The City

by Stella Gemmell

  The woman, carrying a torch, and Elija were at the head of the party. He glanced at her from time to time. She was wrapped in many layers of ragged clothes, like all other Dwellers. But her feet were encased in heavy boots, a prized rarity in the Halls, and Elija thought she must be an important person. He tried to look round from time to time to see how many people were following. He could glimpse many torches and thought there were maybe twenty. Once in a while he heard a child’s high cry or a groan, then the woman would turn to him and grin at him. He had no idea what the grin meant.

  At last, when he felt he could not move another step, the woman stopped and told him he could rest. They were in a narrow corridor, rough-hewn and dry, and the boy fell to the floor, exhausted. He dozed for a while and when he opened his eyes again several people were sitting around him eating. His stomach growled painfully.

  He licked dry lips. “Please. Can I have some food?”

  They all glanced at the woman, who nodded, and a man gave Elija a flat round of grey bread. He ate it eagerly, looking round at his companions. The woman was tall and stout, and her hair was long and grey, her face red and stern. Her name was Badger. The man with the deep rumbling voice was a giant, taller than any Elija had seen in the Halls, with shoulders and arms like slabs of meat. He kept looking at Elija and smiling at him, revealing a few grey teeth.

  “Please,” the boy offered nervously, “I would like to go back to the Hall of Blue Light. I want to find my sister. She was lost in the storm.”

  There was a long pause and he thought they would ignore him again. Then Badger leaned towards him and bared her teeth. Elija thought of the gulon and its wide yellow smile.

  “The Hall of Blue Light, eh?” she said. “It just so happens we’re going there. In a couple of days. We have business there. We will take you back to your sister, boy.”

  As she spoke Elija saw a fat louse run out of her hairline and down her face and dive into the plait of grey hair. He imagined the plait was teeming, heaving, crawling with insects. But he tried to smile at her, grateful for her kindness.

  He wondered if the old gruff man and Anny-Mae had got home safely. And if Em was with them. For the first time since the storm he slept peacefully.

  When he awoke he was being dragged to his feet and they were on the move again. He wondered how far they would go this time, but the food in his stomach had given him some strength, and he marched alongside Badger, looking up at her occasionally, thankful that he had found a friend. Again they travelled without stopping for many hours. At one time they all had to squeeze through a low narrow tunnel, half filled with water, which turned and cornered until Elija thought it would never end. It was much easier for him than for the adults, and he wondered how it was possible the giant could make it through. But he did, for the boy heard his voice rumbling behind as they pressed on.

  At the end of this long march, when they had stopped only once to eat and rest, they clambered through a narrow cleft in the rock and came out onto a wide highway. Elija gazed around. The roof of the tunnel was so lofty the torchlight could not reach it. A small stream trickled down the centre of the way, which was otherwise bone dry and dusty. Downstream Elija could just make out what looked like an enormous bridge spanning the way. Upstream there was only darkness.

  Badger ordered a halt and her companions slumped to the ground. Some rummaged in their rags for food or drink, others fell asleep instantly. Elija was hungry and he looked around hopefully, but they all turned away, even Badger, and, stomach grumbling, he fell deeply asleep.

  Boy! Wake up. Boy!”

  He felt hot breath wet in his ear, tickling, and he squirmed away in his sleep.

  “Boy!” Sharp fingers pinched his earlobe and he awoke with a start. He tried to yell, but found a hand hard over his mouth, mashing his lips against his teeth. Panicking, his eyes flew open and searched around in the gloom. Someone’s matted hair was over his face and he could barely see. He struggled to get away.

  “Boy, listen to me. You must be quiet,” the voice hissed. “Will you be quiet?”

  He nodded, then drew in a breath to yell as soon as the grip on his mouth relaxed. But his captor was not fooled.

  “We must escape,” he heard, and it slowly filtered into his brain that his captor was a child too. The hair in his face withdrew a little and he looked around. The others still lay where they had fallen, like piles of discarded clothes, and the noise of snoring rose and fell, echoing in the high tunnel. Elija’s captor leaned back, still holding his mouth, and he could see it was a girl, older than him, with long hair thick and dirty and a pale square face.

  She leaned forward and spoke urgently in his ear. “We must escape before we reach their camp. They are reivers and will kill us and eat us.”

  He shook his head. She was wrong. These people had rescued him. They were looking after him. He had heard of reivers, but he thought they were like wraiths—something evil heard of but never seen. He tried to speak and she leaned her head close to his and cautiously released the grip on his mouth.

  “They rescued me,” he whispered.

  “Why did they do that?” she hissed. “For kindness?”

  Elija knew there were kind people down in the Halls, people like Rubin and the gruff old man he had last seen with Em. But deep in his gut he guessed these people he had fallen in with were not like that.

  He looked around again, uncertain. The cavern was totally still; everyone slept the sleep of the dead. Just one torch glowed and the watchman was asleep beneath it, his mouth gaping open. It would be easy to creep away. But the thought of fleeing into the dark terrified him more than the risk of death at the hands of these people.

  He shook his head. “I’m staying.”

  The girl scowled. “Then they will kill you.”

  “We will die in the dark.”

  “We will die if we stay here.”

  Elija felt tears crawling down his face. The girl looked at him with a V-shaped frown between her brows. How can she be so fearless? he thought.

  “This is a well-travelled way,” she explained to him. “I’ve been watching out for rats. We hadn’t seen any for hours, but there are lots of them here. You only find rats when there are people. That means there are people nearby. We can hide in the dark until someone else passes by, someone with a torch.”

  “But they might be evil men.”

  “These are evil men.” She shrugged and looked around her, as if already dismissing him from her plans. “We will die if we stay,” she repeated.

  “I’m staying,” Elija told her, and turned his back on the girl and curled up. He closed his eyes tight. He guessed she was still sitting beside him, watching, and he tried to sleep. Fears skittered through his head. Was she right? Did Badger and her friends plan to kill them? Finally, brain and body exhausted, he fell into a doze.

  Moments later, it seemed, he was startled awake by an angry shout and a high-pitched squeal.

  “Bitch bit me!” a voice snorted. There was a thwack of flesh on flesh and another cry of pain. Elija closed his eyes tighter and curled up into a ball. He felt the stir of rank air around him as sleepers rolled over and sat up. Then a strangled yell rang out, and Elija opened his eyes.

  In the torchlight he could see the watchman was holding the girl. Her feet were off the ground, but she was kicking with all her might and flailing with the other arm. Her face was growing red and she was weakening. Elija watched, eyes wide.

  The others were laughing at the entertainment, and Badger stood up, straightening her rags and patting them down in a leisurely way, then went over to the struggling pair. The girl raised one bare foot and kicked the woman in the chest. The blow hardly rocked her, but she growled.

  “Shall I bind her?” the watchman asked Badger, who rubbed her chest, wincing.

  “Too much trouble to carry her,” the woman told him. “Kill her.”

  She turned and looked down at Elija. He cowered to the hard floor, and her gaze passed over him.r />
  The girl had stopped struggling. Her eyelids were fluttering and when the watchman set her back on her feet she slumped forward. He held her up with one hand and with the other dragged a rusty knife from the sheath at his side.

  Elija took a deep breath, drove off his heels and ran, head down, straight at the watchman. The top of his head punched into a leather jerkin clothing slack flesh. He heard a breathless grunt and felt the man fall back. Elijah plunged forward onto the big rolling body and slithered over it, then lost his footing as he tried to rise. He looked around. All he could see was the flaring torchlight, and dark incoherent movement. A hand grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet.

  “Got you, brat,” Badger’s voice said. “Hold still!” she ordered, but Elija, in the madness of panic, flailed about in her arms until he slipped free. He ran in the direction he thought he heard the girl’s voice—straight into a rock wall. He fell over again, then, seeing a tunnel opening, struggled to his knees and shuffled through it into empty darkness. He scrambled to his feet and walked quickly with his hands out in front of him. His fingers brushed a wall and he followed it, trying to hurry, trying not to fall over. The ground plunged away suddenly and he fell again, rolling down a short slope and fetching up in a shallow puddle. Something hurt in his side, but he got up and carried on. The shouting was drifting away behind him.

  He heard a whisper of sound and had no chance to run before a hand grabbed his arm. Mewling in fear he tried to run away, but the hand held him like stone.

  “It’s me!” the girl said.

  Elija felt his heart racing wildly. He could scarcely breathe.

  “It’s all right, it’s me,” she repeated. “My name’s Amita.”

  He calmed down a little and felt the wild drumming in his chest slow. “I’m Elija,” he muttered. “How did you find me in the dark?”

  “I could hear your feet on the rock. You were shuffling like an old man.”

  “What do we do now?” he whined. “Where do we go?” The fear of being lost was rising again inexorably.

  “We go back,” she told him.

  “Go back?”

  “We go back and get the torch. You were right. We cannot stay in the dark.”

  “But what if they catch us?”

  “They won’t be expecting us. They’ll think us too frightened.”

  Elija was too frightened, but his belief in Amita was growing and he didn’t argue with her.

  “It’ll be easy,” she said, nodding as if keen to convince him and, perhaps, herself. “They’ll probably sleep again and we can just walk in and take the torch.”

  Elija thought about it, his brow furrowed. “But what if they decide not to sleep? Badger might want to carry on.”

  “Even better. We can follow them at a safe distance. They won’t be able to see us in the dark and they won’t hear us above all the noise they make. When they get to where they are going—well, then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Elija could find no argument with this plan, but he said, “We need food and water.”

  “I know,” she said.

  In the end it was as easy as Amita predicted. The reivers had not slept again—they were pressing on to their unknown destination. The children heard the clamour of their progress from far away, and they slid into a deep niche in the rock wall to let them pass. The band carried two torches now, one at the front of the party and one at the dog-end. They were easy to follow, and one of them even dropped a half-empty waterskin which the children snatched up eagerly.

  They walked for what seemed like hours. At last they guessed they were near their destination for the reivers started to hurry. Elija, footsore and lurching with exhaustion, found it hard to keep up. He could hear shouts and laughter and the sound gave him a little energy. The reivers stopped and Elija and Amita edged forward, careful to stay outside the reach of the torches.

  The band had halted at a high narrow crack in a rock wall. They were jostling to get through and were pushing and shoving each other in their haste. The children heard Badger’s voice cursing them all. Slowly the group diminished, then vanished completely like water down a pipe, leaving silence and darkness behind them.

  The children moved forward, waited for a while, then stepped through the crack into the largest Hall Elija had ever seen. The cavern rose high above their heads to a hidden roof, from where daylight filtered thinly down through high shafts. The air was lighter here; it weighed less heavily on the senses. Elija was astonished to realise he could see.

  Far ahead a wide river meandered through the centre of the Hall. Between them and the river was a broad shore crossed by plank paths, and spanning the river was a bridge of rusted metal and timber, which Badger and her band were hurrying over. They were elated now, for they were coming home, and Elija could hear them singing and laughing. Only then did he see that there were children in the centre of the group, small drooping figures being pushed and prodded across the bridge. On the far side he could make out a settlement of tents and shacks. Even in the gloomy light he could see it was a big community. In a square in the centre, illuminated by the shafts of light, dozens of people were gathering, perhaps to welcome the reivers home to their village.

  Elija and Amita looked at one another, wondering what the fate of the other children was. “Where do we go now?” Elija asked.

  “That way,” Amita said with certainty, pointing to their right. “The river flows that way and if we follow it we will eventually come outside.”

  Elija quailed at the prospect. “I don’t want to go outside,” he told her. “I want to go that way.” He pointed upriver.

  “We’d just be going backwards, back into the sewers.” She sounded tired and out of patience.

  “We’d be going home!”

  She flared at him. “Your home is in a sewer! Mine isn’t!”

  “I want to find my sister,” he whined, suddenly squatting down and hugging his knees.

  “Your sister was swept away in the storm. She’s probably dead,” Amita told him brutally. Then she sighed and knelt beside him and put her warm arm around his shoulders. “I’m just trying to get us to safety.”

  “I want to go home,” he cried.

  “It’s not your home,” she repeated. “A sewer isn’t home. Home is a place with warm beds and food in the kitchen, and there’s daylight. And people to care for you. We must find our way back to daylight. We can’t stay in the dark.”

  “It’s not dark here,” Elija argued, hugging himself tighter. Hideous memories prowled the recesses of his mind. Daylight meant pain and despair and humiliation. For Elija and Em there was shelter in dark corners, in cellars and cupboards. Night was a time of safety.

  Amita blew out her breath and stood up. She looked to the right, then set off in that direction without looking back. Elija hesitated for a few moments then jumped up and hurried after her.

  That night they slept curled together in the lee of a stone pillar sunk deep into the shores. They were asleep long before day’s end, and they were unseeing when from the west a red light slowly emerged from the gloom. As the world turned its fingers flickered towards them, then found them, and for a while they lay in a pool of light the colour of blood.

  Chapter 5

  The City had once been holy.

  Long ago, when suns spun and worlds turned in a different place, a band of seafarers arrived on a sandy beach on the westernmost coast of a new land. According to the demands of their gods, on a hilltop they founded a settlement, which became a trading port then, in the course of a millennium, a city. When the city fell to the cruel swords of invaders it was built again, new buildings and roads covering the blood-soaked earth of the old.

  In the new city the roads were crafted from white stone, the high towers enrobed with gold, and the temples decorated with carvings of heroes, gods and animals. Men and women walked the streets in rich clothes encrusted with gold and silver and pearl. They wore feathers and beads in their hair and, in time, they painted t
heir faces to look like their gods. The gods saw their arrogance and laughed, and the city was destroyed in a heartbeat. An earthquake brought down the towers and high palaces, and the people all died and their blood soaked into the land. Only one survived; a child, of course, an innocent girl.

  The city lay abandoned for a thousand years…

  Elija interrupted Rubin’s story. “What happened to the child?” he asked.

  Rubin thought for a moment. “She wandered through the land for a long time. She was barefoot, and her only friends were the birds and the animals. She slept with her head resting on the warm fur of a fox, and sparrows covered her with their feathers. At last she travelled to a high mountain range. Friendly eagles flew down and plucked her up and she flew off over the mountains and was never seen again.”

  Elija screwed up his face in disappointment and Rubin laughed. “Now, back to my tale.”

  The city lay abandoned for a thousand years and grass grew over the mounds of the dead, and rats ran in the corridors. Then new invaders came marching in with shiny swords and shields. They revered the songs of the heroes of the past and they started building again. They built temples to their own gods. They even built temples to the old gods of the city. They were a reverent people, and in their day the city saw peace for the longest time in its history. Libraries were built, and theatres, and hospitals and schools. There were green parks in the city’s heart, with fountains and lawns. Then news of distant wars reached the city and the people started to leave. First its soldiers marched away, with their camp followers, then their families. The news from afar became very grave and the politicians and administrators were the next to go, quickly followed by the traders and merchants. Only the poor people and the elderly were left. They stayed on; they had no choice. They lost all contact with the rest of their world and, without trade, they had barely enough to survive on. For many generations their lives were wretched. The parks and meadows ran to wilderness. The stone buildings fell to ruin, and the people lived on the rats with which they shared their meagre homes. But the human heart is strong and the population grew, and slowly the city came alive again. Men took up tools and started scratching in the wilderness, sowing the thin soil with seed and praying for rain. Small herds of sheep and goats and pigs flourished on the green grass at the edge of the city, and a primitive trading community was reborn.