by Coral Walker
“Hold on there, I’ll join you.” Hastily Malalea took the same finger and placed it next to Babeedo’s.
Taking a step back, Teilo watched, his heart pounding hopefully.
With three grants, the Dome of the Oracle would open for her, take her in, and save her.
He watched in silence as the two Wonas whispered fervently with their eyes shut, and under their fingers the colour returned to Brianna’s face momentarily. Babeedo’s whispers were distressful to the ears. It was not because of the sound itself, but the elements that made up the sound — the painful effort to quieten his untameable voice.
The fingers were lifted. Babeedo huffed and puffed as if the whispering had suffocated him. When he caught his breath, he took out a pouch from an inner garment. Inside the pouch, there was a cloth-wrapped parcel, roughly the size and shape that would fit in the palm of a young hand. Laboriously he unwrapped it, layer after layer, and revealed in its final layer a crystal ball no bigger than a fingertip. At once a fierce coldness pervaded the air. Using the tips of two fingers Babeedo picked up the small ball and quickly stuffed it into Brianna’s mouth. An icy grey colour suffused her face and spread downwards, taking over her whole body. She made a quiet groaning sound and wriggled slightly before settling down, motionless.
A sudden commotion at the front door distracted them — kicks, bangs and shouts.
Putting a hand to his broad head, Babeedo cried, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I overtook soldiers who were coming this way.”
“Why didn’t say that earlier?” Malalea exclaimed and hurried off to look out the window.
“First things first, Malalea my old dear. We must do things in the right order,” said Babeedo. Turning to Teilo, he shouted, “You’ll take her to Lake Targar, won’t you, Teilo my lad? Take my stallion, Ba-Bolt. Ba-Bolt will take you there as fast as you can blink. Remember, if she doesn’t get to the Lake before nightfall, she will die.”
Teilo nodded.
With a great heave, Babeedo lifted Brianna onto his broad shoulders. With Malalea leading the way, together they rushed through the cottage to the backyard.
Babeedo whistled, and from nowhere a handsome, flame-colored stallion flew over the low wall and halted directly in front of them.
Right away Teilo climbed on to it, took Brianna from Babeedo and placed her in front of him. He shuddered as her icy-cold body touched his chest and her lifeless head lolled back onto his shoulder.
With a loud cracking sound, the front door of the cottage gave way. Soldiers swarmed through the rooms and into the backyard.
With the broom he had picked up from the garden, Babeedo knocked a couple of soldiers down. “Go! Go!” he bellowed and slapped the stallion on the rear.
With a great snort, the horse reared before leaping over the wall.
+++
Teilo cantered on.
He knew they were waiting. He sensed them as the shaded valley path came into sight — the clank of swords and the bowstrings that were being tightly pulled back. It was the road he must take — the only chance he could get Brianna to the Lake before the last streak of sunset.
As soon as their shadows met with the shadow of the hills that were towering up like walls, he saw them with his bare eyes. Crouching down with one leg kneeling, they were holding the bows ready to shoot.
Without a second thought, he squeezed his legs, and Ba-bolt sped into a gallop. Ba-Bolt, superb not just in her lightning speed but also in her acute senses, could discern the subtlest change in her rider’s mind.
He saw the soldiers’ faces, behind gleaming faceplates, rigid from waiting, and their commander, towering behind them with horns on the crest of his helmet, holding a sword aloft.
Galloping on, pressing the rough edge of the stone into the palm, he fixed his gaze on the moustached commander.
It was too far, but he would take a chance. The weight of the stone was reassuring. It was one of the heavy ones that he had found in deep caverns. It would go far, and he had a good hand for throwing it.
The moustache twitched as the lips of the commander began to part; he rolled the stone to his fingertips.
The stone flew from his hand at the instant the creases of the lips were stretched and the lips parted. The dull thump, the sharp cry and the fall of the commander all happened in the blink of an eye. Startled, some soldiers turned their shoulders to look, while others fired their arrows.
Ba-bolt leaped, a great leap rarely seen in the land. A hail of arrows whistled past them beneath Ba-bolt’s body. There were a commotion of cries, scurrying feet and the clicks and clanks of metal hitting metal as the mighty hoofs stomped down onto the dusty ground. Then they were all behind.
He galloped on, without any attempt to look behind.
Two great rocks came into sight. Side by side, they stood firm with the solemnity of ancient soldiers, leaving a narrow passage between them, too slender for riders on horseback.
But there was no hesitation from Bo-Bolt, who had been this way many times with Babeedo. With another mighty leap, she left the rock soldiers behind.
The path ahead flashed into his sight.
Ba-Bolt slowed and wavered.
Straight ahead two ranks of Baran soldiers were waiting. While the front rank was kneeling with one leg, the rank behind stood upright like a wall.
Blood rushed to his head. So close to the Lake, he could see the path that stretched ahead, sloped gradually down before ending abruptly at the edge of a deep canyon, then resumed on the other side and ascended for a short distance before disappearing into the rugged cliffs that rose like lofty ramparts.
The bowstrings were pulled taut in their hands. Shoulder to shoulder they looked like spitting images of each other.
Dipping into his pouch, he took out a handful of stones.
Ba-bolt’s ears twitched. She must have noticed it too — the similar stance and expression of the soldiers, their trained minds and their impeccable coordination. They were the sotans, Lord Shusha's crack troops.
“Go on, my friend. Go on,” he whispered into Ba-bolt’s ear, feeling the beats of his heart echoed in Ba-bolt’s.
Teilo had a sharp eye for flying arrows. He could tell which ones were deadly and which would miss. The instant that the front rank of the soldiers loosed their arrows with a twang, he flicked his hand. From the sounds of stones hitting the arrows, he knew they were safe, for the moment.
While the first volley of arrows was still in the air, the second volley was dispatched before he had a chance to grab another handful of stones.
The arrows were whistling towards them. He felt the air disturbed by their propelling force and sensed their deadly path — they were so fast that not even a mighty leap from Ba-bolt could save them.
He crouched forward, pressing his chest tightly against Brianna’s cold body that was sprawled forward on Ba-Bolt’s neck.
Right in front of them, there was a flapping of giant wings, and a shadow flashed across their path. Behind it, stray arrows were showering down, hitting them without force before clattering to the ground. In a blink, they had left the stunned sotans behind.
He knew he could count on her, as always.
A puff of wind blew up behind him just before Ba-Bolt made the jump — she came back and was now right behind him.
There were alarming twangs from the bows and Yuna’s honking cry pierced the air above, chilling Teilo to the bone.
“Fly away, Yuna! Fly away!” he cried.
10
Western Wing
He heard his name being called but didn’t answer. He was buried in thought — thinking of Brianna. The image of her riding on top of a bird replayed in his mind, again and again.
If he had been in his normal state of mind, he would have laughed at it, dismissing it all as just fantasy. But normality was no longer in his possession, and believing in it gave him a spark of delight. So he kept the image — her flying on top of a gigantic bird — vivid. There were blinding lights shining behin
d her, projecting a silhouette of her and the bird. With his mind’s eye he watched her flying across the sky, feeling like cheering, but at the same time saddened.
He wasn’t sure where the lights came from, but they appeared in every image that he conjured up. Bright and penetrating, they shined so relentlessly that they melted away the thick dark shell encasing him, exposing him under their brilliance. A long, poignant shadow was thrown before him — while she was in the light, thriving, he was cringing in the darkness, dying.
“Jack?” Ornardo’s voice again. “Brianna is beautiful; you are a lucky brother.”
— How do you know?
“Remember, I can see your thoughts. There’s a lot about Brianna.”
Jack was annoyed. How pathetic — he couldn’t even keep a little secret to himself.
“You don’t have to try that hard to believe it,” Ornardo continued, “Of course she has been riding on a bird. Folks don’t lie about that sort of thing — if they saw her flying on a targar, then she really was. Except the bird in your thoughts was different from the targar here. Targars here are bigger, with large wings and scales.”
Dad’s ring flashed into his mind. Its etched image of the two strange creatures — a swan-like bird with scales flying upside down towards a serpent with claws.
The swan-like one was a targar.
“That’s right. Bokwas and targars. They are natural enemies.”
But the pieces simply didn’t connect. How could she ride on a swan-like bird? She had been alone with a dying boy when he had last seen her. The bird’s-eye view of Brianna pulling the cart carrying Teilo floated into his mind.
“That was an unusual view. Where were you?”
Jack was alarmed — no way would he let Ornardo see him in the arena. But then the images simply flooded into his mind — he was shackled high up on the rails, spread-eagled, and watched by the world below. He shivered as if he were up there again, hair fluttering in the wind.
The air stiffened awkwardly.
“I wish I had fought for my sister,” Ornardo muttered. “I saw her being torn apart. I ran very fast, but I couldn’t save her.”
— Did you get to her? Did you fight?
“I don’t know. I couldn’t.”
— What do you mean you couldn’t?
There was a long pause, and then the body trembled slightly. Suddenly Ornardo’s shrill voice vibrated in the air.
“I don’t know why — it’s all so scattered, in bits and pieces. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I was killed. I don’t know why I didn’t get to her and save her! I would if I could, wouldn’t I? The whole thing doesn’t make any sense at all. Why ...? Why didn’t I save her if I was running towards her?”
Jack sensed the pain — Ornardo’s pain. It was spreading like a disease in the shared territory between them. He could mark it and push it aside, but he let down the barrier and the pain swept over him like a flood. For that moment, he sensed a peculiar unity — him and Ornardo, brought together through shared sorrow and pain.
— We’ll see Lizi tonight, won’t we? Dilea is taking us. Maybe she will tell you what happened.
It had popped into his mind, and he passed it over without thought.
“We ... you’re going to help me?” Ornardo’s response was immediate. He sounded shocked and in doubt.
— Of course, I will. But I guess we need to sort out our limbs. Do you think you can let me control the legs?
+++
If Dilea hadn’t grasped his arm in time, he would have collapsed straight onto the floor.
The legs felt alien to him, and he tottered as he sought to control them. Vividly conscious of each step, he bent the legs by an effort of will. Nonetheless he wobbled like a penguin, knocking things down along the way.
“You must be careful sir. You are making too much noise.” Dilea muttered, her face flushing with anxiety.
“We ... I ... just have to get used to walking again. It isn’t my body after all,” Ornardo said apologetically.
Jack ignored them both, continuing his erratic lumbering. Three steps towards the door, three steps back. Left, right — the legs were his after all, and he needed to get them back under his control.
“Are you sure you’re alright sir? You’re walking in circles.”
“I ... I am fine of ... of course,” stuttered Ornardo, “I ... I g ... guess some walking helps.”
He lurched to an abrupt stop right in front of Dilea, who recoiled at once, eyes rounded in shock.
“I ... I guess I ... I am ready,” Ornardo announced, in an unsure voice.
She stared at him as if he were a stranger and then burst into a fit of giggling.
“A disguise might be a good idea. Look how you waddle, like an old woman with stiff legs.” Saying this, she took a dark cloak and wrapped it around him. “You are now my poor aunt who used to work for the Zartartu family. She has bad legs just like yours. The guard knows about her from gossip, of course, but has never seen her face to face.”
With its lacy hood and soft trimmings, the cloak was undoubtedly feminine. Jack laughed, secretly drawing a small satisfaction from being hidden away while Ornardo took the embarrassment of wearing a woman’s clothing.
If Ornardo had detected his silent amusement, he didn’t show it. Instead, he buried his head under the hood and let both his shoulders droop down as an old woman would do.
“Promise me not to do anything silly, and that you’ll return here without any trouble,” she warned before they stepped out of the door.
The window frame of Jack’s vision was too narrow to see well in the dimness. Indistinct darkish shapes and shadows swept by with sporadic glimpses of patches lit by the pale crystal wall lamps — part of the wall, part of a tapestry, part of a vase on a table or Dilea’s round back and her fluffy hair. When they finally came to a well-lit area, where the shadows of two men extended far out onto the floor beneath their feet, he had already lost count of the number of corners they had turned and the dark corridors they had walked along.
Ornardo kept his head low while the maid greeted the guard. She was talking in a soft, pleasant voice, like a good-humoured neighbour.
“So this is your aunt,” the man’s coarse voice was alarmingly close. He walked, with casual strides, in front of him, from side to side.
From its shadow, it looked like he was carrying something sharp — a knife?
The maid nudged his arm, and he reacted by bending his head forward with a dip of the knees.
Curtsey. Ornardo had already instructed him in his quiet mind voice.
The knees quivered and unsteadied the body. He heard the man teasing. “That was a funny curtsey.”
“Do forgive her. My poor aunt has really bad knees — see how she already stumbled.”
The man nodded, stopped moving and stooped to peer into the shadow under the hood.
“You’ve gone to a lot of troubles just to see your young mistress. Don’t you know that strangers are not allowed,” he said, one hand raised with the palm facing up.
Hastily Dilea stuffed something into his open palm.
“Dilea’s aunt is, of course, no stranger,” his voice softened. “Terrible, isn’t it? The whole family destroyed. It’s nice that you folks still have the heart to see your mistress.”
He weighed the bag of coins in his palm, and his lips stretched into a grin. “You shouldn’t have, cuz. I’d have let her in anyway. I have a heart just like yours.”
“Shush, it is nothing really. You have to take care of your mates, don’t you?” Dilea whispered.
He grinned a wide grin and nodded again.
+++
The small door shut behind them, and for a moment they were blind in the darkness. He fumbled his way, taking care of the tall steps until the hands reached the bannister.
It wasn’t at all easy to climb a dark, narrow spiral staircase while the arms and legs were in such discord. Although Ornardo whispered out instructions, too often the
legs were two steps ahead of the arms, bending the torso awkwardly backwards. On one occasion, the legs had slipped, and he tumbled down and would have fallen headlong to the bottom of the stairs if Ornardo hadn’t so adamantly kept a firm hold on the bannister.
In a funny kind of way, Jack felt assured.
The last part of the stairs was well lit by a crystal light hanging from the ceiling. Not having to rely on the hands’ guidance was a relief. By now, the legs were more like the legs he knew, and the last flight of stairs was swift and easy.
A few steps down, Dilea stopped. Her body bent forward, and she was panting hoarsely.
“Dilea, are you alright?” Ornardo’s voice sounded concerned.
She waved one hand, taking her time to gasp for air, and then dragged herself up for a few steps.
— She seems to have a tummy ache.
Jack suggested in his mind voice. It wasn’t hard to discern by the way she clutched her protruding tummy as if to squeeze the pain out.
Ornardo lent her a hand to get her to the top of the stairway. She leant against the wall and groaned quietly with hands still on her tummy. There were beads of sweat gleaming on her forehead.
Ornardo was concerned. Gently he placed a hand on her protruding stomach.
Jack felt a peculiar disturbance from Ornardo.
— What is it?
He asked, impatient to know what the hand was feeling. All of a sudden, like ripples shooting through him, he felt it. The curvy bump was soft and warm to the touch, but something was underneath — something elongated, alive and wriggling like a snake, distorting the stomach that was hosting it.
Dilea sobbed, her face a ghastly colour under the shimmering light, “It must have been the bokwa that attacked me in the night. It has given me nightmares ever since, and they seem to be coming true. My tummy just started growing since then and hasn’t stopped, no matter what I do.” She flinched as she swallowed another surge of pain.
“You wait here. I’ll look for Lizi myself.”
“No,” she cried, grasping his hand. “I must go. I know where she is.”