by Simon Kewin
“He could die if we leave him here, Nox.”
“Then what difference does it make if we're with him? Don't be stupid. The longer we wait, the more chance there is they'll find us. They'll work out where the wyrm road leads, or simply track us down. They must be scouring all of Angere.”
“No. We can't just leave him lying here like an injured animal.”
“He might be out for hours. Days. There isn't time for this, Cait.”
“No,” she replied. “We won't leave him. We wait.”
He was going to say something else, but instead he turned and stomped off, heading for the trees.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“I'm going to scout around. Find out where we are. Do something useful.”
“And you're good at scouting are you? That was a skill you used a lot as a company executive?”
“Oh, you'd be surprised,” he said and disappeared into the gloom between the trees.
Putting Nox out of her mind she turned her attention to Ran. What were you supposed to do with injuries? Bind them up? Let them breathe? She had no idea. There was so much she didn't know. Washing his wounds seemed like a good start. Cold water might cool him down at least. It was the only thing she could think of.
Rising, she headed for the An, knowing which way it lay without really thinking about it. The rushing power of it grew stronger as she approached. She expected the trees to thin out as she reached the bank, but they grew right to the edge. The river was eroding the land here, scraping its way inland inch by inch. Tree roots writhed out of the bank where the waters had eaten into the ground, and more than one of the great trunks leaned over at a crazy angle, ready to crash into the water.
She took a moment to stare across the An. It was beautiful, the waters like blue glass. And it was vast. She'd imagined some great river like those back home. Like the Amazon in TV documentaries about the rainforest. But this was more like the sea.
She couldn't see far up or downstream because of the curve of the bank. There was no sign of a shore on the other side. No sign of anything save for water stretching off into the distance. But it was definitely running water. She could see the slow glide of its flow as it rolled by. Not too far out, a black stick floated along, looking like the snout of a crocodile as it headed south. It moved with some speed. She wasn't a great swimmer. She really didn't want to fall in.
At some point on the journey to Iceland, Johnny translating, Fer had told her there had once been a bridge leading to Andar. How was that even possible? It had to be a myth. Some old story parents told their children. They couldn't construct a bridge that long back home, let alone here. Perhaps magic had been used. If so, who could have performed such a feat? It was surely beyond anything the witches could work.
Grasping hold of the firmest-looking bough she could find, she reached down into the waters to fill one of the flexible leather bottles Phoenix had provided. She expected the water to be warm, but it was icy cold. When the bottle was full she drank, hoping it would wash away the acrid prickling in the back of her throat. Then she filled the bottle again and retraced her steps to Ran.
He had a small knife in his boot, and she used it to cut away the tattered remains of his shirt. Then she washed his wounds as best she could. It would have been better to turn him over, clean up his back too, but she wasn't strong enough. As she worked, she revealed more of his tattoos, the swirling blue lines all across his chest and the muscles of his stomach. She could see the suggestion of a dragon clearly. A rearing, roaring dragon winding its way around his body. On a whim, she lifted the seeing stone to her eye, to reveal how the tattooed lines looked close up.
The blue lines became immediately vivid, almost electrical in their intensity. Between them though she could see nothing, like peering at one of the undain. Somehow the tattoos prevented her from seeing him as he really was. Absorbed or deflected the magic to shield him. Pretty cool, really.
Low down, on the muscled flat beside his hip-bone, some of the blue lines overlaid a tiny set of darker lines, purple or even black. The outline of a complete dragon inked onto his skin. Looking at him without the stone, they were completely covered up by the blue, but through the stone they were quite clear. An older tattoo, perhaps, there before the blue ones were added. The dragon lay asleep, and appeared to be lying on something hidden beneath the waistband of his trousers. She decided not to investigate farther down. His legs hadn't been burned and she really didn't want to hear Nox's sarcasm if she stripped Ran completely.
Instead, she dribbled water into Ran's mouth, hoping he'd swallow at least some of it. He remained unconscious throughout, occasionally muttering something about his kin or king that she couldn't understand. She had to resist the temptation to delve into his mind. Perhaps, now that he was asleep, his thoughts would be open to her. But, no. She wouldn't intrude.
When she was done, she found a spot where the sun was on her face and sat with her back against one of the trees. Ran's tattooed chest rose and fell slowly, as if on each breath he deliberated whether to give up living or carry on. Each inhalation a decision to take one more lungful. She found herself willing him to keep breathing, keep breathing.
In that moment of calm, birds twittering in the treetops, the nearby waters chortling against the banks, she thought about her mother. It was still too much to take in. It was like some great ball of darkness she kept approaching, trying to understand, but from which she fled in alarm. It pulled on her mind, a black hole sucking at her. Danny was there and now her mother too, the loss of them both tangled up inside her. She didn't know which to think about first.
It wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Danny had nothing to do with this. He'd come along because she'd gone round to his house. And as for her mother: she'd only just come back to her and now she was gone forever. How was that possible? They hadn't even said goodbye, not properly. Cait couldn't even remember what her mother's last words had been.
There were all these unfinished conversations and unanswered questions. Things she'd meant to say to them both one day. Things left unspoken because the time wasn't right or she couldn't find the right words or because she was mad with one of them. And now they could never be said. Or not heard, at least.
The tears, when they came, wracked her whole body as if someone were shaking her. She sat with her head in her hands and let them flow, wondering how this had happened, how her life could unravel so completely in a few days. She sobbed uncontrollably for long minutes, only the unconscious Ran for company.
After a while she was aware, dimly, of Bethany, too. That distant presence offering comfort. But not intruding, leaving her to her grief. Cait was grateful of the witch-girl more than ever just then. She couldn't remember feeling so alone, so lost.
When the sobbing had subsided, Cait spoke to her.
Bethany?
I'm here.
Can I ask you something?
Yes.
Why is it you're still here? Even though you're dead, I mean? How is that possible?
Bethany didn't reply, and Cait thought she wasn't going to. She sounded reluctant when she did speak. You're hoping your mother isn't gone. That she still exists somewhere.
It's possible isn't it? said Cait. I mean, I'm talking to you and you've been dead for, like, hundreds of years.
It's rare, Cait. We remained in Manchester because of what was done to us. The injustice of it. Our whole lives denied. We lingered because we had a score to settle. It's possible that could happen with your mother, I suppose. Because of you and her need to protect you. But she may be gone. That's what usually happens. From what Phoenix said, she may have used up all her life protecting your gran and the others. I'm sorry.
Cait didn't reply. She couldn't help herself from reaching into the aether, not knowing what she was doing but hoping, somehow, to catch an echo of her mother.
There was nothing.
They waited there the rest of that day, an
d all of the next. Ran didn't rouse from his coma. Nox grew angrier and angrier, spending more and more time away from her, ranging farther and farther afield.
On the morning of the third day, he came back from his travels carrying an armful of bruised fruit. They were something like misshapen apples, orange and red in colour. He dropped them to the ground and handed one to Cait. “Windfalls. Don't worry, they're not poisonous. I've eaten three and survived.”
Cait took the fruit and ate, picking her way between the bruises. The flesh was sweet and juicy. “Did you find anything else?” she asked. “Have you worked out where we are yet?”
“We're south of the White City. We're lucky. All the undain will be north, either looking for us, or heading that way anyway as the waters start to freeze.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Only a few slaves on the road. These woods run along the river bank for several miles. There's a road on the other edge but no one was using it.”
“Good.”
“Cait, we can't sit here forever. We have to move.”
He was right. She'd been sitting there earlier when a wind had picked up, sending many of the leaves whirling to the ground. Autumn was underway. Winter would be creeping south, inch by inch. And Ran still hadn't moved. Perhaps he wasn't going to.
“So how are we going to do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Any of it, Nox. Get into the White City. Find this fabulously precious book. Escape without being seen. Reach Andar by some miracle. How are we going to do any of that?”
“I thought you were in charge, Cait. Don't you know?” He seemed amused by her doubt. Right then she really didn't care. She didn't reply.
“Tell me, Cait,” he said. “How powerful are you really? I've seen you work some magic and, I'll be honest, you keep surprising me. But what are you really capable of?”
Good question. She had no idea. Phoenix had said she was going to get more powerful as the winter wore on. But where that would take her, what it would make her, she had no idea. She wasn't even sure she wanted to get more powerful. Her mother had been very strong and look what had happened.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I'm assessing our situation. Working out our options. What we face is like any business problem. We have resources, and we have competitors. We need to decide an optimal strategy and then carry it out.”
“Really?”
“Of course. So I need to know. If it comes to it, if we're surrounded, can you unleash that ice magic? Can you send our enemies screaming in horror? Can you save us?”
Could she? If it was one or two people, then maybe. Even one or two of the undain if she was lucky. But there had to be hundreds of the monsters in the city. Thousands. She couldn't hope to fight them all. But she also wasn't going to admit that to Nox.
“I can try.”
He studied her for a moment, weighing her up. He was plotting again. Scheming. She could see it in his eyes,
“OK, Nox. So what's your optimal strategy so far?”
“It would help if I could show you. We can leave Ran alone for an hour or so. He's not going anywhere.”
She was reluctant to leave him, but she had to do something. She nodded and stood to follow Nox through the trees. They shadowed the line of the bank but always stayed out of sight of river or road. She kept imagining movement in the distance, but she could sense nothing other than birds and small, scurrying creatures. It was just the shifting shadow of the woods.
After an hour or so, Nox cut right toward the bank. They reached a small headland jutting into the river, its sides cliffs of mud as the waters worked away at them. Nox kneeled and crawled to the water's edge. Feeling ridiculous, Cait followed. She soon saw what he wanted to show her.
A mile or so upstream, the bank curved in a gentle arch, and there, dazzling in the golden glare of the sun, was the White City. It stretched into a hazy distance, towers and domes and walls arrayed along the bank like something from a fairy tale. And it was beautiful. She had to remind herself what it was. What it was built from. What it meant.
“Why?” she said.
“Why what?”
“Why is it so vast? Who do they need all this? What's it for?”
Nox snorted. He spoke quietly, as if they might be heard even from this distance. “Need? It has nothing to do with need. They've built all this because they can. Because the worlds are their playground and no one can stop them. They build because it's fun.”
“Fun?” She could hear the excitement in her voice as he spoke. “But it's hideous. All that death. It's nothing but pointless, insatiable greed. Cruelty and greed.”
He laughed, but didn't reply. Despite what the undain had done to him he clearly admired the place. But she didn't want to go anywhere near it. It was a city of death. A city of ghosts. But going near it was exactly what they had to do.
“So, can you get us inside?” she asked.
“Actually that's the easy part. We walk in.”
“Walk in? Are you mad?”
“Sure. You can see how big it is. It's not defended; the undain have no enemies in Angere. There are a thousand ways in. You can walk into the White City unnoticed as easily as you could walk into Manchester unnoticed.”
“But they'll sense us. They'll see we're not like them.”
“Perhaps. We have to hope Phoenix and his rabble are keeping Menhroth distracted in the north. The undain won't be looking this way. The ancient bridgehead where the archway used to be is that way, too.”
“Still, we don't look like undain. We look a mess.”
“No, no,” said Nox. “You've seen the nobles and the soldiers, but most of the undain aren't like that. Most of them are drones and grunts, shuffling around in rags, building and cleaning. Keeping their heads down and not talking.”
“You think I can pass for one of those?”
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?”
“Bastard. And what about you?”
“I can pass for one of them, too. But Ran would be too obvious. Another reason to leave him behind.
“But they'll be able to sense we're alive.”
“Only if they're looking. And I've been trained to close my mind off, as you've found out. You're going to have to do the same. Can you do that?”
“Maybe.” Bethany had been teaching her. She thought she was getting better at it.
She thought about everything that could go wrong with the plan. In many ways it was completely crazy. But what else could they do? And perhaps doing something unexpected made sense. “But, OK, the book. How do we get that? We won't be able to just walk up and ask to borrow it.”
“No. That's the hard part. The Grimoire is kept in the Cathedral of the Moon in the heart of the Six Palaces. It's well guarded. Very, very well guarded. A ring of dragonriders stand guard around it thirty-six hours a day.”
“Thirty-six?”
“That's how many they have here.”
“And did you ever see it?”
“Several times. They like to show it off to impress visitors.”
“So is there any way to get in there and steal it?”
“Not sure,” said Nox. “Still weighing up options.”
“Meaning you don't have a clue.”
“Meaning I haven't decided the best strategy yet.”
“And if we can somehow steal this book and somehow escape, there's still the river. I had no idea it was so vast. We have to get across somehow.”
“That thing you do with the ice,” said Nox. “Can you sustain it?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Don't they teach you long words in school these days? I mean can you keep doing it? Could you freeze us a path right across the water so we could walk to Andar?”
“No! It's miles. How would that ever work? I told you, magic hurts. I'd be dead before I got anywhere.”
“OK, so you can't do that either. So, we find a boat, float across. Can you
row?”
“No,” she said. “Can you?”
“I really don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
“I mean I've never tried. I generally find you can do anything if you put your mind to it.”
“But we'd be swept away. We'd end up, I don't know, hundreds of miles downstream. And then there are the monsters.”
“The monsters.”
“In the river. Fer told me about them. They destroy anything that tries to cross, right?”
“The river serpents. Yes, they do. We'd just have to hope they didn't spot us.”
“That's your optimal strategy? Hope they don't spot us?”
She thought he was going to come up with another insult, but his voice was unusually subdued as he replied. “I think that's the best we can hope for. If we get that far and the serpents take us, they'll take the Grimoire too. Then at least we'll have destroyed it, stopped Menhroth using it.”
“But we'll be dead, Nox.”
“Yes. I think that was pretty inevitable the moment we came here. Did you think something else, Cait? Did you think this was all some fun school trip?”
He was being serious for once. Not sarcastic, not rude. Possibly she was seeing the real him, just for a moment. He expected to die but he'd come because he wanted revenge on those who had cast him out. She studied him for a moment, but he didn't look at her.
“Let's check on Ran one more time,” she said. “Do what we can for him. Then we'd better go hadn't we?”
“Yes,” said Nox. “We better had.”
19. The White City
Ran hadn't moved when they returned to him. Sometimes he thrashed around, animated by nightmares, but now he was still, chest rising and falling slowly but steadily. She dribbled a little more water into his mouth, feeling bad at what they were about to do. Ran was always ready to leap to her defence, protect her, and now they were going to abandon him. She consoled herself with the thought he was safer out here in the woods than marching with them into the White City. He at least might survive living in the wilds. Perhaps he could make his way back north, return to Caer D'nar. If it still stood. He'd be shocked when he came round and found they'd gone, when he realised he could no longer fulfil his vow to protect her. But there was nothing she could do. Perhaps he'd understand. He had brought them this far, done all he could.