Alton has left the women in Oak Mother’s sacred grove. Following Revanth alone, he can make better speed. He crosses the river, sending a mental message to Revanth, to let him know he’s coming.

Revanth had not been well treated in his captivity. He was covered with mud and black fly bites. A stone had lodged in his hoof, so he walked with a limp. The men weren’t interested in that, though they did stop and wash him before entering town.

Horse and men made their slow way to the town. The men decided to look for a buyer before approaching the auction in town. If that didn’t pan out, they could still put Revanth on the auction block.

The first potential buyer was a wealthy merchant from the Southern Continent. He was lavishly dressed in flowing robes in bright colors.

Revanth did his best to look disconsolate and down trodden. Unfortunately, his noble bearing (as horse or man) couldn’t be hidden. He tried to exaggerate his limp, but it wasn’t until the man tried to examine his teeth, that his opportunity came. The fellow reached soft, pampered hands to Revanth’s mouth. The horse-man bared strong, white teeth. A snarl curled his upper lip, and he snapped.

The hands approached once more. Revanth opened his jaws, biting firmly, though not as much as he could have. He was still a gentleman, and the merchant hadn’t wronged him. Besides, he sensed his captors would beat him senseless, if he seriously injured a potential buyer.

The merchant hopped back, squawking in panic. “Vicious beast!” He swatted at Revanth.

A horse’s body doesn’t lend itself to laughter, but he could snort and twitch his ears. Revanth’s attitude certainly conveyed mirth.

“Get away from me, you brute! How can you ask someone to buy a horse like that?”

Other attempted sales went much the same way. The thieves decided to stop at a seedy tavern for a cup of cheap ale.

“If we can’t find a wealthy buyer, any will do,” the leader growled.

“Sly, we should take him to the auction.”

“Where the entire city can see how badly he behaves? Are you mad, Grit? If we don’t sell him in the next hour, we’ll kill him, and cut our loses.”

“I hate doing that, Sly. He’s a beautiful beast.”

“Pretty or not, he’s a burden. We can’t keep him. He’s too distinctive. What would a pair of drifters like us be doing with a warhorse?”

Sly picked up his tankard, draining it. With a click, he set it on the table, signaling for another.

Alton wandered into view. He spotted the men and Revanth nearby. Swaggering over to the tavern, he ordered a cup of mead. Once it was served, he made a show of examining the crowd. His eyes slowly drifted to where the two thieves sat, heedless of his presence. His eyes narrowed as he plunked down his tankard.

“That’s—my horse!” He pointed to Revanth. “What are you blackguards doing with him? He put his hand on his sword hilt, advancing on the hapless pair.

The crowd spread quickly, giving him space to approach the men. They froze, cups of ale suspended halfway to gaping mouths.

“I’ve been after you bastards for two days. Call the watch!” he bellowed. “Hold them,” he commanded.

The men finally decided it was time to flee. They rose from their seats, turning to run away. Bystanders surrounded them, closing the space between them. Horse theft was a serious crime in these parts. The wouldn’t get away.

The city watch arrived moments later. The sergeant quickly ascertained the situation, with a few carefully worded questions of the crowd. He addressed particular individuals, whose word he seemed to consider reliable. When he was done, he granted Alton leave to question the thieves.

The furious wood sprite advanced on the leader, standing mere inches from Sly. Before he could speak, the man started babbling.

“We didn’t steal him, young master. We found him wandering the road. We brought him here to see if we could find his owner.”

“Then why did you try to sell him to anyone as would look at him?” the tavern wench spoke up. “If you was trying so hard to find his owner?”

“He were wandering, like,” Sly persisted.

“Liar! My horse is battle trained. He doesn’t wander off. He disappeared from the tavern where we stayed two nights hence.”

“Would that be Tom Joyce’s tavern?” the sergeant asked.

“I don’t recall his name, but he passes himself off as magistrate there.”

“That’s the one,” the sergeant said. “Lock them up,” the sergeant ordered. “You may get away with theft in Tom Joyce’s jurisdiction, but you won’t do so here. You’re in Baylor Fallow’s territory now, and he won’t hold with horse theft. Take ’em away.”

He turned to Alton. “Now, sir. Prove to me that’s your horse.”

“Gladly.” The wood sprite stepped forward. “Revanth, come.”

Revanth snorted, lifting his head. He stepped forward, limping. Alton dashed to his side.

“See here, he’s lame! May I get some aid? Where’s the stableman?”

A sturdy, black bearded man approached, a tool in hand. “I’m stable master here. I’ll have a look.”

He warily approached the big, black horse. Alton supported his friend, speaking quietly to him, as the stableman expertly hefted the affected hoof. Revanth stood quietly, shivering slightly as the man removed the stone and cleaned the area, examining the soft tissue with care. Once the stableman had bathed and put a poultice on hoof, he set the hoof down once more.

The nobleman-steed, sighed with relief. He nudged the big man, nodding his head in thanks.

“You’re welcome, young feller. Glad to help.” He patted Revanth on the neck. “He ought not to travel today, milord. I’d like overnight in the poultice. Feed and rest him well, he be good to travel tomorrow.”

“Thank you, good man. Your name?”

“Bastian,” he replied. “Do you have a mind to mate him He’s a fine steed.”

Alarm filled Alton’s mind. Revanth recoiled from the idea of servicing a mare. His body was that of a horse, but his mind was all man.

“Not right now, I think. We need to be underway as soon as he’s well enough to travel.”

“If you change your mind, I’ve a mare in season.”

Alton paid him for his service. He made arrangements to spend the night in the stable with Revanth. He took a meal in the tavern, finding the food exceptionally good. He tucked the remains of his meal in his bag, adding some fruit for Revanth.

The stableman, Bastian, saw to it he had a healthy hot mash with nuts, sweetened with cane syrup. He also added some herbs to ease the pain, and help Revanth sleep.

They bedded down early, both exhausted by their trip. Revanth’s hoof ached, but not enough for him to complain. Alton fell into a deep sleep, his head on Revanth’s side.

Alton walked into a dreamscape, which was as real to him as the stable where he slept. It was a forest grove, much like where he had grown up. A stream ran through, pooling in the center, the soft bubble comforting.

“My love!” Soft hands grasped him from behind. Velda appeared, hands touching his sleeves. She moved closer. Alton turned to face her, taking her in his arms.

“I miss you, my love,” he breathed.

“Did you find Revanth?”

“He’s here with me. He had a stone in his hoof, but he’s not badly injured otherwise. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Take your time. We miss you.”

“And we miss you.”

“When you return, we will talk about what we must do to lift his curse. It will be very dangerous,” Velda continued. “Eleion will not give up easily.”

“It’s not something we can solve tonight.”

“Astrid is fairing better in the sacred grove than she did at home, but she weakens. Revanth will too if they remain apart too long.”

“We will get on the road as soon as we’re able.”

“You need to rise early and return. So, kiss me, love. Then sleep.”

Alton did as she wished. He felt the dreamscape fade away, replaced by a normal dream.

The horse and sprite spent a quiet night. They woke when the stableman came in to check on Revanth. He greeted Alton with a smile.

“How’s the foot?” he asked Revanth.

The horse-man snorted, holding it up for inspection. Bastian unwrapped it, smiling.

“Excellent. Much better. After a good breakfast, you can be on your way. Take it slow,” he cautioned.

“Oh, aye,” Alton replied. “And I’ll be walking.”

“Good of you. Not all would.”

Alton clapped Revanth on the neck. “He is my friend,” he replied proudly. “And that’s far more important than just a horse.”

“Would that more thought as you you, sir. I’d see far fewer injured animals.” He gave Revanth his meal, grinning as the big horse ate.

Alton broke his fast in the tavern with a very respectable meal. Feeling better, they set out from town. When they were a safe distance away, Alton slowed at the foot of a tall, ancient oak. Revanth kept watch as Alton took off his gloves, lovingly touching the bark. Laying his cheek against it, he closed his eyes, reaching out for Velda.

“We are on the road back to you, my love. We’ll take it slowly as Revanth’s foot is still a bit sore. Expect us around sunset.” He waited a few minutes in case Velda replied. She didn’t. However, when they reached the river, three blue heads rose from the glossy surface.

“Greetings, Lord Alton,” the first naiad said. Her hair was midnight blue. “My sisters and I bring word from Velda. She awaits anxiously—and has much to tell you.”

“Thank you, Sister,” Alton replied.

The second, whose hair was blue as sky at midday, spoke next. “And for you, Revanth, your lady sends her love. She begs you return safely.”

The third, and youngest, whose hair was like a storm cloud, finally spoke.

“You have questions, Alton. You and your brother face a quest.”

“He’s not my brother—” Alton’s protest was cut short by a flick of her smoky hair.

It wasn’t until that moment he noticed her eyes were the same color as her hair—the entire surface was a pearly gray.

She’s blind!

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Velda has gathered some information about Revanth. He’s with two men, and they are several hours ahead of the companions, heading toward town, in order to sell him. Alton has also sensed their passing.

“How can you know that?” Astrid asked.

“My friends, the trees, told me. The three of them stopped here for midday meal. It was here that Revanth was threatened. His connection to me remains, and he was able to leave me a message with the white oak over there,” Alton replied.

Astrid rose, walking over to the tree he indicated. She put her hand on the bark and closed her eyes. She laid her face against the bark, hugging the tree. It felt as if it shifted and she imagined arms around her. When she opened her eyes, instead of a tree, she hugged an old woman with brown skin and dark green eyes. She ought to have been surprised, but somehow the fact that the tree had changed didn’t shock her.

“Hello, child,” the old woman said. Her voice was deep and rich like the soil around them. “Your young man is a strong, enterprising soul. He left his message with me. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please.”

The tree woman shifted slightly, spreading her arms. Her face tilted back toward the waning sun. “Tell Astrid that I love her. Ask her to be strong. I know she and our friends come for me.”

Astrid burst into tears. The old woman folded her into her arms once more.

“Shh, child. It is well. They have stopped for the night and he is safe. He’s tied up securely and can’t escape on his own.”

“Are they close?”

“No. But your naiad friend knows more.”

“May I know your name?” Astrid asked her.

“You may call me Oak Mother,” she replied. “Now, I must leave you. Don’t fear. You’ll find him.”

“Thank you again, Oak Mother. May the soil around your roots be rich and life-bearing.”

“May you walk in health, little one.” She kissed Astrid’s brow, before turning back into a tree.

Alton watched the exchange with puzzled delight. “You have a mixed lineage, my girl. You speak to the river and the trees. Are your people elves?”

“No. But I live in woods like this, as I said. My father said we must always talk to the trees, water, animals and earth as if they could understand us. It’s the way of our people.”

“I’m curious to find out what you are,” Velda said. “But first, let’s talk about Revanth. They are camping several miles from here like Oak Mother said. They intend to take the ferry across the river tomorrow morning, so are camped close to the ferry’s docks. The ferryman won’t cross in the dark—wise of him. The naiads in those parts like their quiet. I spoke to them, and they will do their best to slow the passage of the ferry, so we can catch up. Going is easier on the far bank. Much more of it is populated, so there is a road that leads to West Farland.”

“Can we get ahead of them?” Astrid asked.

“We can’t,” Velda replied. “He can.” She nodded at Alton.

“Without you, I can move very quickly,” Alton replied. “I can go all night without resting. I wasn’t going to leave you to travel alone while Velda took to the water.”

“I’m back now, love. The trees will protect us.”

“You’ll be all right on your own?”

“Of course, my love. We’re not helpless.”

Alton picked up his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. He handed Velda provisions from his food sack, kissed her and left. He moved so quietly, Astrid wouldn’t have known, if she hadn’t see him go. He faded into the woods so completely, she couldn’t follow his passing.

“Can he really travel that quickly?” Astrid asked.

“Like the wind,” Velda replied.

“Will he attack the men, and bring Revanth back?”

“I don’t know his plans. For now, he’ll follow them. If the magistrate back there is so corrupt that he allows horse thieves to operate with impunity…. Well, I suspect that Alton has some sort of just desserts in mind for him.”

Bidding one another a fond goodnight, they slept in the grove by the river, curled up near Oak Mother.

When the women woke the next day, Oak Mother gave them a message from Alton. He bid them rest and stay in the safety of Oak Mother’s grove. The women ate their fill, finding the food hadn’t depleted at all. Astrid questioned this.

“Alton has some small magics that he may work. They are particularly strong in sacred groves, such as this. We have made a powerful ally in the blessed Oak Mother,” Velda explained. She laid a small offering of fresh fruit in a cleft of branches. “Thank you, great Oak Mother, for your blessings and love.”

The tree shook her branches, reaching for the sky. Sighing, she settled back down. “Your gift is acceptable,” she said.

Alton skirted the muddy, rock strewn edge of the river. It had broadened to a delta, the mouth only a mile or so away. The water seemed slow and sluggish here, but Alton knew beneath the glassy surface, treacherous currents tangled.

The men and horse had crossed five miles down river. Alton followed them, greeting the river naiads as he crossed, apologizing for disturbing their rest. He picked up the trail of horse and men fairly easily, venturing after them. Reaching out with his energy, Alton contacted Revanth. He kept his message short, the distance making lingering contact difficult.

“I’m close, brother. I’m coming.”

“Hurry, brother!” Revanth’s answer was full of pain.

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In pursuit of Revanth and his kidnappers, the three companions come across a home by the river. The man who lives there claims that his wife and daughters have all committed suicide by drowning themselves in the river.

Velda took the bow from the man’s trembling hands. Alton touched the furrowed brow. The man’s face softened, the terror gone. He didn’t fall asleep like Astrid, but his pain and fear left him. Alton took his crossbow from Velda, disengaging the firing mechanism.

“It’s taken nearly all my kin.”

“The women,” Velda specified.

He nodded. “My father, sons and brothers have seen our women die—carried off and drowned. This river is a curse—but it’s our home. And the one place we feel close to our women. My mother left when I was young. My wife let the river take her right after our daughter was born. My sisters followed shortly after. Then my daughter, on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, wandered in the water and drowned.”

“No. She let the river claim its own. What color was your daughter’s hair?”

“So light it was almost pure white. Like the froth of the whitecaps.” He pointed to the water.

“And your wife?”

“So black it shown blue in the sunlight.”

“And your sisters and mother?”

“A mixture of the two. Why?”

“They are naiads,” Velda replied. “Spirits of the water. This is a place of growth. The naiads are all women,” she explained. “They need to add to their numbers from time to time….”

“But he says he has sons,” Alton interjected.

“The boys are human. The girls are naiads. It’s the only way we can add to our ranks.”

“So what’s happening to our women?” the man begged. “Where have my wife, daughter, sisters, and mother gone?”

“They are part of the river,” Velda explained. “The reason you feel them is that they are here with you.”

“Why did they leave us?”

“It isn’t our way to stay long in one place. Like the river, we roam. The water calls us back. If we’re forced by the life we choose, and the men we love, to live on land, eventually, we go mad. We have to be part of the water. To live by her birthplace, and never return, would be torture.” Velda gazed enviously at the water. A look of pure longing passed over her face.

Alton took her hand, twining his fingers with hers. “That would never happen to us. Unlike humans, my people understand the need to be near what you love.”

“But we can’t go home,” she whispered. “I can never go back to my birthplace.”

“Then we make a home somewhere else—together.” He squeezed her fingers. “But until we find our friend, that can’t happen.”

“I’d completely forgotten Revanth,” Velda admitted sadly. “Tell me, sir. Did you see two men and a black horse?”

The man cleared his throat, the glimmer of a tear in his eyes. “I did. They were in a hurry. They had a skiff tied up at, what’s left of, my dock. The horse wouldn’t board. He bucked and fought so, I thought they would beat it to death. The skiff came loose on its own, and was crushed on the rocks. The men and horse headed downstream to find the ford. There is no bridge or ford in these parts.”

“Remind me to thank my sisters,” Velda said with a smile. “They helped slow them down. Sir, when we have found our friend, we’ll return and I’ll put things right here. In the meantime, do you have any boat sturdy enough for my friends?”

“In this water?” He looked skeptical.

“The lady Astrid can’t travel well….” Alton began.

“Excuse me,” Astrid interrupted. “The lady can. My home is in woods much like these. I’ve grown up hunting and hiking. I’m no wood sprite, but I venture to say I won’t hold you back by much.”

Alton examined Astrid with a critical eye. Despite her slight form and slender build, he saw a lithe, athletic body. “Lose the armor,” he commanded. “And we’ll see.”

Astrid dug deep in her pack, removing the black armor from it wistfully. “It was a gift from Revanth.”

“We’ll keep it here, my lady,” the man said. “When you return, you can claim it.”

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “I don’t know your name.”

“Jack Swiftwater—but folks around here call me Stout Jack.”

“Thank you, Stout Jack. I am Astrid, first daughter of King Hels and Queen Sarai of Folds Court. And my friends are—”

“Velda of Flowing River and Alton of Lyndon Meade,” Alton supplied when she faltered.

The men clasped hands. Stout Jack whistled when he heard where they were from. “You’re a long ways from home, sir.”

“We are, indeed. But our friend is in the clutches of evil men. We must go.”

“They’ve a half day’s start, at least, upon you. You’ll never catch them up.”

“They have an unhappy stallion with them,” Alton replied. “Revanth will not go quietly. We’ll catch them.”

They took their leave, walking along the riverbank.

“As a naiad, can’t you dive in and swim?” Astrid asked.

“I will,” Velda responded. “But further downstream. The water here is angry, bitter. Too many naiads have been keeping secrets. If they had told their mates who they were, this wouldn’t have happened. But somewhere along the way, tradition of keeping themselves a secret came to be—and with it, madness.”

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Finally ready to get on the road, Alton discovers that Revanth is missing. He seeks out the owner of the tavern, also the magistrate, to complain.

“There is, I’m afraid. I have places to go. I need my horse.”

“He’s worth a lot of money, is he?” The older man’s expression changed subtly.

Alton frowned, leaning over the much shorter man. “He’s worth more than your scurvy life, old man. He’s the war horse, for a knight of the realm. The mud in his hooves, is ten times the cost of this flea ridden tavern. If you know where he is, I’ll have him back. If, by your ineptitude, you’re hoping that the thieves will spirit him away, let me assure you.” He took a step closer. “There’s no place he can go where I can’t find him. And when I do, I’ll make it my business to come back here, lay you open from groin to gorge—nice and slow. Am I clear?”

“As crystal.” The taverner gulped, his flabby chins bobbing nervously. “Some lads may have took him,” he mumbled. “Early this morning. They might have walked in, and led him out, like.”

“And what direction might they have gone?” Alton played with the hilt of his sword.

“They might—might be taking him to the horse market. Down to West Farland.”

“And how does one get to West Farland?”

“Follow the road for two days—or the faster way is by riverside, about a day.”

Alton stepped forward, touching the man’s shirt with his fingertips. “You had best hope I find him swiftly, and without hurt, or I will be back. And I’ll do what I promised.” He stepped back. “Out of curiosity, how often do horses go missing from your stable?”

“Fairly often, my Lord,” the man replied with a leer.

“Then you’ll be accustomed to guests who don’t pay,” Alton replied. He turned away once more.

“Now see here!” Tom bellowed, coming hastily after the Wood Sprite.

Putting a hand on Alton’s shoulder, he intended to stop him. He found himself looking at the business end of the Wood Sprite’s dagger, mere inches from his left eye.

“My horse is worth more than your house and land. It’s only fair that you not only gift us with our night and meals, but guarantee our safe passage. If my horse, or friends, come to harm, no place on this Earth will be safe for you—neither land nor water. Are we clear on that?”

The man blinked nervously, not daring to nod for fear he impale himself on Alton’s blade.

They made a hasty departure on foot, following the road to where it crossed the river. Alton knew either he or Velda could pick up Revanth’s trail.

Astrid bore up better than he expected. She was quiet and pale, but she kept up the stiff pace Alton set. When they arrived at the river, a decision had to be made. The water was rough and white capped. The water rolled rapidly over rocks and downed trees, creating peaks of white foam and perilous holes so deep, they appeared almost black. Several small boats lay upended beside the water, falling apart from disuse. There was no bridge spanning the water, only the stark remains of a tumbled down dock.

“Do we try to hire a boat to pursue him? Or do we follow the road?” Astrid asked.

“Their boats make for better sieves,” Velda replied. “I doubt they’ve been in the water for the last decade.”

“How can you live by the river, and never go on it?” Alton said.

“Let’s find out,” Velda replied.

She walked to the river’s edge, dipping her fingers in the water. Reaching out with her naiad’s senses, she listened to the voices in the burbles and ripples. Gentle waves lapped against her fingers, tugging her hand.

“Join us, sister. Join us….”

“What do you think you’re doing?” A loud, angry voice bellowed.

A man strode purposefully toward them, from what they had taken to be an abandoned cottage, on the high bank behind them. He carried a well used crossbow, aiming it at Velda. Alton drew his sword and stood between the stranger and the naiad.

“Get away from the water! Does she have a death wish?” he asked, directed at no one.

Velda rose slowly, placing a gentle hand on Alton’s arm. His sword dipped slightly.

“No cause for alarm,” she said softly, her voice layered with the voices of the river. “I was talking to my sisters.”

The bow had lowered, but snapped upward once more. “You’re one of them?” His eyes narrowed.

“I asked them why your people feared the water. I understand now.” She took a step forward. “Let me explain.”

“I know what happened. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“You think you know.” She shook her head. “But it’s far from the truth. What you saw—”

“What I saw was the river reach out, and gobble up my daughter. It pulled her under before she could even cry out. She was gone before my eyes!”

Velda took several more steps as he spoke. The bow shook in his hands.

“No,” she said quietly in her own voice. “That’s what you think you saw.”

“The river here is tainted—haunted. No one crosses here!”

“Your daughter wasn’t the first to disappear here?” Alton asked.

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