The Kingdom of Four Rivers

by Guy Salvidge

  The following morning. Tilma invited Liang to join him fishing by the river. Women were not allowed to fish, and had to remain in the village. Standing knee deep in the water, surrounded by reeds, Liang had asked Tilma about his family.

  “My family live here many year, many year before you dunmeng come. One time my old father saw dunmeng near Zizhong. First time he ever saw one. Skin white like yours.”

  “Have you seen any dunmeng other than us recently?” Liang asked, casting his line into the water.

  “My son saw them. Dunmeng kill dunmeng, put them in the river. My son see them floating downstream. He see them shoot.”

  “When was that?”

  “Not last day, day before last day.”

  “Two days ago? Where did your son see this?”

  “Nort,” Tilma said. “Near Luihang. I don't see them with my own eyes, but my son knows the truth. Dunmeng kill dunmeng. Never bother with us. I caught something!” He reeled in his line.

  Liang asked Tilma whether he could speak to his son about the dunmeng, but it seemed that Tilma's son was not around. These simple folk who lived and died by the river had little interest in the world of the shield people. Their worlds barely overlapped.

  There was a part of Liang that wondered whether this would be a better life, free of the burdens of all that he held in his head, but he soon rejected the idea. The natives weren't free—they were enslaved by their poverty. They lived in squalor, and fell victim to tigers, snakes and strife with other tribes.

  Ji Tao was eager for them to be on their way, and it wasn't long before she had managed to communicate the idea that they would be leaving. They packed up what was left of their possessions and waved goodbye to the tribespeople. Ji Tao gave Tilma a thermos as a parting gift, and they were on their way.

  “Wes, then nort,” Tilma said. “That way to Shoolow.”

  They were well rested, their bellies full of rice and fish. Much of their equipment had been traded away in exchange for food, but their backpacks were laden with rice cakes and dried fish heads. Luihang lay between them and their destination. It would not be possible to go around it, for that would mean many days of trekking through the jungle. None of them liked that idea. And yet Liang couldn't get what Tilma had said out of his head—that dunmeng had been pushing bodies into the river near Luihang.

  The day passed without incident and the rain-clouds stayed away. They followed the jungle path west, roughly parallel to the river road. Late in the day, they realised that they were on the jungle path the native Umbala had led them on previously. The path would soon turn north. Would it be possible to pass through Luihang unnoticed, or should they avoid entering the city?

  “I don't want to die,” Ji Tao said, when Liang posed this question to her as they bedded down for the night.

  “You think they're still looking for us?” Sovann asked.

  “I'm sure of it.”

  “We'll have to get around Luihang somehow,” Liang pointed out.

  “We can follow the shield around to the west gate,” Ji Tao said. “Then we'll have to decide whether to follow the Wu north to Jianyang.”

  “But they'll have patrols,” Sovann said.

  “Then we'll need to be careful.”

  Their sleep was undisturbed, but in the morning the sky was dark and cloudy. There would be a storm today. With this in mind, they got their things together as quickly as possible and started on their way. Within an hour it was teeming with rain, and they had to take shelter as best they could beneath the tarpaulin. But the storm passed quickly and they were able to continue. The grey sky remained threatening.

  “Can you see Luihang yet?” Ji Tao asked Liang.

  Liang saw nothing. “No, it's too dark,” he said.

  “We don't want to walk right up to it,” Sovann said. “How much further, do you think?”

  “An hour maybe.”

  The darkness of the day worked to their advantage. They walked unseen through a shroud of fine mist. After what seemed like hours, the dull glow of Luihang outer shield became visible. The clouds had obscured it until this moment. Now they were very close. Liang could see one of the city's gates to their right.

  “That must be the south gate,” Ji Tao said.

  There was a concrete road, about fifty metres wide, around the shield. There did not appear to be anyone around. They would need to follow this path clockwise, and do so without being seen by the patrols. Here the danger was greatest, the prospect of capture gravest. And yet Liang felt released from fear. Something told him that they would be all right. He listened to this voice, trusted in it. It soothed his frayed nerves.

  Then the heavens opened.

  It started to rain. Liang knew that this was good, that it offered them protection. He was soaked but it didn't matter. He wasn't cold. None of them spoke, as there was nothing to say. Either they would be stopped by a patrol or they wouldn't. Soon they were near the west gate. The guard had not seen them.

  “What should we do?” Ji Tao asked.

  “Walk straight past,” Liang said. “We won't be stopped.”

  “What makes you so sure of that?” Sovann asked, pushing the hair out of her face.

  “The guard won't want to get wet.”

  Ji Tao looked at him, then nodded slowly. “You could be right.”

  The guardhouse was a squat concrete box, red paint flaking off the walls. They walked straight past, resisting the temptation to look across at the guard's face. Nothing was said, no call to stop was uttered. And they walked on into the rain, well beyond the west gate. The tension was lifting; it was a liberating experience. They were moving out of the sphere of danger.

  “Don't look back now,” Liang said, “but I think we're safe.”

  They followed the road around to where the Wu passed beneath Luihang shield. There they crossed a small bridge onto the north bank of the river, and headed westward toward Shulao. By the time the rain abated, they were well clear of Luihang. The sun came out and began to dry their clothes on their backs. By mid-afternoon they had reached the place where they had crossed the river on the way back from Shulao.

  “Should we follow the Wu to old Jianyang, or cross here and head west through the jungle?” Ji Tao asked.

  “The rain will have swollen the river,” Sovann said. “I think we should cross here. We might get caught on the river road.”

  “All right,” Liang said. “We cross.”

  The current was moving swiftly. Liang was a strong swimmer, and did not think the river would pose a problem for him, but what about the other two? Sovann especially looked tired, used up. She eyed the waters warily.

  “Are you all right, Sovann?” he asked. “Maybe we should rest for a while first, until we feel stronger.”

  “No, we should get across,” she said. “I don't like this road. It's too exposed.”

  “She's right,” Ji Tao said. “We'll be safer on the other side.”

  The water was cold; branches torn from trees by the storm were passing right to left. The river really was moving fast.

  “I'm not so sure this is a good idea,” Liang said. “What if we get swept down-river? We'll end up back at Luihang.”

  “It wasn't deep here, remember?” Ji Tao said, wading in.

  “It might be deeper now.”

  “Dewei died like this,” Sovann said abruptly, standing calf-deep.

  “Here, I'll take your bag,” Liang said. “You go first, Sovann. I'll help you if you get stuck.”

  “All right.”

  Sovann swam, following Ji Tao. When it looked like they would be okay, Liang followed them into the water, the bags slung over his shoulder. It was awkward swimming like this. The water was cold. Between strokes, he saw that Ji Tao had made it across and was helping Sovann out of the water.

  Then Liang's foot snagged on something and he was pulled down into the murk. He tumbled end over end, felt the bags slip from his grasp. Air. He needed air. Which way to the surface? Panicking, he thrashed
around, surfaced briefly. Then he was pulled under again. His lungs were bursting and his arms were tiring. But now he found his way to the surface again. In a final burst of energy he scrambled up the bank, gasping for breath. It was the wrong bank. He must have been swept downstream, for he couldn't see Sovann and Ji Tao anywhere. Liang had reached the bank at a bend in the river, where the water slowed on its course. Branches and other debris had accumulated here. It shouldn't be so hard to get across. But Liang's clothes were soaked and his teeth were chattering. He noticed that his pants were ripped; his left leg was bleeding from a gash. It wasn't hurting yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long.

  Then Liang saw that one of the bags was caught on a branch. He couldn't tell from here whether it was his bag or Sovann's. Did it matter? Now Liang couldn't remember if the compass had been in his bag or Ji Tao's. No, she had had it, hadn't she? He decided to leave it.

  Now his leg was hurting, and the blood didn't look like stopping. Liang waded into the water again and paddled across. He climbed up the bank, pushing through the reeds. And then he rested, but not for long. He would have to find something to staunch the flow of blood. Surely Ji Tao and Sovann would look for him. His own cousins wouldn't abandon him like this. Yes—they were coming. He could hear voices calling to him. Then he saw Ji Tao coming along the bank.

  “Cousin!” he called. “I'm hurt!”

  “You're bleeding,” she said.

  “Where's Sovann?”

  Ji Tao looked surprised. “What? She was just here. First we've got to do something about your leg.”

  Ji Tao rolled up a shirt, wrapping it tightly around his leg to stop the flow of blood. “Can you get up?” she asked.

  “I'll try,” Liang said. When he tried to put weight on his injured leg, fiery pain shot up his side. “Ah! I need something to lean on,” he said, balancing as best he could on the good leg.

  Ji Tao snapped a slender branch off a nearby tree. “Here, try this.” Liang leaned on her, gritting his teeth. She helped him hobble away from the bank. “You stay here for a minute. I'll see where Sovann's got to.”

  “Be careful,” Liang said. She went ahead.

  Liang stopped for a minute to catch his breath. The shirt was soaked with blood already and the pain was getting worse. But Liang hobbled on, knowing that he could die here if he gave up. He found that if he concentrated very hard on placing his feet correctly, then he could put the pain out of his mind. It was still there, nagging away, but he was focused on shuffling along. He was making progress; now the bank was behind him. But where was Sovann? Where, for that matter, was Ji Tao?

  There was a rustling ahead, through the foliage. It was Ji Tao. “I can't find Sovann,” she said.

  “She could have fallen somewhere, twisted her ankle.”

  “But she would shout, wouldn't she?”

  “Then let's listen for a minute.”

  But there was nothing, no cry for help. There were numerous sounds around them, but none of them were human.

  “Do you think you can walk?” Ji Tao asked. “I think the bleeding's stopped. Here, let me wrap it tighter.”

  Tears swam in his eyes as she adjusted the makeshift bandage.

  “I think I can walk,” he said. “But where are we going?”

  “Shulao,” Ji Tao said.

  “But what about Sovann?”

  “She knows where we're going. If she can, she will follow.”

  “She hasn't got any supplies. Her bag's gone.”

  “Then she'll have to make do, won't she?”

  Liang was amazed at Ji Tao's willingness to abandon Sovann to her fate, but he said nothing. Would she abandon him too if he became too much of a burden?

  “Wait here for a minute,” Ji Tao said. “I'm going to fill up the bottles.”

  “One of the bags is stuck in the reeds,” Liang said. “See if you can retrieve it.”

  Liang needed something for the pain, but his pockets were empty. All he had was a bent stick to help him. Liang wondered whether his cousin would leave him here. But these fears proved unfounded, for here was Ji Tao again.

  “I couldn't see the bag,” she said. “Where did you say it was?”

  “Perhaps it's gone now.”

  “Then we should get going.”

  They started walking. Liang could sense that Ji Tao was growing impatient with him. “How much food is left?” he asked, to divert her attention from his slow, painstaking progress.

  “Not much. A few rice cakes.”

  Liang's feet squelched through the mud. It took all of his concentration not to slip; he had to be careful. Looking at his feet, he noticed something—footprints in the mud, going in the same direction they were. He pointed them out to Ji Tao.

  “Sovann must be ahead of us,” she said.

  But the footprints looked too large to be Sovann's. In fact there appeared to be several sets of tracks, but the slimy mud made it difficult to be sure.

  Somehow Liang managed to continue on. He was amazed at his own resilience, for his leg was numb now, and he felt stronger than he had done before. He wanted desperately to live. His resolve strengthened with every step. But by the time night fell in the jungle, the pain had returned. He did not mention it to Ji Tao, who walked on with a singular purpose. When she decided they had gone far enough for one day, he was secretly relieved. He did not know how much farther he would have been able to walk.

  Flies had been crawling around his injured leg. Ji Tao watched as he removed the blood-encrusted shirt, then rolled up his pants carefully, exposing the wound. It was not as bad as it looked. The actual gash was little more than the length of his thumb. But he realised that it was probably infected. He washed the wound with water. The cut looked clean now, but he had nothing to disinfect it with. Ji Tao helped him to re-wrap the leg in another of her shirts, then they ate a meagre meal and tried their best to sleep. The tarpaulin had been in his bag, so they had nothing to cover themselves with now.

  In the following days, reality receded to a dull drone. Liang saw himself walking along jungle paths, grimacing from the pain. He said things to Ji Tao and she said things in reply, yet their communication was devoid of content. They did not find Sovann, and the tracks ended abruptly. Liang was dimly aware of the passing of time, of the passage of the sun, but it did not affect him. All he knew was that they were drawing inexorably closer to their destination. His hunger could be suppressed. Liang was aware that he had a limited amount of energy, and that it was being used up at a steady rate.

  Then, on a clear morning when they had left the jungle behind and were traversing a dusty path between barren hills, a measure of clarity returned. Liang had left his walking stick where they had slept last night, but now he wished he had it back again. He was able to put his weight on the injured leg, but he winced with every step. Ji Tao was saying something. He tried to listen:

  “It's just you and me now, cousin. Is this the adventure you wanted?”

  “Um, maybe,” he croaked, his throat hoarse. “Is there any food left?”

  “A little. Wait a bit longer.”

  The sun baked them. The empty skies were taunting them. It did not seem to rain in these hills. It had been a tortuous ascent, but now they were descending toward Shulao, which was still hidden behind the ridge. As the sun climbed toward its zenith, it became necessary to seek shade.

  “Will we reach Shulao today?” Liang asked as they sat beneath a tree in a dusty gully.

  “Hopefully. How are you feeling?”

  How was he feeling? Ji Tao hadn't asked him that for days. Why the change of attitude now? “I'm okay,” he said.

  “Do you think you can make it?”

  “Give me that rice cake,” he said by way of reply.

  She passed it to him and he chewed it. The muddy rice-cake was delicious, the best he had ever tasted. He felt a little better.

  “Save some for me,” Ji Tao said. “Don't be greedy.” She ate the remaining crumbs.

  “Now we really ha
ve got nothing,” Liang said. “No food, nothing.” Nothing to sustain them, anyway. They had one bedroll, which they shared at night, one compass and two thermoses full of water. Even their map had been lost in the river.

  “We still have this,” Ji Tao said, tapping the key.

  “Let me look at it.” Ji Tao pulled the string over her head, handing it to him. It was just a small metal key; it did not seem to signify anything. And yet Liang knew how important it was to them.

  “Do you really think we'll be safe down there?” he asked.

  “We'll be safe,” she said, a strange gleam in her eye. Liang gave the key back to her. “Just think, there must be all kinds of supplies down there. We didn't look properly last time.”

  “I hope there's something to eat,” Liang said.

  “If not, then there's always somewhere else we could go. A place where we won't need food or water.” Seeing his puzzled expression, she continued: “The crypt. We can sleep in the crypt, maybe for a hundred years.”

  “Is that what this is about? I thought we were going back to Baitang when it's safe?”

  “When will it be safe? It might not be safe for a million years.”

  “The freezers won't last that long. Most of the sleepers are dead, remember? And besides, someone will work out how to use the lift without the key.”

  Her expression changed slowly. “You're right; it's just a dream.”

  Then Liang remembered how he had had to drag her out of the crypt, her lips blue. What was it that Ji Tao wanted? Was it death? He asked her this directly.

  “No, I want to see what happens,” Ji Tao said.