Nature's Peril - the Complete Edition

by Duncan Pile

  With his heart in his mouth he looked to the left, nodding to the guard on duty, and then the same to the right. He knew them both. Stanbridge and Renby, two of the men he’d been forced to rub shoulders with since going under cover in Belash’s organisation.

  “Tarek,” Renby said. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Jonn suppressed a sigh of relief. That prickling feeling must have just been nerves, or maybe he’d walked through a spider web.

  “Renby, Stanbridge,” he said.

  “I hear you’re looking after Gordo’s delivery,” Stanbridge said.

  “That’s right, mustn’t delay.”

  “You know it doesn’t come in till midday right?” Stanbridge asked.

  “Yeah,” Jonn answered, scrambling for an explanation. “It’s my first one, so I want to make sure everything’s ready. Thought I’d leave a bit early.”

  “Fair enough,” Stanbridge grunted. “You definitely don’t want to mess this up, or the Wrench’ll have you for sure.”

  “Exactly,” Jonn said. “Gotta go!”

  “See you later,” Stanbridge said, echoed by Renby.

  A short bridge of crude planks lay across the dried-up sewer. Jonn crossed it and started to ascend the rusty iron ladder set into the opposite wall. He glanced up as he climbed, squinting to protect his eyes from falling flakes of rust disturbed by his hands. He’d never used this exit before, but he knew it led into a fortune-teller’s stall. He reached the hatch at the top and pushed it open an inch. The stall was basically a tent, with a silk curtain separating the area he’d emerged into from the open area at the front. She had a customer with her at that moment.

  “Before the crescent moon you will have a turn of good luck,” she was saying. Fraud! Jonn thought to himself as he pushed the trapdoor open. He knew an actual seer, and she never made vague statements like that! The hatch creaked on its hinges as Jonn pushed it fully open, and all of a sudden there was a rustle of silk and a young girl slipped through the hanging silks. She held a finger to her lips and ushered him up through the opening. Jonn nodded and climbed the rest of the way out. He started to lower the hatch but the girl waved him away from it and motioned for him to stand still.

  “Thank you Silandra,” a male voice said from the other side of the curtain.

  “Safe journeys,” the fortune-teller responded. When the customer’s footsteps receded, the silks rustled once more and the fortune teller emerged from the front portion of the stall.

  “Quickly. It’s safe now,” she said, gesturing for Jonn to go through the curtain. He nodded and started forward, but just as he was about to pass through the silks, a cool hand came to rest on his arm. Feeling a thrill of fear, Jonn looked into the fortune-teller’s face. “Why do I see two of you?” she asked. Her eyes were wide, exploring his face.

  Jonn blanched. She clearly wasn’t a fraud after all. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound confused.

  “There are two images, one laid atop the other. The inner one is…hidden.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jonn said, pulling his arm away. “I have to go.” With that, he pulled the silks aside and walked from the tent. Cursing his luck, he walked towards the docks for a couple of hundred yards, turned a corner and then shot up an alley when no-one was watching. He didn’t have time to worry about the fortune-teller. Yes she was one of the gatekeepers to the Rats’ headquarters, but that didn’t mean she’d say anything about what she saw, and that in turn didn’t mean Belash would be interested in what would no doubt sound like a load of superstitious nonsense. He’d been around Kenril - Belash’s pet magician - enough times to know his disguise was not detectable by magic. Besides, he had a much more pressing concern. He had about an hour and a half to get to Hephistole, have his disguise restored, and make it back down to the docks. Yes, he’d made it out of headquarters alive, but if Hephistole wasn’t there, or if some other delay stopped him from making it back to the docks on time, he could never go back. The Wrench wouldn’t tolerate failure when it came to a handling a shipment of opiates. It was Belash’s most precious import, and distributing it made him a lot of money. The Rats had a stranglehold on sales of Opium in Helioport, but just one hijacked shipment would open the doors to competing crime-lords.

  Jonn jogged through the back alleys, heading away from the docks and back towards Main Street. He no longer care if his disguise failed him. If it did, people would just see Jonn hurrying along, and if it didn’t, they’d see Tarek, and no-one apart from him and Hephistole knew both faces.

  He hadn’t been running for long when he rounded a corner and was ambushed. He was passing some abandoned crates when two men leapt out from hiding, each of them carrying a knife. Jonn grabbed the assailant on the right by his neck and rammed him head first into the wall. His body hit the ground at exactly the moment the other received a heavy backhand to the face. The man stumbled backward, stunned by the bruising blow, and a punch on the chin sent him tumbling to the ground as well. Jonn didn’t lose a step, running on without a thought for the men he’d just beaten, and perhaps even killed. The only thing that mattered was getting to Hephistole.

  He was far enough from headquarters now to risk using more public thoroughfares. Emerging from the alleyways, he continued his journey up a much wider street. No-one interfered with his progress, and soon enough he was on Main Street. He strode along the broad, curving road, winding his way all the way up to the college gates, which were manned by a gatekeeper on either side. He stopped outside the nearest booth.

  “I need to see Hephistole urgently,” he said.

  “The chancellor? That’s impossible!” the gatekeeper responded, raising bushy eyebrows in indignation.

  “Why? Is he not here?” Jonn asked. It couldn’t be! After all this time, after all he’d been through, he couldn’t fail to rescue Adela because of something as trivial as being unable to find Hephistole in time!

  “The chancellor is in residence,” the gatekeeper said stiffly. “But you cannot simply demand to see him. He is a busy and important man.”

  Jonn leant forwards until his face was inches from the gatekeeper’s. “He…is…expecting…me!” he said in tight, angry tones.

  The gatekeeper stared at him a moment longer and then gave a reluctant nod. He took out a piece of paper and lifted a quill from an ink pot. “What’s your name?” he asked frostily.

  “Tell him Tarek needs him urgently.”

  “How do I spell that?” the gatekeeper asked.

  “TAREK.”

  The gatekeeper scribbled for a moment and replaced his quill in the ink pot. He opened a small wooden box, placed the paper inside and closed the lid. He placed a hand on the box, concentrating hard. The box vibrated for the briefest moment and the gatekeeper lifted his hand. “Stand to the side please sir,” the gatekeeper said, waving his hand dismissively. I will let you know if he replies.”

  Jonn did as he was bid. Hephistole knew he was here, so there was nothing more he could do. He ran through everything since he left the sewer. He’d been briefly held up by the fortune-teller, and his journey through the alleyways had taken a little longer than he’d intended. He figured he had less than an hour to get back to the docks. Given that he’d have to take the alleyways again as he skirted past headquarters, he’d need about half an hour to get back to his starting point, and then he still needed to reach the docks themselves. It was very tight. What if Hephistole hadn’t got the message? What if he was using the privy? Jonn considered going onto campus and making his way to the tower, but quickly ruled it out. Getting to the tower would use all the spare time he had left, and if Hephistole came to the gate in the meantime they’d have missed each other. He only had one option. Unpalatable as it was, he just had to wait at the gatehouse and hope Hephistole would find him there.

  “Jonn!” someone called. Jonn looked up to find Hephistole bustling out through the gate.

  “I thought your name was Tarek,” the gatekeeper said. />
  Jonn ignored him and strode up to the chancellor, who shook his hand. “Follow me,” Hephistole said, leading him through the gates. As soon as they were inside he turned right and entered the small office beyond, which was empty at that moment.

  “I’ve been worried sick,” Hephistole said. “I thought the device would have run out by now. How did you manage?”

  “Sorry but there’s no time for this,” Jonn said. “I’ve got to be somewhere urgently, and if I don’t make it on time the game is up.”

  “Okay, give me the pebble,” Hephistole said. Jonn retrieved the pitch black pebble from within his clothing and deposited it in Hephistole’s outstretched hand. Hephistole closed his eyes for a moment, and white light glimmered into being around his hand. It intensified until Jonn had to look away, and then it began to fade. Jonn looked back as it winked out altogether to find the pebble sparkling white once more. Hephistole held it out to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking the pebble. He didn’t feel any different but he could tell from Hephistole’s reaction that his appearance had shifted. Jonn stood up to leave.

  “Just give me the briefest idea of how things are going,” Hephistole said.

  “I’m based at headquarters now,” Jonn said. “I see Belash from time to time but I’m yet to see Adela. He keeps the girls locked away.”

  “Okay. We need to talk more regularly,” Hephistole said. “If you get a chance in the next few weeks, come and find me again.”

  “It’s difficult but I’ll try,” Jonn said, walking over to the door and pulling it open.

  Hephistole followed him out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jonn turned to face him. “Good luck Jonn.” Jonn nodded and turned away. Within moments he was through the gates and jogging back down Main Street with a renewed sense of purpose. Time was tight, but he should be able to make it if he wasn’t delayed. He resisted the urge to run faster, in case it attracted attention from the guards, but he made the best time he could until he turned off the main thoroughfare.

  He passed down another broad street, looking for the nearest entrance to the alleys. He came across it soon enough and ducked into the dingy back-passages no sensible person would voluntarily enter. But this had become his life now, the crime-ridden quarters of Helioport more familiar to him than the broad curving streets of the more polished parts of the city. He had to slow his pace in the narrow passageways to keep from slipping on the slimy stones. He wove around piles of refuse, keeping his wits about him in case anyone else attempted to accost him. He avoided the place he’d last been attacked, choosing another route through the maze of interconnecting alleyways. He skirted around headquarters without incident and headed towards the docks, still winding his way through the back streets.

  Finally, the alleyways came to an end and he was forced to walk along the open streets leading to the docks themselves. Someone greeted him by name as he neared the dockyard. He lifted a hand in greeting and forced a smile, but he was so nervous he didn’t even notice who it was. He stepped into the dockyard just as a ship was turning in to berth. He’d made it! That was his delivery! He forced himself to cover the exposed ground with exaggerated nonchalance. It wouldn’t do to turn up all in a lather. He strolled up to the group of henchmen waiting for him on the quayside. A couple of them glanced at him incredulously but no-one challenged his late arrival. “All set?” he asked, trying to sound like he’d done this a thousand times before.

  “You made it, Tarek,” a familiar voice drawled. Jonn froze with fear. He turned around slowly, his heart in his mouth, to find the Wrench standing among the group. “I came to check everything was going to plan,” he said, his eyes never leaving Jonn’s for a moment. “Stanbridge and Renby said you left headquarters some time ago, and yet here you are, only just arriving in time for the delivery.”

  “I was just…” Jonn began, but he couldn’t think of the end to that sentence. Thankfully the Wrench didn’t let him try.

  “Not now! The delivery comes first. Supervise it as we agreed and then you and I will go and have a little talk.”

  Jonn swallowed dryly and nodded, his brain already working furiously to come up with an excuse the Wrench might believe.

  Seventeen

  He set off down the narrow path, putting one careful foot in front of the other as he went. He thought about summoning another field of variable density but decided to hold off. As a rule, he avoided showy uses of magic unless he had a good reason, and there were plenty of tree roots to cling onto if the ground crumbled beneath his feet. This happened several times, but each time he steadied himself easily enough, and it wasn’t long before he was nearly at the bottom. As he neared the eddying mist, he came to a stop, strangely reluctant to step within it. He could easily imagine its cold, clinging touch.

  “Is there a problem?” Ossthak asked from behind him. Shirukai pivoted around awkwardly on the narrow path.

  “Where does the mist come from?” he asked.

  “From the temple,” Ossthak answered. “You will see soon enough.”

  Shirukai twisted back around and lingered for one last uncertain moment. Why was he unnerved by a bit of mist? It wasn’t as if he was going to turn back. Not after three days at sea, and not when people needed his help! Firming his resolve, he stepped down into the mist. It climbed up his torso, and he held his breath in anticipation of its cold, clammy fingers on his face, but its touch was not at all as he’d anticipated. It was dry, and utterly without substance. And then he was below the mist line and the incline decreased, levelling out as he reached the bottom of the basin.

  Shirukai looked about him. Once you were within the mist it wasn’t so bad. It floated in a dense layer a dozen feet over his head, but below, the air was clearer. It was murky, but he could see for twenty paces or so without difficulty.

  Ossthak joined him at the bottom. “This way,” he said, setting out along a single narrow path that led in the direction of the temple. Shirukai followed along, taking note of his surroundings as he went. The foliage he could see from the path had clearly adapted to the gloom. The trees sported enormous leaves, designed to catch as much of the diffuse light as possible. Even the giant, trumpet-like petals were oversized, and they stank of sickly sweet pollen that was enough to make Shirukai feel nauseous.

  In fact, everything that lived in there smelled overripe. There was an underlying sweet smell that was too much like rot to be pleasant, giving the whole place an unwholesome feel. No wonder these people were sick!

  It wasn’t long before they passed through a village. The huts were simple constructions of foraged branches, and the rooftops were woven from dried palm fronds. There were no obvious signs of cultivation, but pigs and goats roamed freely around the village, which must serve as livestock. Faces as ugly as Ossthak’s peered out from every hut, their heavy boned skulls bald and shiny without exception; man, woman and child. Shirukai was particularly surprised by the children’s appearance. It was one thing to see such grotesque features in an adult, but it was another entirely to see a child whose face was distorted by bony protrusions, and whose hairless scalp was laced with a tracery of veins. He hurried to stay apace with Ossthak.

  “Where are the sick people?” he asked, tapping his taciturn guide on the shoulder.

  “These are the outlying villages,” Ossthak answered without even slowing. “The plague has not spread this far.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Shirukai said. If they’d managed to contain the plague, perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

  They trekked across the basin for a couple of hours, passing through healthy village after healthy village. Shirukai began to grow suspicious. Based on the brief glimpse he’d seen from the ridgeline, he didn’t think they could be far from the centre of the island, which meant that Ossthak had been exaggerating about the severity of this “plague”. They passed through another village that lacked any evidence of sickness, and Shirukai started to feel angry. If Ossthak had manipulated him into comi
ng here just to heal a few snivelling colds, he’d have something to say about it.

  “Ossthak!” he said, but the Skelkan just kept walking. “OSSTHAK!” he said much more forcefully, and the ugly man stopped. He turned around slowly.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Where are the sick people?” Shirukai asked, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve covered half the island and I haven’t seen a single person who needs my help yet!”

  “Ah, I should have explained,” Ossthak said with a smile. “The High Priest moved the sick to the temple to contain the spread of disease. We will find them all there.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Shirukai asked, still angry. He felt like he was being messed around. Ossthak just shrugged apologetically. “Keep moving then,” Shirukai said with an irritated flick on his wrist. The sooner he reached the temple, the sooner he could do what he’d come for and then leave again. He’d already had more than enough of the Isle of Mists. There was nothing appealing about it, from its ugly populace to its perpetual murk and sickly-smelling plant life, it was the least welcoming place he’d ever been.

  They walked for another mile or so before the villages started to merge. Where one petered out another began, and before long they were walking through an unbroken gathering of huts. Shirukai supposed that if he could see for more than twenty yards, he’d be able to see the temple, but huts and villagers passed by in isolated pockets, standing by the side of the street and watching them silently as they disappeared into the mist. There were many more people now, the simply-dressed natives interspersed with warriors in some kind of formal garb. Dressed in green, scaly material that flexed as they moved, they all carried the same weapon – a wicked looking trident that stood above their heads. They gave Shirukai long, flat looks with their swamp-green eyes.

  For the first time since arriving on the island, Shirukai felt vulnerable – something he rarely experienced. Looking at the tall, forbidding warriors, he was acutely aware that he was miles within unfamiliar territory, surrounded by people he didn’t know, and who didn’t seem very friendly! Not only that, but he was several days off the mainland with only one boat he could use to return. Admittedly, he had the significant advantage of his magic. If he got into trouble, he should be able to make himself invisible and sneak out easily enough, and he could no doubt find a way to enchant the boat to sail him back to the mainland, but even an accomplished magician couldn’t account for every possibility. Men with big, gleaming tridents, for example, were not to be taken lightly.