The Jasper Forest

by Julia Gray

  'Actually, I can swim,' he said, as they walked on. 'I tend to go round in circles, but I can stay afloat.'

  'Let's hope the same is true of this place,' she remarked, looking ahead.

  The hospice rested on a large hollow raft which had been sealed tight, trapping a layer of air beneath the floor. This gave it extra buoyancy, to support the weight of the dwelling above. The walls had been topped with a thatched roof and were surrounded by an open area which formed an extension of the walkway, so that it was possible to go all the way around the building without actually going inside. This area was also protected by wooden railings. The entire structure was surprisingly stable, a testament to the skill of those who had designed and built it. It also matched Terrel's dream image.

  Inside, the one large rectangular room smelled of sap and oil. It was almost completely bare, containing just a row of eight beds. Other furniture and facilities were to be added as and when necessary, but for now it offered only the minimum of comfort. None of the women minded about this. They were simply delighted to be there.

  During the construction of the hospice, the pregnant women had spent as much time in the boats as possible - an experience most of them had found awkward and

  unpleasant, in spite of the good it was supposed to do. Terrel had gone with them as often as he could, and had noted not only the almost immediately calming effect being on the water had had on the babies, but also

  -encouragingly — an apparently cumulative benefit. Even their dreams once they'd returned to land seemed a little less violent now. The full of the Dark Moon had also come and gone during this period, with no detectable change in the patterns of the dreams, and these two new sets of evidence made Terrel feel even more confident that his theory was correct. However, its first real test was to come that night.

  All six women had declared that they wanted to remain in the hospice overnight. Any suggestion that someone else should test the risks first had been decisively set aside, on the grounds that because the entire project had been for their benefit, it was only right that they should be the ones to accept the corresponding dangers. Their recent shared experiences had given them a camaraderie - which even included Esera now - that Terrel found both admirable and quite moving. It also granted the women the sort of collective bravery that he could only hope to emulate, and even though they were clearly frightened -a lifetime's superstition was not to be discarded in a single day, after all - there was no question of them going back onshore once they'd been installed in their new accommodations.

  Once that had been confirmed, the final decision was who was to stay with them. The five husbands all volunteered but, in a good-natured decision, this suggestion had been rejected by the women themselves - the general opinion being that the men would be more trouble than they were worth. It would also make the hospice too crowded. At that point it was hard to tell whether the men were disappointed or relieved.

  It was eventually agreed that Amie would stay - she had honoured her earlier promise by volunteering to do so - and everyone took it for granted that Terrel would be there too. No one except Imana knew that the boy had faced the darkness before - and lived to keep the tale a secret - and Terrel tried to convince himself that what had happened to him then had been a warning, because he was doing the wrong thing, and that it would be different now. But he did not entirely succeed. The completely natural fear of the unknown malevolence in the night would not go away. As dusk approached and the other visitors took their leave, he began to feel very nervous indeed.

  'Can't you sleep?'

  Startled, Terrel looked up from where he was sitting, huddled against an outside wall of the hospice. Night had closed in some time ago, but he'd been restless and had got up-from his bed to go outside. He had lit a candle, and its feeble glow was the only illumination, his only defence against the darkness. Even so, Esera found it uncomfortably bright.

  'I think I'll stay out here for a while,' he told her. 'Just in case anything happens. You're the one who should be sleeping.'

  Terrel had been surprised when the women had all fallen asleep that night, as an automatic response to the end of the day. The ingrained habits of a lifetime clearly

  outweighed their fears - and so far there had been nothing for them to worry about.

  'I know,' Esera said, yawning. 'I'm not sure why I woke up.'

  'Do you feel anything?' he asked quickly.

  'No. I don't think the darkness is going to bother us.'

  'Good,' he replied, hoping she was right. 'Go back to bed. I'll be in soon.'

  Esera nodded, turned and padded softly back around the corner, heading for the doorway. The platform rocked gently in response to her movement, and Terrel went back to listening to the soft lapping of the water.

  After a while he began to feel that there was something oppressive in the atmosphere. The air felt heavy against his skin and, strangely, it seemed to be growing slightly warmer. This was so unlike what he'd experienced on the night of his attempted escape that at first he felt more curious than afraid, but he strained his eyes nonetheless, hoping to make out something in the black void - and found, to his astonishment, that the night was no longer completely dark.

  Far above him, there was a flickering deep within the ever-present blanket of cloud. It amounted to no more than a dull glow, a short-lived glimmering inside the enveloping grey, but even that seemed extraordinarily bright after the total absence of light that had gone before. Terrel stared up, thinking that it might be some kind of airborne lightning, and a few moments later a soft, distant rumbling confirmed his guess.

  Although the air in the valley was always damp, Terrel had never seen any real rain fall there, and he wondered if that was about to change now. The storm intensified,

  becoming a little brighter and louder, but it was still completely contained by the cloud and no rain fell. Gazing upwards, Terrel wondered whether the remote violence in the sky reflected what was happening in the outside world, or whether it was simply part of the unique climate of the valley. He was so mesmerized by the now almost continuous luminescence that at first he didn't notice that he could see quite a long way across the lake, as it reflected the battle above. When he did look down, he gasped, and lost all interest in the lightning. Hovering just above the shimmering surface of the water were three black shapes, darker shadows upon the face of the night.

  They had no form or features, and their only movement was a kind of slow undulation. Terrel had almost leapt to his feet and cried out a warning when he'd first seen them, but some instinct had held him back, and — even though his heart was hammering in his chest - he was glad now that he'd stayed still.

  The dark shapes were keeping their distance and Terrel sensed no malice from them, only a measure of curiosity and perhaps an ancient sadness, an unfulfilled longing. He did not know what they were or what they wanted, but one thing was clear. These amorphous creatures, like the ghosts, were of another world.

  Was it the same world? he wondered. Was it even possible that Alyssa - and her friends in high places! -might have had some influence over them? Or could Ysatel's wandering spirit have been the one to curb their earlier enmity?

  Terrel had no way of knowing, and was given no chance to find out, because in the blink of an eye the strange beings vanished, leaving the boy wondering if he'd been hallucinating. The subdued

  lightning continued to flicker overhead, but now Terrel's view across the lake was uninterrupted. And he knew that Esera had been right. The darkness wasn't going to bother them that night.

  The half-hidden storm soon petered out, leaving the darkness unchallenged except for Terrel's sputtering candle, and as he made his way back to his bed, he saw that the women were all sleeping peacefully, quite undisturbed by the noise of the passing storm. The rest of the night passed without incident -

  much to the relief and joy of all concerned - and in the morning Terrel found himself part of an impromptu celebration as everyone in the hospice g
reeted one another with open arms. Some of the hugs were clumsy, but they were no less genuine for that, with everyone caught between laughter and tears. Nor were the women any less demonstrative with Terrel himself. He was forced to endure a series of smothering embraces, but even though his embarrassment was plain, not even Esera teased him about it on this occasion.

  Later that morning, after Terrel had checked on the progress of the babies, Amie went to report to the other elders and several visitors came to the hospice, eager for news. Terrel had said nothing to anyone about what he'd seen in the night, and all the talk was of how peacefully and enjoyably the time had passed. He escaped from the newly-crowded room, and went to sit outside in the same spot as before. Even now, when everyone else seemed to think that success was already theirs, Terrel knew that his job was not even close to completion; he would have to stay at least until the first babies were born.

  It was a measure of his new-found self-confidence, as well as his grudging acceptance of his destiny, that his long-delayed departure from the valley no longer filled him with gloom and frustration. He still had ample time to reach Talazoria, and if - once his task there had been completed - he was unable to make it back to the coast in time, then he'd be disappointed but would accept his fate and wait the extra year. Alyssa would wait for him. He knew now that the jasper was right. He was meant to be where he was.

  A slight movement of the raft told him that he was no longer alone, and he was glad to see that it was Esera who joined him. She sat down beside him, and for a while they watched the placid, silver surface of the lake in companionable silence.

  'If this works you'll be leaving us soon, won't you?' she asked eventually.

  Terrel didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

  'I wish you could stay long enough to see my baby born,' Esera added, sounding rather sad.

  'So do I, but it's impossible.'

  'And you're not going to tell me why, are you?'

  'I made a promise,' he said. 'A lot of people are depending on me.'

  Esera nodded, accepting this unsatisfactory answer as the best she was going to get.

  'At least that means you won't see me when I'm as fat as the others in there,'

  she said. 'I can't believe I'm ever going to be that big.'

  'You'll still be beautiful,' he told her.

  A few moments later a small sound made Terrel look round, and he was dismayed to see that Esera was crying. After a brief hesitation, he put his good arm around her

  shoulders. He felt extremely self-conscious, but when she responded by leaning into him for comfort, he felt a wary kind of happiness. They remained like that, not talking, as Esera regained her composure - and even when she had dried her eyes, neither of them found any reason to move.

  Eight days later, Parina went into labour.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Terrel came to with a slight headache and the vaguely uncomfortable feeling that he'd made a complete fool of himself. His senses had just recovered enough for him to realize that he was lying on the floor when Esera's face swam into focus.

  'At this point I'd normally be saying something really sarcastic,' she informed him, 'but there's somebody here who's waiting to meet you.'

  As she helped him to his feet, the memories came flooding back and he felt even more embarrassed — but then he saw the baby and forgot about anything else. He stared at the little face, its eyes screwed tight shut, at the small hands with their perfect, tiny fingernails. This living, breathing miracle was the result of all that pain and effort.

  'It's a boy,' one of the midwives said. 'He looks healthy.'

  It was only then that Terrel became aware of the nervous air of expectancy in the room, and realized they were all waiting for him. He stretched out a hand, and gently touched the tip of his little finger to the baby's palm. The tiny fingers curled around it with surprising strength, and Terrel fell headlong into the most chaotic waking dream he had ever experienced.

  He sensed longing and anger and pain, all of it overlaid with an almost overwhelming disorientation. Nothing made sense; everything was wrong. All sorts of alien sounds and smells assaulted him; light burned his eyes and the air chilled his skin and lungs. He fought for warmth and reassurance, finding them, amongst all the turmoil, in the comfort of the arms that held him. He clung to that slender lifeline as the unfamiliar sensations swirled about him.

  Terrel rode the storm, trying to retain his own composure in the face of the onslaught. At first he was dismayed, certain that the illness had reclaimed the child, but as he gradually became accustomed to the tumult, he recognized the truth. How else could you expect a baby to react when it had just entered a completely new and probably frightening world? The important thing was that the earlier hatred and debilitating terror had gone. He could detect a few vestigial traces of the disease in amongst the other, natural emotions, but they were almost inconsequential and would fade with time.

  'Is he all right?'

  Parina's anxious voice broke the spell, and Terrel gently pulled his finger from the baby's grip.

  'He's all right.'

  'You're sure?' She looked drawn and exhausted, as well as apprehensive.

  'He's confused and tired and cold,' Terrel told her, 'which I should think is normal when you've been through what he's just been through. But he's not ill.

  He's going to be fine.'

  Although tears were welling in Parina's eyes, she allowed herself to smile then, and the look she gave the infant was so full of love and wonder that Terrel had to turn away, fearing that he too would start to cry — and thus humiliate himself for the second time that day.

  'Fine healer you turned out to be,' Esera commented when they were alone.

  'Fainting at the sight of a little blood!'

  'It wasn't a little, it was a lot,' Terrel protested, but he still felt mortified. He could have claimed that it had been his own efforts — he'd been helping Parina control her pain - that had caused his collapse, but that would have been a lie. It had simply been caused by an unexpected squeamishness.

  He'd been the only male in the room - and he hadn't wanted to be there. But the women had all insisted that he stay with them, so he'd crouched at the head of Parina's bed, with her hand gripping his, while the two mid wives went about their business. Amie and the others had been there too, but had kept out of the way. Terrel had tried not to look, but he couldn't help but be aware that there was something revolting going on. Long before the baby made its entrance into the world, the sounds and smells of Parina's ordeal had left him feeling nauseous and sweating profusely. The only other births Terrel had ever witnessed had been those of farm animals, and they — even the difficult ones -

  had seemed relatively simple affairs. This had been altogether different. What was supposed to be natural had seemed to him to be a most unnatural process. And the sight of all that blood had appalled him. In the end, to his shame, his own body had found a way to stop him having to see any more.

  'At least it all turned out well,' Esera remarked, 'even if you weren't there at the end.'

  'Yes, it did.' The glow of satisfaction Terrel felt at the eventual outcome could not be spoiled by the memory of his own shortcomings.

  'We've beaten it, then,' Esera said. 'We've beaten the curse.'

  'We've made a start,' he agreed, 'but that's all. What's happened here is wonderful, but it's hardly a long-term solution. Asking every pregnant woman to spend nine months in the hospice is going to put them and their families under a lot of strain. That's if there are any more pregnancies. This won't have done anything to help those women who have become barren. You can't all go and live over the water.' He fell silent then, hating the effect his words had had on Esera. She'd been bubbling over with excitement and happiness, but now looked solemn and downcast.

  'I'm already beginning to feel like I'm in prison,' she admitted. 'All the others will be able to go home soon, but I've got ages to go. And even when my baby's born, I'll still
have to stay out here, won't I?'

  'Probably.' He had told Parina to stay in the hospice for a while before venturing ashore with her baby. He wanted to be sure that the child had at least begun to trust his own senses - rather than the feelings induced by the curse - before he returned to the land. 'But things are going to get better,' Terrel added. 'You know Hellin's already planning either to extend the hospice, or maybe even build another one. Either way, you'll all have more space at least.'

  'That would be good,' she replied, nodding. 'We're a bit on top of each other at the moment. I mean, I like them, but we're all different. And now the baby's here, its crying's probably going to keep us awake.' She paused. 'At least he is crying. The last few didn't even have the strength to do that.'

  'There are other possibilities too,' Terrel said, returning to the problem of Esera's restricted life. 'As long as you stay on the water, you'll be fine.

  You could go swimming, if you like. Or you could offer to help the fishermen.

  It would be a change for you, at least.'

  'I might just try that,' she said, smiling.

  'And there's a good chance you'll be able to go ashore occasionally,' he went on. 'Parina spent the majority of her pregnancy on land, and yet her baby recovered after just a few days on the water. Yours will certainly be better off than that. You just have to be careful.' The unborn babies had all been improving constantly during their time afloat.

  'I'm not sure I'd want to risk anything unless you were here to check on the baby,' Esera said. 'And you won't be, will you?'

  'I'll be here for a while yet,' he replied awkwardly.

  'Will you come back?' she asked quietly. 'When you've kept your promise?'

  'I'd like to, but it may not be possible.'

  'I wouldn't want you to make a promise you couldn't keep.' She had seen the shadow that passed over TerrePs

  face when he thought about the future - but she also knew that he wouldn't tell her what was weighing on him so heavily.