Crimson Poison

by Susan Moore

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Ready for wolf,” he said, moving on to Fred’s horse. “When wolf come, stay.”

  Just as he said this, an enormous shadow came bounding through the trees. A jet-black wolf hurled itself at Altan, knocking him flat. Nat screamed as the two of them fell to the ground, wrestling in a knot of arms and legs. Fred’s horse reared up and galloped off into the forest.

  Suddenly the wolf stopped, his golden eyes coming to rest on Nat’s face. She turned to flee.

  “Stay,” said Altan.

  Looking back she saw the wolf looking at her. It was as if he could see right into her very being. All breath left her. Her heart was banging like a drum against her chest. He was tall, nearly shoulder height.

  He lifted a large paw and started to lope towards her. Altan made a deep guttural sound from the base of his throat. The wolf stopped in its tracks. Now it was only metres away from her, its gaze unflinching. She was rooted to the spot, more terrified than she had ever been before in her life. Altan made the sound again; this time the wolf turned and loped back to where he was standing.

  “In…cre…di…ble,” sang Fred, making notes in her book from a good distance away.

  “His name Jebe,” said Altan.

  The wolf lay down at his side, tipped its head back and howled.

  “Jebe say you Clan, Princess,” said Altan, folding his arms across his chest.

  “That is because she is,” said a familiar voice as a horse came galloping through the trees.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  JEBE

  “Jamuka!” cried Nat, running to him. “You’re alive!”

  Jamuka dismounted. She flew into his arms, burying her face in his coat. She had never been as pleased to see anyone in her whole life. He held her tight.

  “Yes, I’m alive, Bao Bao,” he said, not letting her go. “However did you get here?”

  “I’ve been to Borneo and I’ve found Fred who’s a friend of Doctor Tang and she’s a doctor so she can help. She knows all about Marbolic and Tumen Vachir—”

  “My samples are all in jeopardy,” interrupted Fred, who marched up to Jamuka and thrust a test tube under his nose. A deep-red liquid fizzed. “See this? Quite ruined.”

  Jebe sprang to his feet and made his way across to Fred. Jamuka made the same guttural sound as Altan. Nat watched in amazement as the wolf, now just a metre away from Fred, sat down, dropping his head on his paws.

  For once Fred was silent. She held the test tube above her head like a statue.

  Jamuka bowed his head. “I apologise. It is an honour that you have come all this way to help us.”

  He made another sound, a high-pitched grunt, and Jebe came to sit at his side. Nat was now right beside the wolf but it ignored her, licking his paws.

  Somewhat mollified, Fred extended her hand. “Yes, well. Fred Fairlight,” she said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Jebe growled. Fred quickly withdrew her hand.

  “Uncle,” said Altan, making a sweeping bow.

  They exchanged words swiftly in Mongolian, glancing up at the sky as they spoke.

  “The storm is closing in; we must leave,” said Jamuka. “Stay close together. Fred, ride at the back with Altan. Bao Bao, come with me. Jebe will lead the way.”

  “Will you help me get my horse?” Nat whispered to Jamuka. It stood over on the other side of the clearing.

  “Go alone. Jebe needs to get used to you.”

  She took a deep breath. The moment she stepped away from Jamuka, the wolf got to his feet and started to follow her.

  “Keep walking,” said Jamuka. “With purpose. Show no fear.”

  Every step felt as if it might be her last. Jebe drew level alongside. She faltered.

  “Keep going,” he said.

  Suddenly Jebe nosed her gloved hand.

  “Aaagh!” she squealed, jumping back in fright.

  The wolf growled, opening its jaws.

  A deep roar came from both Altan and Jamuka. Jebe whined and lay down on the ground.

  “Jebe is trying to bond, Bao Bao,” said Jamuka, coming to her rescue. “Take three deep breaths and give him your hand.”

  Nat shook her head. “He’ll bite it off.”

  “If he was going to bite it off, he’d have done so by now.”

  She gulped. “This is not what you said in my bedtime stories…”

  Jamuka walked over to her. “That is because I grew up with the pack. Please, trust me.”

  She inhaled and exhaled deeply but it wasn’t helping. All she could do was stare at Jebe, wondering if Jamuka’s plan was going to work.

  “Hand?” said Jamuka.

  She lifted it and placed it in his. He pulled off her glove.

  “What are you doing?” she said, snatching it away.

  He removed both his gloves.

  “The scent on your skin will imprint much more strongly without your gloves on.”

  Nat looked up at Jamuka. He took her hands in his.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  He directed her to kneel with him on the snow in front of Jebe.

  “Put out your hand,” he whispered.

  She closed her eyes, unable to look at the big black head so close to her own. Trembling, she held out her right hand. Warm breath was followed by a wet nose pushing up under her palm.

  “Good. Move your hand slowly to his chest,” he whispered.

  She opened one eye. Slowly she moved her hand under the wolf’s chin. The fur felt thick and warm. Jebe’s golden eyes closed for a moment, his head coming to rest on her hand.

  “Now draw back slowly,” he said.

  She withdrew her hand. Jebe’s eyes opened. He looked at her and his tail started to thump the snow.

  Chapter Fifty

  DESCENT

  Burilgi cut the engine and climbed off the snowmobile. It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to head down the valley during a blizzard but it was his only chance to come before the harvest, when he’d be working around the clock.

  Even in the dark he knew exactly where he was. A childhood of hunting and playing in these woods had left an indelible map in his mind. He unhooked the small backpack, pulled out his bottle of airag and took a large swig. The fire spread in his belly. He was ready for anything.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  THE CAMP

  “Do your aunt and uncle know you’re here, Bao Bao?” said Jamuka.

  “Kind of,” said Nat, squirming in the saddle.

  They were riding side by side through the forest, headed to camp.

  “Start from the beginning, from when I left. We have plenty of time.”

  Nat took a deep breath.

  “OK, so, they took me shopping to Shan-xi…” she began.

  The light was beginning to fade when she finished her tale. She turned to Jamuka, waiting for a response, but it was met with silence. She felt crushed.

  “You have shown great courage, Bao Bao,” he said finally. “You took a dangerous path to get here and I feel a great weight of responsibility on my part for what you have gone through. I never thought that Aunt Vera could be so grasping. But I am deeply disappointed that they think you are somewhere that you are not. Deception is a low game.”

  Nat’s shoulders slumped.

  “Sorry. But if I had told the truth, I would never have been allowed to come, and you could have been dead, and I need you to come back to Hong Kong quickly…”

  He moved his horse in close alongside and held out his gloved hand. She reached tentatively across. He took her hand in his.

  “Let us look to the future. Our search will continue to find the source of the Clan’s sickness, and when we have found and stopped it we will return to Hong Kong to deal with your aunt.”

  “But what if we’re too late and she’s got guardianship of me?”

  He squeezed her hand. “We will fight back and win.”

  They came out of the treeline to the top of a mou
ntain pass. Snow flurries whipped up and danced in the open air. Jamuka let go.

  “We’re about to descend into the valley of the Khan. You’ll need to hold tight on to your saddle.”

  Her horse pitched forward down a steep path. Any thoughts of Aunt Vera vanished, as she had to concentrate hard, gripping tight with her knees, so as not to fall out of the saddle.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t hang on any longer, they entered the camp. A circle of gers loomed like giant marshmallows under a fresh dusting of snow. The place was deserted except for a herd of goats bleating softly under the trees.

  Nat’s legs wobbled as they hit the ground. Her fingers were stiff. It had been a long, hard ride. She lifted the reins over her horse’s head and patted him, her head coming to rest on his neck. He snorted, nuzzling her coat, his warm breath clouding up into the air.

  “Untack and feed your horse, Bao Bao,” said Jamuka.

  Her fingers fumbled with the leather straps. The buckles felt like lead weights. She was so tired she could barely get a grip. Steam rose off her horse’s back as she dragged off the saddle and felt blanket. They felt heavier than one of the Junko’s sails.

  “Here,” said Jamuka, taking them off her. “Lead him into the corral.”

  Nat took the rope. She was just entering the corral when Fred hit the top note of the octave that she was trilling up through. The goats bleated in fright, bolting at Nat and her horse. The horse reared, tearing the rope from Nat’s hand. It jumped the fence. Nat screamed. A sudden loud roar echoed through the trees. Jebe bounded past her, driving the goats and horse back inside.

  The moment his job was done he came to Nat and sat down next to her. He looked up at her, his head cocked to one side. She was trembling from head to toe.

  “Good, Bao Bao. He is now your protector,” said Jamuka.

  The wolf insistently nosed her gloved hand. Nat had no idea what he wanted. Robots were so much more straightforward, and so much less scary.

  He turned, loped over to a mound of snow and started to paw it. Nat blinked. Something stirred underneath. She dared herself to follow but stopped in her tracks when she spotted a pair of golden eyes peeking out.

  “Qara,” said Jamuka, joining her. “Qara, the female alpha wolf.”

  Another wolf head popped up out of a mound of snow a little further away.

  “Tegus,” he said.

  “Aren’t they frozen under there?”

  “Quite the opposite. The snow provides insulation for them – like an Eskimo in an igloo. Come, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”

  He led her over to the nearest ger and opened the door. Inside an ancient, wizened woman was hunched over a pot on the stove.

  “This is Gan,” he said, removing his hat.

  “Gran?”

  “Gan. I grew up with her. We are the same age.”

  “But she looks a million years older than you,” whispered Nat.

  “Life here is harsh.”

  “Sain baina uu?” said Nat, remembering her manners.

  The woman looked up.

  “Sain,” she whispered, before focusing back on the pot.

  “Some of the salty tea would be good. Then we can get straight to work,” said Fred, stomping in.

  She removed her hat. A flurry of snow fell as she shook out her mop of unruly grey curls. The gloves came off next, then the coat. They landed in an untidy pile.

  “Crates, please, assistant,” she said, sitting down.

  Nat sighed. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “I get. You promise no singing,” said Altan from the doorway.

  Fred sniffed. “My talent is wasted upon your ears.”

  There was a rasping cough from behind a curtain, which hung from the ger’s wooden frame.

  “Aunt Tolui,” said Jamuka.

  He beckoned for Nat to follow. Behind the curtain in a narrow bed lay a tiny, shrunken, white-haired lady buried under a mountain of blankets. Nat realised with shock it was the aunt who had brought Jamuka up after his parents died, the fast rider and brave hunter. Even more alarming was that she was the very same old woman from her nightmare about the red petals.

  “Aunt Tolui?” whispered Jamuka.

  Her eyes flickered open. She spoke quietly in Mongolian, no more than a whisper.

  “Come closer,” he said, standing back to allow Nat to lean in.

  Aunt Tolui’s watery eyes crinkled into a smile when she saw her. Nat reached down and took a gentle hold of her frail hand. It was ice cold and papery.

  Aunt Tolui spoke low and hoarse.

  “She says you have answered her call and that it is good to see you. You are like a granddaughter to her,” translated Jamuka.

  Nat smiled, her heart swelling at the word “granddaughter”. Aunt Tolui’s eyes flickered closed. She was nearly asleep when a coughing fit racked her body. Gan shuffled over and handed Jamuka a bowl of salty tea. Nat moved out of the way. He gently lifted her head, bringing the bowl to her lips. She took a tiny sip and lay back on the pillow.

  “She is the one who sent the package containing the petal,” said Jamuka quietly. “The sickness has got hold of her and, I fear, her time is near.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  QUESTION TIME

  Nat, Altan, Jamuka and Fred sat huddled around the stove eating a supper of watery goat stew. Nat chewed on the meat. It was a definite improvement on mutton.

  The door opened. An icy blast cut through the tent as three men strode in.

  “My father, Tabin,” said Altan, introducing them to a man with a wispy black beard.

  “Temur,” said Jamuka, introducing a man who looked like a younger version of himself.

  The last man seemed to fill the tent. He was a big, square man with a bull-like face.

  “Buqa,” said Jamuka.

  He issued a grunt.

  Fred burped loudly in response.

  Everyone turned.

  “Splendid meal. Now, is everyone ready for their interviews? Does anyone speak English?” she asked Jamuka.

  “I will translate,” he said.

  She tore several pages out of her notebook and passed them to Nat, along with a pencil she had tucked behind her ear.

  “Please take notes. We mustn’t miss a thing.”

  Nat used her wool shirt to clean some grease off the pencil.

  “Right, first off, how many people have died? How many are sick? Men, women, children, wolves – I need names and ages. Then I need symptoms.”

  Nat pulled Fizz out of her pocket to record. His eyes flickered open. There was a gasp around the tent. She looked up to see the Clan wide-eyed at her dragon’s appearance.

  “He is one of the first robots they have ever seen,” said Jamuka.

  Nat unzipped his robot-warmer suit and took him out. Another gasp as he unfurled his wings. She felt like a magician.

  “Let them have a closer look,” said Jamuka.

  Nat was about to pass him round when Fred boomed out, “This is not a circus! Get on with the task at hand, assistant!”

  Jamuka nodded at Nat. She sat back down.

  “Record,” she said.

  Jamuka translated for Fred. The men talked fast in Mongolian, waving their arms around in heated discussion. Unable to rely on Fizz with his depleted energy reserves, Nat handwrote as quickly as she could, trying hard not to miss any detail: two older members of the Clan were already dead and the list of names of the sick grew by the day. Symptoms mounted up – vomiting, headache, dizziness, diarrhoea, high temperature, flushed cheeks, stomach ache, bloodshot eyes, trembles, deafness, earache, joint ache, persistent coughing.

  “Give me details of your diet. I need to know every ingredient of every dish; leave nothing out,” continued Fred.

  Mutton, goat, goat’s milk, horse milk, flour, butter, rice. Nat wondered if they ever ate a vegetable.

  “Where have you been? Have you seen signs of anything unusual?”

  And so the questions went on. Fina
lly, when at last Fred was satisfied that every piece of relevant information had been extracted, she dismissed them. A shot of pain ran through Nat’s fingers where they’d been cramped around the pencil.

  “Your thoughts?” asked Jamuka when the villagers had left.

  Fred inhaled deeply. Nat clapped her hands over her ears in anticipation.

  “I need to te…eee…eee…sst,” she sang, climbing up through an octave.

  Jamuka waited for her to finish. “Please let me know if you need anything to aid you.”

  Fred pursed her lips. “Tea, plenty of it, please. Then we shall start, eh, assistant?”

  Nat inwardly groaned. Life under Fred’s orders was about to get worse.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  CLOSER

  The slope was steeper than he thought. Burilgi started to slip, unable to grip the ice. With him came a mini avalanche as he barrelled down. A tree in his path finally broke his fall. He lay there for a moment, breathless and exhausted. It had been a long while since he’d exerted himself like this. Life in Barzurka revolved around bars, shady business deals, eating bowls of gheep stew and drinking vodka. This was more exercise than he’d taken all year.

  Rolling over, he could now see all the way down the valley. The snowfall had stopped and a thin sliver of moon had broken through. With his one good eye, he could make out the clearing in the distance where the Clan’s camp lay. Someone was shouting. He could hear them but not clearly enough to understand what they were saying. It was only when he heard an all-too-familiar roar that he realised who it was. Despite the cold his palms started to moisten, the sour taste of hate bubbling up and filling his mouth.

  His father was still alive. The poison had not reached him yet. Ugui.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  SECRET OF THE CLAN