by Lara Morgan
32
Tallis cut the thick coat from Jared’s back with his knife. Underneath, shreds of material from his clan shirt were stuck to the skin and a long deep gash ran from his right shoulder blade down to his hip. He was very pale and his breathing shallow. Luckily the beast’s talons had missed his spine, but Tallis could see bone through the ruptured flesh.
He kept thinking of the words the serpent had seared into his mind. Arak-ferish. The beast should have killed him then, but had held itself back. And it had something to do with those words; he’d seen fear in its eyes as it snarled them, felt it in the beast’s blood. It was the same fear he’d felt from it in the desert that day. It was almost as if it were afraid of him, but for what reason Tallis couldn’t fathom.
‘Here, use this to staunch the blood.’ Attar handed him a thick wad of material. Tallis took it silently and pressed it against the wound, tying the strips of Jared’s shirt around his torso to hold it in place.
‘Thank you.’ He looked up at the rider.
Attar’s face was grim in the flickering light of the torch he carried. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood, we need to get him to a healer.’
‘Can the serpents still carry us?’ Tallis looked at Marathin and Haraka. Both had sustained deep gashes and were crouched together, but seemed oblivious to their wounds.
Attar nodded. ‘Serpents heal quickly. They’re made of tougher stuff than we are.’ He frowned as he saw the Captain emerge from the farmhouse. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said and strode away.
The patrol had arrived not long after the beast had gone and were now investigating the farmhouse and surrounding area. Tallis watched as Attar talked with the Captain, then came back to him.
‘They found a man’s body not far from the house. I’d say it was the woman’s husband. They’ll take the bodies back to camp.’
They would be taking Bren’s body as well, Tallis thought. He hadn’t liked the younger man, but he had faced the beasts bravely. He had not deserved his fate.
‘I’m sorry for Bren’s death, Attar. He fought well. I will pray he finds rest and shade.’
The rider nodded, watching as the soldiers carried Bren’s body to a waiting muthu. ‘We must make sure Jared doesn’t suffer the same, clansman. But it’s no use taking Jared back to the camp, there are no healers there.’
Tallis felt a jolt of fear. ‘None?’
Attar shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. Our best chance is to strap him to Haraka and go to the Wild Lands. We’re not too far from the jungles now, we should make it. There’ll be water there and the serpents may be able to find one of the forest people’s settlements. I’ve heard their healers are good.’ He paused, ‘He’ll die if we stay here’.
Tallis swallowed. He didn’t want to move Jared, but Attar was right, he could see by the pallor of his skin and his shallow breaths that Kaa hovered dangerously close.
‘You’re sure they’ll help us?’ He looked up at the warrior.
‘Yes. Marathin is sure.’ Attar looked steadily down at him. ‘It’s his only chance, clansman.’
Marathin was sure? Tallis stared across at the serpent. Since the attack he had felt nothing from her and Haraka ignored him completely. Perhaps their own wounds distracted them. Perhaps they understood what the black serpent had said to him. If his earth brother died, his reason for being here, this strange quest the Dreamer had set them, would be for nothing. He looked at Jared’s pale face and wished they were in the desert where he could find plants to heal him, but they were not. He looked up at Attar.
‘Let’s go.’
The rider nodded and clasped his shoulder silently then turned and went to tell the Captain.
They left before the patrol. Tallis sat in Bren’s saddle astride Haraka with Jared strapped behind him while Attar led astride Marathin.
They flew low and fast over the dark landscape, leaving the river and turning east. By the time the sun rose they had left the farmhouse far behind and were passing over wide, grassy plains, dotted with pools of still water. Birds on long, thin legs stalked among the tall grasses, their pointed beaks dipping into the mud, and flocks of smaller birds rose and fell in a synchronised cloud, their chortling calls filling the morning air. None seemed bothered by the serpents.
Tallis’s fingers were stiff from holding on to the low bar at the front of the saddle and his neck ached from constantly twisting to check on Jared. He had awoken at one point, his fingers fluttering on Tallis’s arm, and he had mumbled something, but he then had collapsed back into silence. Tallis hoped it was a good sign, but the tight fist of fear in his belly told him otherwise.
The serpents found them a relatively dry mound of earth with a small stream and they stopped to relieve themselves and fill their water skins. Insects swarmed up from the earth and buzzed around them. The air was warm and stifling and sweat dripped into their eyes. Tallis tried to force some water down Jared’s throat, but was successful only in giving him a few drops. It was impossible to eat because of the marauding insects and they soon climbed back onto the serpents and winged away, both breathing a sigh of relief as the cooler air swept the flies and sweat from their faces.
They didn’t stop again until nightfall. By then they had left the grasslands behind and swathes of trees had begun to appear. The land had become more rugged, with hills and rifts appearing filled with thick belts of green. The warm air was heavy with moisture and clouds filled the sky. Tallis’s shirt was soaked with sweat and he was ravenous by the time Haraka and Marathin dropped down into a clearing, ringed by tree-covered hills.
Carefully, Attar helped him get Jared off Haraka’s back and between them they lay him on the thick short grass so Tallis could clean and re-bandage his wound. The light was dim as the sun set behind the cloud, but it was enough for him to see the redness spreading along the skin from the gash. Infection had set in. Savagely, he pushed away the panic that gripped him and set the new cloth over it, covering the wound. He would not let Jared die. He would not.
He cursed the Guides who had led them here, ignoring the fear that twisted his gut. He wanted them to hear it, he thought bitterly, they should know what their manipulations had made of him: an outcast, a murderer. I saw what you did. I know what you are. He pushed the words away. He couldn’t help what he was.
He got up to retrieve his water skin and sniffed as he caught a strange scent. Sweet and pungent, it drifted in the still air and then a mournful cry came from the surrounding trees. A shiver passed over his skin.
‘Some kind of night bird?’ Attar caught his uneasy look.
Tallis nodded. ‘How far to the Wild Lands?’
‘Not far now. We’ve a bit of dried meat left we can share, and then we’ll go on. We can’t rest.’ His gaze went past Tallis to Jared lying silent and still on the ground. His expression was grim and Tallis knew he doubted that they would make it in time.
‘I won’t let him die,’ he said.
Attar met his gaze and nodded, then pointed to Tallis’s shoulder. ‘Do you want me to see to your wound?’
He turned away. ‘It can wait.’ He sat down by Jared and tried to force some more water down his throat. His shoulder felt stiff and painful and it tingled with heat, but he ignored it. He had cleaned it earlier, but any material he had for bandages was needed for Jared. There would be time for his own wound later. The words of the serpent haunted him. Arak-ferish. What did they mean?
Attar and Tallis shared the food and then once more climbed onto the serpents and flew into the dark night. It was black as a cave. The clouds hid the stars and the men could see little in front of them, save for the occasional glint of a serpent’s eye. But every so often, a deep rumble sounded above them, like stones rolling together, and far away to the north a jagged streak of light illuminated the sky. Tallis couldn’t tell if they were flying into the storm, or if it was racing before them, and he didn’t much care. Weariness had hold of him and the only thing keeping him awake was his fear for Jared’s life.
Finally, as the sun set on another day, Tallis saw a dark belt of shadow ahead that stretched across the horizon. It seemed to swallow all light and he could discern neither form nor feature from it. It was nothing but a black mass that rose from the earth, higher in some places, lower in others, like a mountain range made of shadow and mist.
His heart quickened at the sight and a strange unease grew within him. It had to be the Wild Lands. The air became heavier with moisture as they approached and thick clouds swathed the evening sky. The light waned and a damp scent rode on the air that hinted at age and decay.
The serpents flew closer, and beneath him Haraka issued a soft mournful cry that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was echoed in kind by Marathin. Almost imperceptibly, Tallis felt the soft thrumming start in his chest again. It jolted him wide awake, but he wasn’t sure if it was coming from Haraka or Marathin or from the darkness beneath him. Uneasy, he watched as the rugged country disappeared, replaced by a dense, dark canopy of trees that seemed to stretch away forever on either side. Ahead, the darkness rose up to a line of mountains, the peaks shrouded in mist and cloud.
Tendrils of steam spiralled up and there seemed no break to the mat of trees. Then ahead of him, Marathin suddenly dropped down into the dark. Tallis had no time to wonder why, for a moment later Haraka plunged down through the same narrow opening in the canopy. They were flying above a river, the water cutting through the jungle providing an area wide enough for the serpents to descend, and they swooped down, their wing tips almost brushing the trees.
Tallis blinked and strained to see. The banks were thick with growth. He could make out the dark forms of trees at the water’s edge, but little more. Occasionally they flew over trees fallen across the river that slowed the water. The air was thick and warm. After a time, the river widened. There was now a clear gap between the serpents’ wings and the banks and as they rounded a slight bend, a shallow beach came into view. A slim crescent of black sand formed a barrier to the tangle of growth, and the serpents headed for it, alighting in the water at its edge with a splash as their tails sunk into the river.
Attar dismounted quickly and Tallis followed him, removing Jared’s pack from Haraka and wading ashore. The water was warm and a swarm of tiny insects lifted up from it to buzz around him. He slapped at them as he dropped his burden on the sand near the edge of the trees and glanced into the darkness. He could see little past the first few trunks, only a vague impression of more trees.
He turned away and helped Attar lift Jared. Between them they carried him carefully and laid him down on his side on the sand. His skin was now feverish and his breathing more laboured. Tallis looked up at Attar in alarm, but the rider didn’t meet his gaze.
‘Give him water,’ was all he said, then he turned and went back to Marathin to remove her saddle.
Tallis took out the water skin and with unsteady hands urged some liquid down Jared’s throat; then, wetting a strip of cloth in the river, he mopped his brow. Free of their saddles, Marathin and Haraka launched back up into the sky and disappeared into the mists. Attar came back and sat down near him, but said not a word.
They sat together, Tallis mopping Jared’s brow. The night drifted on and he lost track of how long they sat there. Jared twitched occasionally, but did not open his eyes. At one point Tallis looked up and noticed he could now almost make out the tips of the trees around them. Night was fading and still the serpents didn’t return. Things rustled in the jungle behind them, and a bird started to call with a strangely deep chirp. Early light began to reveal details of sand and twig around them and somewhere, something large crashed through branches.
Tallis felt a sudden, deep calling inside and he looked up. ‘She’s back,’ he said, just before Attar’s head jerked up to the sky. The dark, winged shape of the serpent dropped down toward them a moment later. Attar glanced sharply at him and he knew he’d given himself away. He’d felt Marathin coming a fraction before the rider. Attar’s eyes narrowed, but Tallis turned away to check on Jared before he could speak.
A branch cracked in the jungle; startled, they both turned to see a young woman with pale golden skin step out onto the sand. She was small and slight and dressed in a short, sleeveless dress, belted at the waist with a tie of leather. Her feet were bare and her thick black hair was twisted up behind her head. Her features were strange. Her nose was small and flat and her large eyes had a tilt to them that reminded Tallis of the desert cats. They were dark brown and looked at him without fear as she approached.
She said nothing. Her gaze flitted over both men without curiosity before coming to rest on Jared. Quickly she crouched and looked at him, then a moment later, rose and inclined her head back to the jungle, beckoning them. Both men watched her retreat a few steps and she turned and frowned at them. Quickly they bent to pick up Jared.
‘I’ll take him,’ Attar said as Tallis gritted his teeth from the pain of his shoulder. ‘You get the packs.’
‘What about the serpents?’ Tallis asked.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ Attar’s voice was strained as he balanced Jared across his shoulder. ‘Come on.’
They followed the woman into the jungle. Attar was struggling under Jared’s weight as they both tried to keep up with the small woman on the narrow jungle path. Sharp-edged palm fronds swiped at Tallis’s face, and the warm close air that covered them as soon as they left the water’s edge was suffocating. Sweat drenched him but he didn’t remove his coat, it at least offered some protection from the insects that constantly buzzed around them. He glanced periodically at Jared and his anxiety grew. He was very still, his body lolling on Attar’s shoulder like a dead thing.
Finally, they rounded a huge, thick-fronded plant and stepped out of the jungle and into a clearing. Small huts, set on stilts, were scattered around a clearing cut from the jungle. Enormous trees stretched up and around it like a shadowy wall, and although the huts were raised twice his height above the ground, the collection of buildings looked small as bugs against the backdrop of the jungle that surrounded it.
A raised walkway curved around between the huts with bridges made of vine and a kind of stiff reed. Underneath, the ground was covered in thick short grass. Softly glowing lanterns, set at intervals along the main walkway, made circles of light among the huts and from somewhere to his left, Tallis heard the sound of the river.
The woman motioned them to follow as she climbed a thick log notched with steps that served as a ladder. She ascended it nimbly and watched as they struggled to bring themselves and Jared up behind her. The log was set at a steep angle and Tallis’s shoulder burned as he braced Attar’s back to help balance him. His mouth was dry and he was breathing harshly by the time they managed it. The woman turned and, with a jerk of her head, walked quickly off. Panting and in pain they followed. They passed a short, older man on another branch of the walkway dousing the lanterns. He watched them with dark eyes, but Tallis barely glanced at him as he followed doggedly close behind the small woman as she made a quick turn down a branch of the walkway. She hastened across a vine bridge to a small hut where she stopped. The bridge swayed and creaked as Tallis put his weight on it and the woman glanced back at him with a frown, making him wonder if it was going to collapse under him; then he realised she only wanted him to stay where he was.
Tallis motioned to Attar to wait on the walkway and, with a nod at them, the woman pushed aside a woven door covering and vanished inside. It was dark near the hut, the lantern near it having been doused. The walkway ended at the trunk of an enormous tree only several steps beyond. A vine ladder stretched up into the canopy. Above, he could just make out another building built high up in its branches. It was very quiet and still, and there was a faint scent of blossom in
the air.
‘Why doesn’t she speak?’ he said to Attar.
He shrugged. ‘Who knows? I’d heard they spoke the same tongue as us, but I have also heard other strange tales of these people.’
‘What tales?’
Attar’s eyes flicked to the hut. ‘That they talk with the dead, that they are not human but are beings of shadow and mist.’ He grunted. ‘Though I think she looks real enough.’ He nodded beyond him and Tallis turned to see the woman beckoning them inside.
They followed her into the small, dimly lit hut. Tallis could make out matting on the floor and square shadowy objects, and then she was pointing them to a second room. They trudged in and Attar placed Jared down on a thick mat near the wall.
Jared uttered a low groan and another older woman, with a round face and rounder body, came into the room behind them and began lighting a small oil lamp. She set a wooden bowl filled with water and a cloth on the floor and then gestured to the young woman who nodded and kneeled down beside Jared, shooing both Tallis and Attar out of the way.
Tallis stood close behind and watched as she peeled away the makeshift bandaging. Why did she say nothing to them? An ache was pounding behind his eyes, his shoulder burned and his limbs felt drained and weary; but he would not rest while Jared barely breathed. The young woman motioned something to the older woman who nodded, glanced at them with quick, brown eyes, and left the room.
The younger woman began to wash Jared’s wound then suddenly stopped and turned around to glare up at him. She gestured outside, but Tallis shook his head. ‘No I will stay.’
She frowned and Attar gripped his shoulder. ‘She wants us to wait outside.’
‘No. I will not leave him. If Kaa takes him I must witness it.’
‘She may refuse to heal him.’
Tallis looked down at her. Her eyes were annoyed, but not angry. ‘No, she will do it.’