Journey to Bhay Bridge Harbor
Finn and I were to meet at dawn outside town tomorrow. That way, we would have daylight to guide us, but not too many small-folk to see us leave. I wasn’t telling Ma and Da I was going — they’d try to stop me.
I wrote a note to my parents in Finnan’s office before I left to pack my things for tomorrow, dropping by Miss. Tutenhald’s desk and holding out the letter to her. “Would you mind holding on to this letter for a couple days and then sending it to oak home?” I asked, rapidly batting my eyelashes, silently pleading despite her scowling demeanor.
She glanced at the address, back at me, and a paper on her desk. “You can’t take a letter to your own home?” she asked, her silver eyes now narrowed in suspicion.
Good point. I needed some kind of reasonable excuse to tell anyone curious about what I was up to. “Well, Finnan and I are setting off on an expedition tomorrow to find a rare plant we’ve been hearing about. I wanted to go get some information on it for the library,” I said, the half-lie rolling off my tongue with ease. Her face lit up in delight at the mention of a new rare plant for our catalog.
“I don’t want my Ma and Da to worry too much over me before I even go, so I thought having a letter delivered a day late would tide them over while we searched. It would be a great help if you could deliver it since I have to go pretty far away and the post might run long.”
Miss. Tutenhald took the letter from me, placing it in a basket on her desk. “Postage costs are coming out of your commission,” she told me with a firm resolve. “This library is not a charity for small-folk to use as their personal messengers.”
I grinned as she appraised me a final time over her half-moon glasses. Surely, I’d have plenty of new prints for her by the time we got back… if she didn’t fire Finn and me for disappearing for a month.
I sped off into the mid-afternoon sun, stopping by Barlee’s general shop to buy a couple of fire starters and fishing line for Finn’s rod. We had everything else we needed, thanks to the few times we’d been allowed to go on camping trips to search for specific plants to document.
Barlee examined the items I placed on the counter and ducked out of sight, mumbling something incoherent. A pale, freckled hand deposited a couple of fishing hooks and bandages onto the countertop, and Barlee stood back up with a pleasant smile.
“If you’re going camping with Mr. Windwick again, I’d suggest you take a couple extra hooks and bandages along with you, too,” they said, brushing some loose, brown hairs out of their face. “I remember last time. You came back to the shire with about a hundred new holes in your hands and plenty of lost fishing wire.”
I nodded, counting coins from my small leather coin bag. I placed them on the counter beside my new supplies. “You’re always right, Barlee. Thanks for looking out for us.”
They dropped all my purchases into a brown paper bag and slid it over to me. “It’s my pleasure. Have a good time,” Barlee said, waving me off before greeting Mrs. Shoel in line behind me.
Next on my to-do list was to go to the woods and get my sword. I would need to hide it somewhere closer to oak home so I didn’t waste any time in the morning. Every hour counted if we wanted to make it to Bhay Bridge to board the next ship to Roahdhan.
I slipped between a few smaller homes painted in bright yellows, pinks, and blues. They lined the dirt and stone path into the woods outside of Hill Hollow Shire. I passed the old wooden gate that signified the shire’s end and breathed in the fresh, woody air.
My heart always raced with excitement when I took this footpath because it meant a couple hours of freedom from being Kithri, the eldest and most responsible sibling of the Tealeafs. I could practice magic from the spell book I was still ‘borrowing’ from the library without worrying about getting in trouble.
Not that I was any good at magic beyond the small tricks I knew. Someone who knew magic would have to to teach me if I was ever going to get any better at it. In other words, I needed to find the Dragon’s Head Warrior. So I could craft my skills in sword and sorcery with them, whoever they were.
I had a great hiding spot for my scimitar, a thirty-minute walk from the gate into the forest. If someone was paying close attention, they’d notice notches on the tree trunks where I practiced different strikes. The marks could be confused with grooves from deer antlers, though — just like I’d hoped.
I pulled a bark covering from my small hidey-hole in a nearby tree. Finn and I had covered the inside with a resin that hardened into a protective shell in the tree trunk. I pulled out the cloth-wrapped scimitar and spell book and shoved them into my backpack, returning the bark to the tree. Easy enough. Finding a temporary hiding spot for my sword would be more challenging.
I snuck back into town and took off toward oak home. Da had a tool shed behind our house that he rarely visited. To add to my luck, he’d weeded our small garden a few days ago, meaning there was little-to-no chance he’d be back in the shed today. I stole behind the house and planted my wrapped-up sword and spell book in the most inconspicuous spot… where Da kept all the garden bed coverings for frosty spring mornings. It blended in well.
I rounded the corner of oak home, and Myra ran up to me, followed by the other two youngest Tealeafs, Tamsin and Laslo. They panted, and Laslo spoke up first.
“Did you just come back from the forest? How far did you go this time? Draw anything neat? Find anything for me to look at?” He rattled off questions faster than I could even answer the first one.
“Nothing this time,” I responded, ruffling his sweaty, blonde curls.
“Ma said that if you’d go with us, we could go out into the woods and play,” Tamsin quipped next, grabbing my hand and marching toward the forest.
Myra pleaded with her best wide, pale-green puppy dog eyes. “Oh please, Kitty! We’ll be so good! I’ll even help you find some mushrooms to make soup tonight.”
I knelt down in front of them. They were the only ones in the family still small enough that I had to kneel to reach their height. “As much as I’d love to take you all adventuring, I’ve got to prepare for a little trip for the library.”
Tamsin stomped her little foot in the dirt. “If you go on a trip, that means we have to ask Liora to take us into the woods. She’s not as fun as you are. She doesn’t play hide-n-seek pretending to be a bear.”
Along with her know-it-all phase, Liora had become too grown up to play with the younger Tealeafs. I’d also gone through that same phase when I was her age, so I couldn’t judge. “Maybe instead you all could pretend to be bears and chase her around if she takes you into the woods?”
Liora would probably make me regret that suggestion when I got back. But I needed to pack, and Tamsin still had a death grip on my hand. Laslo and Myra thoughtfully considered the option of chasing Liora around as bears. “On top of that, when I return from my work trip, I promise to play with you in the woods all day. Whatever games you ask.”
That was the winner. Myra rubbed her hands together like a scheming supervillain in a story. “I’m going to come up with so many games to play,” she said, grinning a wicked little grin to herself. Her last game had been mud wrestling, and Ma had fussed at us for an hour after we came home caked in red clay.
Laslo bumped Tamsin with an open palm and shouted, “You’re it!” He ran away screaming, arms flailing. Tamsin went to tag Myra, who’d been caught off guard, but I stopped her right before she bumped Myra.
“Run, run! I’ll hold her off for as long as I can!” I shouted, Tamsin already wiggling free from my grasp. Myra giggled and took off in the opposite direction of Laslo, speedier than a startled lizard.
Tamsin pushed away from me and stuck out her tongue. “You’re a big old moss-eater!” she said, pouting again.
“I might be a moss-eater, but you’re losing the game of tag,” I replied, lightly pushing her in the direction Laslo scrambled off in. She stuck out her tongue again and ran after him, dirt kicking up with each step.
Ma and Da must have been out with Liora and Pippa because the house was quiet when I went inside. I took in the image to take it with me on my upcoming journey.
Roots from our oak tree snaked patterns through the living room ceiling. The house was dug out under the tree, but Ma and Da had installed wooden plank flooring and imported eggshell-colored clay to cover the red dirt walls. They’d coated it with resin to make it stay — home was the inspiration for my hidey-hole.
I was packing everything I’d need for the trip when the front door opened, and a flood of sound flowed through the once-peaceful house.
“Dinner’s in twenty minutes,” Ma shouted from the living room and five pairs of small feet stampeded through the house. Pippa cleared her throat from the door of our shared bedroom.
“What are you packing for?” She asked, curious enough to approach the dresser I was packing from.
“The library heard that there was a new plant for me to document, and the trip to find it and draw it will take me a little time to do,” I said, trying to make the lie sound as dull as possible. Pippa had asked to come on three of my last real excursions, and I kept promising her that I’d take her one day.
She plucked at one of my white, folded shirts on the dresser, twirling a loose thread between her fingers. “I guess you’re packing without saying anything ’cause I’m not invited again,” she said, disappointment clear in her tone. My excitement for my trip faltered. Pippa was a pain, but she clearly wanted to learn more about my research job and spend time with me… and Finn, by default.
I turned and put my hands on her shoulders, leaning so I could look her in the eyes. Tears rimmed her green eyes and fell past her freckled cheeks. “When I go on a trip where I know the area, I promise I’ll take you. I’ve never been to this new spot before, and it could be a place for only experienced campers,” I said, squeezing her shoulders and trying to comfort her.
I chose my words carefully. One wrong word could make Ma and Da worry that the trip was too dangerous. They’d forbid me to go. Directly defying their orders and leaving anyhow felt like a lot worse offense than fibbing about what I was about to do.
Pippa wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and then hugged me tight. “I just want to be like you,” she whispered, probably thinking I wouldn’t hear it over the romping and stomping ensuing all over oak home.
“You’re already a lot cooler than me at fourteen,” I said, pushing back from her hug to speak to her while looking at her face. “There is plenty of time for you to have your own adventures.”
She released a giant sigh, looking at my half-packed bag. “Can I help you pack then?” she asked a spark of hope in her questioning eyes. I nodded, and she grabbed my traveling clothes, folding them into a compact stack with the skills of a professional adventurer.
Dinner passed with all the usual shenanigans and hijinx expected in the Teatree kitchen. I wondered what Finn’s family of three talked about the night before he was about to go on a big trip because our table had children yelling about cheating at tag between bites of shepherd’s pie, my favorite dinner.
Da leaned back in his seat, patting his extended tummy happily after the plates had been cleared from the table. Tonight, Liora helped Ma wash dishes at the sink. That was usually one of my chores, but I got the night off for my name day.
Da lit up his pipe, puffing out smoke rings and making little target rings in the air. I tossed a pea left on the table through the bullseye. Ma pushed up her sleeves with wet fingers, leaving the blue fabric of her shirtsleeves with dark splotches. “So, were you going to tell your Da and me about your work trip?” Ma said, not looking at me as she scrubbed the cooking pot with a rag.
I flushed. “I figured word would get around to you, thanks to one of the tattletales,” I replied. Da coughed mid-smoke, sending a puff of smoke out of the top of his wooden pipe. “It’s no big deal, really. Finnan and I need to catalog a new plant up north of here.”
“I don’t like it when you don’t tell us about these things,” Da said, his mustache curving in a disapproving frown.
Liora peeked over her shoulder at me as she was drying the last plate Ma had handed her. Her brows were drawn together like she was figuring out where to place a puzzle piece. “I only learned about it earlier today. We’re leaving tomorrow because the flower’s petals fall off once the first cold day happens.”
“Can’t it wait til next year, then?” Ma asked, finally looking in my direction. She was trying to hide her worry but, like always, did a terrible job at it.
I shook my head. “Miss. Tutenhald insisted we go this year.”
Our usual routine for the night before I left Hill Hollow ensued. Ma worried about what I’d packed to wear, if we had enough to eat, what path we’d take, and a million other things I had to tell her I’d already planned for. Da smoked his pipe until it was out and then insisted that he come along on the trip like he always did. I had to remind him about his bad back. He’d gone camping with me the first time I left the shire and came back complaining about his back for months.
A few hours later, the house settled down for bed, but I couldn’t get myself to go to sleep because of all the excitement building up inside my body. My siblings snored softly from their beds, unconcerned about what would come tomorrow.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I remembered was a little ping from beside my pillow. Da had lent me his alarm bell for the night. It was still dark outside.
I tiptoed around the bedroom, changing into my traveling clothes and grabbing my backpack from the dresser. I peered around the dim room, listening to a chorus of peaceful snores, wishing away the unprompted fear that I’d not see them again.
Ma had left a honey cake by the door for me. A little note was next to the plate. “To start the journey with a happy stomach,” I read, popping the whole honey cake into my mouth and the note into a pocket on my jacket.
Finnan was outside bouncing on his toes when I opened our front door. He held out the cloth wrapped around my sword and spell book. “How’d you find that? I hid it so well,” I whined, snatching the lump of objects from him.
“I knew you wanted to keep them close by for the morning, and the garden looked like it had been recently weeded. But you’d go a step further and hide it with stuff in the shed that was off-season, just in case,” he said, pleased with his deduction skills.
I folded the cloth neatly around just the spell book and put it in my bag. I clipped the scimitar to my hip. “Well, I’m more predictable than I thought I was,” I said, placing my hands on my sides and squinting at the first hint of sun peeking over the distant hills. “We should get a move on.”
Finn nodded, turning on his heel and walking in step with me out of town. Before we turned a corner that would put us out of sight of oak home, I glanced back. The tree leaves were shining golden in the first light of the morning. I’d be back before I knew it. Maybe I’d even miss it while I was gone?
We walked all day, camped, and then walked some more the next day once it got light enough out. We spent three whole days walking.
It was a long enough time that a game of I Spy had devolved into a mind game of finding the smallest detail and milking our hints as to what we were talking about for hours. The last straw was when Finn was using a piece of lettuce stuck in my teeth as what he spotted.
On the evening of the third day, I smelled sea salt in the air. My heart stopped for a moment, remembering the smell of that raider, but then a seagull swooped over our heads. We crested the hill in front of us and saw Bhay Bridge Harbor down below, a giant ship docked at the furthest port.
All the buildings in town were up on stilts with ladders from the ground, for when it rained and a nearby river overfilled and flooded to the sea. The buildings were painted various shades of orange, yellow, and red, and the biggest were the size of our library. I’d never seen another port city before, but this one was smaller than the shire, so it was probably the smallest in the world.
Some small-folk milled about town, though this was not a small-folk accessibly town based on the door heights. Any small-folk who saw us nodded friendly at us as we walked the main road, but a majority of the city’s population looked like humans. It was a much livelier town than the shire, and despite the town being small, there had to be four times the people here.
We asked a well-tanned, elven woman sailor aboard the giant ship — the Onyx Glory — where the captain was. She pointed to a rowdy pub across from the docks. “He’ll be the tallest one in there,” she said with a gravelly, deep Roahdhanian accent. She looked between us, and added, “He’s also got the whitest hair you’ll ever see.”
This lady had never met Gramma Tealeaf. “We’ll have to see about that,” Finn whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
We walked into the oceanic-themed pub. The net and dried sea critter lined walls echoed with laughter and singing. The lady had been correct about both the captain’s height and hair. He was really young to have the long, white hair I’d always associated with old mages.
The captain sat in a corner booth, chatting with a beautiful woman and grinning a devilish smile when she spoke. He was the first at his table to notice Finn and I approaching.
He leaned over the table to get a better look at us. “You two look a little young to be in a spot like this,” he said in a low baritone. Two men were sitting at the table with him and the woman. They raised their eyebrows at one another.
“We’re young adults,” Finn said, lying but sounding believable.
Finn’s confidence in his delivery put a smile on the captain’s lips. “Well then, what are two young adult small-folk doing at my table?” The woman next to him looked displeased with our continued presence. I took stock of the swirling white-ink tattoo circling her right clavicle bone. Liora was obsessed with tattoos at the moment.
“We’d like passage on your ship to Roahdhan,” I replied, staring directly into his gray eyes. “We’re willing to pay our way or earn it by helping on the ship.”
The captain looked between the other men at the table, who shrugged unconvincingly. What could I say to convince him to say yes? We were desperate, but I didn’t need him to know we were desperate.
My art? I put my bag on the floor and pulled out my notebook. I flipped it open to the last painting I’d done of a dragonsnap flower. The detail-work on this one was the best I’d ever done. “I’m a talented painter, and I’m looking to build my map-making skills,” I said, placing the book on the table so everyone could see.
“You’re lucky we just had two deckhands get called away,” the white-haired captain said, pushing my notebook back at me after a short glance. “You’ll work during the passage, and I might let you help with map-making if you finish everything on deck. I’m Captain Malcolm Serpentis. Be ready to leave at first light.”
I glanced at Finnan and grinned. Now, the true adventure began.
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