Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess Ch. 09

Then the skies above them broke, and it began to rain and rain and rain.

It kept raining. Two days later, there was no sign of it easing. Gone was the oppressive humidity that was smothering them. The heat was pummeled back into the ground by the rhythmic hammer-blows of the storm overhead. Delyssa was no longer naked: she, like both of her companions, was wrapped in a heavy cloak of oiled leather. Water sloughed off the pointed hood that drooped low in front of her face, the stream making it difficult to see. It was dark, and getting darker. Their progress had slowed to a crawl, and in between marches they conferred and agreed that their best hope for finding Vael was to continue along the road and simply hope that he never ventured off the trail, given that any sort of tracking was impossible in the deluge.

It didn't help that the terrain around them quickly shifted from a flat jungle to steep hills. Delyssa had trouble deciding which was worse in the heavy rain, the steep inclines or the downhill slopes. Either way, each step needed to be carefully placed or else risk a hard fall against the cobblestones.

"This road leads right to the Emerald Bridge," Bryn kept repeating, raising his voice to be audible over the stormy clamor. "All we have to do is keep going."

There was one respite from the rain, however. On their third day of travel in the rain, as they crested yet another hill, Delyssa caught a whiff of a strange scent on the wind whipping past her.

"What's that smell?" she asked Bryn. He sniffed the air, then looked at her quizzically.

"That's the Riversea, Del. We're close."

Delyssa straightened and cupped her hands over her brow, shielding her eyes from the rain as she peered off into the gray distance. Only the nearest treetops downhill from them were visible while the landscape beyond was swallowed by thick fog.

"I can smell it, but I wish I could see it," she said.

"You'll see it soon enough," said Bryn. "But I know what you mean. It's a sight, especially from up high like were are now."

"Have you ever crossed it before?"

"Of course, Del. I'm a campaigner, I've been all over the place. But I've never crossed it by bridge, only by ship. Although, to be honest, I'm happier with the prospect of this passage than traveling that way again. It looks lazy and easy waters from a distance, but once you're actually on its waves, you learn pretty quick that the Riversea is a dangerous thing. You have the choppy waves and high winds of any sea, but the current all pushes and runs in one direction, north."

"Unless you hit an eddy," said Cenhera.

"Right, unless you hit an eddy. A swirl in the River where one current starts to dance with another," Bryn added, seeing the confusion on Delyssa's face. "If you hit one, the luckiest you'll be is if it just spins your ship round and round and then sends you off when you break free. If it's a big one, though, it might just suck you down to the bottom, and there's not much you can do about that."

Delyssa swallowed. "Good thing we're going by land, then."

Bryn shrugged. "Like I said, I'm happier we're traveling by bridge. But there's something to be said about facing the dangers you know rather than the ones you don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, from what I've heard, the Emerald Bridge isn't exactly the safest place to be at the best of times. Dense jungle, lost ruins, that sort of thing. There's safer roads, but those are all occupied by soldiers at the moment. Now, I'd rather deal with them than with the jungle, so hopefully passage is still available. But we might have to pay a toll."

They carried on walking. The rain was blowing in from the sea, and they marched against it, leaning against the wind as they cautiously ascended each hill.

Eventually, Delyssa realized that each hill sloped more down than up, and the scent of the sea-air grew stronger.

Her first sight of the Riversea was sudden. The road bent to the south, and she was so focused on her own footsteps that she didn't look up until Bryn nudged her.

The trees around them thinned, and the eastern side of the road dropped off a steep cliff. Far past the canopy of the jungle below them was a gray and hazy void, and it took Delyssa a couple moments of staring before she realized that she was looking at an expanse of dark water that stretched off to the north and south, and out to the east until it was fully obscured by the rain.

"The Emerald Bridge is at a narrow crossing, which for the Riversea means only about fifty or so leagues across," said Bryn. "We should be able to cross it in three days of walking if we find passage on one of the major roads, but it could be longer if we can't."

"Wait. Look," said Cenhera, pointing further down the road. The road sloped down into the distance at a gentle gradation. Off in the distance, at where it leveled out, was a giant orange light, flickering and bobbing.

"Torches. A lot of 'em. That must be Gra'tani reinforcements," said Bryn. "They're coming up from the south. Gods, that can't be good. Seems like things are escalating between your home and Dertath," he said to Delyssa.

She shouldered her pack. The glimpse of the Riversea lured her, and she wished that it was a clear day, a restful day, so that she could sit at the cliff's edge and simply gaze at such a wonder. But she doubted that Vael was taking such liberties, and he was already outpacing them. And now there were soldiers on the horizon, and she found that the thought suddenly frightened her. The fighting between Gra'tan and Dertath was an abstract detail, something she heard others talk about to make conversation, like the scenery or the weather. But now they were here in the distance, and getting closer. Men and women on the march, not all of whom would be marching back. Something about it twisted itself across Delyssa's stomach.

"I think we've had enough standing around," she said. "We still have a long way to go."

The way onto the Emerald Bridge was blocked. The narrow cobblestone road they had followed most of the way from Ankreot merged onto a grand, brick-paved highway, and it was full of soldiers. Great wagons and carriages filled the road, and all in between were horses and men and women in armor, carrying spears and swords, the pale yellow of their hoods and scarves darkened to almost a dull gray by the incessant rain. There was a rearguard that eyed them as they approached, and before she could say anything Bryn stepped in front of her, and Cenhera rested her hands on the pommels of her sheathed daggers.

It only took a few words and some passed coins between the fighter and the sergeant that approached them, and soon they were let through, allowed to find their own way weaving through the baggage train. They dodged around a column of cavalry and a caravan of merchanteers who also bribed their way in.

She couldn't help but eye the soldiers as they passed. They were dressed in long chain-mail shirts that hung to their thighs, strapped tight with wide leather belts. On each soldier's left pauldron, a palm-sized gold disc was stamped into the steel, but Delyssa didn't know the significance of the different markings etched there into the metal. The soldiers had a variety of responses to their group passing by. Some called out offers to barter, some jeered, some leered, but most ignored them, focusing on the steady rhythm of placing one mud-caked boot in front of the other.

Cenhera darted ahead of them to scout out the road, leaving just Delyssa and Bryn alone to march together on either side of their cart-horse. Delyssa kept her cloak wrapped tight around her -- not just to protect against the rain. After so long only traveling in the company of her friends, it was suddenly disorienting to be in the company of thousands of strangers.

After an hour of slow walking, Cenhera returned to them, a little out of breath.

"The road keeps sloping down for awhile until it reaches level ground," she said. "There's a huge camp down there, where most of the Gra'tani are set up. There's bad news, though. It seems like most other travelers are being held up there. I asked around and it seems like over on the other side, Dertath's soldiers are stopping travelers from going across the Bridge, so this side is doing the same until they reach an agreement. I don't know, it seems messy."

"That's the main road that the merchants use," said Bryn. "What about some of the side paths?"

"Not sure. We might be able to bribe or sneak our way past, but we'd have to ditch the cart from then on out. I don't think the side roads are easy going."

"That's fine," Bryn said. "Vael wouldn't abandon his horse, so if the trails are rough, then that could be a good thing for us. It might be our chance to catch up to him."

"Assuming that he also took the paths and didn't chance the main road," Delyssa pointed out.

"Aye. But there's not much that we can do, in that case. So might as well act as if we're on the right course."

Delyssa could do little more than agree. The crowds around them were thick enough such that even with Bryn's bulky strength pushing some of the more timid merchants aside, they could still only move at a crawl. The train of wagons through which they weaved was agonizingly slow, moving in short lurches. Eventually, it became too much for the adventurers, and after a short deliberation they pawned the horse and cart to a merchant whose own wagon broke down in the rain.

Without having to wrangle the cart, they moved much faster, slipping -- sometimes literally -- in between the larger parties. The farther downhill they traveled, the higher proportion of the crowds around them was composed of Gra'tani soldiers. It was dusk, the rain still unrelenting, when they reached the level ground at the base of the hill, and Delyssa realized that, as the road narrowed, edged by a thin line of trees on either side, that they were walking along the first stretch of the Emerald Bridge. The Riversea was visible on either side of them, even in the dark. On the southern side of the Bridge, the waves crashed against the rocky shore, pressed against land by the current. Calmer waves swirled to the North. Ahead of them, looming wide, was a great landmass. If she did not know the true scale of the Riversea, Delyssa would have thought that the island in the distance before them was the opposite shore. But in fact, they were standing on the first steps of the largest bridge in the world, yet still but a terrestrial sliver on the flowing sea. Beyond that island, Bryn told her, lay another, and another, and more and more. A bridged archipelago that stretched across the width of the entire Riversea, until it reached the land occupied by the Dertathi Dominion.

Delyssa's head swam with these facts. Her world had a few hundred people, a few acres of fertile land and temple grounds nestled between similar neighbors. How long ago was it that for her, a long journey was the walk from the Temple of Shevlana down the Street of Souls to the market plaza and back? A month? A few days more?

"It's strange," she said to Bryn as they walked down through the rain, "how you can live so much in so short a time, that it feels like your life was never anything else."

Bryn looked over at her, then down to his hands and his flat, muscular chest.

"You're telling me," he said.

The land around them widened as they advanced, the isthmus gradually broadening until the road they traveled upon cut through the middle of a huge, flat plain of cleared land. Here, the Gra'tani army was encamped. Delyssa first found herself in the wider perimeter of followers: the peddlers, god-botherers, and prostitutes that formed the outskirts of every army on the march.

Bryn had to stop Delyssa from veering off towards the clusters of camp followers. In addition to the obvious kind, there was always a more professional and theological intercourse between Servants of Shevlana and workers, who were oftentimes themselves worshipers of the Pleasure Goddess. But all Delyssa could do was say quick prayers and wave to the prostitutes as they passed.

They soon came to the pickets of the army itself. A squad of soldiers lounged around the road, stopping any other travelers from continuing down. Yet again, Bryn and Cenhera took upon themselves the responsibility of bribing the soldiers, a quick barter before the fighter relinquished the small pouch of silver he just received from selling the cart. They were waved through, and Delyssa marked the gazes of the bored soldiers upon her as she walked between their ranks.

After they were past the picket line and had some measure of privacy between the rows and rows of erected tents, Bryn turned to them.

"I don't like it here. Armies give me the creeps," he said.

"You're a warrior," Delyssa cautiously pointed out.

"I'm an adventurer," Bryn said, his voice tense. "I fight in places too dark for these soldiers' nightmares over relics and treasures they couldn't dream of, so that I don't have to spend all my time in a tent among thousands, waiting for a battle where I'll die among hundreds."

"Sorry," Delyssa said, a little stung.

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry. Fighting monsters in the wild is one thing... Fighting men by the thousands? I just don't like it. It's already getting late, but let's get this over with. I want to find out which way to go before the moon gets too high, then camp out on the trails rather than find somewhere here. Is that alright?"

"Of course."

"Agreed," said Cenhera.

Bryn put his hand on Delyssa's arm. "Would you be alright if we split up? I want to find out if anyone has seen Vael pass through, and which way he went. From what I've heard, there's about a dozen trails besides the main one up ahead, and it'll be a bad start if we need to just pick blindly."

She nodded. "I'll be fine," she said, trying to convince herself as much as Bryn. "And you, Cenhera?"

The tunling shrugged. "I might do more eavesdropping than asking around. Humans in big groups tend to be suspicious of other peoples."

"We'll meet back here, then?" said Bryn, already backing away from the other two.

"Sounds good."

"Alright. Good luck to you both," Delyssa said. Soon Bryn retreated out of sight behind another line of tents, and Cenhera disappeared immediately into the shadows, and suddenly Delyssa was alone in the camp. That sensation, however, was short-lived. She barely took a dozen paces further into the camp when she turned a corner around a large tent and nearly bumped into a pair of soldiers, a man and a woman, both mud-soaked. The woman took a surprised inhale on the cigarette she was smoking, and blew dark, foul-smelling smoke out from her nose.

"You're nosing about the camp at night, girl? Stupid. Are you coming or going?" the woman said, her voice husky and low.

"I'm looking for someone," Delyssa began, involuntarily taking a step back. "A paladin. He would have come through in the last few days, a lone rider on a warhorse. Dark features, polished mail, a silver sword and shield. Have you seen him, or know who might have?"

The woman took another drag from the cigarette and shrugged. The soldier beside her, a tall and thin Gra'tani man with a wiry beard, narrowed his eyes at her. "What's it to you?"

"I'm a friend of his, a... a campaigner in his party. My companions and I are trying to catch up to him."

The soldier shook his head. "No, I mean, what do you have? I might know something about this guy, but not for free."

"Oh. I've got some silver here," Delyssa said, reaching for the pouch on her hip. As she did so, the front of her cloak opened, revealing the gold hoops of the Wings of Amity curling around her bare breasts.

The woman exhaled more smoke, her eyebrows arched. "Stupid," she muttered, almost below her breath.

The other soldier dragged his eyes up from Delyssa's chest. "Uh. You said you were a campaigner?"

"I am," Delyssa said, straightening.

"Why? Thinking of joining up?" The female soldier elbowed her companion.

"Hah, maybe if that's the kit the women wear. But no," the man said, turning back to Delyssa. "I've heard about campaigners. I feel like you probably have more than just some silver, if your friend is worth so much to you."

"Stupid," the woman said again.

"I don't have anything else I can trade you," Delyssa said. "I'm a holy woman, a Servant of Shevlana. I have some magics and some skill as a healer, and I could trade that in exchange for information on my friend."

The man looked at her appraisingly. "Shevlana, eh? That's the one next to Amnastra's temple back home, right? I think I've heard of the place. Alright, we can work out a deal. If you follow me a short ways and do me a favor, I can tell you about where your friend went."

Delyssa knew that if Bryn were here, he'd be suspicious of these two, would argue more, barter harder. But even to her own surprise, she felt herself relaxing as she spoke to them. Somehow, she felt like she was getting the sense of them. There was an edge of danger about both of them, but no more than she felt from any of the other hundreds of soldiers she had walked by so far. Instead, she felt like she could sense bemusement beneath the disaffected exterior of the woman, and something honest underneath the man's bargaining.

"Alright," she said, pulling her cloak about herself once more. "I'll follow you. Lead the way."

The man smiled at his companion and wheeled about. "Perfect. This way." The woman fell in place behind Delyssa, hand cupped over the glowing tip of her cigarette to keep it from the rain.

"I'm Delyssa," she said, after twenty heartbeats of silent walking. "What are your names?"

"I'm Streetdog," the man said, glancing over his shoulder as if to gauge her reaction.

"Streetdog?" Delyssa asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"It's cause he's always begging for scraps," the woman said. "And he whines when you kick him."

"Oh. So, it's a nickname."

"It's not a nickname if it's the only thing people know you by. I got it when I took the coin," he said, tapping the golden disc stamped into his left pauldron.

"Alright. Streetdog. Then what's your name?" Delyssa asked the woman, who shook her head.

"It's stupid," she said.

"Worse than Streetdog?"

"No," Streetdog said, "That's her name. Her own fault, really. Says it about everything. Just Stupid."

"Sergeant Stupid," she corrected, smirking.

Streetdog led them through the maze of tents until they reached one indistinguishable from its neighbors. He held open the flap for Delyssa. "After you," he said, and with a shrug, she climbed inside.

It turns out that the tent was already occupied. A man, another soldier, lay asleep on the bedroll that took up most of the space. Behind her, Streetdog squatted in the entrance.

"That's Mothwing. He's been like that since he came back from recon the two days ago."

Delyssa frowned and examined the man more closely. His breathing was shallow, his only movements the small rising of his chest.

"What happened?" she asked Streetdog.

"He came back from scouting the trails along the Bridge. Don't know where he went or how he found his way back, since he was blind as a bat when he came staggering back to camp. Fell into a coma right away, and hasn't woken up since. Listen. All I know about your cult is that you're some damn good healers," he said. Behind him, Sergeant Stupid coughed out a harsh laugh. Streetdog glared at her, then turned back to Delyssa. "I had a buddy back home who got tried to argue with a wizard over some debts he was owed, and got his mouth wiped clean off his face for his trouble. Later, he told me that your temple cured him of the curse in an hour. Figure if you lot can do that, you might be able to do something about poor Mothwing here."

Delyssa carefully opened one of Mothwing's eyes with her thumb, and saw that the iris inside was dull, the color of ash. She sat back.