There was a movement. Jamie started, about to run away, then relaxed. A single figure was walking down the lane towards him, an old man supporting himself on a stick. He looked like a monk, dressed in a brown robe with a hood folded back over his shoulders. He was still a long way away, but as he drew closer, Jamie saw that he was at least sixty years old, almost bald, with sagging skin and weeping, bloodshot eyes. The old man could barely walk. All his weight was concentrated on the stick, which he placed carefully in front of him before he took each step.
Jamie felt a huge sense of relief. He was no longer alone! The man raised a hand and waved at him. It seemed that he was friendly. Now perhaps Jamie might learn where he was and what had happened here… assuming that the man spoke his language. Jamie waited as he made his way along the track. It took him a very long time before he finally arrived.
The man stopped and spoke.
“Rag dagger a marrad hag!”
That was what the words sounded like. Jamie heard them quite distinctly and they should have made no sense at all. The man was talking gibberish. But Jamie understood exactly what he meant. Somehow his brain had tuned itself in to a foreign language which he had learnt instantly. Impossible, of course. But that was how it was.
“Good day to you, my friend!” the man had said. He had called out the greeting in a trembling, high-pitched voice. He stopped to catch his breath, then went on, the words instantly translating themselves. “A living child among so many dead! That’s very strange. Who are you, my boy? What are you doing here?”
Jamie hesitated, wondering if he could respond. “My name is Jamie,” he replied, but although they were the words he thought, they weren’t the ones that came from his lips. Without even trying, he was speaking the man’s language. He paused, then went on, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t even know where I am. Can you help me?”
“Of course I can help you.” The man laughed briefly. It was a dry, unpleasant sound. “But as to where you are, there is nothing left here so why should it even have a name? And if it did have a name, it would soon be forgotten, like everywhere else. There are no countries now. No cities, no towns. All is but ashes.” He ran an eye over Jamie and frowned. “Where have you come from?” he asked.
“I’m American,” Jamie said. “From Nevada.”
“America? Nevada? I don’t know these places.” Now he was suspicious. “How did you arrive here?”
“I don’t know.” Jamie shook his head. “I didn’t mean to come here. It just happened.”
“As if by magic?”
“Well… yes.” Jamie wasn’t sure that the old man was joking.
“Perhaps it was magic!” The old man’s hand tightened on the walking stick. “Perhaps you were brought here by the Old Ones. They might have wanted you, although I can’t think why.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you serve the Old Ones?” he asked.
Jamie shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not a servant of the Old Ones?”
“No! I’m not anybody’s servant!”
“It is fortunate, then, that I came this way. It would seem that I’ve arrived just in time.”
“To do what?” Jamie was suddenly uneasy.
“To kill you.”
The old man lifted his walking stick and Jamie almost laughed out loud. The idea that this sixty-year-old could even hurt him was ridiculous. He half raised a hand to defend himself, then stepped back in horror, his eyes widening as the impossible happened in front of his eyes. The old man seemed to unpeel himself, the flesh falling away like pieces of discarded clothing. Another creature, some sort of giant insect, exploded out of him, ugly black scales taking the place of skin. Two huge claws, with pincers snapping open and shut, ripped through his sides and stretched out where his arms had just been. His eyes had turned yellow. His head and legs were still human, but now they were grafted onto the body of a scorpion, and as Jamie fell back a huge tail rose over its shoulders with a massive stinger pointing down at him from above. The walking stick had changed too. Now it was a spear of mouldering steel, like something recovered from a shipwreck. The end was twisted and bloodstained, shaped like a letter Y, with not one point but two.
The man-scorpion screamed at him and Jamie saw that its teeth had become silver needles and its mouth was full of blood. The yellow eyes were wide and furious. He heard something shudder through the air and fell back just as the steel rod, held in one of the claws, slashed through the air an inch from his face. If it had made contact, it would have smashed his skull – or taken his head clean off his shoulders. Jamie lost his balance and almost fell, then leapt back as the creature’s tail lashed out at him, white poison splattering the ground. A few tiny drops of the stuff sprayed onto his hand and he cried out. It was like acid. He could feel it burning through his skin. The tail lashed again and this time Jamie threw himself onto the ground, afraid of being burnt or blinded. The creature laughed and Jamie knew that he had no chance at all, that he really was going to die right now – and that he would never even find out what had happened, how he had arrived here to begin with.
The thing lumbered forward, its head twisting from side to side, its face distorted with anger and hatred, holding the two-headed spear high up above it. Jamie dragged himself backwards, looking for anything, a weapon he could use to defend himself. There was a soldier lying beside the lane, still clutching a sword that was curved like a sabre with a second, shorter blade jutting out just below the hilt. Jamie reached out and grabbed it, wrenching it out of the dead man’s hand, then rolled over and over, aware that the creature had hurled the spear towards him. The spear stabbed into the ground so close to his stomach that he felt its edge against his shirt. The man-scorpion scrabbled towards him and, at the same time, Jamie leapt to his feet, holding out the sword. Just for a second, he felt himself gripped by a sense of unreality. It almost paralysed him. He was facing something that wasn’t human. He had a sword. He was in a fight to the death.
And he wasn’t afraid.
That was the strangest thing of all. Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do, and although he had never held a sword in his life, it felt almost a part of him. It had happened the moment he had picked it up. Without even thinking, he had been aware of its weight, the length of the blade, the balance of it in his hand. It was as if he had somehow absorbed it into himself so that he and the sword were one.
The man-scorpion attacked, its tail stabbing down. Jamie stepped aside and swung the sword, grinning as the sharp edge of the blade sliced through scales and skin, hacking into the stinger and cutting it clean off. The creature screamed. Poison sprayed the air. Jamie went in low, thrusting forward. This time he felt the point bury itself in the creature’s body. Blood – dark red and sticky – gushed out of the wound. Jamie felt it splatter into his face and retched as he tasted it on his lips. But he had done it. He was still alive. He had won.
The man-scorpion reared back, taking the sword with it. Jamie could see that it was dying but, after all, it wasn’t finished yet. With its last breath, it snatched up the spear, jerking it out of the ground, and aimed a second time.
“Die!” the creature screamed and stepped towards him.
Jamie was unarmed. He stood where he was, poised on the balls of his feet with all his instincts alert, trying to decide which way to throw himself to avoid the attack.
Then something whizzed through the air, and the next thing he knew there were three metal arrows jutting out of the man-scorpion’s chest between its two claws. It was thrown back, barely able to stand up. Two more arrows hit it. One bounced off its shell but the other plunged into its throat. It screamed one last time. The light in its eyes went out and it collapsed in on itself, a twitching heap of blood and poison. At last it was still.
Jamie turned round just in time to see a girl on a horse riding up to him, with three men on horseback a short way behind. All the riders were dressed similarly to Jamie a
nd they reminded him of Bedouin tribesmen crossing the desert – except there was no sand and no sun. The girl was holding a bow already aimed at the corpse of the man-scorpion, but seeing she had no need of it, she lowered it and returned the arrow to a wooden quiver hanging behind her back. She had a belt with a short sword dangling down to her thigh, and a black wristband. There was a tattered red scarf around her neck.
A girl. She was obviously in charge. Jamie could tell that from the way the men held back, waiting for her command. And yet they were at least ten years older than her, because – Jamie was trying to take this all in one step at a time – she could only have been about fourteen or fifteen, the same age as him. She was very small with dark eyes that were somewhere between brown and green and, he would have guessed, mixed-race… part European, part Chinese. It was quite a difficult face to work out because it was neither one thing nor another. It was also covered in grime and dirt. Her hair was black, cut short at the front, tied with another scrap of cloth at the back. She had a very slender neck. If he hadn’t just seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have said she’d have had the strength to fire an arrow with enough force to kill a creature at least twice her own size.
She was looking at him very strangely. She held up a hand, signalling to the three men to stay where they were, then swung herself down from the horse and walked towards him. She stopped a few feet away, gazing at him with a mixture of wonderment and disbelief.
“Sapling,” she said.
Jamie waited.
“You are Sapling!” the girl exclaimed. She was speaking the same language as the man-scorpion and she sounded almost annoyed.
“No. I’m Jamie.”
“Jamie?”
“Yes.”
“No, you’re not.” The girl shook her head. “You’re Sapling.”
“I think I know my own name,” Jamie said. It occurred to him that it was one of the very few things he did know.
The girl thought for a moment. Then she nodded. “Names change,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re alive. It really is you! I can’t believe it…” And before Jamie could stop her, the girl threw her arms around him, kissed him on both cheeks and buried her face against his chest. Then, abruptly, she pushed him away and burst into tears.
“Scar…” One of the three men had climbed down from his horse and came over to her. He was about thirty, a great bear of a man with a beard, a scar high up on his cheekbone and a broken nose. Standing next to her, he looked twice her size.
“Leave me alone, Finn,” the girl said. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The tears had stopped as quickly as they had come. “So Matt was right,” she went on. “Why did I have to argue with him? He told me you’d be here…”
“Who is Matt?” Jamie demanded. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I don’t know where I am. I don’t get any of this. One minute I was
… somewhere else. And now I’m here. Scar. Is that your name?”
The girl nodded. She looked at him again and now there was puzzlement in her eyes. “Do you really not know who I am?”
“No.” But even as Jamie shook his head, he knew he was wrong. He had seen her before. It made no sense at all, but he was certain that she was the girl in his dream. Two boys in a boat. His brother, Scott. And her.
The other two men had also dismounted. They were younger than Finn, fair-haired, obviously brothers. One of them seemed to be wearing a metal glove. But then he moved his arm and Jamie realized, with a feeling of queasiness, that the entire hand was missing and had been replaced with a steel replica. All of them were staring at him. Jamie knew they were waiting for him to speak but he had nothing to say.
“My actual name is Scarlett,” the girl explained. “But everyone calls me Scar. That’s what you always call me.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just told you, I don’t know you.”
“Of course you know me. You’ve just forgotten. After everything that’s happened, I’m not surprised.” She stopped and examined him and suddenly she was sad again. “You know, I cried when I saw the flames. I thought it was all over. But it wasn’t just that. I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d never see you again.”
“What flames? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man called Finn had been listening to this with growing impatience. Now he stepped forward between them. “We can’t talk here,” he said. He looked around him. “If there was one shape-changer, there’ll be others. The fields are crawling with the enemy. We have to get back to the city before we lose the daylight.”
Scar nodded. “You’re right, Finn,” she said. “You’re always right. That’s what’s so annoying about you.” She glanced at Jamie. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No.” Jamie shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“We have your horse.”
Jamie looked past her and saw a fifth horse that had been led behind the others. It had no saddle, just a rough blanket folded in half. “I can’t ride,” he said.
The man with the metal hand had overheard him. “What madness is this?” he exclaimed. “Is this the boy or isn’t it? Maybe this is some sort of trick.”
“Be quiet, Erin,” the girl snapped. “Matt sent us here and he surely knew what he was doing. Let’s all hope so. Anyway, we’ve been told what we have to do.” She turned back to Jamie. “We have to travel about ten leagues,” she said. “And if you don’t know how to ride now, all I can say is, you will certainly have learned by the time you arrive. And since you claim not to know me, you may not know the others either. This is Finn. He’s saved my life so often he has little time for anything else. And the other two are Erin Silverhand and his brother, Corian.”
The two brothers nodded but Erin still didn’t look convinced. Meanwhile, Corian had led Jamie’s horse forward. It was a grey and from where Jamie was standing it looked enormous.
“Listen to me,” Jamie said. He had already forgotten that he was speaking a language he had never learned. The words simply tumbled out naturally. “I’ll come with you. It seems I don’t have any choice. But there’s something I want to know first. You seem to know who I am – so tell me this. Is Scott here?”
The two younger men exchanged a look but said nothing. Finn turned to Scar, once again waiting for her.
“Scott,” she said. “Is that what you call your brother?”
“Yes.”
“You are twins.”
“Yes.” Jamie was growing impatient. With every second that passed, he was becoming more confused.
“Scott is here,” Scar said. “But that is not our name for him. We call him Flint. Sapling and Flint. When I first saw you just now, I thought for a moment that you were him. I never was able to tell the two of you apart.”
“Where is he?” For the first time in ages, Jamie felt a spurt of hope.
“Not too far. We will camp tonight in the City of Canals…”
“What city?”
“It has no other name – if it did, it would have been lost long ago.” Scar glanced up at the sky. It hadn’t been very bright to begin with but it was already getting darker. “We should listen to Finn. If we stay here talking, we’re all going to end up with our innards on a stick. I suggest we move.”
Jamie reached out and took the bridle of his horse.
“I’ll help you.” One of men – Corian – came up to him and cupped his hands, and while his brother held the horse steady, he hoisted Jamie up. Jamie had never sat on a horse in his life. The nearest he had been to one was at the Clark County Fair when he and Scott had been on the road. But it was exactly the same as with the sword. The moment he straightened up on the horse’s back, he felt in control. He wasn’t nervous. Even without knowing what to do, he thought he would probably be able to control the horse and make it move in the right direction.
But if he was pleased with himself, he was knocked back down to size a moment later. Scar sprang onto her own horse with a single moveme
nt and a look on her face that reminded him that she didn’t need two men to help her up. Finn, Erin and Corian all mounted equally easily.
“To the city,” Scar said.
The four of them set off with Jamie in the middle, just behind Scar. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea where he was going. But he was comforted by the fact that at least he was no longer alone.
IN THE RUINED CITY
Scar had said they would ride for ten leagues, but as Jamie had no idea exactly how far a league was, the journey seemed to drag on for ever.
Almost from the moment they set out, Jamie had realized that riding a horse – like everything else – had somehow been programmed into his mind. He had no difficulty getting the animal to do what he wanted: stopping, starting, turning left or right, falling back or keeping up with the others. He didn’t feel even slightly nervous. He had found his balance and knew he wasn’t going to fall off. It really was as if he’d been riding all his life.
Even so, he couldn’t wait to arrive. He was still covered with the blood of the creature that had attacked him. He could feel it in his hair and taste it on his lips. How long had it been since he had eaten? He would have given anything for a rest, a meal and a hot shower, but it was becoming ever more apparent that he wasn’t going to be offered any of them.
And then there was the landscape. How could he measure his progress when everything looked the same and it was all so bleak and miserable? There was nothing for him to aim for. They were following the track but it was barely visible, beaten down by footprints – animal and human – until it had almost disappeared into the churned-up mud and grass. They were moving steadily towards the hills that Jamie had noticed when they first set off but they never seemed to get any closer. A few clumps of ancient-looking trees broke up the countryside and now and then they came upon great chunks of granite, boulders that could have fallen there from outer space. But otherwise there were no features at all.
Jamie had no idea what time it was. His watch had been taken from him when he went into Silent Creek and it was unlikely that he would ever see it again. He looked up. The sky was getting darker but it would be difficult to tell when day became night: not when there had been no sign of the sun to begin with. He was still cold. The older of the two brothers – Corian – had seen him shivering and given him a jacket to wear. It was the same as theirs – reaching down to his knees. There were no pockets and no buttons. Jamie nodded his thanks and pulled the heavy fabric around him. He couldn’t say it made a great difference.
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