Wendy watched as the sail on the horizon shifted from port to starboard, and the cloth billowed and slackened in the wind.
"You don't need to worry," the Ferryman told Wendy, "they'll never catch us."
The breeze picked up, and the ferry's rigging groaned under the strain. Water splashed over the bow and wetted Wendy's face. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, and they continued west, chasing the afternoon sun.
Hours later, as they approached the dock on the western shore, Wendy noted the ferryman was right. The sail behind them had made little progress in closing the gap.
"They've never learned the art of sailing," the Ferryman chuckled. Throwing a fist-sized rope around a piling, he secured the ferry to the dock. "And I'm not about to teach them. When a storm comes, they lay crosswind, and the waves sink their boats every time."
"You're mistaken, old man," Ackral said. "Merchants must protect their investment. If learning to sail will do that, they will learn."
Satchel leaned toward Wendy and whispered, "The truth is, we get seasick in rough water. It's a curse or something."
"If that's the case," the Ferryman said to Ackral, "why have they not done so up till now?" Ackral shrugged. The Ferryman continued, "I'll tell you then. They see I'm a poor man. A merchant has never chosen a business that produces so little income."
The four walked the planking toward shore. A small cabin sat next to the dock.
"I stay here nights," the Ferryman volunteered as he opened the door. "My cabin is no more than a pile of driftwood. I'd invite all of you to stay the night, but this will be the first place they'll look. You'd better move on toward your destination."
The ferrymen prepared two cloth bags with food and two skins of water. He tied a knot in the strap and hung one on Wendy's shoulder, and handed the other to Ackral.
"You're now ready for your journey," he said, and stepping back, he admired his work. "Now, off with you. I'd leave the road before the hour's up if I were you."
The old man gave Wendy a quick hug, and as he shook Ackral's hand, he said, "For a merchant, you're not a bad being. You do your father credit." He coughed, and a rose color flooded his face. He added, "Get going. You've wasted enough time."
Ackral hiked his food bundle over his shoulder and started down the road. Satchel and Wendy followed. Looking back, she saw the ferrymen standing on his porch, and behind him, the sail appeared much larger. The ship under it was clearly visible. Their pursuers would be ashore soon.
The three alternated between trotting and walking along the hard surface of the road. On both sides, a vast swamp stretched to hills in the distance. A grove of trees here and there dotted the landscape, but most of the swamp was divided between small ponds lined with bulrushes and ground that, even from the road, looked wet and spongy.
An hour passed, and as the sun approached the horizon, their pursuers were closing fast. She remembered how Ackral had overtaken her the day before and realized she must be holding him back.
Out of breath, Wendy stopped and held her sides. Between gulps of air, she said, "I just can't go any further."
"I'd hoped darkness would overtake us, providing cover," Ackral said, glancing between the setting sun and the three people who followed them.
YOU ARE READING
Tent World
Teen FictionSisters mysteriously emerged from under a bed to find themselves in another world. They no sooner find a small village of secretive citizens when horse-riding invaders attack, and they have to flee for their lives.
