‘We have the rock boring equipment and explosives that you asked for. The devices are simple, and you should be able to use them. They’ll detonate in deep water, so you needn’t worry.’ He turned, pointed his thick claw in the direction of the other rider then turned his hooded head back.
‘Allocen knows how to use them. He is what we’ve promised to you.’
‘Allocen?’ Jella asked.
‘Yes. He doesn’t talk, but he understands what you’ll say. He can sign to his kin, but you won’t understand that. We have briefed him of his role-it’s only protection that he’ll offer. He won’t do anything he deems too risky.’
‘What good’s that?’ Menz said. ‘What use is he if he ain’t taking a risk?’
The claw-man was silent. He looked back at Allocen who was sitting still on top of the horse, beneath a cloak, hidden in darkness. The claw-man nodded towards Allocen who removed his cloak, dropping it to the desert floor. The group gasped.
Allocen had the head of an insect. Two hemispheres containing hundreds of tiny hexagons were bolted onto his shoulders. There was no discernible face, except for his proboscis and antennae. The abdomen was dark and glossy, resembling the musculature of a human, but it reflected the fire, as the claw-man’s skin did. Lula could see a pair of thin, translucent wings protruding from his back and she wondered vaguely if they would be able carry such creature. She was hypnotised as muscles slid underneath the skin of his thin body, bulging, pushing ropy veins. Attached to his waist were two brown sheathes.
This fly-man twisted his head around his body as if looking far, far out into the desert night. It was as if he could hear and see and smell something that they couldn’t.
The Qe Falta with the claws spoke, his tone lighter. ‘Now, could someone throw something? You, human girl, do you have a musket?’ Lula nodded. ‘Me? I do, why?’
‘Shoot him,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’
‘Shoot him.’ Lula looked to Jella , who nodded back.
It didn’t seem right somehow, but Lula walked to her horse, opened one of her bags, pulled out a long, polished musket. She prepared the weapon, returned to the others. As she did she feared what would happen. ‘You want me to fire, then?’
The man said, ‘I want you to fire. At him.’
She took aim, a little uncertain as to why she was being asked to kill this creature. She raised her weapon at it. He had not moved in the few moments she was away. She placed her finger on the trigger. He still did not move. Lula waited, thinking this some joke. She could feel her pulse in her hand.
‘Shoot him,’ the claw-man said.
Everyone else stared. She pulled the trigger. There was a snapping sound, followed by a high-pitched crack and a spark spat out into the darkness. Lula’s musket smoked.
The fly-man was sitting calmly on his horse and there was a scimitar in one of his hands. The other Qe Falta walked a few steps away, bent down, picked something up off of the sand and carried it to Menz. The rumel couldn’t help stare at the claw as it was extended. His jaw lowered as the claw-man dropped the distorted piece of metal that Lula had fired, and stepped away to rejoin Allocen. Menz showed it to Lula, and it took a second before she realised that this Allocen had sliced the projectile from the sky. They looked up at each other without sharing a word. The sound of the fire crackled in the background. The temperature was falling further.
‘And so you see, he has his uses,’ the claw-man said. He mounted his horse and reached for the reins of the horse without a mount. He slid the bags on to the sand. Then, he looked across at Allocen and nodded. The others said nothing. They looked up from Menz’s hand towards the Qe Falta.
‘If your plan works you’ll be considered to be heroes by many, especially us. You’ll be welcome here. We share your ideals, and so give you our most efficient fighter and some explosives. Not enough to destroy the whole urban sprawl of Escha. There will never be enough for that. I know, from an age ago, and from my travels, that what you seek will very much be able to destroy Escha, providing everything you say is performed accurately. If not destroyed, then damaged greatly. We support this move. Other Qe Falta have spoken of your plans of the contact that you had made to our kind previously, and they remembered both you and the plan. But, to cover our costs -’ He held out his claw. ‘Yes, right.’ Jella walked to her horse, opened a bag. She drew out a purse, walked to the Qe Falta. ‘More than enough.’ He nodded, reached out his claw, which snapped shut on the purse then it disappeared into his cloak.
‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘Your plan’s inventive. If it means anything to you, apparently someone received a message from our west coast contact. Your guide, if you recall. He remembered that you would travel at the end of this season, this year, but not so soon. For your plan to succeed for sure, you must not delay. There’ll be a boat waiting for you in a town called Gaya on the west coast, on pier nineteen. Approach it by water, from any village that lies to the south, just to be safe. Make sure no one follows you. That boat’s well equipped.’ He turned his horse, drew the other with him. The animals kicked up sand before they ran off into the night. The thunder of feet could be heard for another minute or so, but after that, there was only the sound of the fire.
One by one they found themselves staring at Allocen. The fly-man did not move from the top of his horse. It left Lula with a strange feeling of protection and unease. Menz fingered the metal shot still. Lula couldn’t tell if Allocen was staring back at any of them. Slowly they sat by the fire, but they all kept an eye in the stranger’s direction.
Jella said, ‘No one can know of our plan, surely? Only the guide knew, I hope it was him. Still, we’ll find out in a few weeks when we get to that boat.’
Lula saw the worry on her face, so held her hand, as if the touch of another would be calming. ‘Do you think someone’s found it before us?’ Yayle said. ‘Officials in Escha or Rhoam maybe.’
‘No, it’s well hidden,’ Jella said. ‘We found it as our knowledge and assistance was advanced. Our guide was the best. Don’t kid yourselves that a government know anything about the natural world.’
Yayle nodded. ‘Well, let’s just hope it’s still there.’
‘It is,’ Jella said. ‘It will be, right. So don’t worry.’
Ten
There is a single beam of sunlight on the table that highlights a book. The little rumel girl runs into the room, looks at the book with a strange sense of awe-and the recognition of potential mischief to be had. The room is full of such books, diagrams, animal specimens. It smells musky. The child picks up the book, sits on a chair, commences reading. She reads for minutes, then what seems like hours. Outside she can hear the sea, a pleasant and soothing sound that only contributes to the moment’s timelessness.
Her father is standing in the doorway, his arms folded, a wide smile on his face. His eyes are fixed on her with all the love a father could muster. Then he walks over to her, picks her up, sits down, places her on his lap, and all this time she is still holding the book as if nothing else exists.
This particular title, she discovers, is on marine ecology. There are wide diagrams of oceans, cross sections of animals that make far more interesting shapes, she thinks, than the animals themselves. Pencil notes decorated the vacant spaces to the sides, much of it incomprehensible.
‘Enjoying it, Jella?’ he asks.
‘Dad, surely if there isn’t much fish of one sort in the sea, won’t it die if people keep fishing it to eat?’ She looks up from the book and kicks her legs.
‘Yes, yes it will.’ He face is the picture of satisfaction.
‘Why don’t they stop?’
Her father shrugs. ‘It’s not for us to say. We can believe something on this inside, on our own, but unless everyone pulls together, things don’t change.’ Then, ‘You know, you’re a very bright young girl.’
‘I thought my skin was dark though. How can I be bright if I’m dark skinned?’
He laughs. ‘I don’t mean lit
erally.’
‘Okay. I like this. The words are too long in places though. And it’s like they don’t want normal people to understand some of it.’
‘Lots of books are like that,’ he says. ‘So, you going to be my pupil, then?’
‘You bet,’ she says. She puts the book down, squirms into her father’s neck, puts her arms as far around him as they will go. And just as the girl lifts her head to see his face–
–Jella woke up thirsty. Lula’s head was rubbing against her shoulder. She sat up in her tent, the canvass door open and flapping. It was dark outside. Allocen was by the fire, and somewhere she could hear the men snoring. She lay down again and stared at the roof of the tent. She started to think about the mind, how memories played tricks, how time affected them. She wondered if what had happened in her dreams was true, if dreams recalled true events at all. Jella hadn’t thought about her father in a long time, and this dream brought back some awkward feelings with in her, poking at something that she didn’t want to wake.
She lay awake for some time, listening to the rhythm of her lover’s breath.
Eleven
Lula looked up, saw the walls of a town. She turned to Allocen, could see that he was looking at it too in a calm way that suggested he had known about it’s presence for days. She felt the wind on her neck, pulled a hood up, then nudged Jella who was resting her head on her back. ‘Jella, look.’
Jella regarded the scene.
‘Judra. We’re here then,’ Jella whispered. Aloud, she said, ‘Guys, we’re at Judra now, we can stay here tonight and get some sleep and real food.’ ‘Judra,’ Yayle said.
‘Aye,’ Menz said, nodding. ‘I remember a time years ago, before when Lucher went communal, and we had the army. I spent time here. I wonder if they still fight lizards. It was a beautiful city then.’
‘Really?’ Yayle asked.
‘Yep, oh yeah. Was good, what I remember. But those lizard fights, you should really see’ em.’
Yayle said, ‘Do you think they still do them?’
‘We’ll find out, but Arrahd it was a great place to be a young man.’
Jella nudged her horse towards the wall, the others followed, Allocen at the back. As they approached, Jella noticed just how tall the walls were, estimating them at forty feet, with battlements crowning them. She heard a sharp explosion from the other side of the wall.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Lula asked. She looked at the others, who said nothing. They glanced towards Menz.
‘I think, and that’s only if I remember, that it could be the fiestre,’ he said, with some excitement on his face. This usually dour man had become something of a more younger self.
‘And what the fuck is a fiestre?’ Jella said. She could see a smile on his face, his eyes were bright.
‘Fiestre? It’s a celebration, and that explosion-’
Menz was interrupted by a sharp snapping sound. He jerked his head to see a bright light spark at the top of the wall. They looked up as more appeared and they watched until their necks hurt.
‘Fireworks,’ Menz said. ‘I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight.’
‘Great,’ Yayle said. ‘That’s just what we need when we finally find decent beds.’
It was hot as they stepped out into the main square, despite it still being morning. The sun was making its way over the high stone walls, illuminating the stone centre of Judra. All the rumel and Lula were wearing similar styled long-sleeved shirts and baggy, sand-coloured breeches. They were sweating, squinted as the sun came into view. Gateposts were being put up to close the streets and to hold people back from a track that spiralled around the square, through a shaded, narrow corridor that led up a hill.
Empty firework canisters were being cleared from the street. Small boys walked with baskets full of dark bottles. People were beginning to gather. Everyone in Judra was human. Lula had said casually to Jella , Menz and Yayle that people stared at them and was it because they were rumel. Some of the elderly who walked by travelled in an arc around them, tilting their heads up and down to examine their tails. Lula put her arm on Jella’s waist, as if to say it’s okay, it’s normal, they’re normal, they’re with me.
‘Right,’ Jella said. Let’s just stick together. There’re too many people around. I don’t want us loosing our explosives or create any attention. Just in case we’re still being followed.’
‘We haven’t seen anyone for days,’ Yayle said.
‘Doesn’t mean they’re not out to get us,’ Jella said, regarding the street scene. There was so much activity, so many markets. Carcasses hung in the sun, drenched in flies. Giant paper dolls were being erected. This was a town waiting to enjoy itself.
The only room they could find during the fiestre took them the best part of the day to find. It was in a small tavern overlooking the town square, illuminated constantly with flashes of light. Fireworks coughed smoke and the smell of gunpowder into their room.
Their lodgings were about twelve feet square, with three beds of equal size, a chair and a table by the window. Menz looked outside while the others placed all their belongings in one corner. Jella had instructed them to bring everything in, all the explosives and tools.
‘Be careful with those,’ Jella said as Yayle was heaping the bags. ‘I’m being careful,’ he said. ‘Although I’m not exactly happy sleeping with these things in the room.’ ‘None of us are, but we can’t leave them outside with the horses can we? Just be careful with them. They’re expensive.’
‘I am being careful.’
‘Good.’
Yayle placed the last of the bags on top before he stretched out on one of the beds. Jella and Lula sat together, on the bed that was next to the wall furthest from the window. AlIocen had removed his hood, and although everyone else’s heads were facing away, their vision was never that far from him.
Jella scanned down his face, once again, looking at all those eyes, his skin, which reflected light from the activity down in the square. She glanced over to the old rumel, Menz. He was still looking out of the window and on to the streets, leaning against the wall with one hand.
Around his frame you could see humans spilling out of every corner, wearing garish masks. Fire-crackers coughed, fizzed. Bonfires begun to burn large human-like dolls. Chants echoed around the square. The music invited you to dance and sing in drunken, happy voices.
Jella watched the lights flicker on Menz, as he stood at the window. She thought she could see a smile on his face. ‘Memories, Menz?’ ‘Aye. Like I said, I served a season or two this way, many years ago.’
‘Not all doom and gloom then.’
‘No, not all. Saw too much of that, as you know. No, its times like this that I like. I think they’ll bring out the lizards tomorrow. You all talk of bravery and no fear.’
‘What do you mean, “bravery and no fear”?’ Lula said.
‘Exactly what I say. Men fight horned lizards, which they get from way down south. They breed ‘em especially for this. Men will come and stand in front of those great beasts, facing death, staring into those eyes.’
‘That’s a little cruel isn’t it?’ Lula said.
‘Cruel? Some might say that. Youngens, mainly. Horned lizards live a long life, better than most people ever manage to. Pampered, some might say. They make ‘em tough and strong that way, before they bring ‘em to fight. Then if the lizard gets killed, they give the meat to the poor. But it’s killed in such a way, that they never feel a thing. You’ll often see priests standing on the side to sense their pain, and if so then the killer is never allowed to fight again. So what’s cruel about feeding the poor and giving the lizards a long and healthy life? Otherwise they’d rot in the sand. It’s something you youngens don’t always see. It’s something you have to understand. Most types of people don’t much talk about death. Killing is either for food or sport. Here it’s different. We should think about it a little more.’
‘Still,’ Lula said quietly, ‘it’s not right.’
Jella held her hand. Yayle nodded to himself. A firework exploded outside the window, spitting green sparks against the glass. Menz smiled, walked to the bed closest to the window, turned then fell on top with a groan. ‘I tell you what though,’ Yayle said. ‘I wouldn’t fancy fighting one of those things by the sounds of it. They must weigh a ton.’
‘Aye, they do, and the rest. They’d skewer you in a heartbeat, pushing you against the wall and turn you into pulp. They’re beasts, but by Arrahd, they are graceful. I’ve heard of an undefeated lizard who would let its breeder rub its horns and nose like a pet, then in the fight it butchered three fighters.’ Menz turned on his side, faced the room.
‘I think it’ll be fun to see it,’ Yayle said. ‘What do you think, Allocen?’ Allocen moved his head a fraction then turned back to facing the floor.
Yayle turned to Jella. ‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’
‘Not surprised. He’s probably seeking some intelligent conversation, and he’s not getting much of that is he?’ Jella said. ‘Anyway, we won’t have time to do this. This isn’t a holiday, we’re on a mission. We don’t know if anyone’s onto us so I want to get going. Come on, I need some sleep.’
‘You can try,’ Menz said.
Jella watched the old man turn to face the window again, draw the sheets over his body. You could still hear the singing and dancing, could smell the bonfires and the food that was cooking somewhere. There was a prominent melody where you swore you could hear a female voice. You thought of her dancing, maybe twirling in a long dress. You guessed she would have blonde hair, brown skin, bright, promising eyes.
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