by Katy Winter
CHAPTER TEN
Jepaul decided he liked the staff. He played with it and swung it about in the air in a way that made Quon and Sapphire wince. He swiped at leaves with it, prodded things, and threw it in the air in exuberant delight as he raced forward to catch it. He never missed. He was fascinated by the sand. The insects that flew at him from the sand and elsewhere, though, tormented him. He hated them. Marin offered him a salve to spread over exposed areas, and it was quickly used so he was able to be back out on the sand, completely absorbed in building whatever he felt like.
They camped out for the first few nights until the insect problem became too much for all of them. While Sapphire and Quon debated what to do, Jepaul continued to play in the sand, made up games for himself, then invited Saracen and Javen to compete with him. Sticks and stones skimmed across the water. Finally Jepaul found himself armed with the stout staff against Knellen who was armed with a sturdy piece of driftwood. He was made to parry, retreat, come again, watch what he did with his feet, and do it all again.
He enjoyed himself immensely. Entertained, Knellen was happy to teach him. He noticed the boy was extremely agile and quick on his feet, something that made the Varen thoughtful. Up until now Jepaul was noted for his clumsiness. Now it appeared that he gained control over uncoordinated, gangling limbs that so often betrayed him in the past.
He was still very thin, but all the men had noticed that with his latest massive growth spurt the boy's frame had significantly altered. He had a new breadth of shoulder that suggested he wouldn't just be extremely tall he'd also be formidably strong. Proper food, and enough of it, began to make his development most noticeable. His voice had suddenly become huskier too. The sickly boy of more than two syns ago no longer existed. Jepaul was just over six feet tall now at eleven syns yet was nowhere near the end of his growth, at least six syns left for height and breadth to come. And come they would, decided Quon, eying the boy measuringly one morning. All the signs were there for a powerful man at maturity. Quon thought of the Progenitor. It made him pensive. He knew Sapphire pondered likewise.
Sapphire not only covertly studied Jepaul, but also the companions with whom he travelled. While he studied them with interest he recognised their continued scrutiny of him. He inwardly smiled.
This morning he and Quon decided shelter, in the meantime, was imperative. He spoke briskly.
“There's an abandoned dwelling further along the shoreline,” he informed the company as they ate an early morning meal of rough cakes, fish and fruit. “I use it on and off,” he went on with a delightful disregard for the truth, “but it needs a bit of attention. Storms have damaged it since I was last here. It leaks.” He saw a disinclination to move and added, after a speculative look at the men comfortably lounging, “Believe me, my friends, the weather you've enjoyed won't last for ever. When the rains come, they pour. You'll need shelter as soon as you can find it.” He flicked a gently mocking look at Quon. “Have you ever been this far north, old man?” he asked provocatively. He got a quelling look from Quon who couldn't retaliate in kind.
“Long since,” was all he murmured.
Sapphire eyed him in scarcely concealed amusement, aware of the flicker of laughter at the back of Quon's eyes. He chuckled.
“Then you should all be aware that though this place is beautiful, it can also be dangerous. You've seen the fierce current out there. There are fish in the deep that can be deadly and when the storms come they blot out everything. Insect bites can be poisonous, as can some of the fruit that you seem to assume is edible. Don't just eat what looks good.”
“Charming!” observed Javen ironically. “It's a remarkable coincidence we should just happen to meet up with someone so knowledgeable.”
“Isn't it though?” agreed Sapphire, his smile dawning in spite of himself.
He twinkled down at Saracen to see an answering gleam in the little man's eyes. Sapphire carelessly began to walk away from the men and ambled past a jetty where the water slapped against the piers. He then veered off through sand and foliage.
“Follow!” he threw over his shoulder.
Sapphire hadn't misled them. The dwelling was a large thatched hut, blocked off with rude screens into four or five serviceable rooms. There was a long verandah that ran round the entire structure, with seats that swung from rafters. Jepaul was delighted. He went straight to one and sat in it. Both he and the wooden seat fell to the wooden floor with a thud and in a tangle.
Quon laughed and laughed. So did Jepaul.
“Cord or rope completely rotten,” observed Quon when he got his breath back. He was quickly beside Jepaul to help the boy to his feet. “Don't try any more until we've tested them.”
He warily leaned on one that tilted in a lopsided fashion which made the old man let it go. He and Jepaul joined the others inside, just in time to hear a disparaging comment from Javen on the almost complete lack of amenities. There was also a snort from Knellen when he saw how flimsy the hammocks really were.
“When the rains come you won't be so choosy,” warned Sapphire, amused by the comments. “What we do have to do is get that roof waterproof. If you look up you'll see holes, so that is the first thing that should command our attention.”
“I decline,” said Quon quickly.
Prudently no one argued with him. Instead he eyed Knellen and Javen in such a way that they looked resignedly back at him.
“I'll help Javen,” offered Saracen helpfully. “I'm small and don't weigh much either, so maybe I'll do less damage up there.”
Grumbling unconvincingly, Javen followed him. Knellen went to dig a latrine and Jepaul was set to cleaning the hut which he did with a slightly mutinous and injured air. The lure of the outside was very strong. Sapphire attended to the rickety furniture and hammocks, while Quon went off on a quiet sortie to see what could be scrounged that was edible. Sapphire explained that most things were, but his description of what wasn't was so vivid that Quon recognised each poisonous plant the instant he saw it.
By the time the sun set in glorious flares of orange and red along the horizon, the hut was habitable, the roof plugged, haphazard furniture mostly usable and food was there in plenty. Quon presided over the outdoor fire though he could have cooked inside on an antique stove had he wished to.
Everyone was tired. The air was very warm, insects buzzed randomly about and the fire glowed. Gutted fish, provided by Sapphire, broiled gently in a pan, and all held fibrous half shells that were full of a liquid Sapphire assured them was rich, nutritious and sweet. It was also intoxicating. There was a sense of contentment about the small band for the first time in long days.
Ten mornings later saw Sapphire up before the others. He crossed to where Jepaul lay rested in a hammock, the long figure curled up comfortably. He was relaxed and sound asleep until the hammock was tilted and he came abruptly awake with an indignant gasp. Sapphire put a finger to the parting lips.
“Softly, child. Come with me. I'll show you how to swim properly.”
Jepaul looked dubiously at him, but since this stranger appeared to be on comfortable terms with Quon, and Jepaul himself felt no mistrust, he only hesitated for a moment. He swung his feet to the boards. He was about to dress but saw Sapphire shake his head and imperiously beckon. Naked and curious, Jepaul went outside.
The air was still and sultry, so Jepaul, more used to inclement climes, stayed quite relaxed. Obediently he trotted behind Sapphire. He padded along softly on the sand, suddenly aware it was scarcely sunrise, just the faintest rays of colour staining the sky.
At the water's edge Jepaul crept more slowly because the ground was stony and uneven. He noticed, when he raised his head to look, that Sapphire, bare foot also, trod with assurance and a total disregard for broken shells or things that might catch another by surprise. When the water crept over Jepaul's toes he was quietly told to wade out slowly. Since the water was much cooler than the air at this time of day, Jepaul caught his breath and gave a shiver.
He paused. He turned to look for Sapphire, but instead of seeing anyone he felt hands at his legs. They tugged, hard. He fell. He found himself buoyed by the hands that held him quite steady, but because Sapphire's face was above him, he couldn't see the man's expression.
“Marin!” Jepaul gulped, spitting out water.
Again he felt himself plunged under, then held in a most comforting grasp as he surfaced, taking in both water and air like a stranded fish.
“As you go down,” came the quiet voice, “try to remember to take in air and hold it for a short time. Let it out slowly.”
Jepaul went under again. He came up, took in air and went down again, this ploy repeated until he felt increasingly confident and less afraid.
As he adjusted to holding his breath so he felt less support, his instruction in buoyancy as quiet and unequivocal as his plunges. He began to tread water. Sapphire drew him further out. He pushed the boy down, head first despite the wriggles and protests, then hauled him up almost immediately. This happened so many times Jepaul anticipated the move and did it for himself. Sapphire watched the boy's first attempts at dives and gave a deep laugh. He dived too.
Jepaul learned to use his hands as fins, to work his legs and feet, but always with Sapphire's hands under his belly as at first he floundered. When the hands were removed, he tried to paddle but flailed, panicked and sank. Hands were immediately there and the quiet voice reassured him. How long they were out there Jepaul had no way of knowing, but bright sunlight dappled the water by the time Sapphire edged him closer to shore. Jepaul swam on his own, uncertainly and clumsily, but he did it, and he was alone. Sapphire smiled.
Jepaul ate and rested, then went out again and again with Sapphire throughout the rest of that long, sunny day. Each session was long and intense. The following days were the same. After eight days Jepaul swam delightedly here and there, his kicks and strokes strong and assured.
He was told to study the fish that flitted around him and copy their movements and analyse their versatility and deftness. He dived deep with Sapphire and stayed under the surface, darting this way and that, eyes wide open, like a water baby. He'd surface with a huge grin splitting his young face. He learned to recognise dangers, like swiftly changing currents and wind shifts, creatures that could harm him, growths that could sting him, and of hazards of the deep unseen until it was too late. He was taught to take nothing in the natural environment for granted. Only once he ignored what he was told.
The punishment that followed was severe and wouldn't be forgotten. The dunking Sapphire gave him left him imploring for relief as he was thrust violently down into the water yet again and held there until he felt his lungs would explode. He was then dangled, literally, above the water by an incredibly strong and merciless hand before he was flung like a puppet some distance away. That was only after a shaking that would be given a recalcitrant dog. Jepaul bobbed to the surface chastened and cowed. He responded immediately, but warily, to the crooked finger, swimming most hesitantly to where Sapphire now stood chest deep in the water.
“I won't again, Marin, I promise,” he stammered, coughing to clear his lungs.
“Don't!” warned Sapphire. His severe expression relaxed. “You could very well drown before anyone could save you and how do you think Quon would react to that?”
“Sorry,” mumbled Jepaul shivering and contrite. His teeth chattered with fright. It wasn't cold.
“Then the lesson's learned,” commented Sapphire. He draped an arm about the tall boy. A hand tousled the sodden curls. “I think we should go in now, don't you?”
Jepaul's respect for Sapphire only increased as the days passed. With the man he studied the water, what was in it, how weather affected it and what it could do in a tempestuous rage. Sapphire was well pleased. He told Quon the boy could now swim and had an uncanny affinity for water. Quon nodded and said that Jepaul had the same affinity for earth too. The two men stared fixedly at each other as that realisation struck them both simultaneously.
Sapphire took Jepaul fishing. The boy saw how the local fisherfolk set out fish traps away from shore into which fish swam and were then corralled. No nets, hooks or lines were used by Sapphire. The man showed the boy how to catch and hold a fish, under water, the fish reduced to paralysis until brought ashore to Quon. Quon would wait for the two to surface then gingerly go to the water's edge to catch the tossed fish. He'd immediately despatch it.
Sometimes Javen went with Sapphire and Jepaul but mostly the two were alone. Knellen sometimes swam for pleasure but mostly from necessity, but Saracen hated water. Quon was reserved when asked if he liked to swim.
They saw boats come and go every so often but these northern people were very reserved and quite taciturn, some not even bothering to return pleasantly uttered greetings. They set their sails or rowed without a second glance at the newer arrivals. There was no overt hostility, just a complete lack of interest.
The idyllic days passed to be succeeded by the storms Sapphire had spoken about. The winds blew into a furious rage. They lashed the trees, howled and shrieked around the shack and demolished whatever they could. Boats thrashed in the inlet. Some sank. Some were flung onto rocks and fragmented.
Saracen, out with Javen in an effort to patch the hut roof that had a gaping hole blown in it, was only saved from being picked up and dashed to the ground by Javen's quick reaction. He launched himself just as Saracen reached the edge of the roof. He grasped the little man's ankle. He hung on grimly, not able to hear, above the screaming of the wind, Saracen's cries of pain at such a strong hold. Slowly Javen managed to reel the little fellow in, and for good measure sensibly tied Saracen both to himself and to the tree whose branches just touched the top of the roof and swept backwards and forwards in the storm.
By the time the pair had done all they could on the roof, the storm was at its height. Neither man could do other than lie flat and inch forward on their bellies. They crawled to the tree, unleashed themselves and clung to each other for support. They suddenly realised they were in imminent danger of being sucked up into a vortex directly stationed above them. Terrified, they stared up into swirling blackness above. The next minute they managed to slither over the edge of the roof and got shakily inside. They looked white. Javen crossed to Quon.
“Maquat Dom,” he entreated, “see outside.” He swallowed. “There's something more than a storm.”
“What is it?” Quon demanded sharply. Javen gestured outside. Quon went to the door accompanied by Sapphire. They stood still, staring up. “The demons!” whispered Quon. “Do you see, Sapphire? How could they know we were here?”
“I see,” came the grim response.
“Riders!” uttered Quon, in stunned accents. “I've not seen them in hundreds of syns - more than that!”
“Me neither,” said Sapphire curtly. “Who, in the name of cursed demons, would unleash them?”
“And how long have they been here?” shuddered Quon aghast. “We have to hope, Sapphire, they’re rarely fully through and only if one gate opens for an instant in time.”
“We wondered at the apathy of those about us, Earth,” hissed Sapphire. “This probably explains a lot if the Riders occasionally and only briefly bring company. Demons!”
“Once they get through they’ll bring minions to wreak havoc. After draining the people here, they'll move south to much vaster populated areas. Other than those who let them loose, no one will be safe. Where are the Nedru?”
“Is it The Four?” asked Sapphire, his baleful gaze fixed on the dark, whirling shapes that continued to descend until they almost touched the ground.
The shapes paused and hovered. Then they faded, before they had a renewed surge and came back sharply in focus.
“Not through the first gate!” breathed Quon. Sapphire nodded. “They still have some way to go. It gives us a faint chance then.”
“That boy of yours learned to cope with water just in time.” Sapphire swore under his breath.
Th
e darkness shrank back and higher from the ground and twisted and turned as though it sought the source of their weakness or discomfort. Sapphire's curses died on his lips. He became conscious of wild, white eyes tinted with red that glared malevolently down into his and backed hurriedly, unaware that Quon still stood just behind him at the door. He heard Quon's oath as his foot was trampled and muttered an apology.
He turned. He watched as Quon drew himself up and stood motionless, his head flung back and his eyes fixed on the seething mass of darkness. The mass began to settle into specific shapes. They were instantly recognisable to the Maquat Doms.
There was Hadem. Sapphire picked out Tudeh. The other faces coalesced into Kwarel and Leth. They remained airborne. Their wings rotated like blades in a rhythmic beat, and their underbellies glowed red against the sleek blackness of their bodies and those of their mounts.
“We will be on Shalah again soon,” came an exultant voice. Hadem's voice was husky and full of menace.
Quon waved an arm irritably.
“You know who I am and that I'll defy you,” he said quietly.
“You're old and puny, Maquat Dom,” mocked Hadem. He gave a derisive snort. “You're not even the Five. You're incomplete. Even that silly water creature dares not stand beside you.”
“Try me!” invited Sapphire, stung into going beside Quon. “Sink to the water, my friends, and see how you fare.”
Kwarel spat at him. Sapphire didn't recoil. He simply looked contemptuous.
“Do you challenge us then?” demanded Hadem.
“I do,” responded Quon placidly.
“Beware,” cautioned Sapphire in an under-voice. “We're under strength, Earth.”
In a quick aside Quon whispered,
“I'm not sure about this, Sapphire, so break from me if you must and let them do their worst with me.” He saw Sapphire's expression. “Sapphire, we must judge their strength and how close they are.” Sapphire sighed and nodded.
“All very well, old friend, but we hold together and go down together.” He added grimly, but with mordant humour, “I have the feeling that life is once again about to get truly interesting. There's nothing like a challenge, is there?”
“I'm too old to appreciate it,” came the curt rejoinder.
He and Sapphire went into communion and stayed still. The Riders hovered. Again, for a while, they were slightly indistinct as they gathered in their energies, all too preoccupied with themselves to care what the Doms might be doing.
Quon became less substantial too. A tawny nimbus enveloped him in a way that made him seem less of Shalah and more of the ethereal. He had a spectral appearance. Sapphire also changed, his form gathering a bright blue energy that surrounded a tall ghostly and formidable figure. Beside him an amorphous, fluid shape floated easily just off the ground, a creaminess to its colour. And next to Quon was a dancing red nimbus. The red became orange then changed back to crimson in a breath.
“The Elementals,” whispered Saracen in an awed tone to Knellen and Javen.
The two bigger men flanked the smaller Grohol. All three watched appalled as the darkness overhead swelled then surged down and over the lighter colours below.
“I learned of these abilities,” said Javen. There was longing in his voice. “I was never considered one privileged or trained enough to witness such as this.”
“Enjoy it then,” growled Knellen. “It might be the last thing you see. What are those things?”
“I'm not sure,” was Javen's cautious reply, “but I suspect they're among the legions who terrorised Shalah aeons ago in the time of the Progenitor. They were his minions, I suppose.”
“Why are they here now then?” The Varen's cold logic annoyed Saracen.
“What the demons does it matter?” he snarled. “They're here now!”
“Someone bids them come or orders them to from somewhere,” said Javen, leaning against the door jamb. “They'd not come alone or unbidden, of that I'm sure.”
“Comforting!” muttered Knellen.
The three men watched the hail of red balls of energy that rained down on the circle.
Javen spoke again, strain in his voice.
“They were restrained a very long time ago.”
“Well they're not now,” said Saracen, backing away from a wayward ball that hissed exactly where he'd stood. Javen and Knellen backed too, until they felt a figure behind them and looked over their shoulders at Jepaul.
He stood very tall, auburn curls clustered about his head, neck and shoulders, and his odd, slightly slanted eyes intent. He looked fearless. His jewellery briefly flared before it went inert. He seemed, in an indefinable way, to be untouchable as if what went on outside couldn't harm him. He didn't even tremble. The men eyed him in astonishment as he stepped forward through them and made his unhurried way to the towering fury.
Jepaul stood quite still. His curls were blown by the violence of the storm raging above him, but despite the buffeting the still thin figure with the broad shoulders and bare feet remained unruffled. The storm above raged unabated.
Jepaul called to Quon.
“You have need of me, Quon.”
He didn't yell but his voice, with an extraordinary carrying quality, penetrated the linked minds of the circle. It made them falter. Then they dissipated in a swirling mass of colour as clear forms emerged. Quon looked disgruntled.
The Riders drew themselves in for a final blast, their voices raised in a scream of triumph but then, uncertain, they paused. The forms of the Four crossed to Jepaul and surrounded him. The dark mass broke too. Enraged faint figures glared down.
“Cowards!” taunted Leth wrathfully. Spit formed on his lips drawn back in a snarl.
Disdainfully, Jepaul briefly looked up.
“You don't harm Quon or those with him.”
“And who then are you, little child, to speak so to one of us?” taunted Tudeh outraged. “You'll meet your end, now!”
Jepaul lifted his head so his face was clearly visible.
“I'm Jepaul,” he announced distinctly. “I say, again, that no one harms those with me.”
“Look on him!” snapped Kwarel. “Look on him!! He must be told. He must. Does he know? Can he?”
Suddenly, there was no frothing red energy and no writhing shapes. The Riders were gone. Quon took a deep breath. Sapphire was reflective and silent. Of the other Elementals there was no sign. Jepaul blinked and rubbed his eyes in a very tired way, as if to dispel a sleep or bad dream.
“Come, Jepaul,” said Quon very quietly. He took the boy by the arm.
“I'm so tired, Quon,” he mumbled, knuckling at his eyes still, his face quite white and drawn. His big eyes looked too big in his thin face.
Sapphire was quick in support when Jepaul sagged at the knees. The boy was guided to his hammock where Knellen waited. He simply lifted the boy into it and covered him.
Quon looked at Sapphire.
“He has to go to the Island, Sapphire. There's now no other choice, is there?”
“None,” agreed Sapphire thoughtfully. “He's no longer safe, if he ever was. There'll be others soon enough.”
“We have to leave,” agreed Quon in a deeply troubled voice.
The next morning saw Jepaul walk across to Quon and squat beside the old man who poked idly at the earth with his staff. Quon glanced up and round.
“Little fellow, are you ready to move on?”
Jepaul nodded thoughtfully. Then he asked tremulously,
“Do you think I'm a coward, Quon?”
Quon's expression of utter surprise reassured Jepaul.
“Why do you ask me such a thing, child?”
Other castes saw Jepaul as a coward. He'd been called it so often and tormented for his unusual looks and five toes, that he'd come to believe that maybe he was what others called him. Quon stroked his beard and observed, quietly, that a child who had rocks thrown at him, was beaten and abused, and took it all, was no coward.
; “They taunted me, Quon, for not fighting back.”
“Emtori can't, can they?”
“No.”
“So that makes their remarks pointless and silly, doesn't it?”
Jepaul slowly nodded as he digested Quon's comments.
“I hate fighting, Quon. And I hate the sight of blood. Pain troubles me. I don't like to see hurt anywhere. Does that make me a coward too?”
“No, little lad, not at all. There's enough of all that without either wanting more or liking it.” Quon paused, then asked casually, “Do you write down what you see in your mind?”
Jepaul looked at his mentor enquiringly.
“Emtori aren't allowed to do that, Quon.”
“But you do,” murmured Quon, a smile touching his eyes. “Who taught you?”
Jepaul shook his head dumbly. He stayed silent so Quon waited.
“Me,” finally whispered Jepaul, his face half-ashamed. He saw Quon's smile broaden. “I sometimes had nothing to do other than stand at school, so I taught myself to read and write as something to do. No one knows.”
“Well, well,” marvelled Quon amused. “How much have you learned, child? Show me.”
Jepaul got right down beside Quon and showed him, using a stick to draw letters in the earth. Quon simply watched, intrigued, and got the boy to read him what he'd sketched out. He drew a deep breath.
“Do you try to put images into verse as well as just words?”
“Yes.”
“Will you show me one day?”
Jepaul nodded
“One day, Quon, but not today. My head's too busy.” Quon had to settle for that. He watched the young head tilt upwards. “The clouds look low and cross. They're frowning and the wind is angry. It's growling through the trees.”
“Aye, so it is, little lad. It looks like rain. We need to find some sort of shelter.”