by Lloyd Baron
The ghoul launches itself onto Darwin’t’s back, sinking its teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. He releases the grip on Danlynn’s hand but does not fall. Tarfleam shrieks as he pulls at Darwin’t’s shirt. Tye returns, blood pouring down his face, he too grabs Darwin’t’s clothes and together they pull him out. The ghoul leaps over the well with speed and grace, tearing at anything standing in front of her. Darwin’t grabs one of her arms trying to fend her off. Danlynn rushes her and takes hold of her other arm. Derry’n grabs hold of her thrashing legs, lifting her into the air. She screams and writhes, clawing and biting at them. Tye tries to get a grip on her, but she wriggles from his grasp. Tarfleam stands watching, tears streaking down his dirty face. “Help us drop her back in, Tarfleam,” Danlynn shouts.
“Tarfleam,” Darwin’t screams, his grip weakening.
“I can’t hold her much longer,” Derry’n yells out losing his hold of one of the bony rotting legs. “Tarfleam, get the leg.” Tarfleam hesitates for a second yet does as he’s told and rushes forwards to help. He lays a hand on the leg.
White hot light erupts from them all and engulfs the woman’s form. She screams in agony and then vanishes into the light, burned away. The light does not stop growing though. Tye staggers back and watches in horror as his friends are taken into the light.
6
KNOWLEDGE
Molly had woken knowing that today was going to be important, knowing it would be the beginning of what could be her fate. However, she wanted to enjoy one last day of normality before going to speak of her dreams with Ori.
She stares down at the magnert root on her plate before her and sighs. She never liked magnert root. Almost half the world away from the country of Hillsbough, and at the same time as Darwin’t is riding the cart into Gressgs; Molly looks into that bowl and inwardly groans. She would have preferred anything over this stuff, even carrots! Something moves under one of the long slimy roots and she bends her face closer to see what it is. A clout to the back of her head smacks her nose into the bowl, squishing sludge into her nostrils. She lets out a yelp of surprise as she pulls her head back up.
“Playing with your food will not do!” Nuo of Healing screams from over her shoulder. “Eat or I will mush you into the next batch. Do you understand?”
Molly stiffens and nods her head quickly. “Yes. Yes, I understand Mien Nuo of Healing.”
The others seated around the room hide small laughs and smiles behind their hands. Some do not bother to hide their amusement and point openly. Angels are a peaceful race, yet that doesn’t mean they are not strict and it doesn’t mean the children are any nicer than other race’s children.
She keeps her face lowered and thinks of her dream and the meeting with Ori to come. She is the youngest of the students in this class, standing out because she is human and not an Angel; that only makes the teasing worse. Even her name is a joke; Molly is a human name but in the Angel language it is a poisonous vine growing over other plants and choking them. They said she was like that with her friends and that is why she has none. “Be a friend of Molly’s and you will end up choked by her clingy personality.”
“Finish up eating. I want it all gone by the time lessons begin.” She turns and stalks away. “That goes for everyone, understand?” The others in the room mummer that they will as she exits into the hall. Once she has gone a boy at the far side of the room stands and rushes over to stand beside her. He smiles warmly and puts a hand on her shoulder for comfort. Wetness soaks in through her dress and she realizes that he has rubbed magnert root into the cloth.
“What are you...?” Molly shrieks in complaint.
“No-one else saw me do it,” he says waving a hand at the room of kids staring their way. Each kid wears a grin. “One day they will see that you don’t belong here and will send you back to your own race where you will be mixed up in one of their many wars and will die.”
Molly holds in the tears that threaten to flow from her and swallows the harsh words building on her tongue. Instead she lowers her face back to the plate and begins to eat. The hall fills with laughter as the boy, Hisa, bows before them.
Suddenly he races back to his bench and sits, eating his last root in two bites. She tries to do the same, but the bitter roots stick in her throat and she chokes them back up onto the plate. Mien Nuo of Healing is back in the room and everyone is getting to their feet. She glances at the sodden, half chewed magnert root and sighs aloud. She will be punished for this. She is always punished.
The sun is at its zenith by the time Molly has finished cleaning the dishes and forks from the morning meal. As far as punishments go, it is a light one. It did mean she missed her free time, yet she doesn’t mind. Free time was usually spent in the company of Ori and she wants to put that off for as long as possible today. The other kids are in their afternoon lessons which are, controlling the light and basic flying. As she doesn’t possess any power in healing, shielding or wings to fly she is excused from them. She wipes a hand across the white apron tied around her waist and is shocked to see a smudge of red. She studies her hands, frowning at the small spots of blood at the ends of her fingers. She must have cut them in the wash basin on a fork, but she had not felt any pain. The blood draws her back to the dream and she briskly cleans herself up and wraps a clean towel around her hand to stop the bleeding.
As she makes her way down the various levels of Gossa-Mesa, through the thick outer canopy of the giant Tree City, she begins to weep. The tears flow easily now that she is clear of other eyes. The hurtful teasing of the other kids, her dream and mostly her own knowledge that today will be a bad day. She is a dream reaper, or that is what Ori had called it. That is why she is in the Tree City and has been since she was born. Her mother and father had given her over to the Angels when she was only a baby. They couldn’t cope with the nightmares which she pushed upon them. Ori explained as she grew older that her power, her gift, was normal and that it was only lack of teaching which make her dreams run amok. That is what her parents’ nightmares were, her own dreams twisted and forcing themselves into the minds of others. Ori and his wife, Onoui, have raised her as their own as much as they could. They could not hide the fact that she was not an Angel and so had told her the truth from the very beginning. She is lucky to have two parents who love her. They are her parents even if she is not allowed to call them mother and father. She has a brother, O’us, who is older than her by almost one hundred suns. But for an Angel that is the same as being thirty human suns. They are very close and often sit in the highest branches of the city and watch the stars. Once he had taken her out of the city to the cliffs beyond in the mountains of Vev. It had been a marvelous adventure and seeing the city from the outside was spectacular. Its massive shadowed form standing on the Mesa Rock, a thousand tiny lights glinting in the night. It hadn’t lasted long, however, they were seen leaving and only an hour had passed before Gugu, Nuo and Halet were swooping down upon them, harsh words flying as the Angels landed. She would have loved to stay to watch the Sun rise from behind the great tree. From O’us’s description it was the most magical sight in the entire world. That had been her first and last time out of the grand city.
She also has a second brother, Hisa, the boy from the breakfast room. They do not get on and never have; they probably never will. He is two suns older than her, yet in Angel terms they are the same, fifteen.
She reaches the bottom level of the city, the tears finally stopping, and dumps the large sack of waste into the chute which leads into the great furnace. Gossa-Mesa is one of the few cities in the whole of Atlantia to be powered by steam. The furnace heats the sea at the base of Mesa rock and the steam rises through hundreds of pipes and vents to heat the city. They have torches that never burn out, powered by gases made from rotting vegetation and even a huge waterwheel in the top of the tree, moved by a waterfall. The water for the waterfall is collected steam which is condensed and sent back to the base of the city, into the sea. It is a very advanced c
ity, even though it is built into a giant tree. She loves it here. It’s home.
A shadow passes over her and she turns with a jump as the large form looms before her. She cannot make out the face hidden within the cowl of the cloak but smiles warmly at whoever it is. All the adult Angel men are friendly towards her and so she feels no fear from the shadowy figure, although it is strange that is has a cloak pulled so tightly around it at this time of the day.
“Follow me, child,” the Angel says in a soft hushed voice. “We need to talk.” He turns, sweeping the cloak, and strolls away without confirming whether she is following. She does follow, but now nervously and without as much certainty of the figure. Angels are very peaceful creatures and have not caused harm to another living thing since the days of the great wars, yet they can have a temper like anyone and be unkind, even cruel. She had been beaten once by some of the children, and the elders had punished them with a beating of their own.
She goes to ask where they are going when the figure abruptly twirls and launches towards her, dirty fingers covering her mouth in a vice-like clamp. Her feet drag across the wooden beams limply as fear conquers her spirit and she falls into terrified withdrawal. The sun vanishes as she is hauled inside a dank room and the smell of decay fills her nostrils. She knows where she is and she knows that help will not be coming for her. For the first time in her young life she has to fight or suffer pain or even worse, death. She lashes out at the attacker with her fingernails, yet he is strong and grasps her hands, forcing them down beside her head. He adjusts his grip so he is holding her with one hand and with the other he starts to untie his robe. Molly suddenly understands his intentions and screams a wail of despair. The sound echoes around the small dark room, but she knows it will not have made it outside. They are in the gas production room which is almost airtight and so soundproof. She struggles to free her hands, thrashing her body under the man’s weight as he lowers himself onto her.
The door bursts open and men rush into the room, white wings beat heavenly in the blazing sunlight which streams in with her rescuers. The man atop her screams and pulls a blade from his robes, raising it high and then plunging it down into Molly’s chest. The pain surges through her and the world tips to one side as blackness sweeps into her vision. The last thing she sees is the hideous twisted face of the attacker. A face more beast then human. The face of a Skaven.
Molly opens her eyes and painfully turns to watch Ori as he crosses the room to stand beside her. “Be still, be still,” he coos softly as he sits on the edge of the bed. “You will be fine, but you need to stay still.” He places a hand upon her cheek and smiles warmly. She does not remember the long climb over Hisa’s shoulder to the first floor of the city. The children running ahead of him calling for help, screams of panic and fear. The healers calling the light to her wound and sealing it closed, stopping the bleeding. She was left weak, but she will recover fully in a few days. Ori sees the question in her eyes and smiles down at her. “It seems the boys wanted to play,” he cocks his head to the side in thought before adding, “Well maybe not to play. But they followed you down to the base of the city. They saw you walking away with who they believed to be Rotu; they said his cloak was the shade of the Vush-Wiimit. They hid, fearing they would be punished for being where they shouldn’t. They were about to come back up, but they heard your cry. It’s a strange thing that they did. But they ran to see what had happened, thinking that maybe you had hurt yourself. You and the stranger were nowhere to be seen, so they entered the compost room. When they saw what was,” he glances at her with sadness in his eyes and ends the sentence he was about to say. He places his other hand upon her head and then rises and crosses the room.
“What was it? What happened to it?” She realizes her voice shakes with the fear that still surges through her.
“Just rest my sweet.”
“No,” she screams. Her eyes meet his and in them is a silent apology. “Please I need to know he has gone.” The old Angel watches her for a few moments before moving back towards the bed.
“He is dead,” he says sadly. “He pushed past the boys and ran for the cave leading down into the deep caves. But the boys caught up to him and he turned to fight. They only meant to restrain him but,” he looks away at something only he can see and shakes his head. “The knife he used on you ended up in his own chest. He fell upon it, trying to get away. We will never know how he got into the city. The shields did not stop him and no warning went off.”
“Was he a Skaven?” She asks calmly. Knowing that he is gone helps the fear to lessen. However she wishes he had lived to answer some of her questions. Ori nods once before moving away.
“You need to rest and that is what you must get. Now you must sleep.” He leaves the room without another word, and Molly is alone for the first time since waking. Sleep does not come easily yet after laying awake for several eternal minutes her tired shocked body closes down to the powerful force of sleep. However the dreams wake her after only a moment and she rushes from the bed, wincing from the pain in her chest. She staggers out of the healing chambers and into the sunlit passages of the mid-section of the city. It would take almost an hour to reach the high levels of the city taking the stairs and ramps but she knows now that she has no choice to tell Ori of the dreams. Something deep within told her in the moment of waking that others needed her help and there was not time to delay. The scorching pain in her chest begins to smolder outwards into her limbs. She has only walked as far as the entryway to the stairs when she crumples to the floor, unable to go on. In her mind she sees the boy from her dreams climbing over the wall of a well, into the pit where he had died in her dream. She crawls another foot but no further, and stops, great sobs shaking her small form. Then she is in the powerful arms of a man, being carried back into the hall. She manages to speak and the Angel stops in his tracks and turns to face the stairs as if weighing up what he should do.
“Why do you need to see father?”
She opens her eyes and smiles dully at the lean face of O’us. His long blond hair cascading to his shoulders, either side of his brilliant blue eyes. She had not known it was him until he had spoken, and knowing he is close gives her great comfort. But she needs to be going up and not back to her bed. If she does not reach the top of the tree she will surely fall into a deep sleep, and the boy will meet his death. She is not even sure how she knows all this but know it she does and has to act on it. “A dream,” is all she can manage to say yet it seems to be enough. O’us opens his great wings and leaps from the window into the air beyond. The rush of the wind and the warm haze of used steam revives her somewhat and she clings to her brother firmly. The brief flight only takes a minute or two and they land directly outside the temple where Ori is at work. He races inside and calls for his father, recalling what he had been told and the urgency of the need. She is placed upon the floor, a cushion beneath her head, and is gently roused from her sleep-like state.
“Look inside yourself, my child,” Ori whispers. “The knowledge is within you. You are the child of a very powerful woman and have gifts far beyond what you know with your head. But these gifts are within you and must now be called forth.” He touches her cheek and his hand flinches away. “She is burning up. Call the healers. Hurry!” He bellows as O’us races off to find help. “Molly. Molly, listen to me. Do not fight it. Go to the boys in the dream. I do not know how, but you must. Sleep and go to them. Use your dream to help them. They must not die, everything depends on them. They must be saved.” The words, although making no logical sense, she knows to be true, and the understanding of how comes to her in that instant. Her eyes roll upwards and the darkness of unconsciousness fills her being. Light erupts from her every pore and she is burned from the inside out. As she drifts close to death her soul departs her injured body and travels across the sea to a land far from the great city. She sees the boys from her dream struggling with a hideous ghoul, and following the instinct of the light, enters the beast and burns it a
way. But something else happens that she cannot control, and the light engulfs the boys as well taking them inside her dream.
The wagon bounces as it speeds down the uneven bumpy road. The horses wheezing with the effort of the charging run, sweating and rapidly losing strength. Molly stares across at the chunky, well-built man who she has dragged into this dream. She is not yet sure how she has done it or how she knows what was happening, but she leaves that alone for the time being. In the past she has gone into others dreams by mistake and twisted them with her own nightmares. Once however, when Ori had been giving her a lesson on her gift, she had gone into a stranger’s dream and they had seen each other. The dream had not been his or hers but an image of some other time and place. On waking Ori had been very excited but she had never been able to find that boy again. Until now. She had seen him climbing into that well. She had seen him fighting that ghoul. She had drawn him into the light. But he is not here in the wagon. This is a different boy.
She studies the solid man before her and cannot help the smile that edges onto her lips. He is a broad man with dark pools for eyes that reflect a happy life. Thick lips line a wide mouth, set within a square jaw giving him a very masculine powerful look. He has the presence of a warrior but none of the hardness, not that Molly has seen a real warrior. His skin is flushed across his cheeks almost to the point where he looks constantly embarrassed. A wide short nose, broad forehead and bushy eyebrows add to the strong character of the man. He touches his short, black, spiky hair as he too weighs her up.