Sanguine

by Carolyn Denman

  ‘Bungee?’

  The dog answered by sticking his wet nose in my ear and then rolling onto his back for a belly scratch.

  Bungee had been one of the two sheep dogs we’d trained up to work over the last few years, both of whom had just run off and never returned. When we’d gone back to the dog breeders for the third time in four years, they’d asked us a whole lot of questions about how we treated our animals. Harry had intervened and reassured them that they were always very spoilt, and they’d believed him. Everyone trusted Harry. I wondered how Aunt Lily was going training up the new pups he’d ordered.

  ‘Well, aren’t you a clever boy?’ I told the Australian Koolie, scratching his ribs with both hands. ‘You found your way to Eden before I even knew it existed. But you were supposed to help us with the sheep, you slacker.’

  Bungee didn’t look at all sorry. No sense of shame at all, which was probably why it wasn’t a problem that he was here. He rolled over to give Annie the honour of being allowed to scratch his belly as well, one pale blue eye laughing.

  ‘Nayn must be here,’ she said, pulling at Bungee’s ears. ‘He always seems to have a dog following him around. I had a feeling it was Nayn approaching. After a while, we can learn what people feel like.’

  ‘Nayn is the Cherub we’ve been sensing?’

  ‘You’re going to love him, Lainie.’

  Sure enough, a few minutes later the old Cherub walked towards us across the meadow, stopping to scratch the zebra mare’s withers along the way. With weathered dark skin and sparkling eyes he looked much more like a traditional Aboriginal Elder than Harry ever had. Maybe if this guy had been my wise mentor, I would have taken things a bit more seriously. His white hair looked out of place here, but he had a bounce in his step that made me think he would have no trouble keeping up with the youthful locals.

  Unlike the wise mentors of the movies, however, the man came straight up to me and hugged me so hard that my spine cracked. He started to speak to me out loud, but I couldn’t understand a word so I signed to him instead. With unreserved laughter he signed back that he had forgotten that language on the Other Side would change. He introduced himself as Nayn. He lived a long way from the Gateway, as he called it, and had felt the presence of a new Cherub and had come to meet me. He’d already met Annie years ago and she greeted him as an old friend.

  As we sat and ate together, Nayn explained that he had once been a Sentinel on the other side, and had come to Eden shortly after his Guardian had crossed over. She had been old and very tired. So tired that one day she just didn’t wake up. He left his only son to lead the community and had come to Eden. He had never gone back. I asked if it had made him sad. Except that I had no sign for sad. I made one up. He knew what I meant.

  She was ready to cross over. It was not a sad thing, but I still miss her.

  I asked whether he ate the Fruit to make himself feel better.

  No. Not for that. Our kind must be careful of the reasons why we eat. For years I longed to show my Guardian all the beautiful things here. She assured me that she already saw this perfection reflected in every rock and tree. She always insisted that one day she would scout a new land ahead of me, so that when I joined her she would be the one to show me around. Her crossing was as much of a celebration as any crossing here. That dark whisper that tried to tell me otherwise never had a hold on me. I never felt the temptation to forget any of it. As I keep telling Annie, forgetting is not healing. His wise brown eyes looked over at my mother. She was climbing a tree with Dallmin, who had noticed Bungee running through the eating area and followed him to come and say hello. She is starting to heal now, Nayn smiled.

  Astonished, I looked again at my friend Dallmin with the curly hair and flying addiction. He was cradling her as he helped her down from the tree. Annie was laughing with him like a schoolgirl. Was it possible to be happy with someone else after losing your Guardian? She certainly looked happier when she was with him than at any other time. I asked Nayn.

  Cherubim and their Guardians have a life-bond. While both are alive it cannot be broken but when one is gone, the bond no longer holds. Then we are able to find another partner, but it is not the same.

  Bane is gone, and our bond is broken, so why do I feel so uncomfortable at the thought of finding another? I feel so lonely and yet I don’t want to connect that way.

  He patted me on the shoulder with one hand while he nicked my vegetable tart right off my plate and stuffed it into his mouth before I could react. When you discover what it is that you desire the most, he signed, you will know why.

  Chapter 4

  ‘There is no such thing as a knife fight!’

  Captain Hughes bellowed at the room full of Tim’s Army Reserve comrades as they sparred with each other. Nearly all of them were focusing hard on not attracting the captain’s attention.

  ‘If someone comes at you with a knife, their one and only purpose is to kill you, not spar with you! Fight like you need to live!’

  The captain’s hands were held behind his back as he paced the floor, inspecting each soldier’s technique in turn, but Tim had no attention to spare for him. Even his loud advice seemed to fade into the background as Tim narrowly avoided a strike to his left hip.

  ‘Fight like you have a purpose for your life!’

  But Private Timothy Kolya’s purpose in life seemed to consist, once again, of being thrown clear across the mat and tripping one of the soldiers in the next zone as he landed.

  ‘Ooommf. Gaarrgh Eeell … I eeelld … for od’s sake, Bane, I yield.’ It was difficult to get the words out with Bane’s knee digging into his stomach but he needed to get through to him, because instead of the cold fury that showed in every other line of Bane’s body, his face looked haunted and grief-stricken, and a good five seconds passed before clarity returned to his pale eyes and he remembered to move the plastic knife away from Tim’s throat. When he finally did, Tim flopped back on the padded mat in genuine relief.

  The captain blew his whistle and the rest of the regiment halted at attention, panting.

  ‘Bane,’ Tim mumbled, trying not to let the sergeant hear, ‘I can’t stand up while you’re still kneeling on me.’

  His friend jumped up so fast that Tim was left floundering on the floor just as their senior training officer came to loom over him, his hands clasping his own elbows in disapproval.

  ‘Did he break something, Kolya?’ the captain asked.

  Tim shook his head but ran a quick assessment to make sure. His hip felt bruised from where he’d landed on it. Why was his left arm so sore? He didn’t even remember being struck there.

  ‘I suggest you get up then, and try to explain why you only lasted about five extra seconds this time. Did you even try what we practised this morning?’

  Rallying as best as he could, Tim stood up, pushed his aching shoulders back and lifted his chin. ‘Yes, Captain, I got in fast and changed direction the way you showed me.’

  Standing beside him, Bane didn’t move, but Tim saw his eyes widen.

  Captain Hughes had called Tim in before dawn that morning for a discreet one-on-one session to teach him a couple of manoeuvres that should have given him at least some advantage over his sparring partner. Bane’s eyebrows suggested that he considered that a bit unusual.

  ‘So what went wrong?’ the captain asked in an overly patient tone.

  Tim tilted his head towards Bane’s left forearm where a thick black streak marred his skin. ‘He cheated, Captain.’

  The plastic knife blades had been edged with black ink in order to keep track of any wounds that would have been inflicted had they been real. Tim knew he himself would be sporting a dark necklace for the next day or so. It didn’t wash off easily.

  ‘Millard. Show me.’

  Bane held his arm out for inspection. The fake wound had missed all the tendons, but would have made a de
cent mess of the muscle below his elbow.

  ‘Explanation?’ Captain Hughes was almost exactly the same height as Bane, and as they stood almost nose to nose, his glare was equally grim.

  To Tim’s relief, Bane backed down a second later, and he lowered his gaze. ‘I needed to win.’

  The officer shook his head. ‘Easy to do here, with fake weapons, but tactics like that belong in urban myths. Don’t make the mistake of assuming you’ll be able to pull it off so easily in real combat. The human instinct to avoid pain is a powerful reflex. Not so easy to overcome.’

  ‘I understand, sir. It won’t happen again.’

  Captain Hughes started to give a satisfied nod, until Bane continued.

  ‘Next time I’ll hold on, and I’ll win.’ Bane held out his other wrist, displaying a faint scar that ran from the middle of his forearm all the way up to his index finger. From the width of the scar tissue, it had clearly been a deep wound. It seemed miraculous that he still had the use of his fingers at all. ‘Permission to ask a question, sir?’

  The captain’s silence indicated his consent.

  ‘Is it possible? Have you ever known anyone to deliberately invite a mortal wound in order to win a fight?’

  ‘A mortal wound? How would that be a win?’ If anything, the officer looked even more annoyed. His clean-shaven chin only highlighted the way he was clenching his jaw. ‘I have seen a couple of instances where people have allowed themselves to sustain wounds in order to save their own lives, like you just demonstrated, and I hope never to have to see it again.’

  ‘But do you believe it’s possible?’ Bane’s whole body was rigid, and his eyes had taken on that zoned-out look Tim sometimes noticed when he was staring at thunderclouds on the horizon.

  ‘I suppose it depends on your level of dedication,’ Captain Hughes replied. He put his hands on his hips, which magnified the immense size of his biceps. The man could have sung his next words in high soprano and still had them all shaking in their boots, but his voice came out like gravel and steel. ‘That’s not really the point, is it? The reason I’m putting you through this training is so that you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for a cause. We want fighters in this army, not heroes. Heroes are only useful once, and usually not even then. Other people tend to get left cleaning up their mess.’ He leant forward. ‘Let me make myself perfectly clear. Find a way to get it done without getting hurt, Lance Corporal Millard, or I will be extremely angry with you.’

  Bane met his eyes but didn’t reply.

  ‘Millard, Kolya, Roberts and Schmidt! At ease. The rest of you can go out and give me two laps!’

  The whistle blew again and the rest of the regiment started running for the door, while Tim, Bane and the other two men who had been released stood silently through a short lecture from their training officer before picking up their kits and heading for the showers.

  The mess hall was still empty by the time they’d cleaned themselves up.

  ‘Bane, is that all you’re having? It’s not like you,’ Tim teased, trying to hide the bruise forming on his arm while tossing another couple of potatoes onto his friend’s plate for him.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m not that hungry,’ Bane replied, sliding them back.

  ‘Beating the pants off us all at training? Then not eating? Must be girl trouble. What have you said to upset Melanie this time?’ Tim enquired, as if Bane didn’t always beat them at training. He stuffed his mouth full of carrots.

  ‘Nothing. She left two weeks ago.’

  Tim stopped chewing, fork halfway to his mouth. He swallowed hastily. ‘That’s it? She just left? Did you have a fight? I thought it was going great! What happened?’

  ‘Nothing. She just left. She kept hinting to me that she wanted to move in, so I offered her my spare room. It made her cross. Do we have to talk about it?’

  The three men at the table stared at him in slack-mouthed astonish-

  ment.

  ‘Yes, actually, I think we do! I thought you were finally getting somewhere. Mels was good for you. She left two whole weeks ago and you’re only telling me now? Why’d you let her go?’ Tim asked, waving his carrots around in his distress.

  ‘She didn’t want to stay. Isn’t that enough?’ Bane replied, pushing his own food around his plate in irritation.

  ‘You’re supposed to make her want to stay. It’s called flirting. Girls really respond to it, I’ve heard. Maybe you should try it some … time …’ His voice trailed off as Bane’s expression darkened. Time for a wise man to change topics. He cleared his throat. ‘What did the staff sergeant need to see you about this morning? You missed the entire basketball game. It must have been important.’

  ‘He asked me to enrol at the Defence Academy. He thinks I might be good as a Personal Protection Officer.’

  Tim dropped his fork altogether. ‘They head-hunted you for the Academy? Bane, that’s great. You need to be full-time army, you’re far too good for Reserves. And I’d have you as my bodyguard any day.’

  Bane seemed to flinch. ‘Trust me, you wouldn’t. When push came to shove I’d let you down.’ He got up and placed his untouched plate on the counter with a bit too much force.

  As he walked out of the mess, Tim caught the eyes of the other two men. They nodded. It was time for an intervention.

  That evening, Tim bullied his best friend into going out for a drink. There was a band playing that he knew Bane wanted to see, so after a ridiculous amount of pleading and coaxing he managed to convince him to get dressed and go out. When they arrived at the venue, Hayden, Kate and Luke were waiting for them at a table already laden with beer bottles.

  ‘Quiet night out for some good music?’ Bane asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Tim was unapologetic. ‘Sure, but the band doesn’t start until ten. Besides, you owe me. You promised you’d come to Comic-Con with me last weekend and you bailed because Mels was supposedly taking you to meet her parents.’

  ‘That was the plan at the time.’

  ‘So you couldn’t have let me know when the plan went to shit?’

  ‘Not without getting one of these lectures from you.’

  ‘We could have gone together dressed as—’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But dressed in our army—’

  ‘Nope.’

  Tim nodded to Kate and Hayden, and slapped Luke’s shoulder in a greeting as he pulled out a chair. ‘Well, what’s the problem with having a drink or two with your squad before the gig anyway?’

  Bane rolled his eyes and sipped at the cold beer he was handed. ‘The problem? Well I guess that depends on what time you need to get up in the morning, doesn’t it? Are you sure the captain doesn’t want you back on base for another early morning sparring session tomorrow?’

  Tim’s answering grin was devoid of any remorse. ‘That’s only on weekdays. I get to sleep in until dawn tomorrow. Luxury!’

  ‘Weekdays? Plural?’

  Tim ignored him and sipped his beer.

  They waited a whole five minutes before they brought up the subject of Bane’s invite to the Academy.

  ‘Is there a reason why you won’t join up full time? What’s the IMPS for the Military Police anyway?’ Luke asked, trying to sound casual. The Initial Minimum Period of Service varied depending on the career path you were on.

  Bane picked at the label on his beer bottle before answering. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it is, I won’t lock into a contract.’

  ‘Why not? It’s no different to a trade apprenticeship, really. It’ll be done before you know it. If you’d done that from the start you’d be almost finished by now,’ Tim pointed out.

  ‘I won’t lock myself into anything I’m not fully prepared to follow through with. You never know what else might come up.’

  ‘Such as what, Bane? You love the army. It suits you. Could you really see yourself do
ing anything else? They’re trying to head-hunt you, for heaven’s sake. Into the very field you wanted to apply for in the first place. What could come up that would be better than that?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ was all Bane mumbled in reply. He fiddled absently with the delicate golden bracelet on his wrist and stared at nothing . Everyone in the squad knew better than to ask him about his incongruous jewellery; instead they all looked at each other and nodded. Right. Plan B. Ply him with drinks until he talks.

  Chapter 5

  The cave on the Eden side of the Boundary was one of hundreds set into the cliff face, and didn’t look particularly special. One of the Living River’s many tributary streamlets flooded the area whenever it rained, so the ground was always a bit boggy and therefore not the simplest way to travel unless you had a specific reason to go there. Like I did.

  Not far from the base of the cliff was a path that led up to a shallow ledge, and if you knew which boulder to look behind, the cave entrance was easy to find. The little path was only slightly better hidden behind a thick patch of bushes with russet leaves and purple berries, common in that part of the valley.

  Dallmin was sitting on a log not far from the path, tossing berries into his mouth. He had what looked like a model airplane on his lap.

  I greeted him with a wave, and he tossed me a berry, which I caught in my mouth.

  I was waiting for Annie, he said. She usually comes to find me when I sit here.

  I think she’s still swimming. Or playing rainbow smack, I told him. Rainbow smack was basically a big food fight that sometimes broke out when someone was feeling a bit cheeky. It involved throwing Living Fruit at each other, trying to hit hard enough to make the Fruit squish. It was a funny game because the Fruit would heal the person it hit as soon as it made contact, so no matter how hard you threw, it never hurt at all. Depending on how close to turning colours the Trees were at the time, it was possible to end up with a rainbow of colours staining your skin and hair for a while.