The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon by RM Wark Read Free Book Online Page B

Gentry recommended the Hartford Inn and wished them well. Before they pulled away, they cautioned him about the Main Bridge to Bartow. The River Nye was running swift and high with all the recent snowmelt, and one of the aging support piers was starting to crack. They had made it over the bridge just in time before guards closed it down for repairs.
    The news did not sit well with Gentry. He pulled out his maps, but they only confirmed what he already knew. There were three possible routes to Bartow: (1) continue on towards the Main Bridge and hope to find some way across; (2) head south to the Sutter Bridge, through the Village of Graves and up over the South Bridge into town; or (3) head north to the Stockton Bridge and then back down the other side of the River Nye until he reached the walls of Bartow.
    It did not make sense to head south to the Sutter Bridge as it would add more than a week’s worth of travel, and the roads that Gentry must take to get there were prone to flooding anyway. Unfortunately, heading north to the Stockton Bridge was not an appealing option either; although that route would only add a few days to Gentry’s trip, it would bring him dangerously close to known Komanite territory. So Gentry resigned himself to press forward towards the Main Bridge in hopes that he would find some way across the River Nye.
    The sun was almost setting when the Main Bridge finally entered into Gentry’s field of view. Alas, the travelers had been right; he could see guards blocking the entrance. Gentry’s heart sunk, but he continued forward.
    “Sorry sir, the bridge is closed for repairs,” called out a guard as he saw Gentry approaching.
    “For how long shall it be closed?” Gentry asked.
    “The workmen are saying it shall be out for at least a week if not more.”
    Gentry sighed. He could not afford that kind of delay.
    “We have been directing travelers to the Stockton Bridge. It might add two or three days to your journey, but at least you shall not pay a fee,” offered the guard.
    “And if I am willing to pay a fee?” The hope was evident in Gentry’s voice.
    The guard shrugged. “Then you may find a few profiteers with their makeshift boats at a little dock about a mile north of here. They have gone home for the evening, but they shall be back first thing tomorrow.”
    “Thank you, sir,” he said, relieved that he had not traveled to the Main Bridge for naught. He headed north towards the dock, and before long the sound of the rushing waters of the River Nye lulled him to sleep.

    *************

    Gentry awoke before the morning light. The ground was cold and most uncomfortable from all the rocks along the banks of the River Nye, and he had not slept well. He nibbled on some stale bread, fed Casper some oats and carrots, and they both had their fill of water. When the sun finally started to make its way above the edge of the horizon, Gentry and Casper carefully made their way down to the river.
    It was not much of a dock. It was old and rickety and only jutted out into swift waters about ten feet or so – just barely enough to tie up a small boat. As he waited he observed a few vessels leaving from the opposite shoreline. Most were heading south, probably to Graves or Henly, but one or two appeared to be heading his way. He had probably been standing there for nearly an hour before the first “boat” made it to the dock. It was actually more of a makeshift raft and it had clearly seen better days. The sail was a bit torn and yellowed with age and the wood seemed rotted-out in places. Nevertheless, the raft was large enough to accommodate Gentry and his horse.
    “Hello, sir. Might you be looking for transport across the river?” The question came from a scruffy looking man with dark hair who had stepped out from behind the sail. Another man started to tie up the raft to the dock.
    “Aye. I am headed to Bartow,” Gentry replied, eying the water craft.
    “Well, me and Clive would be happy to