by PJ McDermott
“Used to. But these days, the farmers take it into Ezekan themselves. They fetch a better price that way.” He leaned over the bar and spoke in a confidential tone. “Tell me, I’ve often wondered what it would be like crossing the Scarf. They say there are strange creatures living there. Half-naur, half-plant is what I hear.”
Mack laughed. “We’ve come across some strange sights since we left Castaliena all right, but nothing as bizarre as that. No, the Scarf is a dense jungle, crawling with insects, and there are some big lizards to avoid. But I never saw anything remotely naur-like.”
“One day, we will find a passage to Castaliena, and we will visit your country,” said the bartender, polishing the bar top vigorously.
“No doubt,” Jess said, placing her empty mug on the polished surface. “So you don’t get many visitors in town these days?”
“Not many. There are the farmers, of course, and the occasional travelers like yourselves. About once a month some of the people from the commune up north come in to buy a few essentials, but that’s about the extent of the excitement.” He smiled genially at Mack. “If you’re staying tonight, perhaps you would honor us with some tales of your own country. I’m sure the locals would be interested in hearing about Castaliena.”
Mack looked at Jess. “It would be a relief to sleep in a soft bed if only for one night.”
She nodded her agreement. They would continue their journey in the morning.
Mack turned back to the barman. “Be glad to,” he said. “Will anybody from the commune be here?”
“No. They only stocked up a week ago. They won’t come in again for a while yet.”
Later that evening, relaxing in front of the fire in the main room, Jess said, “You think this commune might be what we’re looking for?”
“Could be.” Mack took a sip from his mug. He had spent an hour regaling the locals with anecdotes of his imaginary homeland. The stories bore a distinct resemblance to the Folk Tales of Ireland that Jess had seen him reading the previous night. “They’re keen on their privacy. Anyone curious enough to ride out there doesn’t get far before they’re turned back by armed naurs. And, I was chatting with one of the locals earlier. She said the last time naurs from the commune came to town, one of their group carried a ‘magic weapon.’ It spat white fire when the stranger pointed it at some kind of wild boar that was attacking a child. Scared the life out of everyone who saw it. The pig was none too pleased either, by the sound of it.”
“Magic weapon? A gun? Who would have something like that around here?”
“That’s what I thought. Worth us having a look at this commune.” They both fell silent for a few moments before Mack cleared his throat and said, “Jess—do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“You can ask.” Jess took a sip of her drink. It was a pleasant enough concoction, she thought.
“Are you with anyone right now? You know—is there anyone special?”
She darted a glance at him and just as quickly looked away, giggling nervously. “I’ve two grown-up kids, and they're kind of special to me, but if you mean do I have a boyfriend or lover, then no.” Jess felt the warmth rise up her neck. This stuff must pack a punch; I’m feeling a bit lightheaded already. “My husband passed away seven years ago.”
Mack looked earnestly at her. “Seven years is a long time to grieve. I suppose I’d better give you fair notice. I like you, and I think you could get to like me too if you give me a chance. I know we’re just getting to know each other, but I enjoy being with you.”
Jess raised her eyes to see Mack smiling at her. Her heart fluttered rapidly. Like a little kid. She hadn’t felt this giddy for a long time.
It had seemed that the sun would always shine for her and Jack, their love immune to the vagaries of the real world, like Cinderella and her Prince, swirling to the music of an eternal waltz. She had exulted in the warmth and safety of Jack’s strong arms holding her close, and his boyish grin had ignited a fire in her heart that had consumed her. Then he was gone, his light extinguished by a wasting disease that had tortured and changed him before taking him from her. It was a mercy when darkness prevailed.
She placed her hand on his. “I like what I see too, Mack,” she whispered, and then laughed. “My God, listen to me! What did you say was in this drink?”
Over the course of their journey to Tontine, Mack had kept his tone light and humorous, a flirtatious preliminary that enticed Jess from the shell she had built around herself. They spent the next couple of hours discovering more about each other. Their likes and dislikes, what was important to them, what made them smile or cry, what they always wanted to do but never had the time.
Jess talked about her life with Jack, and about the twins in Australia, and about Gareth.
Mack admitted to being divorced with no children. He and his wife had separated after three years of marriage. “She left me for another guy.” He saw the look of sympathy and added hastily, “It was a good thing—for both of us as it turned out. She’s now perfectly happy with three lovely kids, and I’ve had a chance to spread my wings. I’d never have joined the IA otherwise.”
At the end of the night, they went to separate rooms. Jess sat on her bed wondering what she should do. She wasn’t really interested in a fling, although that might be fun, too. He was a very handsome, sexy specimen. She flushed at the image that flashed through her mind. No, she had the kids to consider. What would they say if they found out she had taken a lover! They’d be shocked. She’d never shown any interest in men or sex since Jack had passed. They’d want to meet Mack, of course, just to make sure he was a suitable prospect.
She giggled to herself. “Damn that ale. I shouldn’t have had that third mug.” She waited a few minutes more, glancing at the door. Perhaps she had it all wrong. He had a budding career. Maybe all he wanted was friendship. Only one way to find out.
*
His Eminence, The High Reeve of Avanaux, stood on the balcony to his office in the House of Government and surveyed the city spread out beneath him. In the distance, beyond the walls, the flying machines hovering above Harbor Town floated silently on a sea of dense, blue mist that covered the ground to the horizon. The fog swirled around his feet, giving him a ghostly appearance. But Yonni-sѐr-Abelen was not feeling particularly spiritual. His face held a dark blush that his friends rarely saw and his enemies did well to fear. He breathed deeply to subdue the emotion that threatened to erupt, then walked inside and addressed the naur sitting at the oval table in front of his desk. “You lost the Bikashi?”
Sweat trickled down the side of Josipe-sѐr-Amagon’s face. He hurriedly wiped it away.
The High Reeve was the most powerful individual on the planet, subject to none and influenced by few. If he decreed it, the Chief of Police would be incarcerated without trial, or worse, taken out to the desert and left to become an evening meal for some wild Arioch. And no one would ask why.
Yonni-sѐr-Abelen began in a whisper. “You lost the alien? Why didn’t you send a bigger escort? Did you not understand the importance of your mission?” His voice became a roar as he towered over the Chief. “Or is it that you are incompetent and your men not to be trusted?”
Josipe’s words came off his tongue thickly. “Your eminence, I sent eight of my best people with Vogel. They were attacked by a well-armed force of Pharlaxian rebels. According to witnesses, they were assisted by other off-worlders like Vogel. Had I sent twice the men, I doubt it would have made any difference. If I have done wrong, it is in not foreseeing such an attempt to free him.” He did not mention his nephew. Thurle’s body had not been found with the other guards. Either the rebels had taken him, which seemed unlikely, or he had defected to the Pharlaxian cause.
The High Reeve bit his lip and turned his back on the Chief. The news alarmed him, but it wouldn’t do to show fear. Having one alien escape was bad, but the subtext of Josipe’s message was that the Pharlaxian rogues were in league with these off-world aliens. “
Did your witnesses happen to see which direction they made off in?”
“Yes, your eminence. They left towards Harbor Town, and I thought they might be looking for a ship to take them up the coast. I sent my best trackers after them, and they arrived back barely an hour ago. They followed the yarrak trail south until noon, and then our quarry veered westwards into the desert. My men lost them two hours later.”
“What do you mean lost them? Even a half-sighted nauri child could follow yarrak signs, desert or no.”
“When I say they lost them, I do not mean they found their tracks difficult to follow. No, they left plenty of signs showing where they had passed. But these stopped abruptly at the bank of the Thornton River. My men searched up and downstream, but there was no trace of them. They just vanished.”
*
Jess and Mack pressed on early next morning, following a path into the hills marked on a hand-drawn map given to them by the innkeeper. They made good time and by late the next afternoon they had traversed some forty miles to the other side of the range, reaching the point where the scrubby bush land met the desert.
They set up camp for the night beside a dried-up stream and lit a small fire. Mack cooked them a vegetable stew, using the fresh supplies they had brought from Tontine mixed with an Agency-supplied protein concentrate. Afterward, they lay on their backs and looked at the stars for a time, making small talk. The night was quiet except for the hoot of a nightjar calling for its mate.
The snap of a twig brought Jess and Mack scrambling to their feet, but they were too late.
A nauri materialized from the darkness. The tall, slender figure was swathed from neck to toe in a black cloak. She pointed a curved scimitar directly at Jess. Other warriors began to appear beside her, forming a circle around the pair.
There was nowhere to run. Jess counted at least twenty armed naur and nauri. She blanched as she saw some carried projectile rifles.
They closed in silently.
Jess and Mack bent their heads and spread their hands to show submission.
The circle parted to admit a rough-looking character wearing grubby gray robes and a jagged-edged sword in his belt.
He reached out to Mack, gripped his jaw in one hand and stared intently, twisting Mack’s face from one side to another. Then he did the same with Jess. “Take them. Bind them,” he said, in a gravelly voice.
“Wait,” said Mack. “We mean you no harm. We are simple travelers. We carry nothing of value. What do you want with us?” He struggled to avoid being bound and a naur struck him behind the knee with a stave. He slumped to the ground and a second naur kicked him in the stomach. Mack doubled over, retched, and tried to regain his feet only to be laid low finally by a rifle butt to the head.
Jess was horrified by the ferocity of the attack. Blood flowed freely from Mack’s head. Another naur kicked him as he lay unconscious on the ground. “No! Leave him, leave him alone!” she shouted, struggling to shake herself free from the grip of the two naurs who held her by the arms. Mack’s assailant looked at Jess and hesitated. He turned and spat at Mack, then signaled to three others to lift Mack onto the back of a yarrak.
They traveled belly down, strapped to their mounts throughout the long night, being jolted across the desert sands. Jess couldn’t tell whether Mack had regained consciousness because his head hung over the far side of his yarrak. Their kidnappers maintained a steady pace until mid-morning the next day, by which time Jess was dehydrated, and her head felt as though it might split open. Their captors untied the prisoners, hauled them off their mounts, and let them fall heavily to the ground. Jess pushed herself to a sitting position and looking blearily around her.
They were at the foot of a high rocky outcrop, and she could just make out the shadow of a path zigzagging to the top. She heard Mack moan and crawled over to him. His face was pale and dried blood caked his hair, but at least he was alive. His eyes fluttered open.
“God, where am I? What happened?” he whispered hoarsely. His lips and tongue were swollen, and Jess could hardly make out his words.
She looked around frantically. “You there,” she addressed the leader, “There’s some water in my pack, and some bandages. His head needs seeing to.”
The chieftain seemed unmoved at first. He strode over and nudged Mack in the side with his boot, then shouted at him, gesticulating towards the rocky escarpment. When Mack didn’t get up, the chieftain motioned angrily to one of the nauri to bring a drinking bag.
Jess dribbled some liquid into Mack’s mouth. He spluttered, then took a long swallow and grinned stupidly at Jess. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s got a helluva kick to it.”
They began the ascent tethered behind their kidnappers. Many times, Mack fell to his knees and was forcibly dragged to his feet. At intervals along the way, Jess saw sentinels sitting motionless on their haunches, their black eyes never wavering from the horizon. She could tell by the purple flashes peeping out from under their sand-colored cloaks that these were young nauri. Several throwing spears stood rooted in the sand beside each warrior, their angry barbed heads leaning against each other. She wondered why all were nauri, then remembered the female of the species had superior eyesight.
They were led into a cleft wide enough to fit no more than two abreast. Jess thought it would be near impossible for ground forces to fight their way through. After half a mile, their escort swung onto a track that snaked all the way to the top of the ridge. The prisoners scrambled over treacherous loose scree until they reached the summit.
Jess stared out over a valley, circular in form and surrounded by a craggy wall of rock. She realized she was looking at the caldera of a long extinct volcano, now covered with golden grass and small trees. A sizeable force was bivouacked below, and Jess counted at least fifty large tents and over a hundred grazing yarraks.
The Avanauri sat around their campfires and stared curiously at Jess and Mack as they made their way through their ranks to an opening in the cliff face.
The company went inside, following a passageway that twisted around and downwards. Fifteen minutes later, Jess and Mack emerged into a vast underground cavern.
Light flooded the cave from a series of chimneys that had been constructed to intercept the sun’s path across the sky at various stages of its journey throughout the day. The sunlight reflected off large pools of crynidium, which intensified the rays and infused the cavern with a brilliant luminescence.
Mack whispered, “A magma chamber—been here a long time too—look at the size of the lavacicles.” At Jess’s blank look, he pointed to the roof. “Stalactites formed from dripping lava. This whole area was created from an erupting volcano. When the pressure eased, the lava withdrew, leaving behind this massive cavern.”
They exited the tunnel perhaps fifty meters or so above the cavern floor and saw a sizeable village below. A unit of Pharlaxian rebel soldiers equipped with swords, spears, and shields marched across a precinct next to a corralled area containing dozens of yarraks and a blacksmith’s premises. A camp kitchen had been set up, as well as a practice ground for training.
A large platform had been erected in the middle of the chamber, high enough off the ground to afford a view of the entire cavern, or perhaps to allow the surrounding masses to see those seated on the dais. The place was a beehive, thought Jess, with the Pax soldiers and their camp followers buzzing around.
The path wound slowly upwards hugging the cavern walls. A wooden rail ran along its outer edge, and groups of naurs and nauris were leaning over to watch the proceedings below. Storerooms and living quarters had been cut into the solid rock, Jess saw. This was a permanent base, a place where the rebel Pharlaxian army and their followers could wait, and train, and grow in secret. She realized with a shock that the men outside the cavern were part of a much larger force.
The kidnappers bustled Jess and Mack down a series of crude steps towards the raised dais. Jess inhaled sharply and nodded towards the platform. The Pharlaxian Sequana, easily r
ecognizable from the description Hickory had given her, sat alongside four other rebel leaders.
Sequana looked up from the document he had been reading to listen to the chieftain who had captured them. He glanced at Mack and Jess, said a few words to the warrior, then put down his quill and motioned for the captives to approach.
“Tell me who you are and what are you doing in this part of the country?” he said, leaning forward and staring intently at them.
“We are Castalie travelers, friend, passing through the desert on our way to the North,” said Mack. “We meant no harm. Your captain took exception to our presence and brought us here against our will. We didn’t know we were trespassing.”
Sequana’s features were ugly to begin with, but when he smiled the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to his cheek made him appear cruel. He coughed into a handkerchief. “My men have been told to bring me any dark-skinned intruder found on my land, and my land extends for many miles in all directions. He tells me you resisted and had to be subdued. That is unfortunate.” He waved the handkerchief, gesturing to the guards to untie their hands, then he turned to Jess. “What is your business in the North? I’m curious. What reason could two Castalie have for traveling three hundred miles across the desert?”
Jess stared steadily at the naur. “We are scholars come from Castaliena to explore your country and learn about the Avanauri people and your customs. We are gathering seeds and roots that we might grow in our own land. We heard of a plant with miraculous healing properties that grows only in the soil around Birregur, and we would like to take samples to examine—”
The Pharlaxian leader cut her off with a wave of his handkerchief. “Some who call themselves travelers from beyond the Scarf have been known to keep evil company. Others are not from Prosperine at all but are demons from another world come here to steal our treasures. Which are you, I wonder? Bring her here!”