Great Uncle cleared his throat, as he always did before formal pronouncements. ‘We have to thank you,’ he said to Timur. ‘Without your help the walls would not have gone up so quickly.’
Timur shrugged, so his strange thick robe fell in creases around him. ‘I did little enough.’
‘It means a lot,’ said Great Uncle quietly, ‘that a stranger would stay to help us. There is nothing that can be done now until the army approaches. All we can do is wait. You are free to leave, if you wish. You have helped us all you can.’
Sui started. It hadn’t occurred to her that Timur might leave so soon. But Timur shook his head. ‘I’d like to stay, if I may,’ he said to Great Uncle. ‘I’ll go when we see the army coming across the plains. That will still give me time to escape.’
Great Uncle looked at him strangely. But all he said was, ‘If that is your wish, then we welcome you.’
So the days continued. The wheat grew unweeded — there was no point tending it now when half a million horses would gallop over it. For the first time in Sui’s life there was little to do, except collect grass for the pigs, and firewood and mushrooms from the hills, and watch the horizon and wait.
The trees were stunted in the gullies between the hills, but at least they were trees. Down on the plain the winter wind was too harsh for any tree to survive, unless they were protected by a thick mud wall, like the village apricot trees. But at least there was plenty of firewood; the weight of snow broke many branches and when the snows melted they lay shattered on the ground.
Sui tied up another bundle of wood with a roughly cured strip of goatskin (it was easier to carry many small bundles than one large one) then slowly climbed the next hill. She could see the village from here and the far hills too and even further along the plain. It was strange to see Auntie Fai and Mama and all the others so small below her.
There were birds up here too, hunting for lizards among the rocks, and last summer she’d seen a fox slink across a gully. The swallows darted above her, hunting flies. They made their mud nests below the rooves of the huts every summer.
Would there be any swallows left when the army had passed, she wondered? She supposed not, and no trees or foxes or other animals either. The army would take everything …
‘Sui?’
Sui started. ‘I didn’t hear you!’
‘I’ve learnt to walk softly. What were you thinking about?’
Sui gestured about her. ‘The trees, the animals. What will we burn if they take all the trees?’
‘Trees grow again. You can burn dried horse droppings, like the army does.’ He grimaced. ‘It stinks a bit, but burns quite well. There will be plenty of horse droppings once the army has passed.’
Sui gazed out over the plain again. ‘It’s all so quiet,’ she said. ‘Are you really sure they are coming, Timur? What if they decided to go another way?’
Timur shook his head. ‘They always head for the largest city. And the largest city is to the south.’
‘What’s it like?’ asked Sui. ‘No-one from our farm has ever been there, except for Da. Even Mama never went inside the city walls.’
Timur shrugged. ‘Big. Some mud walls and mud houses like yours, but larger.’
‘Aren’t all walls made of mud?’
‘What? No, of course not. The walls on our farm were made of stone.’
Sui frowned. ‘You can’t stick stones together. The walls would fall down.’
‘Not little stones, like you find in the soil here. Big rocks, and we use burnt shells to stick them together.’
Sui thought it sounded quite impractical. ‘Did you eat the horses on your farm?’
‘Eat them! No, they were for riding, though we milked them sometimes.’
‘You raised horses for armies to ride!’ cried Sui, horrified.
‘No! For other people, to … to get from one place to another. And farm horses too.’
‘Farm horses?’
‘You know, for ploughing the ground and carrying the crop to market.’
‘The uncles take it in turns to pull our plough,’ said Sui.
‘Well, horses do it faster. Horses are much stronger than people, so you can plough much more ground and then you have wheat to sell too, so you can buy things.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘More tools, metal pots, dresses made out of silk or hemp instead of goatskin.’
It all seemed unreal to Sui. As unreal as the army galloping across the plain … if there were an army. If it weren’t all a dream. Perhaps horses pulling a plough was a dream too. How could a giant horse be harnessed up to a tiny plough?
‘Timur …’ she began.
‘Hush,’ said Timur suddenly. Then he pointed across the plain.
Sui squinted into the distance. ‘But there’s nothing there!’ she exclaimed. Maybe, she thought, all he had been through had made Timur imagine armies in the clouds. ‘It’s just a dust cloud,’ she said reassuringly. ‘They blow across the plain sometimes.’
‘In spring?’
‘Well, no. In late summer, when the grass is dry.’
‘But the grass is green now,’ said Timur softly. ‘That dust comes from horses’ feet. Half a million horses …’
Sui gazed at the horizon again. The cloud was thicker, wider, than it had been only a few moments before. Black specks rose above it.
‘Crows,’ said Timur, and his voice was grim. ‘They fly above the army, waiting for the dead the army gives them.’
‘How long …?’ began Sui.
‘They’ll be here by nightfall. Hurry! We must go down!’
‘First of all the cooking pots and the bowls,’ ordered Great Uncle. ‘Yes, that’s right. Ballar, make sure there is another batch of mud mixed to seal the gaps — it would be bad if we ran short at the last minute. Sui, catch the hens … we’ll put them in the walls last, but they need to be tied up ready. Fai, have you got the leather bindings? We’ll start with the goats …’
‘Sui?’
Sui turned. It would be the last time, she thought, that Timur would speak so softly behind her.
‘I have to go,’ he said.
‘I know.’
‘If I stay …’
‘If you stay you might die too and there is no need for you to die.’
‘If I stay South Wind will die. You can’t put a horse in a wall.’
‘I know,’ said Sui.
‘Come with me! We’ll ride west then north, into country that the army has already conquered. I have gold in my saddlebags — the cities gave it to me in thanks for warning them. We’ll find a place to farm, somewhere safe …’
For a moment Sui could see it, like dawn light in her mind. The two of them, riding with the wind, building a house of stones together and raising hens and horses …
‘More binding on that sow!’ ordered Great Uncle. ‘She’ll twist loose otherwise, that’s it.’
‘No,’ said Sui sadly. ‘I can’t come with you.’
‘Why not?’
Because it was my idea to hide in the walls, she thought, and if it fails I have to be here too. ‘Because … because if … if we live through this, it will be hard afterwards. Very hard. I have to be here to help.’ This is my family, she thought, and I love them, even Auntie Fai.
Timur took her hand. His face had lost all the life that had flowed into it since he had been at the farm. He looked like the blank-faced stranger of fifteen days before. ‘Goodbye,’ he said. Then he walked away.
Sui watched him leap up onto South Wind. The horse reared once, as though excited at the ride to come. Then the horse was galloping through the wheat field. The man who rode him didn’t look back.
‘Sui … we need to hurry.’
Sui turned. It was Auntie Fai, but her voice was gentler than Sui had ever heard it.
Sui nodded. ‘I’ll catch the hens,’ she said.
The animals were tied securely and hidden in the walls. Great Uncle watched Dalan and the other children take a fi
nal drink. ‘Now no worrying if you make a mess in your clothes,’ he told them. ‘No trying to cry out. You understand? It will be dark in there and frightening. But remember the whole family will be near. And when the men have gone, we will be free again.’
Little Dalan and the others nodded. They couldn’t really understand how important it was to keep quiet and still, thought Sui. But the gags would keep them quiet anyway, and the ropes would stop them moving. She watched as one by one they were bound and pushed through the gap into the wall.
Now it was her turn. She hugged each of her aunts and uncles, then Auntie Fai. The old woman’s face crumpled like dried goatskin. ‘Good life to you,’ she whispered. ‘You are a good girl, Sui. A good girl.’
Great Uncle laid his hand on Sui’s head. ‘If the family survives it will be due to you,’ he said quietly. ‘Never forget that, Sui.’
Sui nodded. She should say something, she thought. But words seemed too small for everything she wanted to say.
Great Uncle hesitated, then spoke again. ‘I am glad you stayed, Sui. I am glad you didn’t go with the rider. The family needs you — will need you. You have ideas — just like your father, like my father. Too few people have ideas. Never be afraid to tell your ideas, even though you are a girl. Now hug your mother. Quickly. We must hurry.’
Sui turned to her mother and hugged her too. ‘I will be standing next to you,’ her mother whispered. ‘We’ll make it, I know we will.’
Sui filled her own mouth with old soft leather, then tied her gag over her lips. Auntie Fai bent and tied the ropes around her ankles.
‘They’re too loose!’ objected Sui.
Auntie Fai shook her head. ‘You need to be able to move in them after the soldiers have gone,’ she said. ‘You’re not a little child, Sui, who needs ropes to stop you breaking the walls in panic. Your ropes are just to support you, to wake you, if you fall asleep. But you must be able to shuffle out of them too.’
Auntie tied the ropes around her arms. Sui shuffled towards the wall, then gazed up one last time at the horizon. The cloud of dust was wider, higher. Below it the plain rippled, as though the earth was dark and shivering.
The army was nearly here.
Sui looked south, but there was no sign of Timur. The hills must had hidden him from view. She took one last glance at the wide clear sky, at the swallows diving and looping through the air with no knowledge of the terror to come, then shuffled into the darkness.
The dark gap smelt of damp and pig and goat and fear. She shuffled further inside. Another step, another … her shoulder bumped into someone in the dark. Dalan — she could feel him flinch. She wanted to say something to reassure the little boy, but there was no way to make a noise. In a short time any noise could kill them, any movement too …
She moved a little to her left. Yes, there was a hole in the wall, too small to see through, but at least it let in a tiny gleam of light and, more importantly, air. She settled next to the hole and waited.
Someone else shuffled in beside her. Mama — she had said she would be next. But there was no way to be sure if it was her or not. More noises, further along the wall, then suddenly the slopping, slapping of fresh mud, sealing the outside.
Sui took a deep breath. The air was already stale, already smelt of sweat and urine. Dalan must be terrified …
But there was nothing she could do, but wait.
Inside the wall grew hotter and hotter still.
What if they didn’t come, she thought. What if they swerved across the plain and went some other way? How long should they wait?
The space inside the wall grew even hotter.
A child further down the wall made a noise deep inside its throat. An almost sobbing noise, choked by the gag.
What if the soldiers heard it, thought Sui, panicked. What if the gag slipped and the child cried louder.
But there was nothing she could do.
The sweat dripped down her face and down her legs. Her legs ached already and her arms. It was impossible to stand so still. She had to move, she had to get out, get out, get out …
Then she felt it.
It was a vibration first, the sort you’d feel on the bed platform with lots of other people in the room. The whole ground was shuddering.
For a moment Sui thought the wall had moved. And then she realised.
It was the army, coming closer.
She could hear them now. It was like thunder across the plain. But thunder boomed and went away. This thunder went on and on.
Terror put strength into her bones. She waited for the sound of men, of yells and cries, but she could hear nothing but the beating of hooves.
How far away were they now? she wondered. How far away could you hear the sound of half a million horses?
The sweat grew cold about her face and feet.
Slowly the thunder grew louder and louder still. The noise filled her ears; it filled the world. But now she could make out hoof beats too, like South Wind’s hooves but magnified half a million times.
Someone shouted, outside the wall. A horse whinnied. Another answered, and another.
The first riders must be searching the farm, Sui realised, hunting for prisoners or hens or other food, for anything the army might find of use.
Another shout, triumphant this time. What had they found, thought Sui desperately. She tried to make out the words, but they made no sense. Had they discovered that the wall by the doorway was still soft? Had they already broken the other end of the wall?
Someone … something … screamed outside. More voices, laughter, another scream. Suddenly the world was cold, even the scrap of light was growing black, blacker even than the night.
No, thought Sui. She wouldn’t faint. She couldn’t faint. This was just the beginning. She must stand still.
Another voice yelled in the distance — then no more voices, and just the sound of hooves.
The speck of light grew dull, then dark, but this was normal darkness — night. The wall grew cold. Sui stood there, in the darkness, knowing her family stood beside her, even though no-one could see one another.
The thunder of the hoof beats slowly ceased. There were men’s voices again and laughter, hard and horrid laughter, and the smell of meat and fire. Her stomach gurgled at the smell. She tried to will it into silence and hoped the noise outside was too loud for anyone to hear.
The noise of feasting men grew less and less, and finally the army slept, with only the whinny of horses and the shuffle of their hooves to break the silence.
The speck of light grew bright once more, a flickering light now. Again, horse after horse went past. The noise grew louder and louder still. There was a strange smell too, like rotten milk, and Sui remembered Timur telling her: ‘They grease their bodies with the fat, to keep out the cold. Sometimes I think I smell them coming from a hundred miles away.’
Timur … it was good to think of Timur. If she thought of Timur she didn’t have to think of what was outside. She would think of South Wind too, galloping across the hills, away from noise and armies and away from air so thick it choked your throat …
If she had gone with Timur they … no, she couldn’t think about that now. Just think of Timur free, of him riding with the wind.
The day passed. The hole grew dark again. This time the night was broken by the sound of snores, next to the wall. Sui would have laughed, if laughter had been possible. If her bones weren’t screaming with the pain …
The next day was easier. The next day she was hardly there at all. She floated somewhere else and only dimly realised where she was when her body began to fall. The ropes cut into her flesh. Deep in her mind she heard Auntie Fai say, ‘You’re a good girl, a good girl, a good girl …’
Thank you Auntie Fai, she said, and wondered why there was no noise. She tried again and this time there was noise, horse noises, thunder noises, hooves across the plain, and she remembered that she must make no sound at all.
Another night, then light ag
ain. Was the noise less now? But the noise didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered — just to stand — stand and not to move, not to fall because if she fell, they all would die.
Sound roared in her ears. But it wasn’t the noise of horses. It was a wind noise, but in her head, not outside. But that was good, because while her mind-wind played she could hear nothing from outside: nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
Someone beat fists against the wall. For a moment Sui panicked, thinking one of the small children or animals had broken free. Then she realised — the beating came from the outside!
She hadn’t thought her body had the strength to freeze.
‘Sui!’
How did the soldiers know her name? How …?
Suddenly her mind cleared. For the first time in three days she moved … or tried to move. The pain shrieked down her arms as she forced them up enough to slide the ropes down from her wrists. Her legs screamed at her as she slowly lifted each foot and shuffled the bonds off. She tried to kick at the wall, but her legs wouldn’t move enough. She tried to move her hands, but they refused to lift.
The battering had become a scraping now.
Suddenly there was light; light so white her eyes refused to accept it. The world grew dark again, but there were arms around her, gentle arms and firm. They lowered her to the ground; they held water to her lips. Sui drank, then let the darkness come.
Did she sleep or was she unconscious? Somehow she had the impression a long time had passed. She woke as someone stroked her hair.
‘Sui?’
This time the world was steady when she opened her eyes.
‘Timur?’
‘I came back,’ he said simply. ‘I rode back, but you were already in the wall. I told Great Uncle I would circle round the army and ride back here when they were gone.’
Sui tried to sit up. The world swam again. ‘How … how …’ She wanted to ask, how many of us survived? but her throat was too raw to talk.
The Book of Horses and Unicorns Page 7