Nigma (The Waifs of Duldred Book 3)

by Ana Salote

  Lil appeared in the distance. She was thinner, flatter, darker; little more than a wavery line coming towards them. Gritty tore off to meet her.

  ‘What did you say to her, Alas?’ Oy asked.

  ‘Not much. I said, “You know what a broken heart is don’t ya? Well do you know you just broke that young girl’s heart?”’

  Lil approached with Gritty at her side. ‘You haven’t beaten me with your words,’ said Lil. ‘I’m here because I see the only way to be rid of you is to see you through the storm wall.’

  It was difficult to look at Lil without pity showing in their faces; she was so shrunken and changed. Lil hated to be pitied. She began to graze immediately. She crammed her mouth and chewed as she walked till they got used to seeing her with a hanging beard of samphire and very soon she began to fill her skin.

  Lil walked them through the mazes. It was quicker to go over the top but the winds up there were dangerous, strong enough to suck them into the storm wall itself. Inside the mazes the gusts set up a howling music.

  On the last day in the Cracnazy the winds outside were fierce. In the evening the howling died suddenly, then Lil climbed a stack for one last look over her homeland.

  The sight from the top of the stack was astonishing. Wavy golden clouds folded down the sky like toffee. On every side were curtains of golden dust. All the mazes of the Cracnazy were laid out around them, and the sore hole of Craicanmar. Lil stood listening to the falling dust. She scooped some up and smeared her face with it. Oy picked up a yellow stone and handed it to Lil. She put it in her pocket.

  Far away in Dysma, Fettapigi held the Dresh doll in her filthy hands. She crushed and twisted it, but the doll was just cloth. Fettapigi had lost her power over it. She threw it down in a rage. She had seen Lil’s strength and her weakness. The Dresh’s love was all for her home. Her feeling for people was a small and shrivelled thing. Something had changed. The Dresh had changed. She was moving on. Fettapigi spat in disgust. ‘All speed and strength to you now, Capun Rigaw,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I have slowed them; you must catch them. I can’t help anymore.’

  15 Under the wall

  The bobo’s nose was flapping and inflating like a pair of bellows. Its fronds were flattened in the wind.

  ‘How...?’ The wind took the word away and filled Skulp’s mouth with air instead.

  ‘Behind the...’ Rigaw gestured.

  For once Skulp understood. They turned the horses and led the cart back behind the wind-blasted rocks. It was difficult to stand even in the lea of the rock. The bobo’s fronds streamed one way and then another. It was useless this close to the storm wall. The men retreated till they reached a place where the hound’s fronds were merely ruffled. Their general direction pointed to a line of rock formations which the weather or the hand of man had carved. Some looked like figures, but blunted so all detail was lost; others resembled hoops and bridges. For speed Rigaw took a horse and rode that way alone. Again the wind strengthened. A lighter horse and man might have been blown away.

  When Rigaw saw the waifs he laughed. They moved like drunks from one rock to another, holding onto each in turn. In between the rocks they held on to each other. The currents played with them, lifting them up and knocking them down.

  Rigaw wondered why the waifs had come to such a place. It was clear they could go no further. They stood together holding on to a rock that had worn to a giant keyhole. Rigaw rode at them. The taller of the boys was all he wanted. The Dresh blocked him. Her mouth was open. Even with the noise of the wind he could hear something awful coming out of it. Faint as it was it made him wish he was somewhere else but he rode on. The smaller of the boys disappeared into the sand. The girl followed. Curse them; he could almost feel the smooth weight of the husbind’s medal back in his hands. The boy would not cheat him of it. Rigaw spurred the horse hard. The hareboy was shouting at the ground below him. The Dresh tried to block Rigaw but the wind pulled her away. Rigaw leaned down from his horse and grasped the boy’s hair but the boy wrenched free and slid away from him into the ground. Rigaw needed help to dismount. Gravity was the only help available; he tipped sideways and dropped. The Dresh was still shouting at him as she too stepped into the hole. For a moment she was stuck with her head and shoulders above ground then, as if tugged from below, she disappeared. All of them had disappeared. Rigaw dug furiously with his hands. The hole filled with sand as fast as he dug. He sat back on his heels and cursed into the wind.

  Skulp watched from afar. After a while he realised that the children and the Dresh had gone and his Capun was shouting something. He waited for orders. Rigaw came back and called him names.

  ‘Have you heard the word initiative?’ said Rigaw.

  ‘I have, Capun.’

  ‘Do you know what it means?’

  ‘In a manner.’

  ‘Have you ever used it?’

  ‘I doubt it, Capun.’

  ‘And so do I.’

  ‘Next time you see me in trouble, come and help.’

  ‘Yes, Capun.’

  Rigaw whipped Skulp. The tail of the whip curled around Skulp’s head binding his nose and mouth. Skulp was untroubled. This incensed Rigaw even more. He unwound the whip and coshed Skulp with the handle instead. Skulp put his hand to his head in mock pain. ‘I deserved that, Capun,’ he said.

  The men returned to the Blusters and uncovered the hole. It was not wide enough for any Fellun to enter. Rigaw stood and stared at the storm wall till the flying sand threatened to etch away what was left of his sight.

  ‘We can go back to the mines, Capun, fetch picks and blasting powder. We don’t know what’s down there. It might open out or it might be so small they get stuck.’

  ‘So there is a brain in there. No, the mines are days away,’ said Rigaw. ‘I’m done. I won’t try to please her any more. Why should I when I can’t bear the sight, sound or smell of her? “Rigaw, do you live to please me or not?” He mimicked Bominata. ‘I will take her a different answer, on the end of a club.’

  ‘Capun!’

  ‘Can you honestly tell me you don’t hate her?’

  ‘Not honestly, Capun.’

  Rigaw slapped his back. ‘Good man. It’s time we were rid of her. Back me and I’ll see you well rewarded.’

  ‘You’ll find you have backers a’plenty, Capun. Everyone thinks she’s the vilest thing that ever walked.’

  ‘Do they really?’

  By the time they had returned to the cart Rigaw was almost cheerful. A small dune had covered the bobo. Rigaw sat and pondered leaving Skulp to dig the valuable nose out of the sand.

  The hole in the sand dropped down to a cave. It was too small to fit four of them. Oy and Gritty made way by crawling into a tunnel. Alas grabbed Lil’s legs and yanked her down the hole. Luckily she was still somewhat shrunken otherwise she would have been stuck. The light from above was intermittent as Rigaw, with much swearing, cleared the sand only to have it blown back in.

  ‘Shall I go on?’ said Oy, from the tunnel.

  ‘What if that old map is a fiction?’ said Alas.

  ‘It got us here didn’t it?’ said Gritty, her voice deadened by rock.

  ‘How much room in the tunnel?’ said Alas.

  ‘There’s crawl room,’ said Oy, ‘even for Lil. And you can drag your bag alongside.’

  Alas looked at the light above and the sand pouring into the hole. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and surrendered his head to the dark. Lil followed behind.

  ‘Everybody in?’ Oy called back. He waited for three ‘yes’s. ‘If we edge forward twenty wriggles then stop. The person behind touches your ankle, then you go on another twenty. That way we know no one is stuck or left behind.’

  The tunnel was twice the width of Oy but it was too low to crawl easily. The only way forward was to wriggle on their stomachs and elbows. There was no way of knowing how long the tunnel was or if there was a way out at the other end. As they edged along the downward slope the storm noise grew fainter. Soon the o
nly sounds were of breathing and the dragging of bags and limbs. Then, ‘Why have you stopped?’ said Lil.

  ‘Who’s stopped?’ said Gritty.

  ‘Alas is blocking my way,’ said Lil.

  ‘Alas? What’s the matter?’ said Gritty.

  Alas’s breathing was fast and shallow. ‘I need to get out.’

  Oy’s gentle voice came from further ahead. ‘Alas, it’s alright. You’re thinking of the chimneys aren’t you? That’s all past. We’re on the right track. It didn’t look far on the map. The ceiling’s getting higher where I am.’

  ‘I don’t like it either,’ said Gritty, ‘but I’m thinking forward. We’ve come through too much to let a little dark tunnel stop us.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ said Alas.

  Lil stretched a hand forward, steeled herself against the contact, and touched Alas’s foot. ‘There’s nothing so safe as a craic, which is what this is only laid on its side,’ she said. ‘I’m right at home here except I’m the wrong way up. It’s open spaces you should fear.’ Alas’s foot began to relax. It wasn’t what she said so much as the way she said it. Her voice was blithe. Listening to it, it was hard to believe there was a shred of care anywhere in the world. Alas’s body sank slowly into the rock. ‘There,’ said Lil, ‘the rock will hold you safe. Now no more of this silliness.’

  ‘Lil, keep talking like that will you.’

  ‘I’m here and I’m talking,’ she said.

  Alas raised himself up and crawled on. Every so often Lil felt his fear rising and said a few words, light and song-like.

  Oy was right, the distance wasn’t far, little more than an Afflish mile, but a mile of crawling in blackness seems like a very long way. Fortunately, the tunnel widened at one point and they were able to stretch and rest. Lil said she would rather stay lying flat than sit in a cramped space. Alas fumbled in his bag, struck a flare and lit a spill to relieve the darkness. The flame lit three crouching waifs crammed close in a rock hole and Lil’s head and shoulders emerging from a tunnel next to them. They reassured and strengthened each other till the spill went out. Purple and green ghost flames lingered behind it. Oy whispered encouragement and led them on. Another long crawl and Oy shouted, ‘Stop.’ There were sounds of small rocks shifting and rolling.

  ‘What’s happening, Oy?’ Alas called.

  ‘There’s a blockage,’ said Oy. ‘I can feel a gap in it but it’s not big enough to get through. There’s loose rocks like maybe the ceiling collapsed.’

  Alas groaned.

  ‘A long time ago I’m sure,’ said Oy. ‘Pass me a spill, Gritty.’

  Gritty lit the spill and passed it to Oy.

  Oy examined the gap. ‘I might get through if I fold my shoulders in. It’s too small for the rest of you.’

  ‘He’s right; it’s tiny,’ said Gritty.

  Alas’s voice came back to him. ‘Don’t get stuck. If we have to back out that’s what we have to do.’

  ‘I’m trying for it,’ said Oy, passing the spill back to Gritty.

  Gritty watched as Oy pressed his rib cage inwards and folded his shoulders together, transforming his shape to a compacted cigar. Then he threaded himself through the hole.

  ‘My stars,’ said Gritty.

  It was a worrying while before they heard his voice again. ‘I’m out,’ he called. ‘It’s bigger this side. Now you got to wait till I clear all these rocks and let you through. The knocking and rumbling and coughing and panting seemed to go on forever. His ‘not much mores’ and ‘not far to goes’ and ‘nearly theres’ didn’t mean much as Gritty lit spill after spill. Gritty had used twelve of their fifteen spills before the call came. ‘Alright, you can come through now.’

  The tunnel opened up again. This time the roof was high enough for the waifs to stand. Only Lil had to stoop; now it was she who suffered. At last the passage levelled then it began to climb.

  ‘The storm’s getting louder,’ said Gritty. ‘I think we’re on the way out.’

  The first thing Oy saw was his own hand. ‘There’s light,’ he called back. ‘We must be near the end.’

  They came out in the same high winds but in a very different land. In the distance were pine forests and above them was snow.

  16 The Red Caves

  Rigaw sold the bobo to some snoduffel hunters for a quarter of the price he paid for it. He was tempted to go to Dysma and kill Fettapigi but he couldn’t bear to see the witch again. Perhaps he would send someone else to do it. He returned to Fellund in the foulest possible mood. He knew exactly how Bominata would look and exactly what she would say. He knew he would be sorely tempted to set about her with his club.

  The summons came immediately. Rigaw hadn’t time to change his dusty clothes before Bominata called for him. He unpinned his medal. She would not tear it from him again. He went to her apartments and stood before her, ready with excuses as to why the hareboy had escaped, this time beyond all reach.

  Bominata didn’t care. Rigaw knew the signs. She was high with a new excitement, giddy with a fresh desire. He gripped the medal in his pocket. There may be another chance to keep it, but he did not feel relief so much as weariness. What new impossible challenge had she set for him?

  ‘I want you to take me to Lunetmar,’ she said.

  There was no mention or even any thought of the hareboy or Rigaw’s arduous trip on her behalf.

  ‘When?’ he said, a high note of impatience in his voice.

  ‘Now,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’ he said.

  ‘They have found them,’ she said.

  ‘Surely not. I saw them with my own eyes disappear into the ground beneath the storm wall.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I don’t care about some rabbit child and friends. Underground is where they belong. This is far more exciting. They have found the Red Caves!’

  ‘The Red Caves are just another Chee story, older than most, but still a story.’

  ‘Wrong. They are real. They have been found in the Cheelah Gorge. The rock is marbled like fattened bear and so hard, so heavy, so dense....’ – the corners of her mouth frothed with appreciation – ‘the miners can’t find anything to cut it with. But you will find a way won’t you, my husbind? My densest, longest serving, trusty husbind. You will take me there. We must see it before it is disturbed then I will have all my apartments lined with it. You will find a way won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Fellona.’

  ‘I will wait till you change your furs then you may embrace me.’

  Rigaw called for clean furs. He had no need to change his expression since she could not see it. His mouth was hard and his eyes were full of pinlights.

  Bom was on the move. Her caravan wound along the Cheelah gorge. There were two wagons for meat and water, one for servants, one for guards and one for her bed; all under hoop frames and red canvas. After five dusty days they reached Lunetmar.

  The party of Felluns alighted stiffly in the shimmering dust. The wagon steps were lowered. Bominata’s joints had set but she could not wait for Meccanee to rub life back into her. She called for the ramp. Guards helped her slide to the ground. They stood her on end, then loaded her into a sedan and carried her to the caves. It was a winding, difficult climb and the day was hot. In places it was very narrow and rubble slid underfoot. Rigaw led. Often he looked back. Wishfully he looked down. He watched the treacherous places calmly and did not move to help. The guards drank bladder after bladder of water. The Felluns did not perspire easily. The sweat had to force itself through thick skin and then it was trapped by heavy clothes. Meccanee rode with Bominata and splashed her when told.

  Rigaw noted how Bominata made everyone miserable in the service of her wants. When he made his move she would not be missed.

  A row of miners waited for them. Children watched from the rocks above. The men leant on picks. Their bent bodies reflected their years underground. The first cave had been found by a child goatherd looking for a lost kid. The miners had done their best to widen the chil
d-sized entrance. It was not enough. Bominata could not get through. More miners were called for. They struck at the hard rock under the harsh sun. They worked in waves. There must be no pause. The sounds rang across the gorge. The chips flew. Bominata was very impatient. Meccanee told her exactly what was happening. ‘It won’t be long now your Density. This rock is near as hard as a Bung’s skull. These are good men, working as fast as they can. It will be worth the wait.’

  17 Hitting the Spot

  The quarry that Yehvo hoped to find above the dam was long abandoned. There was no blasting powder to be had. ‘What now?’ Gertie whispered, when Ferralee was out of earshot.‘I don’t know,’ said Yehvo. ‘Let me take time to think.’

  While Yehvo thought, all of them enjoyed a day beside the river. As they walked beside the free waters of the Cheelah, Yehvo and Ferralee were clearly moved, A quiet bond formed between them as they drank the water and bathed in it. Yehvo showed them how to make reed baskets and they caught fish in the shallows.

  ‘This was the life we had once,’ said Yehvo, as they sat eating under a tree. ‘Good wasn’t it?’

  Ferralee was as happy and relaxed as Gertie had ever seen her, and when Yehvo suggested they take a closer look at the dam she agreed.

  There were watchtowers at either end of the dam but there was never anything for the watchmen to watch. One of the towers was empty. The other was occupied by idlers who passed the day gambling, eating and sleeping. The dam looked after itself. It was so well built it needed no repair.

  Yehvo, Ferralee and Gertie approached unseen. They viewed the dam from a platform made by the Arcann for the opening ceremony. From there hundreds of tiny steps lead down to the dam itself. Yehvo knew all this in advance because she had done her research well. But none of them were prepared for the scale and beauty of the dam, for its perfect curves and subtle colours with the name of the old Fellona, Carnoffa, carved across the top. Most of all they were not prepared for the crack that ran from top to middle.