Where Gods Fear to Go

by Angus Watson

  He hit the ground with an ooof! He scraped along, rolled, made a grab at a stunted bush, missed, and bounced over the edge of the cliff.

  He fell. One leg jerked and he swung into rock. He gripped onto it, eyes tight shut.

  “You’re going to have to help a bit,” grunted Wulf’s voice.

  Erik opened his eyes. He was upside down, several hundred paces above the red skirt of scree and the valley floor. Stones were falling around him.

  He wasn’t plummeting to his death because Wulf had hold of his foot.

  “You’re too heavy to pull up, man!” his rescuer sounded strained. “Can you use your hands?”

  Erik could use his hands. He could have done an awful lot at that moment to stop himself from falling.

  He jammed his fingers into clefts and walked them in a backwards, upwards crawl as Wulf hauled on his foot. A few sweaty heartbeats later, he was lying on his stomach, looking out over the drop.

  Chogolisa was watching him from the bridge, balancing on the remaining foot rope. The severed rope lay against the far cliff. It didn’t reach the bottom, not nearly. They were a long way up.

  How did they get the ropes across when they built the thing? Erik found himself thinking. And why the Hel did they build it? Did they not consider that shit like this was bound to happen? Then he yelled: “Come back, Chogolisa! Slowly!”

  “No, don’t!” shouted Wulf. “Keep going! You’re halfway! No point coming back!”

  Chogolisa nodded, turned and carried on, walking carefully along the single rope, hands tight on the two support cords. Erik checked the join between the cables and the support structure. All seemed to be holding.

  Chogolisa made it across without further incident, if one considered Erik almost crapping himself every time she took a step as no incident. When she reached the far side, he was both relieved and horror-struck because now it was his turn.

  “Let’s go!” Wulf grinned at the big man’s discomfort. “Shall I do big bounces or small jiggly bounces on the way across?”

  “We cannot go together.”

  “Why not? We definitely weigh less than… I mean to say it’s a strong rope. Take your boots off for a better grip and you’ll be fine. Hang them round your neck. Come on, let’s—” He looked up from unlacing his boots and saw Erik’s face. “All right, all right. Do you want to go first or second?”

  “First. No, second. Oh, cunt-faced pigfuckers, I don’t know. Big bears’ cocks. Squirrel-fucking, salmon-buggering—”

  “Erik?”

  “Sorry. You won the game, you go first.” And then I might just stay over here for the rest of my life, he thought.

  Sofi Tornado watched Wulf the Fat striding confidently across the broken bridge, smiling like a teen on his way to meet a girl who’s promised him a kiss. Sassa Lipchewer was standing next to her. Her heartbeat wasn’t much slower than her growing baby’s.

  “The rope will hold,” said Sofi.

  “Will it?”

  “It will.” It might not. The other rope had snapped so this one could. In fact it was more likely because it was now doing the job of both ropes. But the Wootah woman believed her and her heartbeat calmed.

  When he was about twenty paces away she could hear Wulf’s heartbeat, too. It was hammering away faster than usual, even taking the exertion into consideration. Wulf knew the rope could go and he was more scared than she’d ever known him, but you really could not tell by looking at his happy face. Sofi found herself smiling back at him. It was impossible not to.

  Wulf arrived, and, far away on the other side, Erik set off. Unhappiness was etched deep on his face. Next to her, Sassa and Wulf’s heartbeats were slowing, but Chogolisa’s was accelerating. So she really did like the man. Sofi wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Owsla were allowed lovers, but not romantic relationships. However, they were a long way from Calnia and, chances were, Calnia wasn’t there any more. More importantly, if Erik survived to the end of the quest, it would complicate matters when Sofi slaughtered the Wootah. If indeed she was going to. It was not an easy decision.

  She couldn’t help vaguely hoping that the rope would snap and solve her problem for her.

  Or Erik might, she mused, die of fear. He was breathing shallow and fast through his open mouth like a rabbit with an arrow in its gut, and his eyes were wide as an owl’s.

  Fact was, though, he was a good deal lighter than Chogolisa and she’d made it across. The chances of the second rope snapping while he was on it were slim.

  Then she heard a rumble. Ah, she thought, unless this happens.

  There wasn’t time to shout a warning. The ground lurched so hard and suddenly that she was almost thrown off her feet.

  The world buckled. Rocks were tumbling. The Wootah and Calnians who’d crossed the bridge were crouching. She heard a poing! from the far side of the canyon as the second foot rope snapped.

  When the bucking had reduced a little, Sofi half stood and looked back across the chasm. The second foot rope was gone. The two hand ropes had held, Innowak knew how, but they were whipping about in rippling waves. Fifty paces out with a hand rope under each armpit, Erik was bouncing on the ropes like a child’s toy.

  “Fucknuts!” he shouted. “Catpussies!”

  The earthquake calmed. Stones tumbled down the canyon walls, and there were some major rockslides still falling up and down stream, but the land around them was still. The group climbed to their feet, walked to the edge and looked at Erik, hanging on the hand ropes above the canyon. The wooden support on the other side had fallen askew. That was something of a worry, but Sofi guessed that if it had survived this far it wasn’t likely to fall now. The question was whether Erik could pull himself fifty paces to safety.

  “Badgers’ balls!” he hollered.

  “You’re fine!” Wulf yelled. “The ropes will hold. Pull yourself along.”

  Erik hauled himself half a pace with one arm, then rested, dangling unhappily. He used the same arm to pull himself again but managed only a quarter of a pace before stopping and panting.

  “One arm is a lot weaker after the wasp man cut,” said Chogolisa.

  He didn’t have a hope. Sofi reckoned he might make another five paces. Probably not even that. He had fifty to go. Looks like the Chogolisa and Erik problem is solved, she thought.

  “Take your time, Erik! You’ll be fine!” Thyri shouted.

  “I’ll go out there and get him,” said Wulf.

  “No, you won’t,” said Sassa.

  “I’ll go,” offered Finn, sounding, to Sofi’s surprise, like he actually meant it.

  “None of you will go,” said Chogolisa. “The extra weight will probably snap the ropes. If it doesn’t, how could you help him?”

  Erik pulled himself along, but managed hardly a finger’s breadth before slumping and yelling with the pain it caused his injured arm.

  He hung by the armpits, panting and defeated. It was just a matter of time.

  Sofi turned, wondering whether to suggest they set off rather than watch him fall to his death, and found Yoki Choppa standing behind her, looking at her.

  “What?” she said.

  He held her gaze. One of his eyebrows raised very slightly.

  She looked back at Erik, hanging like a doll. He could probably stay like that for a while, and it looked like the ropes were going to hold.

  She knew what Yoki Choppa wanted her to do.

  She sighed. She wasn’t going to do it. It was too risky. She didn’t particularly mind dying, but their mission was to get Ottar and the body of a dead Warlock Queen’s child to The Meadows. They could do that without Erik. Without Sofi, they’d struggle.

  She opened her mouth, about to tell everyone they had to leave him. Sassa, Finn, Chogolisa, Thyri and Wulf were staring at Erik in naked despair.

  Out in the canyon, Erik tried to pull himself along again with his good arm, but made no progress.

  Finn stood looking at his father and weeping quietly. Chogolisa was sobbing. />
  “Fucknuts!” Erik shouted.

  “Fucknuts indeed,” said Sofi, shaking her head.

  Before she could change her mind, she ran and leapt onto the half-pace-apart hand ropes, one foot gripping each of the rough cords. She pressed with her feet to judge the ropes’ strength and pliability. Yup, they were good. She could do it as long as the ropes held. And there wasn’t another earthquake. Or any aftershocks, which there always were.

  She ran out along the ropes, over the edge of the cliff.

  “Put your fat in a cat,” said Sassa Lipchewer. Her mouth was hanging open but she didn’t care.

  Sofi Tornado was several hundred paces above the canyon, running along the hand ropes towards Erik. The slender ropes were bouncing and stretching, but the Owsla captain sped along like a squirrel on a branch.

  Sofi reached Erik and stretched over him, placing her hands on the rope behind his head. They stayed like that for a while. Sassa could hear Sofi’s voice, but not what she was saying. What was she going to do? What could she do?

  After what seemed like far too long, still holding the rope with her hands, Sofi lowered herself gracefully and circled her legs around Erik’s midriff. Sassa couldn’t see but she guessed she’d linked her feet behind his back.

  Somehow Sofi persuaded Erik to let go of the rope. She lowered herself slowly, so she was bearing their combined weight, dangling from the rope by her hands. Her legs were wrapped around the hefty Wootah man, facing away from the watching Wootah and Calnians.

  Slowly and deliberately, the Owsla captain squeezed both ropes together, then shifted her hand one over the other, twisted her body and let the ropes spring apart again. She was left holding two ropes in different hands, facing them.

  Erik dangled, big woolly head pressed against her chest.

  Sofi slid one hand along the rope, then the other, again and again, swinging towards them. The hand ropes strained and thrummed.

  Sassa shook her head. Sofi hadn’t looked for a moment like she wasn’t going to make it. Her precision, her strength, her confidence, her intelligence all combined to produce the most extraordinary feat Sassa had ever seen. There was no point comparing yourself to such a person. All you could do was watch in awe.

  A crack! ran out. The support structure on the far side toppled, fell forwards and… stopped. The bridge held.

  Sofi kept coming.

  Chogolisa squatted at the edge of the cliff.

  They were maybe five paces out when the rightmost rope snapped.

  Sofi didn’t blink. She kept coming hand over hand along the remaining rope. Chogolisa grabbed Sofi’s wrists and stood, pulling rescuer and rescued up and out of the canyon. She plonked Erik onto the rock. Sofi unwrapped her legs and Chogolisa swung her onto her feet like a graceful dancer.

  Sassa closed her mouth. She could not believe what she had just seen.

  Erik shook, not unlike a wet dog, then looked at his rescuer.

  “Um… Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Sofi. “Try not to do it again.”

  Nether Barr looked from Sofi to Erik. If she was impressed, it didn’t show. She touched the remaining rope over the canyon with a snarl, said something in her own language, then sped away across the desert.

  “Anybody know what she said?” asked Finn.

  “I don’t know,” said Wulf, “but I guess it was something along the lines of you broke our fucking bridge.”

  Chapter 5

  Canyon Invaders

  “Ottar’s over there,” said Freydis the Annoying, walking back from the target cactus with an armful of arrows and nodding westwards.

  Sitsi looked across the canyon and over rocky scrubland. With her enhanced sight she could see Paloma watching Keef trying to sneak up on a jackrabbit with Arse Splitter. But no small boys.

  “A long way over there,” said Freydis.

  “That’s west,” said Sitsi Kestrel.

  “Yes.”

  “But he should be coming from the south-east.”

  “He’s coming from the west.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  “How far?”

  Freydis frowned and peered westwards. “Don’t know.”

  She could be right. It had been long enough that they could have circled around.

  “Is Bodil Gooseface with him?” Sitsi blurted.

  “Why Bodil Gooseface?”

  “I mean all of them. Are they all okay? I just said Bodil because I think she’s the most likely to come to harm.” Sitsi twirled an arrow and tried to look nonchalant.

  Freydis gave her a strange look. “I don’t know. I just know Ottar’s over there and he’s coming here. He might get here today, he might get here in ten days. Please can we shoot some more arrows?”

  “Go for it. I’ll watch.”

  It was nine days since she and Keef had rescued Paloma from the squatch. Sitsi had been going just a little insane spending all her time with Keef, so she suggested that Paloma and the Wootah man hunt while she taught Freydis how to make bows and arrows and how to use them. It wasn’t because she didn’t like Keef. Quite the opposite.

  She tried to tell herself she loved him like a brother. He was so funny looking with his little head, one eye, one ear and pale skin, how could it be otherwise? But she knew she was lying to herself.

  She was sure he felt the same. She was aching to tell him that Bodil’s baby wasn’t his. But it would be the wrong thing to do, plus she wanted the beginning of their love to be romantic.

  How did you two get together? she sometimes fantasised that people in years to come would ask. Well, it’s a funny story, she’d answer in her fantasies. He shagged someone else who was already pregnant with another man’s baby. I told him that it wasn’t his baby, and he ran into my arms. What about the mother? Oh, we ruined her life and the baby died.

  That would not do.

  She wished she could have talked to someone about it, but there was only Keef himself, Freydis and Paloma. Paloma would tease her and be coarse.

  She looked at Freydis, standing and holding the bow and pulling the string exactly as she’d shown her. She couldn’t bring herself to discuss her love live with a six-year-old, even such a precocious one.

  Her policy was to keep trying to convince herself that Keef was just a great friend. When the others got here and they carried on west, he’d be hanging out with Bodil more than with her, because they were lovers who were going to share a child. But Sitsi could still enjoy friendly moments with him. That was all she needed, wasn’t it?

  She sighed and looked around again. Still no sign of the Wormsland people whom Paloma had attacked.

  She hadn’t been angry with Paloma at the time. She’d been ready for her to break the rules and head out of the canyon, so she and Keef had been ready to follow. It had been no great surprise that Paloma had managed to pick a fight with some warriors who Sitsi was certain were from the nearby Wormsland tribe, and very nearly get herself killed by a squatch.

  Sitsi didn’t mind all that, but she had become more and more frustrated with Paloma. She’d apologised but she hadn’t meant it. She’d put them all in danger–worst of all she’d put Freydis in danger–and Sitsi just knew that silly, selfish Paloma was perfectly capable of doing it all again.

  The following day, Sitsi decided to risk Paloma running off with Freydis again, and spend what little time they had left in the canyon with Keef. They sat and chatted by the tadpole pool while Paloma and Freydis hared around up-canyon.

  They did talk about things other than tadpoles as they sat there, but at that moment Sitsi did happen to be talking about how creatures could change from one thing into another. She was trying to bring the conversation around to the human reproductive cycle–specifically how long it was between becoming pregnant and knowing that one was pregnant–when one of Keef’s trip alarms sounded.

  They slipped off the rock and headed down-canyon, along the sandy path and into the narrow, wooded section
where their cave was. Keef went first with Arse Splitter and Sitsi followed, arrow strung.

  “Stop,” she whispered, as they reached a stream crossing. “Someone’s coming.”

  They melted back into the trees.

  A sour-faced old lady carrying a long-handled net appeared on the other side of the stream. Not what Sitsi had been expecting. The woman stopped and sniffed the air.

  She held up a hand.

  “It’s Sitsi Kestrel and Keef the Berserker,” said Sofi Tornado, appearing beside the old lady. “They’re hiding in the trees.” She pointed at them.

  “Hello, Sofi,” said Sitsi, sauntering from cover. She could act cool, too. “Is… everyone with you?”

  “Not everyone.” Cold dread seized Sitsi. Who’d died? “But nobody’s dead, or badly hurt,” continued Sofi, and Sitsi started to breathe again. “Now tell me, are Freydis and Pronghorn with you?”

  “They are. They’re running about somewhere nearby. Paloma and her—”

  “Freydis is alive!’ yelled Sofi. “They’re all here!”

  That’s right, thought Sitsi, tell the others that everyone’s fine but leave me wondering who’s not with you. Is it Bodil?

  Cheers and whoops from her old friends and a “WHOOOOO-tah!” from Wulf rang out from the cover of the trees down the canyon.

  “WHOOOOO-tah!” Keef yelled in reply.

  The Wootah’s pure joy made feel her bad about her pettish thoughts. She tried not to be too excited that she couldn’t hear Bodil Gooseface. No Yoki Choppa either, but he wasn’t the cheering type. Surely Bodil would have been whooping loudest if she’d been with the rest of them?

  “Can you keep going at the front? I’m stooped under a branch here,” came Chogolisa’s voice from the trees.

  “Follow me back to our camp!” Sitsi shouted so all the people still hidden by the trees could hear. “There’s room for everyone there.”

  “Tell me quickly, Sofi,” said Sitsi as they followed Keef up the canyon, “who’s not with you? If it’s Ottar I don’t know what Freydis will—”

  “Ottar’s here,” said Sofi.