The Ferrymen
Scott J Robinson
The Ferrymen
All characters and events portrayed in these stories are fictional,
and any resemblance to real people or incidents is coincidental
(and, let’s face it, unlikely).
Copyright Scott J Robinson
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Cover image adapted
from an image by Markoz46
creative commons license
The Ferrymen
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The Ferrymen
Excerpt from The Space Between
About the Author
The Ferrymen
“Stroke.”
A slight splash as six oars touched the surface of the lake in perfect unison. A ripple as the boat surged forward at the behest of powerful arms. A gentle tinkling as oar blades rose and skimmed forward, releasing a trail of droplets into the dark water.
“Stroke.”
Ufoo ignored the harsh voice of the wizard, letting his body dance to the rhythm he felt in his mind, letting the mind-mesh set his pace. He pulled on his oar, the grain of the timber like the world's story told in braille on the callused skin of his hands.
“Stroke.”
The Mist of Minyon Dar encased the longboat. The white shroud kept the world at bay. The only world of consequence was held between the wales.
“Stroke.”
How things had changed. Ufoo could remember when the Mist had surrounded only the Isle of Wizards, tall and solitary in the vast expanse of the lake. The Mist had hidden the fortress of Minyon Dar as if the cold grey walls would somehow reveal a secret to those who were not worthy.
“Stroke.”
The scattered diamonds of night and the blue bowl of the day had once been visible from Galley Island, where the ferrymen lived. But, four hundred years ago the Galley had been taken in the silken grasp as well. And now? Ufoo could not remember the last time he had seen the sky– the Mist had swallowed the dock on the mainland, and for all he knew the whole world beyond. A silken prison as terrible as any other.
“Stroke.”
The boat, six legged, scuttled across the lake as the Ufoo and his companions continued with their perfect rhythm. Once, fifty years ago, they would have hung on each utterance of the wizard, striving for what now came as naturally as breathing. Ufoo ran mental fingers along the peripheries of the mind-mesh, wondering how he had ever lived without it. He shared a silent moment of joy, of unity, with his five companions as he leaned into the oar once more.
“Stroke.”
If only the young wizard knew how pointless his coxswain duties really were. On his own, Ufoo was but a man– five hundred years of magically lengthened life had not changed that– but together the ferrymen were so much more. Though they had only just started to discover how much more, having barely touching at the edges of talents previously unrealised, they would never miss the stroke.
“Stroke.”
A slight splash as six oars touched the surface of the lake in perfect unison. A ripple as the boat surged forward at the behest of powerful arms. A gentle tinkling as oar blades rose and skimmed forward, releasing a trail of droplets into the dark water.
“Ship oars.”
In his mind, Ufoo laughed at the wizard's order and felt the other ferrymen laughing with him. They gave one last pull on the oars knowing that if they did not, the boat would drift forever through the Mist. Even had they been able, they would not have laughed out loud.
“What are you doing?” The wizard rose to his feet, almost tripping on the hem of his charcoal robes. His shouts barely reached the prow of the boat. “I said, 'ship oars'.” Reaching out a hairless, sun-starved hand, he pointed at the nearest of the ferrymen. He muttered arcane rhymes through clenched teeth, face pale with fury.
Watching silently, Ufoo pulled his oar free of the rowlock and hoisted the blade skywards. Normally he would have laid the oar along the wale, but this time he did not– they would not be stopping for long.
The wizard stabbed his finger forward, and the ferrymen reacted without a hint of movement. Ufoo carefully twitched his mind here and here, warped his consciousness there. He felt his companions doing the same or similar, though none of them truly knew the patterns they wove. When the wizard's magical lash struck it was a weak blow, the force mostly turned aside by the knots of the mind-mesh. Controlled by rage as he was, or safe in the assumption of his power, the wizard did not notice anything amiss. But his power had been so clumsy, while that opposed to him had been as natural as a ripple on the lake.
Long moments later, the dock came into sight. The wizard still fumed, his hand held out before him like a sailor in a crows nest, 'Land ho', when really he was lost at sea.
The boat drifted, slowed, and touched gently against the dock.
The wizard lowered his arm, finally, and glared at the ferrymen before turning to the dock.
On that timber beach, a sodden group huddled– a dozen men, women and children creating quaking, shaking patterns in the mist. Ghostly forms behind barked orders and they all lurched into motion, a multi-limbed beast staggering towards the boat. For an eternity the beast teetered on the edge, before finally one set of legs and then another stepped forward again.
The people moved amongst the ferrymen without ever touching, wrapped in a thin layer of Mist that kept them separated. The last to climb aboard was a girl, caught between the dexterity of a child and the grace of a woman. The first traces of the future touched at the insides of her trifling clothes, but a fleet of years were already anchored in the pools of her eyes. As the girl took the first step down, crouching, she was just scant feet from Ufoo.
And then she slipped. She reached out an instinctive hand and Ufoo reached for her, though instinct could not have been to blame. No contact was made. One of the other boarders grabbed her hand, snatching it out of the air with a muffled grunt of fright, and helped her down. Ufoo's hand was left hovering in the air like an albatross above a ship. Or like a man pointing. Land ho he thought, but he was lost at sea.
“Push off.” The wizard had resumed his seat and his imperious manner.
Ufoo pushed at the dock without thinking and lowered his oar into place.
“Prepare.”
The girl was sitting beside Ufoo and he turned to look. A promontory of a nose dominated her face and a scar, like the curve of a reef, ruffled the still waters of her left cheek. Long brown hair curled at the bottom, a wave crawling down the beach of her back.
“Stroke.”
Ufoo pulled on his oar as he continued to watch the girl.
“Stroke.”
She turned towards him and smiled.
