The Cloven Land Trilogy

by Simon Kewin

  “And Ran?”

  “Ran is more of a problem. There are still dragonriders here and they're still the king's personal guard. But they're all undain. They're very different from our friend. Ran would have to stay out of the way.”

  “You've got this all worked out, haven't you? Sounds to me like you're trying to split us up.”

  He shook his head. “We need help, Cait. It's the only way.”

  “It's too dangerous. Once they learn from Danny we're in Angere, they'll come looking for us. They won't care if you've got a hundred stupid rings.”

  “Perhaps, but I've been thinking. Did Danny know where in Angere the portal led? Did you talk about it?”

  She thought back. The details were already hazy. Too much had happened. The bookwyrm had said something about the portal being a long way from the White City, hadn't it? “We knew it wouldn't take us anywhere near Menhroth.”

  “But not which direction?”

  “No. I don't think so.”

  “There you are, then,” said Nox. “The undain will be scouring the banks of the An. That's where I'd look. That's where most things happen. This place is a forgotten backwater.”

  “No, it's too dangerous. I'm not going anywhere near one of those houses.”

  Nox scowled and said nothing for a moment. He wasn't used to being argued with. Well, he'd have to get used to it. And there was more to this than he was letting on. She waited. If he had something more to say he should say it.

  After a few moments' silence he spoke again. “The thing is, Cait, when I was here before – in the White City I mean – I heard some rumours. Very vague. But I've learned it pays to listen out for things like that. You never know when they might come in useful.”

  “What rumours?”

  “Rumours of battles being fought within Angere. Factions opposed to Menhroth. The Revenant Army being dispatched to suppress uprisings. I heard the name Phoenix, too. Some kind of rebel leader.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That's what I heard.”

  She took another sip of water. “But, why? Why would they fight each other?”

  “Oh, it's the same everywhere. People see power and want it for themselves. Trust me, I should know. And here it comes down to Menhroth. He's responsible for the ascension of every other undain, either directly or indirectly. And there are people who don't like that, his control over everything. They don't like the way he does things. So I heard.”

  “But we can't walk up to one of those houses and ask if they're secretly fighting the King,” she said. “That's insane.”

  “Obviously. But maybe we can make contacts. Win their trust. Network. It's no different to negotiating a contract or manipulating politicians back home. It's all about striking up a relationship. Finding weaknesses you can exploit. You'd be surprised what people let slip when they're relaxed and not concentrating. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but that's how the grown-up world works.”

  “Really? Is that right?” She could have punched him. She very nearly did, but she restrained herself. “Well, I told you. I'm not going anywhere near the undain. I'm heading to the An to get Danny and the book. If you want to go and alert the enemy you're on your own.”

  Nox shrugged. “OK, Cait. Whatever you say.”

  She caught the frown on his face. She thought about the first time she'd seen him, outside Central Library. The day he let both her and the Grimoire slip from his grasp. He'd scowled at her then, too. It was like seeing the real him for a moment beneath the mask.

  “What was it like?” she said.

  “What was what like?”

  “Back home. Running Genera. You must have been incredibly powerful. You must have been able to do anything so long as you kept your masters here happy. You could go anywhere, have whatever you wanted.”

  Nox nodded. “You want me to say it wasn't like that? Actually, yes, it was wonderful. A lot of fun. Like you say, I could do pretty well anything. The world was my playground.”

  “And losing all that because of me?”

  It took him a few moments to reply. “Don't exaggerate your role, Cait. I made plenty of mistakes on my own.”

  “But you do blame me?”

  “Not really. Maybe a little. You were only doing what made sense for you. In your position I'd have done the same.”

  She nodded. Could she believe him? Time would tell. She glanced back at Ran, sitting a little way back in the shadows. He was busy hacking off his pony-tail, his black hair falling to the ground around him. When he saw her watching he spoke words of explanation that she didn't understand. Cait asked Nox what he'd said.

  “Oh, so now you want my help?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Says short hair is better for fighting. His braids get in the way.”

  She turned back to the dragonrider. “Ran? Which way to the An?” She spoke slowly, nodding her head in the direction of the plains in front of them. “Which way would you go?”

  Ran considered her words. He appeared to understand at least some of them. He rose to his feet, regarding the wide land before them. He wore only a thin shirt while Cait was bundled up in several layers of fleece. The tattooed blue spirals on his arms seemed to swirl as he pointed. Not east. North. He said something more.

  Again, Nox translated. “He said the mountains. And some words I don't know.”

  Cait gazed that way. In the far distance, beyond the patchwork of green and lime and gold fields, she could see a line of mountains in the haze: jagged peaks, their tops merging with the clouds.

  “You think we should go that way? Head north?”

  Ran nodded, although whether he understood her words or not, she didn't know.

  “The farther north we go, the longer it will take,” said Nox. “And the sooner we'll hit the winter.”

  “Still,” said Cait. “I'd rather go around than try to walk across these plains unseen. What's south of here?”

  Nox shrugged. “As far as I know it's like this all the way to the deserts.”

  “Which are nearer? Mountains or deserts?”

  “I don't know, Cait. I generally had more important things than geography lessons to worry about when I came here.”

  She considered. The truth was she didn't have a clue what to do. But Ran and Nox didn't have to know that. What would her mother do? Or her gran? They always knew what was for the best. Except, maybe they didn't? Maybe they made everything up as they went along. Maybe they pretended to know what was right and then, because everyone went along with it, that became the right thing to do.

  It was like with teachers. You assumed they knew everything. But then if you asked them an awkward question they'd have to go and look up the answer. It was like they were only pretending to be teachers. Perhaps that was what everyone did. Maybe you only had to pretend to be something long enough and hard enough and you became it. Even someone like Nox: how could he have known how to run an organization like Genera? Maybe he'd had to play-act the role until everyone – including him – accepted it.

  It was all she had. It wasn't quite magic but it was close enough. She'd play the part of someone who knew what they were doing. Perhaps she'd believe it herself eventually. Fall for her own trick.

  So, east or north? She was tempted to try south to spite them both. But north made more sense. The An ran through those mountains judging by the stories she'd heard. Perhaps they could reach that, then head south to the White City. Get a boat, maybe.

  In truth, she didn't want to leave the haven of the woods. She felt safe, like she had on the roundabout back in Manchester. Perhaps this copse, the remnant of some vast wildwood, was another magical place. Maybe the undain feared it and left it alone. It would be good to think so. But they couldn't stay.

  “These factions you mentioned,” she said to Nox. “Do you know where they are?”

  “I don't know anything about them. I don't know if they even exist. That's why I wanted to find out. We need more information, we're in t
he dark.”

  “We'll head north,” she said. “Cut east when it looks safer. There are palaces that way, too, but not so many by the look of it. The wooded hills might give us safe places to sleep. Maybe we won't be seen.”

  She stood up. It was weird making the decisions for two grown men. She kept expecting them to laugh at her or ignore her. Well, let them try. They might not like the fact, but she was the key to all this. Not them. She felt a little better at having decided, whether or not it was the right thing to do.

  Ran stooped to pick up his backpack. Nox shook his head but said nothing.

  They walked around the hilltop, staying in the shadows of the tree-line as much as possible. Nox trailed along behind them, occasionally bashing rocks and trunks with a stick he'd found. Cait conversed with Ran, trying to learn some words of his language or teach him some of her own. The dragonrider picked things up quickly, needed to speak words only a few times before getting the shape of them right in his mouth. They soon had tree and hill and sky and other easy words in each other's language. But then she wanted to ask him about Andar, and the undain, and his people, and the stone archways, but didn't know where to start. It was going to be a long time before they could talk properly.

  Still, she found herself warming to him. She was grateful to him, of course; he'd rescued her from the refinery and was doing everything he could to protect her. Something to do with the ancient history of his people. She did find it just a bit creepy. If he grumbled or complained or argued at least he'd seem more human. As she laughed at his attempts to pronounce hedgerow or dragonrider he did grin, very slightly. He looked a lot less fearsome when he grinned.

  They reached the northern edge of the hill after an hour. In the distance another mound rose from the landscape, but in between lay an expanse of open country, only the occasional hedge or tree to provide any sort of cover. They'd be visible for miles. Not far away, half-hidden behind a rise in the ground, the white spires of one of the palaces rose into the sky.

  There were people down there, too: stick-figures in the fields. A line of them worked their way across one meadow on hands and knees like the police doing a fingertip search.

  Ran had picked up a branch as well, and he'd cut and trimmed it to make a heavy staff. He gazed down the slope, swinging the staff around as if weighing it for use.

  “There are too many of them down there,” said Cait. “We'll never get past.”

  “No need to worry about them,” said Nox.

  “Why?”

  “They're slaves. Undain, but lowly ones, made to follow orders and not think for themselves. They strong and tireless but they'll ignore us.”

  “You didn't think to tell me before?”

  “There didn't seem to be much point. You weren't listening to anything I said.”

  “And you're sure of this?”

  “Of course. Most of the undain are like that: useful machines. That's how this place functions. The higher undain, the lords and ladies of the Holy Court, have incredible powers. But most people are like that, slaving away to make everything beautiful. Like I said, it's an excellent system.”

  “Not if you're one of them.”

  “But I'm not, am I? And they don't know anything about it. They don't mind. When they went through the ritual they were changed into creatures that were happy to slave away, so where's the harm?”

  Cait shook her head. “It's horrible. I mean, who are they? Where did they come from?”

  “From all the places Menhroth has invaded. They take prisoners as well as Bone and Spirit.”

  “So you mean … people from our world, too?”

  Nox shrugged. “Some.”

  “And Genera sent people through the portal to be turned into these … zombies? You sent them through?”

  Nox at least looked thoughtful for a moment. “I did, I admit it. But things are different now, aren't they? Now I'm on the other side.”

  “Yes,” said Cait. “So you say.”

  In the end they had no choice but to descend the hill. Cait kept a close eye on the figures working in the fields, ready to turn and run if any pointed or shouted. None did.

  They approached the line of undain she'd seen from the hilltop. What Nox had said appeared to be true: these were mindless slaves. They were nearly skeletons, shocking to see, their eyes sunken and hollow as they laboured, skin stretched over stark bones. Most were swathed in rags and tatters, impossible to tell which were men and which were women. Judging by the size, some were children. Each had a pair of metal clippers which they were using to trim the grass to a perfect length, blade by blade. They crawled backward so they didn't mar the perfection of their work. Each had a basket on their back into which they dropped the slivers of cut grass.

  Others worked at tall lines of bushes that had been planted in swirling shapes around the edges of the meadow. From up on the slopes, their patterns had reminded her of the tattoos on Ran's skin. The bushes were ablaze with red and purple blooms, but frosts had burned them and now they were dying. The air was thick with their scent: sickly and cloying with an overtone of decay. The undain plucked the blooms and dropped them into baskets at their feet. They worked at amazing speed, arms almost a blur, kicking their baskets along every now and then. None of them, whether on their hands and knees or plucking away at the bushes, glanced up as Cait, Nox and Ran crept by.

  She'd expected a different kind of ugliness. She would almost have preferred the shattered, grim landscape she'd imagined. That at least would have seemed more honest.

  The nearest undain to her was definitely a woman, her age impossible to tell. She worked at the hedge, eyes staring without blinking. Unable to stop herself, Cait reached out and touched the yellowing, wrinkled skin on the undain's arm. It felt more like leather than something alive.

  The woman paused, briefly. A look of confusion flashed across her features. Cait stepped back, terrified she'd woken the undain, terrified they'd turn and attack, like something from a horror film. The woman gazed around as if trying to understand what had happened or chasing an elusive memory. Then she simply resumed her activity, picking endlessly at the flowers.

  “Come on,” said Nox. “This isn't going to help us.”

  They moved on toward the next hill that rose upon the horizon. They might, Cait thought, be able to get there by the evening if they hurried. She hoped so. The thought of spending the night in the open filled her with dread.

  The lines of hedges around them were a maze. She'd studied them as they descended, seeing a path through easily enough. Now their curves and loops were disorientating. She pressed on, refusing to admit she wasn't sure of the way, keeping the sun to her right as much as possible. The cloying smell of rotten flowers thickened.

  She was about to stop and ask Nox or Ran which way they thought they should go when they emerged through a gap in the hedgerow onto a wide, open meadow. Its grass was perfectly manicured, smooth enough to dance on or play some ballgame. A solitary scarecrow stood in the middle of the field. The hills lay beyond it, their slopes closer now.

  It was only when they neared the scarecrow that Cait saw it was another undain. Its eyes were shut but its head lolled from side to side as if it had been made to keep moving to scare off the birds. It was lashed to a crude cross of poles. It was impossible to say how long it had stood there. Its clothes flapped in tatters and its tanned skin was creased from its years of weathering storms.

  Its brown eyes opened wide at their approach. There was a dim light of understanding in them, a glimmer of intelligence. The creature called out with a dry, rasping voice, shouting words Cait didn't understand.

  “What's it saying?” said Cait.

  “No idea,” said Nox. “It can't harm us. Keep going.”

  They walked in a semicircle around the solitary undain, not wanting to get too close. Ran kept his staff held ready as if it were a sword. The undain tracked them with its eyes, twisting its head round as they walked past, continuing to rasp its babble of sylla
bles. When they were far enough away, the creature stopped speaking and its head drooped forward.

  “I hate this place,” said Cait. “I wish we'd never come here.” Neither Nox nor Ran replied.

  They marched on in silence after that, across the springy grass. A bank formed a solid line at the edge of the field. Ran peered over it then leaped on top, turning to help pull Cait and Nox up. On the other side was a single-track lane, its surface packed stones, running in a straight line in both directions. Judging by the wheel-ruts, it was much used, but nothing was visible on it in either direction.

  “So,” said Nox, clearly enjoying seeing what decision she'd come to. “Which way?”

  The problem was neither was right; the lane ran east-west and they needed to head north. They could cross it and continue across the lawns and gardens. But maybe it curved north, in which case it might take them to the next hill more quickly. If only her phone worked so she could download a map.

  She peered along the lane in both directions. To the east, spires visible in a dip, was the palace. Clearly the lane led to it. The obvious answer was to go the other way. If the lane didn't turn north after a few miles they'd have to cut across the gardens again.

  “This way,” she said, jumping down into the lane and turning west.

  “You do realise the An is in the opposite direction?” Nox asked.

  “The An and that house.”

  “We can't just wander around here forever. Sooner or later they'll find us.”

  She didn't stop walking. She called over her shoulder. “We aren't wandering. We're making our way to the river without being seen.” Hopefully she sounded confident. Perhaps he was right and she was leading them nowhere. If only Ran would say something, offer an opinion. Once again, after a pause, Nox followed.

  The hedgerows on either side grew taller. Ran occasionally vaulted on top to scout out the land ahead. They reached a point where the lane was lined with trees, their branches reaching overhead to form a shadowy tunnel. The trees' roots writhed around and through the bank, but the branches were leafless and dead, like trees in the depth of winter. Then she saw tiny black buds sprouting from the tips of their twigs, as if the trees flowered through the winter and lost their leaves in the summer. Maybe they were transplanted from a distant land and kept alive by magical means. She didn't like the look of them. The air beneath them was colder, as if they hoarded the damp and darkness. Their branches were long fingers clawing at the sky. The crows seemed at home though; several were perched among the branches, mere shapes against the light.