Tales of Noreela 04: The Island

by Tim Lebbon

  Resting flat against the dried-mud wall of the domed Komadian building, Namior looked up at the black structure curving high above. She expected to see the strange, graceful metal machines gliding across its surface, congregating at one place and pointing steam-pipes, goggle eyes and grappling claws down at the intruders. But all was quiet, and she felt a comforting breeze on her face.

  “I can’t hear anything,” Kel whispered.

  Namior shook her head and shrugged. Not only were there no voices, but there were no other sounds that she would normally associate with village life; barking dogs, whistling sweet birds on their homely perches, the purr and crunch of machines, the steady beat of a village living through its day. The sea was always a background, but Pavmouth Breaks was never silent.

  Kel began edging along the wall toward one of the windows. Namior wanted him to stop, but curiosity also had her in its hold. That, and a sense of occasion. Her comment that they would sing songs about them in the future had been a joke, but this was truly something …

  Maybe we’re not the first, she thought. Maybe the island has appeared many times before, as their emissary said, and had its visitors from Noreela, and they were caught and killed and—

  “Here,” Kel whispered. He waved her over, and she joined him looking into the window.

  The glass was thick, and so clear that it almost wasn’t there. Namior had to reach out and touch its solidity to believe it. Beyond, the room was deserted, and she viewed the frozen moment of someone else’s life. A low table in the center was scattered with bowls and glasses, colorfully woven cushions were scattered across the floor, and several thin, flexible pipes hung from the ceiling. They ended in complex-looking metallic constructs, large as a fisted hand and glimmering. One of them swung gently as though only just touched. Another seeped a puff of steam. Beyond the table and seating area were several curtained rooms, and beyond that a door that led out onto a street. The door was wide open, and they were offered a teasing glimpse of a wide thoroughfare, planted with short trees on either side and curving out of view. They saw the face of a neighboring building through the door, partially clad in a subtle green metal, with flowers growing in a narrow trench along its base. This building’s door also hung open.

  “Shall we go around?” Namior said, surprising herself with the suggestion. But the glimpse they’d had into the new world was so enticing.

  Kel nodded and edged around the curved wall. They passed into shadows cast by a wood-clad house, and had to walk through a vegetable patch planted between the two. They stepped carefully, conscious not to crush any of the blooming plants. None of the vegetables seemed completely familiar.

  They moved slowly, exposing themselves to view from several buildings and a dozen windows. But though doors were open, nobody seemed to be at home.

  Namior saw that many of the buildings—dwellings, shops, and others that seemed to be gathering places, with wooden seats lined up both inside and out—had metal pipes curving up from their walls and protruding through the roofs. From a few pipes rose a trickle of steam, but most seemed dormant. They reminded her of the tentacle things she’d seen emerging from the dying Stranger’s back. She shivered, and Kel looked her way.

  “Seems like steam means a lot to them,” he said.

  “Where are they all?”

  And then above the gentle hush of the sea, they heard the sound of a crowd’s laughter. Like a wave it rose, broke and receded, leaving them awash with its humor.

  “That way,” Kel said. “If they’re all gathered for something, I think it’s important we see.”

  “Maybe it’s a progress report from someone who’s been to Pavmouth Breaks.”

  “Maybe it’s a battle plan.” Kel looked so serious, so anxious, that Namior had the sudden urge to hold him and love the fear away.

  “I don’t want to stay here much longer,” she said.

  “Nor I. I hope we won’t need to.”

  They set off along the tree-lined street, trying to keep to the shadows cast by buildings, moving slowly at first, then picking up speed the more certain they became that everyone was gathered in one place. A slight breeze blew up from the direction of the sea, carrying the familiar smell and the foreign sounds of unknown voices laughing, speaking, and providing a hum toward which they could aim.

  Namior wanted to stop and look at everything, but she was following Kel. And he only had one thing in mind.

  Streets opened up wide, and soon they entered a part of the village where there was no apparent order. Buildings sat here and there, paved paths twisted between them, clumps of trees provided spreads of random shadow, and well-maintained areas of vegetable and fruit bushes gave a splash of green, purple and yellow here and there. It would be easy to get lost, but Kel was homing in on the sound.

  The crowd.

  Namior wondered whether some of them would be blue.

  They passed between two tall buildings, then skirted around the temple-like place they’d seen from the tree line. They tried not to look up at the disturbingly colored spire. It had all the trappings of a place of worship, but there were several double doors that stood wide open, and inside there was a spread of pools, some filled with water, others apparently with steam. More of the flexible pipes hung from somewhere too high to see, and a mist made their view inside uncertain.

  A roar came from somewhere nearby, the sound of many voices raised. Namior frowned. There were whistles and hums there as well, and clicks and pops. Perhaps part of the sound was being made by another of their steam machines?

  They walked past the temple building, and Kel held up his hand. Then he pointed at a low structure to their left, its door open, insides bare but for a round, cushion-covered bed.

  “We can’t just—” she began, but Kel was already through the door.

  For a moment she was alone. She turned her back on the building and looked around, past the tall-spired temple and back up the hillside to the tree line. She could not make out the exact place from which they had viewed the village, but she thought she saw a flash of movement, as though she and Kel were still up there.

  “Namior!” Kel hissed from behind her. “Namior! We have to go. Oh by all the Black, by all the fucking gods, we have to leave right now!”

  But he did not reappear, and when Namior ducked through the door she saw her lover standing by the far wall, a couple of steps away from a long, low window that looked out across a square.

  He could not move. He seemed frozen, apart from a desperate, hitched breath that jerked his upper body.

  Namior skirted past the bed and stood beside him, and looked out, and everything dropped out of her world.

  THE SQUARE WAS full. But not just with people.

  At its center was a stone platform. A woman stood there, similar to Keera Kashoomie but even taller, hair shorter, and she waved her arms and smiled. She was speaking, but Namior could not hear her above the clamor of the crowd. And even had she been able to hear, the words would not have registered. Namior’s mind had shifted to allow room for wonder, and disbelief, and finally fear.

  Fear for Noreela, and herself.

  Fear for her sanity.

  There were people present, but they did not matter. The things between them were what Namior concentrated upon, trying to make sense but finding none. She saw a tall woman with feathered wings clutched behind her, a man with four arms, a diaphanous spirit that swelled and shrank the air around it. A young child disappeared from one place and appeared again elsewhere, three women sat conjoined by a thick fleshy girdle hugging their waists, and two men pierced each other with sharpened hands, kissing at the same time. A young girl floating above the ground called colored lights into being from her eyes, a man walked on insectile legs, a woman glided on one moist foot, and an androgynous person walked on air. Several people were gathered around a normal-looking woman riding a naked man, the couple reveling in their union, the audience darting reptilian tongues at their conjoined genitals. With each tongue
impact the woman cried out, and the man groaned, and the people around them closed their eyes in shared ecstasy. A short person walked by, wiping at its beak with a clawed hand. A tall woman sat away from the edge of the crowd, her knees far higher than her head, and a hundred tiny crablike things were huddled across her back, suckling on red-raw teats on either side of the woman’s spine.

  The woman on the central platform raised her hands again and the crowd roared, squealed and cried. A man ran through the throng, carrying something above his head. It looked like a block of uneven glass, throwing off a rainbow of colors that Namior knew and some she did not. She shied away from the window, afraid that if one of the unknown colors reflected upon her, it would hurt. People cheered and hooted, and when the man reached the stone platform, he placed the glass object gently on the ground. Namior could no longer see it. Something told her that was good.

  And then there was Trakis, her friend, the big man with whom she had been drunk many times and who, when they were young teenagers many moons ago, had kissed her behind the harbor and told her she was his first and last.

  Two Strangers had him, each holding an arm, and they marched him through the crowd. They were not wearing their metal armor. He looked terrified; his eyes were wide, face bloodied, clothes tattered.

  “Trakis!” she hissed. Kel’s hand flashed out and grabbed her arm, preventing her from going too close to the window.

  “We can’t help him,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is, whatever they’re doing …”

  “But that’s Trakis! He was washed away, or buried!”

  Kel said nothing, and Namior could hear his breath, fast and urgent. He’s thinking of something, some plan, some way to rescue him. But of course, he was not, because there was nothing they could do. By coming there and witnessing the creatures at the gathering, they had made themselves Pavmouth Breaks’ final hope.

  And Komadia’s greatest enemies.

  The crowd parted for the Strangers. Trakis struggled, but one of them twisted his arm higher and he cried out, a human voice among the multitude.

  They threw him down before the raised stone platform.

  The crowd began to chant. Their voices were more serious, but still quite casual, as though they had seen such things many times before. The tall woman reached beside her for a long, flexible tube, and she pointed it down. Steam billowed out. A sharp crack rang out, and crystal shards speared through the steam.

  What are they doing to us? Namior thought. Is this some torture? Is this some game? She heard a brief, terrible scream.

  “No!” she said, and Kel’s hand covered her mouth.

  The observers stared down at what Namior could not see, wearing expressions of wonder and delight. Another scream came and it chilled her to her soul; they were doing more to Trakis than just killing him.

  The chanting continued, more steam gushed, and at some signal Namior could not hear, it ended.

  The silence was shocking, and more terrifying than the noise. One wrong move, one carelessly muttered word, and they would be heard.

  Namior was holding her breath. It began to hurt.

  And then someone shouted, and where Trakis had been thrown down, a shape slowly stood. It was the Trakis Namior knew so well… and yet there was something different. He did not hold himself like her friend. He seemed smaller, leaner. And he was no longer afraid.

  The woman on the platform raised her hand, the crowd cheered, and Trakis smiled.

  “What in the Black…?” Kel said, and this time it was Namior who stopped him from moving closer to the window.

  “I want to go,” she whispered. “Kel …”

  The audience quietened, and the woman on the platform said something to Trakis. She was crying. Namior’s tears came then too, but she guessed their causes were vastly different.

  “Now,” Namior said. “While they’re shouting, while there’s noise, we have to—”

  “Not yet,” Kel said. “Not until we’re sure.”

  Trakis turned from the platform and walked away. The crowd parted around him, some of them smiling, others reaching out to touch him with hands or whatever passed as limbs. He retained that gentle smile, but he was frowning as well, and Namior was no longer certain she knew that face.

  The people and things let him go. Some watched after him, but there seemed to be a general agreement to leave him alone. Giving him time to adjust, Namior thought.

  “Kel—” she said, meaning to tell him they had to leave, had to save themselves, because she thought Trakis was far beyond saving.

  But Kel was already standing at the door.

  “Kel!” she whispered, but he would not turn.

  Trakis came directly past the building where they hid, walking uncertainly as if he felt lighter than he ever had before.

  Namior left the window and went to Kel’s side, terrified, but thinking, If he has to see, then I’ll see as well.

  “Trakis,” Kel said.

  The big man walked into view before Kel, a few steps from the doorway, and he paused, looking their way. He was still frowning through his uncertain smile, and for a beat Namior felt a sense of overwhelming relief, because he knew them. His smile widened. He half raised his hand as if to point… but then he looked away.

  Trakis was no longer the man they knew.

  Kel backed into the room, pushing Namior with him. He grabbed her hand and closed it around a knife. In his other hand he carried his short sword. “We run,” he said, nodding at another door in the opposite wall. “We can’t be caught. Everything depends on that.”

  Still shaking, still tingling with disbelief, Namior followed Kel from the building. They ran for their lives, and for the future of Noreela.

  WHEN THEY REACHED the edge of the village, there were metal men in the tree line. Kel skidded to a stop and Namior almost ran into him, and if she’d done that he might have fallen far enough forward from the shelter of the domed building for the Strangers to see him.

  “Down to the shore,” he whispered. They stalked along the edge of the village, passing through the shadow cast by the tall black structure and using the sound of the sea to draw them along. They could not cross the open grassland, because the Strangers in their war suits would see them. They could not go up into the forest because of the risk of confrontation. Their only hope was the beaches and whatever might lie above them, hidden from the Strangers, hopefully, by the curves and folds of the landscape.

  Namior could hear white-crests breaking against the shore, and smell the familiar tang of the sea that she had lived with all her life. But all she could see was Trakis falling, and that person wearing Trakis’s face.

  They only sent over people that wouldn’t shock us, she thought. None of those other… things. And as the memory of the multitude of strange creatures they had seen rose again, she wondered just how many more there were.

  Landing there, finding their way across the island, even tackling the huge lizard-thing…through all of that, Namior had felt in control. They were choosing every move they made, weighing the risks and assessing their next best course of action. Now they were fleeing, and she was terrified. The sky crushed down on her shoulders, the unknown ground pushed up with all of its force, and everything she passed—building, tree, timber fence—tried to press her into something so small that she would fade away entirely. There was so much more than she could have ever imagined. But rather than feeling amazed at what she had seen, she could only feel dread at what was to come. If they did not escape the island, they would be killed at the hands of things she could not understand. If they did escape, and made it back to Noreela, then they’d bear tidings that would change the villagers’ lives forever.

  Close to the sea, they left the settlement. There was something of a beach there, covered with coarse sand and scattered with scraps of fishing net, small cages and hollowed logs used as buoys. A couple of small boats were pulled up onto the shore, and Namior thought about stealing one. But Kel passed them by, and she knew
they were still too close to the village. They must not be seen.

  She had no desire to end up like Trakis.

  The level beach soon faded away, replaced by boulders and rock pools gleaming with countless tiny creatures. She kept glancing to her right to see whether they could be spied by the Strangers. But though she could see the tops of the forest’s trees, the land rolled down and seemed to provide natural cover.

  She listened for sounds of pursuit, but heard nothing but the sea and her own panicked breathing. Either they had not yet been discovered, or the Komadians and their Stranger soldiers were closing in without a sound to give them away. That idea haunted her, and she expected the sun to be blocked any moment by a leaping shadow.

  Kel moved quickly, crouched over, weapons so well strapped to his body that none of them touched each other. Occasionally Namior heard the scrape of metal on stone, but he would be quick to step aside or cover the offending blade or handle with his hand.

  “Something ahead,” he said. Looking before them, Namior could see trees growing down to the shore. They were past the grasslands and almost back in the forest, and soon they would be darting from tree to tree. The forest would hide them better, but it could also provide cover for watchers or pursuers, or dangerous animal life they had yet to see.

  “What is it?” she asked. The beach changed from fallen boulders and broken ground, to the tangle of roots and mud that they had encountered when they first landed. And then she saw the glow.

  “Weird light,” Kel whispered. “Come on, into the forest, we can go around and—”

  “I want to see what it is,” Namior said. The glow came from a dip in the land to their right, just within the influence of the trees. It looked as though a rainbow was sleeping there. She went toward it and Kel followed close behind, his curiosity evident.

  They found crystals. They started close down to the sea, and some were broken, their sharp edges dulled by wave action. Many more sat in a gully that led up into the forest. The gully had once been a stream, but it no longer carried water. Perhaps the crystals absorbed it.