Torrodil

by Luke Geraghty

  ‘It’s no use,’ said Tommy, door cracked, pounding tingling every hair.

  ‘Please. Help us.’

  ‘Listen to the girl, Nilah. We can stop this war.’

  Her head shook repeatedly in heartache and madness, a wraith of that former composed self. ‘You are to blame for this. For everything. He is dead by your hands.’

  ‘And by my hands do I carry him. I have wronged you. Shamed myself. I cannot bear this weight till the end. Let me put him down, I beg you.’

  ‘You must not be allowed. Guards!’

  Kara moved past the woman to a curtained doorway. ‘We may be able to get out through here.’

  ‘No,’ said Anna. ‘We’re not going to leave Mateo to die because this woman cannot see reason. I don’t know what you rule or what titles you go by, but they will lie in the dirt with you and all of your kind because you cannot set your grief aside.

  ‘I have watched my town burn and left my family in its ashes. Each day I struggle with something larger than myself and I don’t know whether I can contain it. But I won’t let sorrow overpower my senses and crush my hope. Grief will not be my gift to this world. Ask yourself whether Yae would have wanted death to be his.’

  The barricade fell to pieces and the sentries poured past the antechamber into the bedroom. The four did not fight. They stood and kept the hushed wraith in their sights. Arrows came to be trained on their heads and when no sound emerged from Nilah’s mouth her husband ordered the dogs to be put down.

  In Tommy the mother saw her boy. Was Yae afraid before the end? Did his killer look upon his face and think of the people left behind? Those that had held him for nine months, and fed him inside and out, and sent him on his odyssey, letting him dream under the stars and trying to be mad when he burnt heirlooms, trying so hard, but failing when that doughy face broke out into a beautiful child’s smile. She had laughed at him, then he had come to her. There was no thinking about some silly object because she could see a life unfolding before her eyes, and it shone brighter than gold.

  Today another boy before her, and a choice between the worms or the home where the woman waits purposeless.

  Doughy face in mind, Nilah set her boy down to rest, then with queenly authority placed the vestiges of her crown once more atop her head.

  For four days the seven rested.

  Nilah entreated Jor and her untamed daughter to listen to the proposal of Oded, who had found his world much changed. Hate and anger, clung to like a light in the dark, were interred for good, and for the first time in nine years the Grelv and the Ilo met one another not as bloodthirsty animals, but as ordinary human beings. Seeds of discord found no ground to settle on and shoots of trampled hope rose to greet the day anew.

  Tommy learned a great deal from the Ilo about the bow. Arrows that had shot off into the waters gradually started to find their targets. This pleased him to no end, bringing about shouting fits of his success and a boyish grin that warmed even the frozen lakes of Kara’s heart – so long as he kept the bow away from her.

  Led by a hard taskmaster in the form of Lysander, the two Venecians and the Carric boy trained long and hard, roused early and not sleeping till late. The monk did not think of himself as separate from them any more. He added to their jokes and, though they were wooden, they showed them that he was still youthful and learning.

  Mateo was the centre of attention for the first time in his life. After having the antidote administered to him, the boy grew in strength with each passing hour, sloughing off the sickness with a haste attributed not to the medicine, but to the unflagging attentions of his six companions.

  For Cesar, it was like the jungle juice kiss never happened. He remained by his comrade’s side, amusing him with joke after joke. When Lysander or the girls were near they were largely tame, but the second they were out of sight he was off talking about sisters and middle-aged widows. More than once he thwacked his comrade’s arm in fraternal bonding, apologising profusely when Mateo flinched in agony. ‘Nurse,’ Cesar called, clicking his fingers and making a scene. ‘He sick. Come, need you, come.’

  On one of this occasions nurse did not in fact come. Blatantly off somewhere, he decided. Talking to the trees or whatever it is they did to pass the time. Outrageous. He’ll teach her. She learn you mess with one of Cesar Castila’s friends, you mess with Cesar Castila. He roared past Anna on his way out, too incensed to think.

  ‘You know, I couldn’t imagine I’d meet someone crazier than I am,’ she said, taking a seat next to Mateo.

  ‘M-m-maybe you don’t have a b-big enough imagination.’

  Anna realised she had flopped in the chair less femininely than she liked and promptly adjusted herself, realising halfway that she didn’t normally care.

  ‘I brought you a gift,’ she said, showing him the fruit. Well, that was what you brought, wasn’t it? And how was she to know the tableside supply was apparently breeding overnight? ‘I don’t want you to think I’m avoiding you, Mateo. There’s just so much going on and I’m trying to deal with it and sort out my head, put on a brave face and be alright and wow I’m turning into my mother. I can’t believe it.’

  A hand slipped consolingly into hers. Typical, she thought. Someone’s ill and they’re having to care for me.

  ‘D-do you do this with all the boys?’ he asked.

  ‘Bring fruit?’

  ‘Talk a lot.’

  Anna considered her reply, deciding on, ‘Only the good ones.’

  And then he explained that there was no expectation or hope of reciprocation that may not come. She the poor excuse for a nurse, him the man in convalescence sweeping away the clutter. There was loyalty to Cesar and neither wanted him to be hurt. For Anna there was something beyond loyalty and it would stay obscure.

  Mateo wanted to go home. He did not say it outright yet it was evident when he spoke about his father, the weaponsmith. She thought of her own, labouring in the fields, hunched over the flowerbeds in their front garden. Green thumb. Green everything when she’d jump on his back in the long grass and topple them both.

  As they spoke they came to an understanding that at this juncture there was little room for romance. Hands didn’t slip away clumsily and words didn’t drive the point home. They were good friends and wanted to remain that way.

  On the morning of the fifth day, the Ilo prepared boats that would take them downriver. Oded would accompany the seven until their paths forked, guiding them and ensuring their safety. With trust did the Ilo let him go and with respect did he leave. A parting moment between Tuoni and Oded was short-lived. After giving the seven their provisions, she motioned him closer and whispered in his ear that if he betrayed either them or her, she would make earrings out of his most prized jewels. He simply smiled.

  Kara weighed up her options. Going with Tommy was out of the question. The monk? Not one for conversation. And Cesar spat. She’d seen it. Spat morning, noon and night like his mouth produced more saliva than it could hope to hold. Defective breeding, that’s what it was. Who knows who did what with whom over there. Cousins with cousins sickened her – of course it did – but there was something more sinister. Venecian conventions. Old as dust, they say. Go to some raving woman, get your palm read, and if she sees fit you have to duel your father for your mother’s hand and raise a spawn of backward babies. The spitting. The poor elocution. He’s one of them. And the notion of being trapped in a boat, no escape, having him turn around and slobber all over her… What horror!

  So that left Andres and Mateo. Though they were Venecian by blood, she conceded that they were not entirely worthless. Controllable too, unlike that defective wretch. Seeing Tommy burst a spot then wipe its contents on Anna’s dress served to confirm Kara’s decision, and after Her Ladyship had selected her boating slaves and cautiously got on the rest was quite simple. Anna went with Cesar and Tommy, Lysander with Oded, the provisions were crammed in and more than once did a boat almost capsize. Bidding farewell to their hosts, the group set
off, exchanging the safe haven of the Ilo for the rapid waters of the Wilds.

  Fifteen – Blissful Interludes in Dangerous Waters

  Whoever had the bright idea to send this lot down a fast-flowing river needs their head examining. A girl who could barely swim? Check. Two Leitrim youths with the combined levity of a lead balloon? Check. Three Venecians desperate to compete with another? Triple check. It was Oded’s evidence for the existence of a sadistic deviant living in a labyrinth of chasms under the earth.

  ‘Tommy, stop rocking it!’

  ‘I am not doing anything! You’re the one who keeps going for the chocolate in my knapsack. I told you: I ran out of that days ago.’

  ‘I saw you eating something brown and chocolate’s the only edible thing that’s brown around here.’

  ‘What about your beautiful eyes? And your beautiful hair? “Oh Anna, k-k-kiss me. You’re t-t-too perfect for words. I n-need you. I w-want you.”’

  Anna told him that when they got out of this boat she was taking her oar and making a home for it in his dark places.

  Tommy scrumpled his forehead. ‘My armpits?’

  Ahead of them, a green-looking Kara thought she was going to hurl chunks over the side of her boat. ‘Please, oh my stomach, go slower.’

  ‘You said you weren’t afraid of anything, Kara,’ said Andres. He was winning, dammit! Look at Cesar with those two that couldn’t paddle their way out of a pond. He’s heaving, trying to push forward, having to pick up the enormous slack, but the combined force of Mateo and Andres are too much, despite the former’s slight infirmity.

  ‘I have many talents, but boating—’ Kara suppressed a gurgle. – ‘Boating is not one of them. I can’t swim, you see.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never was one for the water. Scared to take a bath, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘You choose now to tell us this?’

  ‘Now seemed as appropriate a time as any. And I won’t have you thinking I can’t pull my weight. I would be perfectly good at this if I could—’ Another gurgle, impossible to suppress. – ‘Deary me, best not to look at what’s about to happen, boys. It’s not going to be pretty.’

  While Kara helped yesterday’s stew get acquainted with the river, Oded and Lysander got on merrily. It was good to have an adult with them and especially one so experienced. Recognising that the Grelv man did not pose any threat to his charges, Lysander informed him of their true goal and the daeva in their party.

  ‘A daeva? Then yours is a greater adventure than mine, my friend, and I go to convince a man to stop a war.’

  Lysander enquired what he meant.

  ‘The daeva are not shrinking violets – they are men-hating sorcereresses. I have heard they kill our gender on sight. Strike us down with lightning from the sky. Take us out to sea with tornadoes that stretch to the stars. You are braver than me to seek them out.’

  ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘They came when I was a boy,’ Oded admitted. ‘A girl was their interest. She could not have been more than seven years of age. They said she had access to their gift. This Aether. And when her mother stopped them from taking the girl, the oldest froze them both in a bitter wind and shattered them before my very eyes. They are evil women; soulless with hoarfrost hearts.’

  Anna’s giggle stole away Lysander’s attention and the boat veered to one side as he leaned back to look at her. She had stopped arguing with Tommy and was using her oar to drum out a beat on the boy’s head. Fury was quick to flare up in the girl, quicker still to desert her.

  ‘I say this to warn you, Lysander,’ began Oded again. ‘I do not know how the girl is still alive, but you should be careful to ensure she stays that way.’

  Lunchtime came and the eight moored in a ravine of pebbles and tall, thin trees. Oded used a fishing rod to catch some blueback while the boys built a fire and tracked its progress. Reflected in it were the events of the week. To Anna and Tommy was also the image of Leitrim. It seemed a lifetime ago.

  When Kara declined the fish Oded did not dismiss her. It was, perchance, a custom he was unfamiliar with. So he went again five minutes later and brought her a bowl’s worth. When she saw that glassy eye staring up at her it brought a gurgle forth from her mouth and she had to run off before something sourer followed. Fey girl, was what Oded thought in Reyen.

  After lunch a flustered Anna took to adjusting her dress, which was far too long and drenched in mud at the bottom. Hacking away at it, she realised Vicki had been right: she made a lousy tailor.

  ‘What is it you’re trying to do?’ asked Andres, examining the mess she’d made. At this rate she’d be wearing a belt.

  ‘I want to bring the bottom up above the knees, get rid of this collar. Oh, and these enormous sleeves are getting in the way of everything, they have to go.’

  ‘It will be done.’

  Andres took her scissors and started on the adjustments. It was improper to let a man tug and prod her in such a way, seeing Shaper knows what, but then Anna had not adhered to the rules of Carric society when she was living in it, so she was certainly not going to start now.

  Two cuts here. A rip there. Andres had gotten a sewing needle from somewhere and was adjusting hems. To watch him at work was slightly nauseating, animated and brisk as he was.

  ‘Where did you learn this?’ asked Anna, becoming more and more the satisfied customer by the minute.

  ‘My father is a tailor. And his father before him. And his father before him. You get the picture, yes?’

  ‘Quite. So why are you out swinging swords and shooting arrows?’

  ‘I guess I did not want to be my father, or his father, or…well, you know. King Barbosa was looking for soldiers and I was looking for a way out. They came to Mesinos rounding up able men and I didn’t hide. I enrolled in military training, didn’t fully hate it, and here I am: part tailor, part soldier, part storyteller, and at your service. Your dress, madam, is complete. An Andres Seppino original.’

  She inspected herself in the water’s reflection. Bare calves. A plunging neckline.

  ‘Anna Gray, you harlot. And here I thought your hair was your one beauty,’ said Kara.

  ‘I couldn’t breathe in that thing,’ justified Anna.

  ‘Absolutely sinful. Can you do mine?’

  ‘Best ask him.’

  Kara was impressed. A Venecian with aptitude for something other than sucking on a bottle of wine? My, what if her principles and beliefs were unfounded? No, that would be daft. ‘Andres, come. We have much to do and little time to do it in. Firstly you will adjust the waistline. Can you do that with me wearing it? Do try. And then you are to take in this bust. One would think it maternity wear for the bagginess…’ Kara flapped about as she walked, Andres following in her stead and mouthing, ‘Kill me,’ back to Anna, who was becoming fond of the posh girl and her distinctive knack for dominance.

  Just then Mateo and Cesar strutted back onto dry land and shook the water from their hair. They could not help but admire Anna and her new ensemble. The admiration, however, was brief, as the girl found her cheeks reddening and took herself away to the monk, turning her back when she arrived.

  ‘You know, he could adjust your robes if you asked him, Lysander,’ said Cesar.

  ‘These are Cleric robes of the Illuminate Order. I would not dare cut at them. They have been worn unaltered for generations.’

  ‘Is that sanitary?’

  ‘They have been cleaned.’

  ‘There are some stains no amount of water can wash away, pana.’

  The afternoon interlude went by and the eight took to the rapids, battling against the current this time around. Lucent waters ferried them past jagged crags. From time to time the sun joined with the water to blur their vision; short spells that did not lead to anything bar minor nicks.

  Before long, day bled into dusk, and dusk to night. The eight secured their crafts on land and sheltered under a concave crag. The fire highlighted Andres�
� eyes as he spun a tale about the White Woman.

  ‘It was a cloudless Midsummer night. The mother had put her boys to bed—’

  ‘Why is it she had to put them to bed? Why couldn’t the man do it?’

  The group gave Anna a collective sigh.

  ‘Fine, forget I said anything.’

  ‘The three boys were tucked up in bed when the first tap at the window came – a tiny clink. Each child heard it, but none whispered a sound. Then came a second tap – a noisy clank louder than the first. The children heard it and got up from their beds to look outside the window. There they saw a beautiful woman, white of dress with eyes like a fountain in summer.

  ‘She called to the boys and said, “Hear my words, little ones, I mean you no harm. I am weary from a long day of travel. Let me in, provide me with hospitality, and I will reward you with magical toys that transport you far away to a land of fairytale and enchantment.”

  ‘But the boys did not trust her words. They had been told never to speak to strangers and never to let anyone inside the house, especially not at night. In honesty they told the white woman this and saw how her face grew sad. “Very well, young ones. I understand your reasons. I will find another place to stay, I am sure. But before you go to bed, may I at least give you one toy? It belonged to my son and I have no use for it anymore.”

  ‘Each boy looked at the other and weighed up her offer. If she wasn’t going to come inside there was no danger. And there were three of them and one of her. What if the magical toys were real? They may never have a chance to play with them again. “Yes,” they said. “It would be stupid to not even see what they are. We’ll take one toy each and then close the door.”

  ‘So the boys crept downstairs, wary of creaking wood and cats’ tails, and went to the door and the white woman, whose beaded garments reflected the moonlight. There they opened the door very slowly, standing one behind the other, heads arranged in order of height. With outstretched hands did they ask for the toys. “No,” said the woman. “Close your eyes like good little boys and reach out past the doorframe.” The boys did as she asked, stretching out of the house and into the black of night, waiting for the toys to touch their hands.