It was late now, close to midnight. The spring days had been getting hotter but winter’s chill returned each night and settled into Ravena’s bones. She’d ridden Maple along the river’s edge towards home until she knew she’d ridden farther than Thal could’ve rowed by now, and now she sat in wait, like a hunter for its prey. The gentle sound of oars dipping into the water perked up Maple’s ears, and as Thal’s boat rounded the bend, she nudged Maple around and set off in pursuit.
She pushed Maple deep through the forest, close enough to the river to keep Thal in her sight, but separated enough that the sound of hoofbeats and the shape of her form were obscured by the tree line. Thal’s arms were strong, and he rowed in harmony with the quickening current; the river carrying the boat far and fast. As he gathered speed, she pressed Maple on. She raced ahead, face whipped by passing branches, hands gripping Maple’s cream-colored mane. Her heart beat with the pulse of the water.
Thal approached a fork in the river. She knew this part of the river well. The west channeled into a tributary that passed around and through the palace, providing clean, fresh water for the palace moat, and ended in a waterfall that adorned the Queen’s highly lauded water garden. The east channel was the larger of the two, and it cut through the forest and watered many of the neighboring kingdoms and eventually ran into the Glass Sea, which graced the southern shores of the land. Thal pulled up and drove the boat to the right without hesitation. Ravena couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her heart dropped into her feet. Where else would he be going? She brought Maple to a full stop and leapt off, lashing the reins around the closest tree. She could see no way to ford the river, so with her warm, dry clothes still on, she dove headfirst into the dark waters.
Her slender form cut through the water with ease. Lungs filled with cold night air, she dolphin-dove beneath the rapids and followed the glow of the lantern that hung off the front of Thal’s boat. The light glided ahead of her, just out of her reach. She followed the boat for what felt like forever, no longer recognizing the mapping of the riverbed. Just when she felt like she couldn’t hold her breath for another second, the light cut sharply to the left without warning, leaving her in darkness. She surfaced, gasping for air, and found herself in an unfamiliar landscape.
The boat had cut into a wetland, populated heavily with swamp trees that resembled great upside down whisks half-buried in the marshes. Thal moved the boat slower now, weaving around hairpin turns that tucked around each tree. Ravena struggled to swim silently through the massive root systems. For all her knowledge of the river, she’d never known this wetland to exist, and she’d certainly never swam in anything like it. The tightness of the trees provided some cover, so she swam with her eyes and nose just above the water like the river dragons did. The boat suddenly stopped moving, and she gripped the roots of the nearest tree to anchor herself.
She peered around the tree, panting as silently as she could. The boat had docked in a small inlet, and Thal was standing on a small dock across the waters. He spoke quietly with several other men. She recognized them immediately.
The man shaped like a cord of firewood was Bergon Grinder, a ruthless but slow-moving mercenary who’d been caught more than anyone but had escaped hanging by being too heavy for the gallows. It had been on the front cover of all the papers: the morning he was supposed to be hanged, the bench had been kicked over and the gallows had snapped in half, and the rather mousy executioner, jaw on the floor, had allowed Bergon to walk free, leading to his own much easier hanging the next day.
The second man—the one that looked like he’d either seen a ghost or was becoming one—was Zip Fletcher. Zip was uniquely pale and bedraggled, and had made the group a fortune by donning makeup and wigs and lying in caskets at funerals of men who’d faked their own deaths, but were still very much alive. This was his only useful skill, but he brought in a considerable amount of gold, so he remained part of the group.
The third man was Feberen Thaw. The papers called him ‘Lip Flappin’ Feb.’ Feberen was built like a jackrabbit; wiry legs, wide eyes, and ears that looked as if they’d echo if spoken directly into. His abundant energy certainly contributed to his nickname.
Collectively, they made up the loyal henchmen of Grimscar, the most notorious mercenary south of the White Forest. He’d never been caught, but through his men, he’d ravaged the White Forest and cheated her people and pulled off some of the most notorious scams of Ravena’s lifetime. And as Thal stepped up onto the dock and clapped Bergon on the shoulder, Ravena knew she was looking right at him.
Nothing and everything made sense. The boat? His chain, his ring? Stolen, no doubt. It was so unlike her to trust so easily, yet she’d swallowed Thal’s lies like a fish swallows a fly. Of course, now she knew his name wasn’t even Thal. She chided herself for her stupidity. What kind of idiot was she? Murmuring from the docks brought her focus back to observation. She couldn’t distinguish one word from the next. Maybe the overpowering humidity was muffling things. She untangled herself from the roots of the great swamp tree and paddled through the water to eavesdrop from under the docks.
“We’ve tried the local markets but people are too ‘fraid to buy them.” She couldn’t see who was speaking, but the voice sounded like the settling of an old house. Bergon.
“Nope, not a one. Not a single one. And we tried, boy!” The dock creaked as the speaker rocked back and forth between each word. This must be Feberen. “Alleyways, the butcher, the Gentleman’s Club, even behind the train station. Not a bite. Zilch. Zip?”
“Nuffin. Even the funeral homes didn’t want to take the heat,” Zip chimed in.
“Please don’t hurt us,” Feb pleaded in a voice that sounded whiny and urgent enough to be almost rodent-like. “Please, Thalor—er, Grimscar, we can find someone, somewh—”
Thalor?
“Enough,” Thal’s voice cut through the marsh. “We have a buyer. He’ll be meeting us downriver at first light, near the old grain mill. He’s taking all of them. After the sale goes through we’ll continue south and stop in Moss for a while. I trust you’ve been keeping them alive. The buyer expects them fresh.”
Through the slats in the dock above her, Ravena could see the shadow of a thin arm interrupt the light from the lantern. It gestured to a large basin carefully camouflaged among the trees to her left.
“They’re all there. Big one ‘bout took my finger off today.”
“Why Moss? We got more to do around here.”
“What about the dame?”
Thal exhaled sharply. “The risk grows the longer we stay. Rav—the girl is clever, and I think she’s catching on. You think I don’t want to stay? We’re sitting on easily a hundred thousand gold coin’s worth of lobsters. In any other situation we’d bleed this dry, but my guess is we have mere days before she gets wise to us. So we have two options: make the sale now while we’re ahead and go straight on to Moss, or stay and we all get caught and they find a stronger gallows for Bergon this time.” Even under the dock, Ravena could feel waves of frustration wafting off of Thal. Firm footsteps strode off the dock and left the men in silence.
Ravena didn’t dare to risk movement. With great curses and grumblings, the men returned to their duties. One tied the stolen boat to the dock, another began to build a fire on the shore. Once the light and the warmth had drawn the men to sit around it, Ravena slowly swam away.
Her heart felt waterlogged. She thought she’d been doing the right thing. Earning money—honest money—had given her the sense of peace found in honesty that hunger and poverty had demanded she forget. Perhaps it had felt especially restful because she’d been in the company of a friend or lover or whatever you called what she and Thal had. Now, she wasn’t even sure if she could call him a friend. She’d never had many friends, or any lovers, but she knew that friendship and love shouldn’t be built on lies and then forgotten when she stopped serving a purpose. She realized now he didn’t love her, and as hot tears filled her eyes, she silently swore at herself again.
She found Maple exactly where she’d left her; leather rein wrapped around the branch of one of the white trees, soft, velvety nose pointed north towards home. Thal had chosen his path, but she could still make things right. Ravena mounted Maple and swiftly kicked her into a full gallop heading east toward the glimmering lights of the Glass City. She wasn’t heading for home.
River of Glass is a lighthearted fantasy novelette about lies, loyalty, and the price of redemption, with a slow-burn romance beneath the current. This is a tonal departure from my usual work, written just for fun, and it will be shared here in eleven installments.
Chapter Six coming on February 10th, 2026.
© Sophie Alexander, 2026. All rights reserved. Do not repost without permission.
