The Harvest Tide Project

by Oisin McGann

  He went to the door and lifted the latch, but the door did not budge. He pulled on it again, just to be sure, but there was no getting away from it. The door was bolted from the outside. They had locked it while he was asleep. Groach sat down on his bed again. His was a basement room, with a small barred window at street level. The bars were iron and set firmly into the frame. He had already looked at possible ways of levering them out. The door was solid oak; the walls were made of stone. He put his head in his hands and chewed his lip. They were on to him.

  Some time later, there came the sound of the bolt being shot, and the door swung open. Rak Ek Namen walked in, followed by a guard carrying a chair. The soldier set the chair on the floor and left, closing the door after him. The Prime Ministrate sat down on the chair and crossed his legs, placing his hands in his lap. He gazed at the botanist without a word, a tired look on his face. Groach started to say something to break the silence, but the Noranian leader raised his finger and Groach went quiet again.

  ‘I had a dream, Shessil,’ Namen said, in what was almost a whisper. ‘I dreamed that the Kartharic Peaks would belong to Noran. That we would rule the Karthars and make their country our own. With the Peaks, I could have built an empire greater than the world has ever known. I’ve been planning this for years. Years of building my armies, years of developing weapons; I’ve given my life to this. I needed the Braskhiams to build me a fleet of esh-boats to equal the Karthars’, but they would not, so I developed a plan that would wipe out the entire Karthar army in one fell swoop, without the need for a battle on the esh. A huge, but ultimately simple scheme. I had to make them invade Braskhia, and then I had to smother them in the esh.’

  He went quiet again, and Groach shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He had never seen the Prime Ministrate like this. Gone was the charming, charismatic leader he had known before. The man who sat before him now was hard and cold, and his eyes were empty of emotion.

  ‘You were part of that plan, Shessil. A vital part, as it turned out. You cracked the problem, made it possible to cause the Harvest Tide, and I’m grateful to you for that. But you see, yesterday, the Karthar fleet lay off the coast of Braskhia, preparing to attack. Their ships were carrying every warrior they had and I had them right where I wanted them. As it turned out, they did not land, but that should not have mattered. Because the crumble cones had been dropped over the esh-bound bubule and the Harvest Tide was coming. There should have been a tidal wave that blocked out the sky; every soldier should have been smothered, every ship swallowed up, and Braskhia should have been so crippled its people would have welcomed the chance to join our empire. I had battalions of my best troops, wearing gas masks, of course, stationed to deal with any survivors. I had drawn the Karthars right into my trap.

  ‘But it didn’t happen. Oh, the esh rose all right, but not nearly enough. No Karthar ships capsized; hardly anyone was killed as far as we can make out. Now, the Karthars have joined forces with the traitors from Braskhia, and they are on their way to Noran. They are on their way here to us. To me.’

  Namen stood up and walked to the window, watching the feet pass by on the street outside.

  ‘Our new Groundsmaster tells me there are two vials missing from one of the laboratories. They contained spores of a fungus that spreads like wildfire and eats crumble cones, among other things. It was a lab that you were working in. It is thought that the spores of the fungus were spread around the barges by Myunans. There were two young Myunans in the group that “kidnapped” you. Very few people knew what the crumble cones were for; you were one of them. I have been forced to come to the conclusion that you have betrayed me, Shessil. And at the worst possible time.’

  The Prime Ministrate turned from the window to glare at Groach.

  ‘That treachery will cost you dear, Shessil Groach. I will hunt your friends down. The two Myunan children, the scentonomist and the Parsinor – I will have them executed, and their heads will be hung from the city gates. But not yours. You will be fed to the skack grubs. You know, the children of the skacks. They have no teeth, so they dissolve you with acid and drink you, bit by bit. It will take you many painful days to die. My only regret is that there will be no head to hang alongside those of your friends.’

  Namen called to the guard, who opened the door and removed the chair. As the Prime Ministrate was leaving, he stopped, standing before Groach.

  ‘You will be fed to the skack grubs tomorrow. Do try to enjoy the rest of your day.’

  Hiding was not something that came easily to Draegar. It rankled at him that he should shy away from combat, but even he was no match for the battlegroup of soldiers who were even now carrying out a house-to-house search down the street. Backed up by an engined crossbow, the foot soldiers were kicking in doors and ransacking one house after another. Draegar’s hands wandered to the handles of his weapons, but he held himself in check. Beside him, beneath the floor of a cooper’s workshop, Hilspeth listened to the sounds of the boots on cobbles, and the shouts of the men and women who were hunting them.

  The soldiers were sure to peer into the shadows between the stone supports where the four fugitives were hiding, but if they did, there was a chance they might not see them. Lorkrin and Taya had camouflaged Hilspeth and the Parsinor by spreading themselves over them like blankets and changing their appearance to make the huddled group look like a pile of stones.

  A face suddenly leaned in to survey the space beneath the building’s floor. It turned one way, then the other and then disappeared. Taya breathed a quiet sigh of relief. But then the face appeared again with another beside it.

  ‘Better check behind those stones,’ said a voice.

  Draegar gripped the handle of his sword. Hilspeth fumbled for a bottle in her waistcoat, and the two Myunans held their breaths. From out on the road came the sound of a scuffle and then shouts of alarm:

  ‘A skack! There’s a skack loose!’

  Somebody screamed, and the four fugitives heard doors and windows slamming shut. The catapult’s engine roared, but then there came a couple of loud thumps and the noise coughed and stalled. There were some more shouts, and then a hushed silence.

  The next face to lean in and stare at them was that of a skack. It hissed. Taya eyed it for a moment, and then cried out in relief:

  ‘Uncle Emos!’

  The others looked closer and saw the triangular tattoo on its face.

  ‘A skack!’ gaped Lorkrin. ‘That’s brilliant …’

  ‘Quiet.’ Emos’s voice silenced his nephew immediately. ‘I am taking you home. I have a potato field in need of weeding, and any more trouble from the pair of you and I might have a barn to paint as well.’

  The soldiers stayed hidden away in the buildings and the catapult’s cab until the skack had left with the two Myunans, the woman and the Parsinor. There was a possibility that the skack itself was a Myunan, but no one seemed willing to go and find out. Once the coast was clear, the driver who had tried to run the beast down got out of his cab to see what had brought his vehicle to such a sudden halt. It did not take long to find out … the iron rear wheels of the vehicle had sagged into folded lumps, as if they were made of butter. The man stared at them, feeling slightly dizzy. Then he got back in his cab and stayed there for some time.

  Lorkrin and Taya were squatting either side of their uncle, all of them listening to Draegar.

  ‘He is an annoying little man, absorbed in his learning,’ the Parsinor was saying. ‘And he has caused a lot of what has happened. But he is a good man, I think, and he has done what he could to make up for things. The Noranians will punish him for what he has done, when they realise. I think the punishment will be quite brutal. I think we should help him escape.’

  ‘We have to get him out,’ Hilspeth insisted, desperately. ‘They’ll kill him if we don’t!’

  Taya, Lorkrin, Hilspeth and Draegar had spent the last few days evading the soldiers who hunted them, had seen Parsinors and Myunans being rounded up, and were now hidin
g in an empty water tank on the roof of a disused bathhouse. The soldiers had left the streets and were crowding onto the city walls. The Braskhiams were coming and they were bringing the Karthars with them. They had crossed the Braskhiam Gulf in an array of different vessels, the Karthars’ might combined with the Braskhiams’ technology. Emos, as soon as he had found his tools, had hitched a ride on Murris’s boat until he was rested enough to fly again. Then he had raced ahead to Noran. He now weighed up the chances of successfully breaking Groach out.

  ‘The children must not be involved,’ he said, finally. ‘But I agree. No one deserves the treatment that those animals can dish out. We must find him and help him.’

  Taya peered around her uncle’s chest at Lorkrin, who pulled a face. They did not like the sound of this. Shessil was their friend, and whatever trouble he was in, they were determined to help him out of it. They did not like being treated like helpless infants, not that you could expect anything else from grown-oldies. The moment that the other three were gone, they would be off on a rescue mission of their own.

  ‘I know what you two are planning … and I’m not having any of it,’ Emos warned.

  ‘We weren’t planning anything,’ Taya retorted.

  ‘That’ll be the day,’ their uncle grunted. ‘I’m sorry to have to resort to this. I hope your ma and pa will understand, but I can’t have you running into any more danger. Hilspeth, Draegar and I will handle this. You will be staying here.’

  In one swift motion, he twisted and grabbed their arms, holding them in one hand, while with the other he ran his fingers across their feet, muttering some words. Suddenly, their legs started to soften and their thighs sank into their knees, their knees into their shins, their shins into their ankles and their ankles into their feet. Their feet spread out across the damp floor of the water tank, almost filling it. Lorkrin tried to walk, but it was like having a rug for legs.

  ‘Aw, bowels!’ he barked.

  ‘Lorkrin Archisan! Your mother would be beside herself if she heard you using language like that.’ Emos wagged his finger at the boy. ‘I hope you don’t talk like that at home.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Lorkrin screwed up his face in a sulk. ‘And I don’t melt people’s legs either.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lorkrin,’ his uncle said in a softer voice. ‘If there was any other way …’

  ‘We’d better get a move on,’ Draegar urged his friend. ‘Every moment wasted is a moment too long for Shessil.’

  ‘What if the soldiers come?’ Taya protested.

  ‘They’re otherwise occupied,’ Draegar reassured her. ‘They’ve all gone to man their positions. You won’t have any trouble with them, I think. Just stay quiet and stay put. We’ll be back before long.’

  Hilspeth offered an apologetic shrug and waved to them, and with that, the three adults climbed out of the tank and left Taya and Lorkrin alone. They listened to the retreating sounds of the scentonomist, the Parsinor and their uncle, waiting until they were out of earshot. Lorkrin turned to his sister.

  ‘This is not fair!’ he muttered. ‘This … it’s just not fair!

  ‘He’s well and truly done it this time,’ Taya moaned. ‘There’s no way I’m going out looking like this.’

  ‘Do you know any disenchants?’ he asked desperately.

  ‘I don’t seem to remember one for stopping your legs from becoming a carpet,’ she snapped. ‘We played at trying to make apples square, or tying knots in horseshoes.’

  ‘Well, what do you remember?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never heard about this before.’

  ‘Me neither. We have to try something. I’m not staying here like a half-melted snowman. Maybe it’s easier to undo a transmorph than it is to start one … you know, like it’s easier to keep a cart rolling than it is to get it going in the first place.’

  ‘All right, we’ll take turns,’ Taya suggested. ‘You go first.’

  ‘Why should I go first?’

  ‘You’re the one who said he wanted to get out of here. Don’t you want to or not?’

  ‘Okay, okay. Right …’ He thought for a bit. Then, placing his hands on what had once been their legs, he muttered: ‘Nemed qua perius.’

  The blanket of flesh started to itch, as if they were being bitten by a thousand lice.

  ‘Agh! Not that! Not that one!’ Taya cried. ‘Ehmm … Reparicus opic trum!’

  The itching stopped, but instead, the entire swathe of flesh knotted up in a painful cramp.

  ‘Aaaagh!’ Lorkrin squealed. ‘Issith trayam tangem shest!’

  The cramp faded and was quickly replaced with the unbearable tingling of pins and needles. Taya squeezed her eyes shut.

  ‘Teop chem querrilous!

  The tingling subsided, but was replaced with a burning sensation on their skin. Both Myunans winced and squirmed to escape it.

  ‘Opris tarrigus mestal crem!’ Lorkrin gasped.

  The burning cooled, and then their flesh went completely numb. Lorkrin rapped his knuckles on it. The skin beneath them was as solid as the wood of the water tank.

  ‘No wonder this stuff is banned,’ Taya said, sulking.

  There was a lot of activity around the Harvest Tide Project, with messengers coming and going, and valuable records and materials being carried out, to be brought to safer locations. In all the bustle, no one noticed an extra guard walk around the corner and in the door. Even with the tattooed outline of a triangle etched on his face, he looked like just another messenger delivering news.

  Emos picked up the first scroll that he found in one of the rooms, to complete the disguise, and began his search of the main building. Draegar had drawn him a portrait of the botanist and he had memorised it, but so far he had seen no one even resembling the sketch. The place was a maze of corridors and rooms, and it was not long before he was wondering if he would ever find Groach. They couldn’t even plan a rescue until they knew where he was. He stopped halfway down one hallway, his attention caught by a diagram on a notice board. It was a map of the building. Whatever else you said about the Noranians, they were organised. He found the staff quarters, in the basement, and decided it was as good a place as any to find the botanist. The Myunan took the first flight of stairs he came to and made his way down.

  The corridors here were darker, and many were lined with shelves holding glass cases. Inside the cases, strange, mutated vegetables were growing in a greeny brown jelly. In another corridor, he discovered walls of glass, behind which was a glowing blue fungus that lit up the hallway. He checked through the little window of each door for any sign of Groach, finding only one unknown scientist after another, either resting or reading. But most of the rooms were completely empty, with most of the staff working elsewhere.

  Then he peered in another window, and there, sitting on his bed, deep in thought, was the man he was searching for. Emos tried the door, but it was bolted and padlocked. There could be no doubt about it; the Noranians knew that Groach had betrayed them. The Myunan was about to pick the lock, when he heard voices coming. Walking quickly in the opposite direction, he slipped around a corner and leaned against the wall. Taking a peek around the corner, he got a look at the three men – two soldiers and a man who appeared to be some kind of clerk. The clerk was speaking.

  ‘Forward-Batterer, I realise you want to get to the walls and see some “action”, but there is work to be done here, important work. Escorting prisoners may not be the kind of duty that wins you medals, but it is just as vital as driving an axe into the head of an enemy. This man is to be taken to cells in the Central Eb-Tower, and I … the Prime Ministrate wants it done now.’

  ‘Aye, sir. But then can we go to the walls? I wouldn’t like to miss the battle.’

  ‘Some would consider missing the battle a blessing, but it takes all sorts, I suppose. Yes, you may man the walls after Groach has been delivered safely to the river. Now, I need to ask him some more questions about where his friends are, and then we can get on with it. And you
’re to make sure he gets a cell near the skack grub pens. He might as well get a taste of what’s to come tomorrow.’

  Emos’s blood froze. Groach was to be fed to skack grubs? He thought even the Noranians had given up that particular death sentence. The botanist was to have the most painful death imaginable. While the Myunan waited for the clerk to come out again, he got to work with his tools, listening to the sound of Groach being put in shackles. He moulded his face, sculpting the tattoo up into his hair, where it was hidden. He would have to act quickly; it would find its way back onto his face before long. The little Noranian left the room and strode quickly up the corridor. Emos was ready by the time the soldiers led their captive out. Sweeping around the corner, he approached the three men, looking for all intents and purposes like the clerk who had just left.

  ‘The Prime Ministrate has changed his mind,’ he called, mimicking the clerk’s voice. ‘Every soldier is to make his way to the walls immediately. We have a crisis on our hands. Leave the keys to the prisoner’s shackles with me. I will take him to the cells myself.’

  ‘You?’ one of them asked, incredulously. ‘What if he tries to escape?’

  ‘Where can he run to, you idiot? We’re in the middle of Noran, with every gate guarded, and the enemy on our doorstep and he’s in shackles. Stop thinking with your axe and use your head for a change. Now give me the keys and go.’

  The soldiers looked at one another, shrugged, and the Forward-Batterer tossed Emos the bunch of keys. Then they shouldered their weapons and hurried off to join their comrades.

  ‘Shessil, take no notice of my face. My name is Emos,’ he told the botanist.

  ‘Lorkrin and Taya’s uncle?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m here to get you out.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘We’re going right out the front door. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m escorting you to the Central Eb-Tower. All we have to do is head towards the river and then lose ourselves in the back streets. Are you ready?’