof.  It perched upon the ledge, overlooking the scene.  Smoke curled up from a chimney on the roof.  Someone had planted a garden around it, of flowers and vegetables, while a few chickens scratched at the dirt in an enclosed pen for grubs and seeds.

The setting would have been near ideal to live in, if not for the constant roar that came from the waterfall, and the spray that it threw up, a fine white mist that played across the cottage.  Peregrine was uncertain as to how one could live there with such a constant noise reverberating about.  As she made her silent way closer to the door of the cottage, her weapons in hand and readied, the spray drifted across her while the thunder of the falls rang in her ears, deafening her to all other sounds.

Upon reaching the wooden door to the cottage, she tested it with her foot.  It inched open a fraction, being neither barred from the inside or locked.  She pushed it open fully, and burst inside, at the ready for any threat that might await within.

She had not been certain as to what to expect, but even so, what greeted her had never crossed her mind.  Blade was there, but in a setting of such domesticity that had her subconscious thoughts screaming at the wrongness of it all.  Strings of dried herbs hung down from the ceiling, while the interior had a pleasant, well kept, if rustic, feel about it.  There were rushes upon the floor and the room was lit by candles, and a single clay lamp.

Blade sat upon a three legged wooden stool before a fireplace.  A woman stood at the fire, tending a pot that hung over it, stirring the contents.  On a rough wooden table had been set a loaf of baked bread, a tub of butter and a clay jug that, no doubt, contained ale or cider or the like.

Of all that was in the room, what most attracted Peregrine’s attention, and had her most on edge, was the woman.  She was not, Peregrine had to admit, entirely unpleasing on the eye, and yet, for all of that, her inhuman nature stood out more pronounced because of it.  Skin of emerald hues provide the first and most obvious clue.  Her hair was likewise shaded, and flowed like rippling waters.  She moved with a fluidity of motion that no human could match, and her dress, of shimmering blues and greens, wavered and shifted with her movements, bringing to mind the dappling of light across the surface of a pond of water.

Old tales that Peregrine had heard bubbled to the surface, of such creatures as the one that she beheld before her, of the naiads, spirits of the waters, rivers, springs, streams and ponds.  While stories of them waylaying travellers were plentiful, in none of them had it been in such a manner as she saw before her.

At the opening of the door, Blade turned around to look.  His long face, normally so somnolent in expression so as to appear as if unaware of events unfolding around him, bore a bemused, almost puzzled expression instead.  It lingered for a moment before one again being subsumed beneath the mask that he wore.

“Beloved,” said he, turning towards the naiad, “It appears we have a visitor.  It is good to see you again, old friend,” he addressed Peregrine.

His words did little to assuage Peregrine’s concerns, and when the naiad looked up from her pot at the sword-maiden, the concern that fluttered across the creature’s emerald features only added to them.

“I am sure that she is not here for long, beloved,” the naiad announced, her voice rippling soft, yet with undertones that spoke of her certainty, and of a warning.

“What is going on here?” Peregrine demanded, pointedly ignoring the naiad and instead looking direct at Blade.

“Going on?” responded he, sounding perplexed.  “Why, we are merely preparing our evening meal.  You are welcome to join us, I am sure.”  The last had a touch of questioning to it, almost as if he was uncertain as to whether it would be allowed or not.  He looked to the naiad for confirmation.

“I am not sure that our guest would wish to stay for that long,” the naiad pronounced frostily.

“This is not like you,” Peregrine told Blade.  “This river witch has you ensorcelled.”

Blade laughed in open merriment at the suggestion, though the naiad looked anything but pleased and the stare that she directed at Aedring sword-maiden was heavy with venom.

“She means me ill-will, beloved,” the naiad stated loftily.  She shot Peregrine a triumphant smirk.  “Defend me, my love, from her uncouth ways.”

Blade leapt to his feet in an instant at the naiad’s words, and a rapier whistled free from its scabbard, to be levelled at Peregrine.  She gathered that it had been supplied by the naiad, for he had not been carrying it when he had departed their camp.  “Old friend, I hold you in the highest of regards, and bear you no enmity, but I can not let you visit harm upon my beloved.”

Peregrine did not press the issue, nor even raise her weapons against Blade.  In normal circumstances, the thought that he could best her would not have crossed her mind, and nor did she fear him, yet there was no normalcy about the situation.  He held the advantage, not just in the longer reach of his arms and rapier that outmatched her short sword, but in the ensorcellment placed upon him as well.  Under such charms, his one and only objective was to defend that one who held him enthralled, even to the cost of his own life, and that made the situation far more dangerous.  Getting to the naiad to end the enthrallment would require going through Blade first, and while she did not doubt that she could do so, she did not wish to visit harm upon him in the effort, and to do otherwise would be nigh on impossible.

Peregrine nodded her head slowly, backing away towards the open door.  “I see how things are, for now,” she stated, “But I will return to end this.”

*****

Deep in thought, Peregrine made her way back through the forest upon the island, to where their camp had been established.  In the area of enchantments, sorcery and the such, Blade had always been the one who had dealt with them, having dabbled in such matters himself in the past.  Her way, direct and to the point, lacking any great subtlety or sophistication, would not suffice in this situation.  A different approach would be needed to break Blade free from the bonds the enchantress had placed upon him, one that she would have to puzzle out, and yet nothing came to her mind during her walk beneath the trees.

Even with her mind engaged in the consideration of her options, part of her remained alert enough so that she would not be surprised, and thus the presence of the man waiting for her at the campsite, sitting before the fire, did not catch her unawares.  Her weapons came to the ready, though after a moment she lowered them again as the man had made no moves that could be considered threatening.  Still, she approached the fire with caution, uncertain as to the man’s true intent.

That the man was kin to the naiad became obvious as she drew nearer to the fire. A big man in a heavy cloak, he had the same viridian hues as the woman who had ensnared Blade, though whereas she had been graceful in form, he was old and wild and untamed.  His thick hair and beard were like river rushes, his skin gnarled and weathered, and the cloak he wore had the appearance of river reeds woven together.  A pervasive feel of moisture clung to him, as if he had just emerged from out of the waters.

When at last he spoke, his voice came deep and rumbling, like a raging torrent.

“I am most pleased that you visited no harm upon my daughter, for my wrath can be most terrible when it is unleashed.  I do not condone what she has done, yet blood is blood and must be avenged.”

From his words and mannerisms and forms, Peregrine knew he could be but one person; The Old Man of the Rivers.

Peregrine settled down across the fire from him, resting her short sword across her lap, while the hatchet she sat down on the ground beside her.  “There was no need to do so,” she told him.

The Old Man laughed, his voice a deep and resonant rumble that merged in with the falls,  “Your people are noted for being of a barbaric nature, quick and prone to violence, and yet here you are saying that there is no need for it.  It is a strange wonder.”

“We are seldom understood,” Peregrine replied, a brief smile flitting across her face.  “Your daughter was not harming me, nor attacking me herself.  She was, for the moment, no threat.  Men of the cities may prey upon the weak and the defenceless, but there is no honour in that.”

“Even so, I am thankful.”

“What is it that brings you here?” Peregrine asked.  “Not merely to thank me, one would hazard.”

“My daughters inhabit all the springs and rivers, the streams and brooks and pools of the lands.  This one, however, is different from her sisters, for she has strange ideas.  This is not the first man that she has ensnared thus, though they are for the most content.  You, I think, will not rest until you break the hold that she has upon your friend though.”

“No man or woman should be enslaved, whether it be in mind or body.”

The Old Man chuckled.  “Ah, yes, the famous creed of the Aedring.  No yoke upon my shoulders, no lash upon my back.”

“I shall die as I have lived; free,” Peregrine responded.

“A noble sentiment, but perhaps one not always practicable, or realistic.  There are those who prefer to be enslaved, whether they realise it or not.  But you do not see it that way, so let us extract your friend from out of my daughter’s tender clutches.”

*****

“Daughter, what is this thing that you are doing?  Have we not discussed this before?”

Together, the Old Man and Peregrine had returned to the cottage, Peregrine without her weapons, at the insistence of The Old Man, so as to not provoke any reactions.  It was not a thing that Peregrine liked, though she acquiesced in the end, after he had promised that there would be no trouble.  At their entry, the naiad had seen her father and a look of distress came over her.

“Why should my sisters have all the fun?” she wailed.  “This river is so lonely, and I hear them speak of the activities of men, and all the wonders they have created in distant lands.  Why should I not have some part of that fun?”

The Old Man of the River sighed, the sound like the rustling of winds rippling through the wavering weeds.  “Give it time, my daughter, for man with his axes and industry will reach even your waters some day.  I have seen it all before, over the long ages.”

“Beware of what you wish for, lass,” Peregrine added, “For not all that civilised man brings is of benefit, as can be seen by a visit to any of their cities.  Aye, there is opportunity to be had, and not all of it bad, but there is plenty of that to be had there as well.”

“If it is so, then why do you live among it?” the naiad asked.

“It is not by choice that I do so.  If I could return home and depart the civilised lands, then I would do so, but, alas, it is not to be, nor can it be for some time.  Such is my lot in life.”

“It is time to give him up, my daughter,” The Old Man announced with unwavering authority, “For if you do not, then this barbarian woman will be most persistent until you do.”

“Aye,” Peregrine confirmed, “You will not be seeing the end of me until it happens.”

“What of me?” Blade spoke up, breaking his silence.  “Why would I wish to leave his fair maiden?”

The naiad sighed with almost heartbroken regret.  “But you do, my love.  I can feel it, your yearning to be out there betreading the wide lands, to explore and seek out wonders that I can never see.  You were not meant for this, and it is only by my charms that you are kept here.  I release you of it, to resume your travels.”

At those words Blade swayed and swooned and only by Peregrine’s wolfish reflexes was he kept from falling.  “Most peculiar,” he stated, shaking his head as if to clear it, before looking around the interior of the cottage and those within.  “Where exactly am I?”

Peregrine laughed.  “That is an interesting tale, but not for now.”

*****

Not until late the following morning did they set forth again.  There had been repairs to conduct on the canoe, and then they had to cart it and their gear down around the waterfall, to the lower level of the river below, through the dense foliage of the trees, a process that took some doing and a great deal of effort.

Slowly they made their way down the river, paddling back towards the plains and the cities, no longer in the grip of the naiad’s currents, but free to go whither they pleased.  They paddled in silence.  Since the revelations of the previous evening, Blade had lapsed into a profound, contemplative silence.

Some distance down the river, two dark shadows flashed through the water to either side of them, and for a moment they thought they caught the sound of bubbling laughter, one deep and thunderous, the other soft, like gentle mists.  Then the shadows were gone, lost in the flowing waters.

Finally Blade spoke up.  “I am not sure what exact came over me,” he admitted.

Peregrine laughed.  “You are not the first man to have fallen under the spell of a pretty smile and tender words, and nor will you be the last.”

The End

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