(a WIP fantasy novel I'm working on)
Drystam approached Lowlake. He walked past several farmsteads and took a shortcut through some vegetable rows to reach the road of dirt and pebbles that ran parallel to the river. He continued past several small, family homes, a larger communal bunkhouse and the Upriver Pub. Most of the fishing boats on this section of the river would have already hauled their nets in so the waterway was mostly empty, except for a group of children that were playing in the shallows. As he continued along the road most of the buildings became a mix of artisan shops and noticeably more elaborate homes. He angled his way towards a two story building with a bold sign over the doorway proclaiming “Tailor” in gold letters on a green placard.
Drystam opened the door and entered. The interior walls were covered with bolts of cloth. There were several long tables similarly burdened with colorful bundles of fabric. One corner was filled with a massive loom that was being operated by a tall man with neatly trimmed hair and beard just showing a touch of gray. He looked up at Drystam then paused the complex machine. “Good day, Drystam.”
Drystam bowed his head slightly, “Good day, sir. Would I be allowed to speak with Beatrice for a moment?” He kept his eyes ducked under Merrick the Tailor’s scrutinizing gaze.
“My daughter is quite busy this day, young apprentice,” Merrick pulled himself up to his full height and walked towards Drystam. With a few strides he was standing before him looking down at the top of Drystam’s head. His stern and proper countenance faltered and he placed a hand on Drystam’s shoulder. With a soft voice he said, “You… did not pass did you?” Drystam shook his head without looking up. “Ah. My boy.” he placed his free hand on Drystam’s other shoulder then bent at the waist so he could see the boy’s eyes. “I know how much you wanted this. But this is simply a temporary setback. You are young! You can become great at healing, at crystalmancy. At anything you set your mind to.” Drystam was not used to Merrick being this nice and encouraging. He was fairly certain that the older man liked him, and approved of him courting his daughter, but he usually kept a proper distance and aloofness between them.
“Yes, sir.” Drystam’s eyes moistened slightly and he refused to meet the man’s gaze. “I just wanted to let Beatrice know.” The unmistakable sound of footsteps padding down the stairs interrupted them.
Merrick released Drystam’s shoulders and took a step back. He raised his chin and announced with feigned formality, “I think my daughter has far too many chores and errands this day to entertain a visitor, Drystam. Perhaps you should return another day.”
“Father stop that!” called Beatrice as she bounded down the last few steps. She was the same height as Drystam. Her hair was copper and woven into an intricate series of loops and braids, with three small blossoms of red, orange and yellow hiding near the bun at her scalp. Her dress was white with lace accents that were much fancier than anything worn by most of the people in Lowlake. “I’ve finished my chores and helped mother with the laundry already. Please be kind to Drystam.”
“It is the role of a father to intimidate any potential suitors,” he stated and half turned away from Drystam. “Have you cut the cloth pieces for the hunting jacket I’m starting on tomorrow?”
“I have.”
Merrick looked at his daughter, then back to Drystam. “And what exactly will you be doing with my daughter, young man?”
“Ugh!” Beatrice rolled her eyes back and turned away from her father. “He is taking me out of this shop right this instant so you can stop pestering us.” She caught Drystam’s arm and although he was walking ahead of her, she was somehow leading him to the door. He turned towards the elder man as he was shuffling through the exit just in time to catch Merrick’s discreet wink.
With their arms linked they trotted out of the Tailor shop and across the road towards the water. They passed between the common house and the Upriver Pub, catching a whiff of bread being baked in one and some kind of meat being smoked in the other. They stopped at the water’s edge where there was a sturdy oak bench overlooking the water. Everything was calm as the river flowed past, except for the sound of children some distance away splashing and laughing. Beatrice expertly guided him into his spot on the bench and eased up against his side, wrapping both arms around him. Even though they were about the same size, she somehow managed to feel so delicate in his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I failed the test,” Drystam muttered after a few moments.
“I know,” she gently squeezed him. “You are not exactly a man of great secrets. I knew the instant I saw you. But it will be okay.”
“It was horrible. I turned a rabbit inside out.”
Beatrice grimaced, “Let’s have a tender moment here first, then you can disgust me with the details.”
“Sorry,” he smiled and inhaled the scent of flowers in her hair. “I can try again in one moon. I’ll do better. I promise.”
“I know you will,” her hands rubbed along his shoulder and ribs. She slipped into the accent of a wealthy highborn, “I would give you a kiss to ease your worried mind. But alas, my strict father has forbidden me from kissing until I have been married for one year.”
Drystam chuckled and was about to speak, but her lips found his and she pulled them into a deep kiss. He was lost in the softness of her mouth, in her scent, and in the warmth of her embrace. For minutes they kissed passionately. Drystam was apparently oblivious to his surroundings, but something snapped his attention away. He jerked his head back and looked over his shoulder up the river. Beatrice looked confused, “What’s wrong?”
Except he wasn’t sure what was wrong. It was nothing he could hear now. There were no alarms or cries. No sounds except for the random shuffling in the kitchens of the buildings nearby. It was the children. Their laughter and voices had stopped abruptly. He peered intently at the group of children. They were still in the shallows, but they were all gathered in a group staring at some thing in the water.
Drystam stood up, “It might be nothing. I should…” he looked down at her as if asking for her permission to leave. She sat up, straightened her dress and nodded with a demure smile. “Milady…” he bowed, then turned and ran up river towards the too quiet children. As he ran he tried to see what was in the water that all the children were captivated by. It was slick and black. It had what appeared to be limbs. Perhaps a dead deer? But something about it seemed unnatural and dangerous. As he sprinted closer, one of the braver children was wading into the deeper water, reaching out to poke the corpse with his finger.
Drystam made high, running steps into the water, splashing towards the group at an awkward gait. “Don’t touch it!” he yelled and the boy recoiled back away from it. A few years ago, Drystam would have been just one of the older kids in the water. But something in the urgency of his voice caused the children to respond as if an adult had issued the command. Most of them scurried out of the water, but the braver boy floundered and lost his footing. He began to panic and his arms flailed as he tried to back away from the floating corpse. One of his feet must have been caught in a tangle of Riverweed because he could not move away. Drystam scooped him up and pulled him towards the bank, “Easy, Ian. I have you.”
Drystam looked down at the twisted black mass. It was barely recognizable as human. The corpse looked severely desiccated, despite it being in the river. The limbs were twisted at odd angles, the skin of the face pulled tight over the bone. The entire thing was black as tar, even the teeth smiling at Drystam. It’s eyes were intact but similarly blackened completely so that they almost looked like empty sockets. He stood over it for some time, wondering what could have caused the blackness in the skin? It was not burnt. The skin was smooth and undamaged from what he could see. In fact, if this body had been in the water for any length of time it should have some damage from the pikes and larger fish feeding on it, particularly its eyes. As he wondered about this, he took a step back and his gaze began to take in a larger field. He looked to his left and to his right. Dead fish were floating in the water all around him, slowly drifting downstream.
“What is it, Drys?” mumbled a soft voice. Drystam forgot that he was still holding onto the boy, Ian.
Drystam held his left palm towards the corpse. He reached out with his senses for energy and felt something oily and rancid crawl across his nerves. It emanated decay, beyond a simple sense of smell. It was beyond just dead.
“Let’s get out of the water.”
