Bloodtide

by Melvin Burgess

  As she vanished into the brambles, she stumbled but it looked to me in my delirium as if she was actually shrinking.

  The Pig came storming up and shouted in my face. I thought that was it, he’ll chomp me now. But he didn’t seem to like his food dead until he was ready to eat it. He roared and yelled at me – worst breath you ever smelt – as if it was all my fault. Then he peered around this way and that before he stomped grumpily back to sleep under the car park.

  I lay there and waited. The end of the day was on its way, dinner time for the Pig. I supposed the girl was dead now, but anyway, she was more likely to have been a dream. It was probably some other thing come to eat me. Let’s face it, what on earth would bring an eleven-year-old girl out there? And even if she did, she couldn’t possibly survive.

  I’d just made up my mind it was a hallucination when I realised my chin was still wet from the water.

  I looked around, but all I saw was a small tortoiseshell cat sitting on the masonry above me, licking its paws. It made me smile. How cats get everywhere, even here! The fact that it was tortoiseshell made me laugh, somehow. I wondered if it was waiting for the leftovers.

  Half an hour later the girl came back.

  ‘You keep quiet. I don’t want to be chased again, it scares me,’ she whispered close in my ear.

  ‘Sorry.’

  She sat still and watched me for about half a minute. Gradually her eyes half closed. I thought, what on earth is this?

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh…’ It really sounded as if she’d forgotten. I was so taken by the sheer weirdness of it – the little girl in the middle of this evil place, her furry skin and odd eyes. Signy had sent her?

  ‘How’s my sister?’ I begged.

  ‘She’ll live if you do,’ said the girl. I could have groaned out loud. I mean, what a mess I was in and she was telling me it’d be my fault if Signy died.

  The girl took out a small pot, hidden somewhere in her clothes. She unscrewed it, dipped her fingers in and smeared some onto my face. I sniffed; I licked. It was honey.

  ‘Now then,’ said the girl. ‘This is what you do.’

  She put her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear; it made me squirm, she was so close. When she’d done, I looked at her and I said, ‘You must be joking!’

  She shrugged. ‘He can’t go fast, you see. It’s your only chance.’ She smiled. She stuck her finger in the honey pot and licked thoughtfully.

  ‘Let me have some,’ I begged.

  So we sat there in the sun, what a strange couple, the little girl and me. She kept sticking her finger in the pot and giving it to me to lick until at last all the honey was gone, the pot wiped clean. Then she half curled herself up and leaned on my lap and fell asleep.

  So strange, but it was so comforting to have her there. I figured she had to be some sort of halfman. After a bit I was uncomfortable, and I shifted. She stretched, yawned and leaned over to kiss me goodbye on the cheek, just like a child. Then she made to go.

  I panicked at her first step. ‘No! No!’ I began. And at once, the earth jumped. The air was full of squealing and roaring and screaming. The girl made this weird spitting noise. She jumped half a metre in the air and hit the ground running. She disappeared at once; she must’ve been some sort of halfman to move so fast. I didn’t even see her go. The Pig came rushing past me on her tail. He had no chance. He ran up to a half-standing corner of brick wall and started trying to pull it to bits. He seemed to have got his rage fixed on that little cat I’d seen earlier, which was clinging to the ivy up there. After a while it jumped down and ran off. The Pig was after it in a second, but he was no match for the little cat. Just like the girl said, he was huge and strong, but he certainly wasn’t built for speed. He spent ages stamping about screaming and foaming at the mouth, banging through the bushes and charging bits of broken masonry, but the little cat – and the girl too, I guess – were long gone.

  Then he came back to have a look at me.

  He grunted something, I don’t know what. Maybe he was inviting me to dinner. He leaned on one fat hand and reached the other up to my face. His hand was filthy and it stank of pork. He grabbed at my throat, but just as the girl had predicted, he smelt the sweetness on my face. He sniffed. He licked at some of it that had got on his hands. He grunted in pleasure. Then he leaned forward to lick the honey off my face.

  I didn’t believe a word of what she’d told me, but I did as she said anyway. I leaned forward and seized the fat wet end of his snout in my teeth. And I bit. I bit as deep and as hard as I could.

  The next thing my jaw was popping and there was the foul blast of hot air from his mouth in my face as he bellowed in pain. He pulled back. I hung on, I bit. He had to stop pulling, it hurt him so bad. He started screaming and beat at me with his hands, on my face, on my body, trying to get me to let go. I was a pulp already, but I just thought, the more I hurt, the more you hurt, pal. I clenched my jaws and the hot salty blood ran down over my chin. I squeezed with my teeth, hard, hard, hard. If he’d had the sense to squeeze my neck it’d’ve been over, but he was panicking. He pulled back again, but the pain was too much. Then at last he seized me in his hands and pulled me towards him, me hanging on his nose like something in a cartoon.

  The chains bit in my chest and into my arms. I could feel my hands squashing, the bones cracking and crushing as they pulled against the steel manacles. He pulled, I bit, I hung on. I was screaming, he was screaming. The agony was like a blinding light.

  There was a crack. A chain spun round and lashed the Pig in the face. I bit, I hung on. The Pig hauled at me again. Another chain… then the final chain burst open and the Pig fell back with the force of his pull released. We tumbled head over heels together, over and over and in the tumble I got my broken hand up and poked him in the eye, hard as hell. He squealed. He dropped me and began dancing round and round in circles howling and screeching. And me… I got to my feet and I ran.

  Well, I say ran – scuttled, more like. I’d been stuck in chains for three days. You don’t just jump out of a bed like that and run. My legs were twitching and jerking and then collapsing underneath me, I couldn’t get them straight. I was covered in deep bloody welts where the chains had dug in me; I had half the skin off me from the battle, I had broken bones in my hands. I kept falling down and jumping up again. I was bounding along like something on an elastic band.

  It was a few seconds before he realised what was going on. I heard him shout and leap forward and I knew at once I wasn’t going to make it. It was all right for that girl to say he was slow, but what about me? I felt like a bent chicken on stilts.

  I staggered forward; he roared after me…

  Then there was a squeal. I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the little tortoiseshell cat on top of the Pig’s head, clawing at his eyes. The Pig was running full pelt on all fours and he lifted his hands up to protect his eyes and ran bloody snout first into the dust. Stupid beast! That must’ve hurt! He was up again in a second, yelling abuse and staring this way and that, not sure whether to go after me or the cat, which was yowling at him from a smashed-up window ledge. It gave me my chance. I found a wall and crawled up it. By the time he jumped for me I was up in the air and out of reach.

  I’d done it… I’d done it! I couldn’t believe I’d done it! Well, me and that little cat had done it. The Pig was furious. You never heard anything like it. He tried to butt the wall to pieces; the whole thing trembled, but it was too strong for him. Then he tried to haul himself up on those huge hands of his, but he was far too fat to climb anything steeper than a bagatelle board. He tried tearing the wall to bits but he couldn’t do that either. He was getting into a right state, roaring and weeping and beating the ground in frustration with his hands. Would you believe it, he even got on his knees and begged me to come down!

  ‘Dinna please… dinna please… Piggy look after you!’ he pleaded. He battered and beat and yelled and howled an
d begged for ages before he gave up. Then he sat down like a dog and stared up, waiting for me to show myself.

  So my ordeal wasn’t over. I had to wait up there for another day before he finally gave up. Fortunately the wall was covered in ivy, so I was able to crawl out of sight, or the birds would’ve spotted me. As it was, I fully expected something that was able to climb to come and get me, but nothing did. I spent the night curled up in a bed of leaves and ivy shoots, and in the morning the Pig was gone.

  Well, that’s the story of my first nights in the halfman lands. I’d got away, but I was half dead. My hands looked like a takeaway, my jaw was broken in about ten places. My face was swollen to twice its normal size and it felt like jam to the touch. I climbed down and pottered about till I found a puddle and drank the sweetest tasting water that there ever was. It was probably Pig piss, but it tasted like nectar to me. I half expected the Pig to be hiding and to come and get me as soon as my feet touched the ground, but I guess he wasn’t all that good at clever things, like waiting.

  I thought to myself, so I’ve escaped the Pig. So what? I was stuck in the halfman lands with no food and no weapons.

  After a while I found some still clear water and got a look at myself. You never saw such a mess. I thought, well, if I do meet a halfman, they’ll probably think I’m one of them now.

  I had no plan. What kind of plan could I have? I set off into the day… and what a day. It was as blue and as bright as a jewel and full of more dangers than I knew how to count.

  35

  Signy knew that Conor would come to see her sooner or later. He would come to gloat, if nothing else – to show her how stupid she had been, stupid in body, heart and soul. He would come to kill her, or rape her. Certainly to mock her. Perhaps he would bring with him another woman, one she was certain he had, his real wife, his real love.

  But when he came it was worse even than she had thought possible. He came for forgiveness. He wanted her to love him again.

  At first she thought it was another act of war – to take her like a trophy. His arms around her, his fingers on her face were a signal of violence to come. But it was genuine. He was as pale as a ghost with the shock of what he’d done. He stared at her with tears in his eyes and begged. ‘I want to comfort you! I love you,’ he said. ‘I love you!’ There was certainty in his voice. He didn’t doubt it for a second.

  Signy drew her crippled legs up to herself with her hand and wept. ‘How could you pretend so much?’ she cried. ‘What kind of man are you?’

  Conor licked his lips and got to his feet. ‘A conqueror,’ he said. And that was the truth.

  He walked over to the window and looked out. He knew she was watching him. He was the centre of her universe.

  ‘There was no choice,’ he told her. ‘Do you think I wanted it?’

  ‘You’ve destroyed everything.’

  Conor spread his arms. ‘London is united. I’m drawing up plans to move out and start a new halfman war. Then… the fields and villages beyond. The towns. Ragnor itself! The nation united, just as your father dreamed of it.’

  Signy bit into her hand until the blood came. She wanted to waste no more tears on Conor, but she couldn’t stop them coming. She was going mad but at the same time a little dwarf creature living in the back of her mind was watching every move, trying to work out how to benefit from all this.

  Conor turned to look at her lying there so helpless. It was wrong that she should be like that! She was so bright and free and happy and open. Her beautiful legs!

  Conor began to stalk around the little room. He was furious. The legs had been a mistake – she had been ruined. Although Conor had given the orders himself, already, in his mind, he had been betrayed by the people who had carried those orders out.

  ‘I don’t have to pretend,’ he told her. ‘I love you.’

  Signy showed him her face, the mess of blood, tears and dribble on her mouth. She was thinking, what do I do next?

  Conor wanted to explain. ‘Because the gods intended it. We are to be together. Look…’

  Proudly, out of his belt, he took the knife that Odin had left in the lift shaft. The flint blade was still marred here and there with traces of the stone he had stuck it in. It had had to be chipped away fragment by fragment.

  ‘Odin has chosen me,’ he said proudly. ‘And he has chosen you to be by my side.’

  Signy shook her head. ‘My brother’s knife,’ she said, and Conor turned black with rage.

  ‘My knife! It was meant for me. I was the chief guest,’ he hissed. He hated her for a second, but seeing her lying there with the bloody bandages around her knees, took his breath away. He loved her… he loved her so much!

  He gestured around at the gutted room of the tower. ‘This is all wrong. I never intended you to be treated like this. I’ll get it all put back. Everything.’

  ‘My legs?’ she asked.

  ‘Done without my knowledge!’ insisted Conor. That was a lie, but he already believed it. Within the hour the woman who gave the orders would be hanging by her heels, her face turning black.

  ‘My father? My brothers?’

  ‘It was a war!’

  ‘… it was a treaty.’

  Conor swallowed. She had no right to talk to him like that! ‘A war,’ he repeated, more calmly. ‘Is there anything you need, anything?’ he asked, keen to show his generosity now that he had taken everything from her.

  Signy looked up. ‘My cat, Cherry. Tell them not to hurt my cat.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘She ran away. Perhaps she’ll come back.’

  ‘I’ll give orders. The cat will be returned to you safely.’ He smiled and nodded and came forward to try to touch her hair, but she groaned in fear.

  Conor nodded. ‘I have time,’ he said. ‘I’ll come to see you tomorrow.’

  Signy turned her face to the wall and said, ‘I never want to see you again.’

  Conor winced at the hatred in her voice. No other man would ever have hoped that this girl could love him, but there was no end to Conor’s greed. He had turned love into hatred. Why not turn it back just as quick?

  ‘I’m all you have now, Signy,’ he told her. Then he left.

  As he climbed down the ladder he thought, she’ll see. Politics is politics. The two sides could never have got along together. It had to happen. But that didn’t mean to say that he didn’t love her. He wanted her so much. What else was love if not that?

  It was raining. Signy heard it pattering on the thin metal walls of her aerial prison all day long. The light was fading over a city washed clean. Now, at the end of the day, the sun shone in the clear air. She sat in her wheelchair and gazed out at the wet roofs, brilliantly lit by the slanting rays of the sun. You could see half the city from here.

  It had been four days since Cherry left.

  A guard came in behind her with a small tray. Hot toast, tomato soup, strawberries, sugar and cream – her favourites. He put it down on the table and began wafting the scents of the food across to her with his hand.

  ‘Mmmmm, yum, yum! Presents from Conor. Smells good, eh?’

  Signy still said nothing. The guard stared blankly at her. ‘When they stick that tube down your throat, you’ll regret it.’

  Signy didn’t turn her head. ‘You raped me,’ she said.

  The guard stiffened. ‘Not me!’

  ‘Conor will believe it.’

  The guard winced. He knew what she said was true. ‘But I’ve done my best. I have to follow orders but I’ve not been harsh.’ He waited, then gestured at the food. ‘Please. You have to start eating soon.

  Four days, thought Signy. The halfman lands were a dangerous place for a cat – or a little girl. Surely the whole thing had been a cruel dream, played on her by her own mind to trick her into staying alive. Signy thought she was going mad, but she wanted to be sure before she abandoned all hope.

  ‘Please eat, please eat,’ begged the guard. ‘If you get ill I have orders to tell the
doctors and then you’ll get that tube down your throat and…’

  ‘If you tell the doctors I’ll say you raped me.’

  The guard was truly caught between one devil and the next. ‘Please eat,’ he begged again.

  Signy turned round and looked at the food. She needed to live long enough to know if her brothers had been saved.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said.

  The guard growled, ‘Silly little tart,’ to himself, but he didn’t let her hear him. He turned and went for the door. As he opened it, there was a soft ‘Chirrup!’ and a little cat dashed in past his feet.

  ‘Whoa…’ The guard watched her run past. Signy turned as the little animal jumped onto her lap.

  ‘Cherry! Cherry!’

  The guard watched her for a moment before letting himself out. Perhaps the wretched child would eat something now. If something didn’t happen soon he was for the jump, no matter what.

  He banged out and locked the door behind him. Signy cupped the cat’s head in her hands and rubbed her ears.

  ‘What happened? Tell me, oh, tell me!’ she begged. But the little cat just butted her head and purred. Signy ran her hand down her back and made her stick her bottom in the air by tickling in front of her tail. ‘Cherry, please tell me – please, darling!’

  The cat purred all the louder.

  Surely it was just a cat, an ordinary cat. Signy’s voice dropped to the slightest whisper. ‘Did I imagine it…?’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  And there was the child in front of her.

  ‘See… see!’ cried Cherry. She held her face in front of Signy. ‘Don’t say I’m not real.’

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ Signy begged.

  ‘Stroke me, then.’ Signy began to stroke her head. Cherry ducked and purred. The child was exhausted. Already she was half asleep. ‘I saved one. Rrrrrrr…’

  ‘Which one… oh, Cherry, which one got away?’

  ‘… Siggy. The youngest.’

  ‘Siggy! Oh, Cherry! And where is he? What’s happened to him?’

  ‘Pig got him… mmmmmm…’

  ‘The Pig! But you said…’