No Good Men: Volume One

Chapter IX: Thirst

Kohanna River, Askarai

The relaxing sound of water lapping against the wooden raft comforts Azhir and his father onboard as they follow the river downstream. Floating over the blueish green water, they occasionally rake at its surface with their oars, keeping the raft straight. The evening sun's rays flash through a lush wall of bright green leaves and healthy tree limbs.

The boy turns to his father, "How much longer until we reach the lake papa?"

"It's not much further now, just after that turn up ahead. Do you remember what I told you earlier this morning?"

He points to a sharp bend in the waters up ahead, hiding the rest of the river behind the forest on the right. With a shaky tone of uncertainty in his voice, Azhir answers his father.

"Lets see...you move to the middle to keep the raft steady, and I steer left before quickly switching over and steering right before the bend."

His father tussles Azhir's long black hair and smiles, "So very close my boy. You mustn't forget that you only switch on my call. No matter what, it is very important we stay balanced here. Now get ready, I'll let you know when to start rowing."

"Yes papa!", says Azhir as moves to the right side of the raft. His father steps to the center, and they patiently wait as the raft drifts closer to the river bend. Black and brown rocks coated in algae and moss poke out from the water on the inside of the thin curve. White foam accumulates around the hills of water formed over rocks coated in moss and algae barely poking out of the surface. Only a small passageway of undisturbed waves mark where the raft can be safe.

"Now Azhir! Row fast my boy!", shouts his father as he braces himself at the center of the raft. Azhir dips the oar into the water, and pushes back with all his might. Azhir's father shifts his weight between his feet accordingly, and the raft enters the thin path of safe water at the bend. As their raft straightens out, Azhir's father yells, "Switch sides! Follow the curve and don't stop rowing! Remember, four strokes, and two push offs against the bigger rocks!"

Azhir rushes to the left of the raft and jabs the oar into the foamy waters. With each stroke, the oar grows heavier and the water becomes more resistant. He pumps the oar twice before using it to launch the raft forward against a rock. After using another rock to force the raft forward, Azhir heaves as he glides the oar through the heavy waters. The raft soon exits the bend, and finally Azhir's father lets him stop rowing.

The boy stumbles for a second before dropping the oar in his father's arms and breathing heavily. His father gently places the oar in a metal ring attached to the rear end of the raft and uses it to wade through the water, steering the boat in much more comfortable conditions. Azhir sits down onto the bamboo planks of the boat, staring with hopeful eyes up ahead. The sun was now perfectly visible in front of them and covering his eyes, Azhir shields them from the brightness. His father shouts excitedly, "That's the best one you've done yet, and it was nearly all by you! You ought to feel proud of yourself son!"

The calmer waters once again lap up against the thin edges of the raft, pouring onto the surface before washing down the cracks in the wood. Azhir raises one of his knees to his chest, and dips his left hand into the water, wading through the river's depths. Their raft approaches a clearing up ahead where the river widens into a large lake bordered by the dense forests around them. Large rocks dot the surrounding shoreline, housing swarms of birds resting on their surfaces. The warm orange glow of the sun paints the surrounding landscape as the raft floats further into the lake.

Azhir's father unravels a net coated with dried fruit and plant matter, before letting it slowly dip into the water. "Our timing couldn't have been more perfect. As the sun hides behind the trees, the fish we want will become more active. If we're lucky, we will be able to set up camp before the moon is above us."

Occasionally dropping small flakes of bread into the water, Azhir watches as his father eventually drops the entire net into the lake. He ties the rope from each of the four corners to the short but thick steering column, providing just enough room for the fish to enter. After dispersing about a quarter of the bread provided, Azhir places it in his lap and rummages a nearby bag for something to eat.

"I never grow tired of seeing it.", says his father.

"Seeing what?", asks Azhir with a mouthful of roasted walnuts.

"The sunrise my boy. No matter where I was, or what I had to do...I could always find beauty in such a marvelous thing."

Azhir pauses and looks around the fireball to the colored clouds and purple skies. "I've never seen it as pretty as it is today."

His father smiles, "It is one of the greatest displays of beauty from our Gods. That and the synergy of the world around us." He points to a leopard drinking from the lake next to a tired faun, "Look there! The predator and the prey are within feet from each other, yet both are quenching their thirst. A force as powerful as one's need to drink can make them desperate enough to dance with their enemy. Without it, there would be conflict and one of those animals would die today."

"Wasn't that what Saphillion did across the sea? She created crops and sprouted forests from the ground in Utkara."

"Saphillion created the environment for our wildlife, but not the relationship it has with the earth beneath it. That synergy came from years of learning, adaptation, and luck."

Azhir looks up at the sky and sighs, "Will the Old Bloods return father? Surely they must see how we live...how we always hide from the raiders and mercenaries all over."

His father takes a deep breath and sighs, "I don't know my son. I believe one day, everything will change, but it will take something great. Our Gods decide everything for us, and to fight their will is certain death. All we can do is look to that which never falters, and keep hope alive. We must hope that we can live to see them, or hope that we can die worthy enough to dine alongside them forever."

Azhir thinks over his father's words before laughing under his breath.

"Is something the matter, son? I only spoke the truth," says his father with a smile growing on his face.

The boy spits out a few of the walnut shells into the water. "It's not that papa! You just sounded like the priests. All the old men in the village, too old to do anything but talk about dying for Daryano!"

Azhir's father is taken aback by the morbid nature of his son's joke, and for a brief moment he glares at Azhir with a serious face; however, seeing the carefree joy in his son's eyes leaves him incapable of all judgment and smiling from ear to ear. Azhir and his father spend the remainder of the evening without a single worry on their mind before the nightmare of the following day unfolds.