Boots Chapter 8

Riding through the storm on Shanksey’s back was a thrilling experience. The water hit more fully at the quick pace, and when the wind changed direction, the water sluiced over them with sudden force from the side. With every crack of thunder and lightning he felt Shanksey’s flanks tighten, and Bridda quickly soothed her along. He made the mistake of looking down at one point; and Boots felt his stomach lurched as he watched the churning mud speed by under Shanksey’s sharp hooves. He quickly fixed his gaze back up, over Bridda’s shoulder, at the smoke trailing into the sky. 

They discovered when they arrived that it was the mill. More accurately, it was a tree that had been struck by lightning and fallen, crashing into the roof of the mill and sliding down to tangle in the paddle. Enough rain had fallen since the storm broke that the swift-moving water was brown with churned up mud, and the river was already rushing over the lower bank on the mill-side and flooding the path to the mill. The paddle and the mill groaned as the wheel tried to turn with the swift currents that pulled against it and further twisted the branches and trunk of the large tree. Water frothed against the damn for the millpond and was starting to gush over the top. In all the chaos of the storm and the destruction it took Boots a moment to realize what was probably the strangest thing he could see. 

“The river!” he said, pointing. “It’s flowing the wrong way! The current is going the wrong way.” 

“That can happen,” Bridda said over her shoulder as Shanksey slowed. “Heavy rains can disrupt the flow of smaller waterways. Especially if there is a large storm over the waters.” 

“You mean this storm goes all the way to the coast?” he asked. 

She shook her head and corrected him, “I mean there must be a storm on the coast that reaches all the way to here.” 

Some villagers were helping, and more were arriving following the lightning strike, trying to decide if it was necessary to move the tree now to save the mill or if they should try and wait out the storm. Bridda and Boots dismounted, and Tale spotted them and jogged over. Between the rushing river and the storm, they all had to shout to be heard. 

Tale said to Bridda, “I need to get a message downstream to some men there. I mean I guess upstream,” he corrected himself, trying to account for the reversed current then gave up and pointed in the direction he needed the message delivered. “That way. Will you ride it over?” 

“Of course. I can come back here to help after,” she offered. 

“You may be more help staying with them. If the tree and paddle break off, I don’t want it to take out the bridge further on. There is a place where the banks narrow that we may be able to string across some ropes to make a sort of net.” 

“Don’t forget that bend with the willow that fell in last year,” Boots piped in. “Would it break free in this?” 

Tale was nodding in agreement. “We considered that too. The bank is soft and the roots are likely to tear free in this. We are setting up just beyond that. Albo is off in that direction; he’ll pull things together.” 

Bridda’s face was serious as she scanned the waterline and peered up at the sky, holding a hand up to shelter her eyes. She wiped the rain from her face and looked at Tale. 

“I don’t want to alarm you,” she said, finally. “But this could just be the beginning of something worse. These villagers should be prepared to pull back from the water if it surges. It can happen quickly.” 

Tale nodded, as though he had thought of the same thing. “Best to add that to the message, then.” 

Bridda rode off. Boots asked what he could do and was given some instructions from Tale who then headed back up towards the mill at a run, shoulders hunched against the rain. 

The storm had not relented, and thunder continued to grumble and crash in the sky, occasionally followed by a lightning strike, but none as vicious as the one that had taken the tree down. As Boots worked, he peered through the storm to try and see who else was around. He spotted Colin across the river on the higher bank with his brother, Shase and their friend, Jove. All three were gaping and pointing at the tree and the water wheel. Boots gave a wild wave that was answered by Colin. Even through the streaming rain he knew how eager his friend would be to take part in this. Too bad he was stuck on the other side. If they wanted to get across, they would have to walk to one of the bridges, there would be no fording the river in this weather. 

Boots saw Shase move closer to the edge to peer down at the rushing water, he was holding a handful of tall weeds as an anchor. 

Boots shouted a warning that had no hope of being heard. In any case it was too late, the water-logged earth was soft under Shase’s feet, and he started to slip. His weight pulled the roots of the plant from the muddy earth and he went tumbling into the water below. 

Whoever had not seen it happen had been alerted by the shouting and pointing and everyone rushed to the edge of the river. Shase grabbed at the high bank, clawing handfuls of dirt in an attempt to keep from getting swept away. 

Colin and Jove were yelling down to Shase; Colin was testing the edge to go after him without falling in. Poor Shase was calling up to them, getting mouthfuls of dirty water for his trouble. Boots felt like his heart was a metal drum careening off his ribs. 

“Run upstream!” Someone was yelling, “catch him in a narrow bend.” 

“Throw a rope over.” 

“Someone get Tale.” 

“Here, tie a branch to the end to give it weight.” 

“He can’t hold on!” 

Shase had found a clump of grass to cling to, but the current pulled his feet straight out and the plant snapped. He bobbed and twirled in the water, above the storm and the rush of the river you could just hear his cries for help. Boots turned to run, just as everyone else did, but someone else was going to get to Shase first. 

Up ahead a figure could be seen taking a run and launching herself off the bank. Bridda, Boots realized in the seconds that she was sailing through the air to land feet first into the creek. She had something with her, a piece of wood or rope it looked like. She managed to land in the water without going under, Shase reached out a hand and they saw her grab hold of him before they were both whisked out of sight by the current. All around him people were already moving and calling instructions.  

“Rope, to bring them in…” 

“We’ll cross to the other side…” 

“I have some, in my cart…” 

“Run along the bank it’ll be faster…” 

“Cut across at the bend Colin!” 

Through his fringe of wet hair and the pouring rain, Boots could see Colin was already making swift progress along the opposite bank, his long legs finding purchase on sturdy rocks, his arms grabbing at roots and branches to keep him from slipping in the mud and tumbling in after Shase. If Colin cut straight across the land at the river bend, he might meet them as they came around the turn. 

Boots set off at a run as well, joining those who were going down to an even further point where the creek narrowed considerably, it was a place Bridda and Shase might be able to grab hold of something and wait to be fished out. After that they would have to survive until they made it to the bridge. 

“The willow!” someone called, “they’ve tangled in it!” 

The relief in the voice that called out matched the relief in Boots heart as he changed course. The rushing of the waters and pelting of the rain filled his ears along with the shouts of others. The sodden ground became more slippery and squishy the closer he came to the edge. He pushed his dripping hair out of his eyes to get a better look. Someone gripped Boots shoulder and he turned to see Tale was behind him, his face terrified as he looked at Shase and Colin and the swirling mess below. 

Bridda and Shase had managed to snag the branches of a willow tree that had finally succumbed to the flow of water tearing at its roots and tumbled into the creek a few years ago. It had left a gaping bank where the roots had pulled away from the earth, making a springy tangle of a ledge. Colin was already trying to ease across the mess of wet roots and branches, a rope around his waist that was held by a row of people that had gathered on the shore with him. Colin and Bridda were shouting back and forth at each other. Through all the rain and chaos, someone was not in a panic any longer, Shase’s face was split in a wide, goofy grin. Idiot, Boots thought, but he found himself smiling too. It looked like everyone would be saved. 

 Colin was balancing on a tangle of branches above the fast, frothing waters while he put more slack in the rope to try and throw the end of it to Bridda. The rain continued to pour down, dripping in Boots’ eyes and pooling in his ear. 

Thunder continued to grumble, but not to crack. The lightning had tamed, but the wind was picking up, causing Boots to shudder in his sodden clothing. It blew the rain in sheets and dimpled the top of the water as it swept across. It was already hard to hear above the storm and the water, now it was difficult to see. 

It was Shase’s reaction that alerted Boots that something else was wrong. The grin had slipped from the boy’s face, and he was pointing frantically in the direction they had come from. It seemed to Boots he was also trying to yell something at Bridda. Tale’s grip on Boots’ shoulder tightened, Boots looked behind them and swore. 

Heading towards them was a tall wave of water. From this distance it looked like it was taller than Boots. It rolled along, like a great beast that never broke the surface. As its humped shape curled and broke in foam along the banks it spat out muddy water and broken branches. 

It was going to roll right over Bridda, Shase and Colin. Boots looked back over to see Colin, Bridda and the men on the opposite shore double their efforts to get everyone moving. 

The scene played out in front of Boots like a dream that took forever and a moment to happen all at once. He was aware of the tidal wave rushing towards his friends. Bridda was waving Colin to go back, Colin was shaking his head and yelling something, Shase was clinging to Bridda’s arm watching the approaching water. Tale rushed forward, shouting for Colin and Shase, and Boots helped others push him back from the water’s edge. Boots turned and saw Colin go tense with determination, then jump. 

Boots’ heart climbed into his throat as Colin sailed through the air and landed with a crash beside Bridda and Shase. He saw Colin and Bridda were securing themselves and Shase together with the rope just as the wave hit. The tree, and everyone in it, was submerged in a wash of dirty water that covered everything in its path and surged over the bank. 

There was a moment when they could see nothing but streams of brownish water and foam surging by. Then Bridda’s head surfaced, she was pulling frantically on the end of the rope and was able to find Shase and pull him up with her, the two of them gripped the willow tree. Colin popped up moments after and reached for the branches. Just as he emerged a piece of deadwood came flying towards his head on the swift current and glanced off the side of it. Bridda reached out and grabbed Colin’s shoulder to steady him. Colin shook his head and red trickled down his face. 

Behind Boots, Tale seemed to snap to life. “Set up those ropes at the narrower point to catch them in case they get washed off. We need to get ropes strung across to the people on the other side. Someone get a heavy piece of wood, tied it to a rope and throw it across where the river narrows.” 

The instructions were repeated, yelled back in forth over the sound of the storm. Someone yelled for Boots to go and help hold the ropes further along and warn them that the tree would likely break loose. 

Boots nodded, his heart still racing. He could see where the wave had torn the roots of the willow further from the bank. The swift current washed away the soft earth, and each piece of debris that struck the branches or tangled in them loosened it further. The whole tree was going to break free with Bridda, Shase and Colin in it. 

Boots turned and ran, willing himself not to slow down by looking back. Up ahead ropes were stretched across the water as a makeshift net. Villagers and carts and horses were being used to create anchors on either side. 

“The tree is coming loose,” Boots yelled to the others as he took a hold of one of the ropes, “the bank is probably going to give.” 

A lot of debris was already caught in the ropes, straining against the improvised moorings of people, and trees and carts and livestock. A few villagers were precariously close to the bank, trying to shake the ropes free. They scrambled back when the call came down that the willow had broken free. 

There must have been another wave, because the water level rose up in a rush and brought the tree and its passengers spinning into the makeshift net at high speed. Everyone braced for impact, but the jolt of the trees catching on the rope pulled everyone forward anyway. Boots’ feet skidded through the mud, behind him he heard something crack and across the way a horse cried. Everyone rallied, the ropes went taught and held. Now all Colin, Bridda and Shase would have to do would be to grab hold of one of the ropes and pull their way to safety. 

Colin was helping Shase grab a rope and get moving. Bridda was using the end of another piece of rope to lash the tree to the makeshift bridge. As if threatened by their success, the clouds rumbled, and lightning split the sky once more in a white flash that lit the stormy sky like a small sun. Shase’s face looked up, bone white and terrified. 

Boots was conscious the grip on his right hand was weaker without having all his fingers, so he wound the rope around his right forearm to compensate and tried to dig his feet further into the muddy grass. The greedy fingers of the river seemed to be pulling even harder, Boots and the villagers around him leaned back, fighting the current, trying to keep the rope steady. Tale was poised at the edge of the bank just beyond the ropes; no doubt ready to jump in should anyone slip through. 

Then, suddenly, Bridda was waving frantically. Colin looked over his shoulder and then wrapped himself around Shase. 

Boots looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened in shock. Where the other wave had been like something rolling through the depths, what was coming towards them was a wall of water foaming with white froth and dark shapes. It spilled out on either side of the river, pummeling the banks and tearing at the grass and shrubs. Poking out of it, like teeth and claws of a beast, were the shattered remains of the mill’s paddle and the large tree that had fallen on it. And all of it was churning towards Bridda, Colin and Shase like a hungry maw. 

Panicked yelling came from everywhere at once. 

“Brace yourselves!” Someone yelled. 

“It’ll pull us in!” Someone else called. 

“My cart!” 

“Move back!”  

“Let go!” 

“Cut the horses free!” 

“Hold on!” 

The wall of water crashed into the makeshift net like a crazed animal, surging against the ropes and tearing it from their hands. Boots felt the rope jerk out of his grip, but where he had wrapped it around his right arm it tightened. He was pulled forward, his feet slipping beneath him through ankle deep water that had surged up onto the grass, and before he knew it, he was plunged into the roaring river below. 

For a handful of terrifying moments, he could not tell up from down. Water surged up his nose and he coughed, taking in a mouthful water. He had the sense to grab hold of the rope before it unraveled from his arm, and he started to pull himself along it in a direction he hoped would lead somewhere. 

His head broke the surface, and he pumped his arms and legs to keep aloft, coughing up the water he had swallowed. The water had a strange tang to it, almost salty, and it stung his eyes. He swiped at the wet hair dripping in his face, trying to see around the madly rushing waters. A current pulled him, and he was spun along dizzily before being pulled under. 

As he fought to the surface again, he felt the rope go taught in his hands. He hoped that meant there was something solid at the other end. He emerged from the water, gasping for air. He was sure he could hear voices calling above the thundering water. He kicked his feet, holding tight to the rope. Suddenly a tangle of branches loomed up in front of him. He braced for impact, clutching at the nearest twigs. A handful snapped under his grip, but he was able to loop his arm around a larger limb and heave himself a little further out of the water. 

He was in the willow tree with Colin and the others. The rope he had followed was now a hopeless snarl in the branches. Colin had water and blood streaming down his face, he was yelling something at Boots. It took Boots a moment to realize that the water was moving but the tree was not. He risked shifting his grip to look around and saw that the tree was lodged with a large pile of debris against the moorings of a bridge. Boots eased himself a little higher out of the water, away from the merciless tugging of the current. 

“We can get out by the bridge, I think,” Colin yelled. “Hopefully someone will be along to help pull us out. We just have to be careful.” 

Boots nodded; he was shivering too much to talk. Slowly, carefully, Shase made his way along the branches with Colin keeping watch just behind. Bridda and Boots tried to hold the shifting jumble of branches, trees and shrubs together so it would not break apart and suck them under the bridge and further along. 

The water was so high now it was rushing over the low end of the bridge and washing out the path. Boots tried to remember how low the bank was where Shase was heading. Would they be able to walk through the water to safety? He just hoped people would arrive soon to help. 

He could barely feel his arms where they held the sticks and branches together. His hands were stiff and cold. But he could hold on until they made it to the bank. He tried not think about how he and Bridda would get out. As he carefully shifted his grip, a silvery fish slipped over his wrist. It startled him and he almost slid into the water again. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably. He focused on Colin and Shase moving along; now Colin was holding a large branch steady so that Shase could cross it. His scared face kept turning around and Colin kept urging him to keep going. 

Then there was movement up on the land, and the welcome sound of voices. Shase was getting pulled to safety. Tale’s voice, hoarse with yelling and worry, reached their ears. Instead of going to shore, Colin stayed put, doing his best to hold things together while Boots and Bridda carefully inched their way along. Eyes on his hands and where he was placing them, Boots became aware of more and more fish slipping through the water below. 

“There’s another wave coming, hurry,” someone yelled to them. 

“What is that?” Someone else called. 

Boots looked to the side and saw another large wave, but this time it was alive with more than just water and wood. Fish flapped and jumped in the torrents, spilling out onto the shore and leaping forward in a hopeless, writhing tangle. 

“In the name of the gods,” Boots said, too astonished to move. 

“Keep going!” Bridda cried, doing her best to pull his attention back to climbing. But it was clear they weren’t going to make the shore in time. 

Colin stretched out a hand. Boots grasped it as the tidal wave of water and fish rushed up and over them. He felt Bridda land in the water beside him as the angry current pulled apart their shifting nest of branches and wood. There was a jolt as the trunk of the willow tree bashed against the bridge. 

He was aware of – what he hoped were – Bridda’s and Colin’s hands and arms locked together with his, of the angry current raking through his hair, and of the strange dry and feathery sensation of fish scales and fins pummeling his body as they passed. Of the sharp bite of twigs and branches pressing against his back. 

Once the initial tide rolled away and Boots came gasping to the surface, he shook the hair and water from his eyes in order to witness the schools of fish pouring through the fallen tree like silvery currents, washing against the shoreline and up onto the bridge where they lay flopping and gasping for air. 

The fish tumbled through the waters, rough scales and slippery bellies twisting in a mad attempt to ride the swift currents. Their round eyes seemed to stare in a bewilderment that echoed Boots’ own as they flew by. Boots, Colin, Bridda and everyone on the shore stared in wonder at what was happening. 

It seemed there were more fish than there was water, as every shape and size and colour or fish you could imagine surged, strove and wriggled by. Boots watched a large, ridged fin the length of his arm cut through the water. A big, mottled fish with a long snout leaped from the water and crashed into the side of the bridge, it splashed back in and leapt again, trying to jump upstream. 

“What is this?” Colin cried from beside him. 

“Keep going!” Bridda called, “they’re getting bigger.” 

Boots looked up at the woman’s face and saw it was lined with fear. 

There was urgent yelling from the shore. A hunk of wood tied to a rope landed with a splat in the water beside them. 

“Grab hold, let’s go!” Colin cried, pulling at Boots to grab the piece of wood. 

Then the whole tree shuddered as something heavy hit it. All three of them screamed collectively as they grabbed for something to hold onto. 

“Teeth!” Colin yelled. 

Boots turned to look and watched in frozen terror as a massive maw the size of his torso came shooting out of the wild waters. Wide open, the jaws looked like they could snap him in half. They were rimmed with what seemed like row upon row of jagged teeth – more teeth than any predator could possibly need. 

The teeth clapped shut, shredding apart the fish that had been caught in the closing jaws. His skin prickled all over in gooseflesh from his toes to his scalp. He thought he would faint, or vomit, or both. 

“Get out!” Bridda shouted, she was grabbing his sodden shirt and pushing and dragging him along. Boots came to his senses and started to move again; his eyes were on his hands, but his mind was on the thousands of pointed teeth wreathed in shredded fish skin.  

The river was not large enough for the creature to fully submerge, and the bridge pilings and trees kept it from going any further. It was trapped along with them. The mouth seemed to snap blindly in every direction, shattering twigs and mauling fish. They had to move fast. 

Hands grabbed hold of Boots’ arms and body and pulled him onto land where he collapsed on his stomach, shivering in the mud, and tried to decide if he was going to vomit. 

“Colin?” Boots croaked. 

“He’s over here,” Albo said. 

Then Boots did vomit, the river water he had swallowed surged up and he was happy to get rid of it. 

He wiped his mouth with a sodden sleeve, then someone was helping pull off his wet tunic and put a relatively dry blanket around him. The rain was still steady, with short bursts of wind, but nothing as relentless as the past few hours had been. He was shivering all over anyway. 

There was a patter of feet and something warm and damp fell on top of them. It was Shase, giving his brother and Boots a big hug while simultaneously rubbing snot and tears on them. Colin threw an arm around him, not bothering to brush away his own tears and planted a kiss on top of his little brother’s tangle of hair. Boots, suspecting his own eyes were leaking tears with the rain and river water, patted him on the back. Then Shase was whisked away home for what would likely be a heavy combination of scolding and spoiling. 

“Where are they? Where are my boys?” Tale’s voice could be heard moving closer. Then he was patting both Colin and Boots on the back and alternating between shouting instructions and asking them questions. 

“Did you hit your head? Colin you’re bleeding – someone get dry clothes for these two. Boots, how is your hand, someone look at his hand! – we need water, and something warm. Get a tarp or cloak set up over by that cart. Send for Meranin! Albo, help me move them please.” 

Colin and Boots were asked if they wanted to go home too but they waved off the suggestion. Unless someone was prepared to carry him, Boots was not going anywhere at the moment. He just wanted to sit on solid ground and let the world stop spinning around him. 

“Come on over here you great blockheads. We’ll get you some warm water,” the voice of Albo said. “You two, so troublesome even the river wraiths didn’t want you.” Then he was hefting Boots over to sit beside Colin, their backs propped up against a wagon. 

“I’ll be back to check on you both soon,” Tale said, crouching in front of them to peer carefully at each of their faces one more time. “Here, try to drink some. It will help.” Tale pressed a warm, clay drinking vessel into each of their hands, then gave each of their shoulders one last squeeze before leaving. 

Boots had a sip of the warm water from the mug that had been put in his hands. He swished a small mouthful around and spat it out to try and clear the taste of the river water and bile from his mouth. The burning tang caught in his throat reminding him that the river water was, indeed, salty. 

He looked over at Colin. They were too tired for words, and what really could be said at this point? But there was understanding in his friend’s eyes, he nodded and Boots gave him a vague pat on the arm. He drank some more fresh water from the cup, starting to feel the warmth in his belly. Above them, a blanket was draped over a few pieces of wood and the edge of a wagon to shelter their heads from the dredges of the storm. 

“Better?” Colin finally asked, he sounded hoarse, and Boots wondered if he had vomited too. 

“Better. You alright?” Boots said. 

“Yeah, you?” Colin asked. 

“Yep,” Boots said. 

They each had another sip.