The guard returned, and Hudnee was escorted into Filipii’s reception room by two guards. They didn’t leave him there but stood on either side of the door. The Descendants had increased security, that was for sure. I suppose it’s a good thing they’re prepared for the worst, thought Hudnee gloomily.
Filipii was not his usual bustling and friendly self. There were shadows under his eyes, and he looked like a man who was being forced to do things he could not have previously imagined himself doing. Hudnee put his big hands flat on the table.
“Is it that bad, my friend?” he questioned softly. Filipii squirmed uneasily in his chair.
“Desperate farmers are now trying to rob the us for food,” he said sadly. “We can’t travel outside the town without being attacked, even when it is obvious we have no food or money on us.”
He sighed. “Yesterday I had to order the guards to clear a mob of our own townsfolk from the wagon entrance into the storehouses. There were eleven dead.” He seemed close to tears.
“We couldn’t even bury them properly,” he continued. “We kept getting attacked by the rest of the mob. In the end we put the bodies on carts and dumped them in a nearby patch of swamp.”
He looked despairingly at Hudnee.
“What are we coming to?” he whispered.
Hudnee knew times were bad, but he hadn’t yet witnessed things like that, or had to fight for his life. Then he pushed such thoughts out of his mind. He was here to talk about his family.
“Then you understand the desperation of those of us who do not have large storehouses,” he said softly. He paused for a moment, thinking of a way to ask for the impossible. In the end there was nothing for it – he had to ask Filipii directly.
“Can I bring my family into the Descendant compound?” he said. “We have many skills, and we work hard.”
Filipii flinched, and Hudnee already knew the answer.
“You would be welcome, my friend,” said the Magister. “The men respect you, and you could oversee the defence of the walls.”
“But my family?” said Hudnee harshly, already knowing the answer. Filipii shook his head.
“We have too many people depending on us already. The women can work and fight, but children . . ,” his voice trailed off.
Children would be just another mouth to feed. The Descendants had always seemed compelled to have many children. Hudnee knew whose families would already be safe inside the compound walls.
“Thank you anyway,” he said, standing.
“What will you do?” asked the Magister, and Hudnee could see how much it hurt Filipii to turn him away. At least that was some consolation.
“Go to the sea, my friend, to the sea!” replied Hudnee, with a bravado he did not feel. Filipii looked at him like he’d gone mad. Three days later, Hudnee felt he must be as mad as Filipii thought he was.
Under cover of the rainless night, his family had packed the few things they thought might be useful, and the remainder of their food, and quietly headed west along a village track. It would bring them, eventually, to the great lowland swamps that surrounded the one large continent on Hud. They were still far from the swamps when the thin grey light of day found them.
Hudnee led them off the cart track, and they camped in a thick copse of grey-green trees on a nearby hill. They had a square of sewn hides to spread on the sticky, decaying grass, and that would keep the worst of the damp away. They set up a makeshift shelter and had a quick bite to eat. Then the family fell asleep, exhausted after a busy day and night without rest, and they slept well into that morning.
The heat of the day built up until it became unbearable, and this woke them as much as anything. The rains came soon after midday, and Hudnee and Daneesa decided to push on. If they put the square of hides over them they would have to sit on the wet ground, and if they kept the hides under them they would get just as wet as if they were walking.
They soon established a steady rhythm as they walked along. Hudnee went over the emergency procedures he had established with his family one more time. It had been his job to think ahead on the building site, and as far as he was concerned they should anticipate the worst while they were travelling.
Daneesa had proved a swift learner. Once he had impressed upon her that she might be fighting for the lives of her children, she became a tough, determined student. Unable to do any real damage face to face with one of the much stronger males, she learned to duck and weave and make sure she didn’t get hit. The longer she stayed on her feet the more time she bought for Hudnee while she distracted some of the attackers.
If she got the opportunity, she was to use one of the tricks Hudnee showed her. He let her practice some unbalancing throws and some choke holds on himself, which at least made the children laugh. He was glad of that, and the mood in the little camp improved substantially.
The children got to practice their emergency moves too. They were to scatter away from the direction of the attack, but then run at an angle, hide for a while, and slowly circle back to where they had started. It was hard to impress upon them that this was not a game.
They couldn’t practice while they were walking, but Hudnee was happy they were thinking about what they might have to do.
The afternoon passed in silence as they trudged through the mud and the wet, slowly becoming more miserable. A few people on foot passed them, but they were going the other way, toward the larger towns. Desperate farmers forced off their land by famine, thought Hudnee. It would be no better for them when they reached the towns.
When the rain stopped, Daneesa begged for a fire so they could all dry out a little. Though it was already night time, and a fire would be seen, Hudnee weighed up the odds and agreed. They had just settled in to the new campsite, and begun to dry out, when the attack came.
Fortunately there had been some scuffing in the undergrowth as the attackers tried to work their way closer yet keep the element of surprise. Hudnee had time to guide the children out the back of the camp before the attackers rushed in the front.
For a moment Hudnee thought of kicking out the fire, then he remembered the attackers would still have their night vision, while he and Daneesa would not. Grabbing a length of wood from near the fire, he swung fiercely at the nearest figure in the firelight. The man hung back, not prepared to confront the fitter and stronger Hudnee one to one.
There appeared to be five of them. Hudnee’s heart sank. Then he saw they were clad in rags and looked half-starved. He was shocked to see that under the grime two of them were women. One of them had a knife, and he joined the one confronting Hudnee.
Out of the corner of his eye Hudnee could see Daneesa ducking under the wild blows of a man and the ponderous overhead blows of a woman swinging a piece of wood.
The sight of the attack on Deneesa filled Hudnee with a formidable new strength, and he doubled the knife-wielder in two as he swung the length of firewood he was holding. The man went down, holding his arm to his chest, and Hudnee felt sure he had broken it.
It was then that two of them, who had circled behind him, flung themselves on his back and tried to pin him down. Another leapt in as well, and Hudnee was born to the ground under their combined weight.
There must have been six of them, he realised grimly, punching wildly with the one arm that was still free. The blow connected solidly, and for a moment there was less weight on him. He managed to get his legs under him, and stood with a tremendous effort. Then he took two steps and shook off another one whose grip on him was not secure. He kicked at the last one, and suddenly found himself free again.
Hudnee picked up another piece of wood but it broke on the back of the nearest attacker. He needed a more reliable weapon, something that wouldn’t break. As several of his assailants laid hands on him again, he leaped for his family’s possessions, piled beside the square of hides.
Thank the Gods! The top of the sack he had been carrying was still open. He dived for it, and felt quickly for the metal rod he used for stand
ard spacing on the building site. A holy yard, from Roum, it was the official measurement accepted by the Descendants of the Prophet. He hauled it free as another of the attackers landed on his back, and he felt a dull pain in his right shoulder.
Wriggling free he swung fiercely in the direction of this new attacker. The yard rod crunched into something, and he heard a scream of pain. Another attacker took a solid blow that must have broken bones, and then they fled.
Hudnee looked across at Daneesa, and saw that she had got behind her attacker and cut the thin edge of her forearm into his windpipe from behind. She had then crooked the same hand into her other elbow, and was now hauling the man’s windpipe shut with the combined force of both hands.
Hudnee almost grinned. He had felt the sharp edge of Daneesa’s arm when they were practising, and had almost passed out himself before he got her to lay off.
He swung at a last figure standing before the fire and heard another satisfying crunch, then swung at a noise behind him. Two of the attackers grabbed one who had fallen, and hurried him away from the fight.
Hudnee saw that the man Daneesa was choking had gone limp. Daneesa was turning the man around to keep him between herself and the woman with him, who was snarling in rage and hitting the man more than Daneesa with the piece of wood she was holding.
Hudnee walked over to them and motioned to Daneesa to let him go. When he sank to the ground the woman howled with anguish and kneeled over him, snarling at the two of them warily while she shook him vigorously.
“Must be her husband,” said Hudnee quietly, and Daneesa nodded. They packed up the campsite in silence and called the children back. The oldest boy returned first, and looked around wide-eyed at the scene. The two girls came hesitantly out of the bushes, then ran to their mother and hid behind her.
Hudnee stamped out the fire, and the family headed out into the darkness, one more time.
CHAPTER 5
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Leaving the woman wailing over the unconscious man behind them, Hudnee and his family moved on into the quiet of the night. Once they had found the track again, and got their night vision, it was possible to follow the light colour of the clay that showed up in the wheel ruts. The clay reflected the faint glow that seemed to emanate continuously from the clouds at night now.
The family had been walking for less than half a night watch when Daneesa began to shake. Hudnee steered her toward another copse off the track, and they lay down together on the square of hides to wait for the morning, the children around them.
Hudnee held Deneesa close, telling her how well she had done, and how proud he was of her. She pressed herself against him, and eventually the shaking stopped. The children didn’t ask what was wrong, though they huddled against their parents and didn’t sleep.
“Do you think I killed him?” asked Daneesa quietly.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Hudnee quietly. A choke victim could usually survive for a few minutes with their airway cut off. “I think he would have come round by now.”
Daneesa hugged him again, and sighed. Then she pulled her hand away from his shoulder.
“You’ve been hurt,” she said suddenly, feeling a stickiness between her fingers. “We’ll have to light a fire, so I can take a look at that.”
Hudnee reluctantly agreed. Fires were bad luck around here it seemed, but his shoulder did feel sore, and infection was always to be feared in the warmer weather.
“You’ve been stabbed!” said Daneesa, when she could see his shoulder properly. “The wound isn’t wide, but it looks fairly deep.”
Hudnee had thought he’d been hit with a lump of wood. His shoulder ached, but no more than a dozen other mishaps he had endured in his life.
Daneesa pulled some old cloth out of the sack she carried on her back. “I want to bind that, and you should drink something to replace the blood you’ve lost,” she said, and he did as he was told. No doubt by morning the shoulder would have stiffened. It would be sore and troublesome tomorrow, but it wouldn’t stop him walking.
Morning dawned with its usual thin grey light. Hudnee’s moved his shoulder experimentally and found it wasn’t too bad. Despite the lack of sleep, the little party moved on to make the most of the morning, and they reached the first of the swamps by mid-morning.
“We have to stay on the higher ground, and get as far as we can before the good footing peters out,” said Hudnee. “The biggest problem will be getting through the remaining stretch of the swamps to the sea forest.”
Daneesa had heard many of Hudnee’s tales about his time with the fisher folk at the edge of the sea. When he first suggested the family leave the town they knew, and try their luck on the edge of the sea, she had hesitated.
The fisher folk were outlaws, folk driven out of coastal villages for offences real or imaginary. They kept themselves isolated from the rest of the Hud continent, and didn’t even have an office of the Descendants of the Prophet.
Hudnee had reassured her. The fisher folk might have started out their lives by the sea as outcasts, but they were now a thriving community in their own right. He couldn’t say how the heat and cloud cover of the past few months would have affected them, but he thought they would have fared better than the people in the towns.
Daneesa had eventually agreed. Now they were faced with the grim reality of the lowland swamps, an endless terrain of mire and decay that stretched as far as they could see. The edges of the swamps, fed by rainwater run off, looked like a low-growing forest grounded in mud.
But for those unfortunate enough to have to wade through it, the low forest was soon replaced by isolated bushes and extensive patches of multi-coloured ooze that did not support any kind of life.
For the rest of the morning the little party followed a ridge that ran out into the swamp, until eventually it petered out just short of an island. The edges of the island were surrounded by a waist-high tangle of silvery-grey brush.
The brush was rooted in slime and cut through with narrow channels of water. The smell was atrocious, but it seemed the least of their troubles as they searched for a path that might lead them further toward the sea.
The family made camp at a large, flat rock on the side of the ridge, just before the rains came at midday. With the square of hides set up right they would be quite snug under it until night came and the rains ceased.
Besides, they were all tired after the long trek and broken sleep of the last few days. Hudnee wondered as he dropped of to sleep, what in all of Hud he could do to get his family safely through the swamps to the edge of the sea.
He woke as the rains ceased, and peered out into the darkness. It might have been all right to carry on along the cart track in night-time, but he wasn’t taking his family anywhere near the treacherous swamps until it was light.
He decided they could all use some more sleep. The little ones would be up not long after midnight, but Daneesa was good at telling them stories and passing the time. It would almost feel like their old way of life hadn’t been stripped violently away from them. But Hudnee was only too well aware that it had.
The whole family felt better by the time morning came, and Hudnee had managed to get a fire going using the ever-present wet wood that was lying around. He cooked a breakfast from the grains they carried, which made things seem more normal somehow. One more good look around the end of the ridge told him there was nothing for it, they would have to press on through the swamp.
The low grey clouds took the colour out of everything, and the day was already muggy from the high humidity down in the swamps. Hudnee looked gloomily across the tangle of silvery-grey brush and channels of water that separated them from the island. Even if they made it to that far, there was no guarantee the going would be any easier on the other side.
He lifted the last of their supplies in the rough sack Daneesa had been carrying across her back, and noticed how light it was. They had a few more days of food left, if that. Daneesa looked into his worried face.
“We can’t go back,” she said decisively. “So we have to go forward, don’t we?” She turned and looked out across the brushwood to the island.
Hudnee understood her feelings. If they went back it probably meant being attacked by desperate farmers, or making it to the fortified compound of the Descendants only to die of starvation outside their doors.
But if they went forward it was just as much of a grim picture. What was worrying him more than anything else was the fact the swamp still stretched as far as his eyes could reach. There was no sign of the sea, and certainly no sign of the sea forests where the Sea People lived. He sighed.
Well, there was no point in sitting here on this flat rock, and staying where they slept last night. They should make as much progress as they could before the rains came again, around the middle of the day.
Hudnee looked around, but there was nothing substantial to make a raft with, and what he could find was sodden. He had thought they might get a raft onto the maze of small waterways and make some headway deeper into the swamps. But in the end he lashed three dead saplings together, and showed his family how to hang on to it and support each other when they had to cross a muddy stretch.
There appeared to be firmer footing in a direct line from the end of the ridge to the closest part of the island, but there were still two of the narrow waterways to cross.
At first it wasn’t too bad, even if they were spending most of their time knee deep in mud. If anyone slipped they had the pole to hang on to, and the smaller children were being carried more than walking for themselves.
The first channel, a long shallow gash in the ooze that connected a number of areas where water seeped out of the mud and channelled it away to their right, was very messy. They had to anchor the pole on either side of it and haul themselves across.
The children, struggling to cope with another smelly and unpleasant experience, often froze at the most difficult sections and had to be dragged across. It cost Daneesa dearly to force her family on, but the alternative was to see them starve on the ridge behind them, so she drove them hard.
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