‘Just trying to figure out what she sees.’
He pushed past her. ‘Thanks a lot.’ He happened to glance back and saw her still watching after him. What in the Abyss? Maybe it’s as they say: there’s nothing that interests a woman more than another woman’s interest.
He sat down in a nook of two roots of a tall wide tree. What the locals called a strangler fig. Here he sat, unable to sleep, and dawn was just a few hours away in any case.
It was after dawn that Sour emerged from the jungle verge accompanied by a gaggle of Oroth-en’s scouts. The mercenaries were already up building cookfires, readying equipment and changing bindings on wounds. Murk pushed himself up on to his numb tingling legs, stamped them, and headed over.
‘Where were you, dammit?’ he demanded, storming up. Then he paused, startled, as his partner turned to him. Gone was his rotting corroded helmet. His greasy curly mop of hair was pulled back and tied. And his face was painted in an approximation of the locals’ tattooing. Murk looked him up and down, unable to contain a sneer. ‘What’s all this? You’re no local.’
The man blinked his bulging mismatched eyes. ‘No. But these folks know what they’re doin’ so I figure—’
‘Well don’t. Everyone’s going to laugh at you and you’ll make us look like idiots. Now wash all that off.’
Sour’s pleased expression dropped and he kicked at the dirt. ‘I think it’s kinda like camouflage, their tattooing ’n’ all,’ he said, his head lowered. ‘I think it could help us, you know.’
‘You just look like a play-acting fool.’
Now Sour twisted his mud-caked fingers together, picking at the dried dirt. ‘I was just thinking that since they get by maybe we should look at how they do things, you know. Like their medicines!’ He shot a quick glance up. ‘You should see what they got out here. It’s amazing! They say there’s this one flower, and if you …’
He trailed off. Murk was shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ‘What’s got into you, Sour? You don’t sound like the man I used to know.’ He raised his hands. ‘Okay. Fine. So they’re new and different and interesting. That doesn’t mean you have to go all gushing puppy-eyed on them.’
‘I wasn’t …’
But Murk wasn’t looking at him any longer. Another figure had emerged from the verdant ocean-green of the hanging leaves. A smeared mixture of the ochre-red soil merged with the thick grey-green of clay covered the man from head to foot. Beneath this layer he wore only a light leather hauberk and a hanging skirt of loose cloth that fell to his knees. Leather swathing wound round his calves down to leather sandals. Twinned long-knives hung on two belts round his waist, and he carried a spear that was nothing more than a stripped branch. This he stamped into the ground as he halted before them. The twig clenched between his teeth slowly lowered.
‘What?’ the man grunted, and moved on past.
Sour was fairly hugging himself in suppressed glee. ‘You was sayin’?’ he prompted.
‘Nothing,’ Murk snapped, and he walked away.
* * *
A river stopped their eastward advance. They came upon it suddenly – as one comes across everything suddenly in the deep jungle. Pushing aside wide leaves, Hanu nearly pitched forward down the steep cliff of its shore in a repeat of his plunge into the sinkhole. As it was, he pulled himself back by grasping handholds of the thick leaves and wrenching the brush and nearby trunks. This set off an explosion of startled birds that spread their squawking and squalling alarm in all directions.
Among the dispersing storm Saeng glimpsed crimson longtailed parrots that glided across the river, a gyring flock of brilliant emerald parakeets, and many sunbirds with their bright gold breasts. A shower of flower petals followed the birds’ sudden flight. They floated down to cover Hanu’s glittering armour in a layer of even more intense sapphire blue and creamy gold.
‘Sunbirds!’ Hanu sent to her, pointing. Saeng nodded and covered a smile at the image of a yakshaka warrior decked out like a giddy child during the spring festival of Light. ‘Didn’t Mother say those birds were sacred to the old Sun worship?’
Saeng lost her smile. She shrugged her impatience. ‘They’re everywhere. Anyway,’ she gestured angrily to the sluggish course of the river, ‘how’re we going to get across that?’
‘I don’t know.’
Saeng agreed with the wariness she heard in her brother’s thoughts. She knew that others were not afraid of water, but her people were taught to avoid it as treacherous and the carrier of disease and sickness. She didn’t know anyone who could swim. As to boats or canoes – she’d never even seen one. And Hanu, well, he’d sink like a stone.
‘I suppose,’ Hanu continued, ‘we trace the shore and hope to find a village. They might have canoes.’
‘You can’t cross that! You’d sink … wouldn’t you?’
He edged back from the shore and started pushing his way south, clearing her a path. ‘Can’t be helped.’
Saeng followed, picking her way through the serrated knife-sharp edges of the broad leaves. ‘Hanu,’ she asked after a while, ‘in all that time,’ cruel gods – twelve years! Has it truly been that long? ‘was there anyone for you? A girlfriend? Perhaps even … a wife?’
He paused in his heaving aside of the thick brush. In his broad armoured back, hunched now, she read an aching sadness. Ancestors knew what emotions might have overcome her should she have dared to touch upon his thoughts. As it was, an image flashed across her mind of searing hot metal and, bewildering to her, an even more painful sense of burning shame. He turned to her, sap running in thick clots down his armoured arms, his helmed head lowered.
‘We are not allowed such things,’ he finally communicated, allowing only a tight sliver of a channel from his thoughts. ‘Our loyalty is to be absolute.’
‘Yet you … deserted.’
‘They were too late. I had already pledged my loyalty.’
Something in that frank declaration disturbed Saeng and she backed away. ‘To … me?’
Perhaps it was the closeness of their linked thoughts, but he seemed to understand her unease and he swept an armoured hand between them as if to diffuse her disquiet. ‘As your guardian, Saeng. You yourself conspired in this, yes?’
Yes, poor Hanu, I did. What choice did you ever have? There, you have found it. My true distress. You have spoken it. My guilt in your bindings. If not for them you never would have …
But she could not continue. Could not say it even to herself. And so she turned away to fiercely wipe her eyes, her lips clenched against sobs that tore at her throat. Oh, Hanu! What have I done to you …
Yet her brother continued, unaware. ‘All those nights, Saeng. Watching. Guarding you. After a time I saw hints of the passing spirits as they came to you. So many! The Nak-ta all pledging their service and loyalty … to you. I knew then that you were special. That the most important thing for me would be to somehow serve as well. And I know now what you were, are, to them. And to me.’
Terrible gods, give me the strength! Saeng forced herself round to face her brother – she owed him that. She pulled the back of her hand across her eyes to clear them and stammered, her voice almost strangled with emotion, ‘And that is?’
‘Our priestess, Saeng. The Priestess of Light come again.’
‘No.’
‘What else?’ He swept his heavy arms wide. ‘Is all this for naught? This upheaval? A great change is pending – I heard it whispered among the Thaumaturgs. They fear some rising power. Could this not be you?’
She backed away in earnest now, shaking her head. ‘I do not seek power.’
‘Whether you seek it or not, it is on its way. Best be prepared then, yes?’
‘Best listen to the lad,’ a new voice snarled down upon them and they started, peering about. Hanu’s broad yataghan whispered from its oiled wood sheath. Then Saeng spotted the source among a dense tangle of hanging lianas: some sort of long-limbed golden-haired creature peering down with its glittering tiny
black eyes. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, lifting her chin.
With startling speed the creature descended hand over hand to settle with a heavy thump. It straightened its hunched shaggy back to stand fully as tall as the towering Hanu, then stretched extraordinarily long hairy arms and exposed yellow fangs in a grin. It reminded her of a monstrous gibbon.
‘Listen to the freak,’ it said and jerked a thumb at Hanu.
Caught utterly surprised, Saeng almost choked out a laugh. This thing calls Hanu a freak?
Remembering her prior encounter with these children of the Queen of Witches, Saeng found her courage and kept her gaze steady. ‘What do you want?’
‘I have come all the way down to the profane earth to give you warning.’
‘Warning? About what?’
‘This.’ And the creature thrust out one impossibly long arm to slam Hanu in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the brush. With his other arm he reached out to wrap a long-fingered hand round Saeng’s arm and dragged her close. A flip and he now had her leg and he dangled her in the air before his grinning face. ‘What would you do, child, were I to do this to you?’
From the brush a groan sounded. The creature’s bright black eyes slid aside. ‘Shall I twist his head off?
‘No! Please. Don’t. I beg you—’
It shook her. ‘Beg?’ it snarled, offended. ‘You’re in the jungle, child. Begging won’t serve. Did Citravaghra teach you nothing?’
‘Citravaghra?’
The creature brought its hand to its mouth to mimic long bared fangs. ‘The Night Hunter.’
Ah. So that is his name. ‘He spoke to me. He said I – that I had power.’
‘Exactly!’ The beast tossed her high then caught her leg once more, jerking her neck fiercely. ‘Do not move,’ he suddenly warned, pointing aside.
Craning her aching neck she spotted Hanu, weapon readied, facing the monster.
‘So,’ it continued, eyeing her now. ‘Have power, do you?’ It drew her closer to sniff at her face. Its breath was repulsive. ‘Let’s see it. Come on.’ It shook her anew.
Knives of pain slit into Saeng’s neck. ‘Please don’t do that.’
‘What? This?’ It dangled her even more savagely.
Blasted insulting creature. Fine! I’ll give you power. Saeng reached within herself, remembering the guiding words of her countless tutors to form and concentrate her inner wellspring. Then she gathered all the energy she envisaged dwelling within and sent it lancing at the beast.
A great clap of displaced air boomed before her and the ground leaped up to smack her in the back. She lay for a time, dazed, then slowly straightened, groaning and dizzy.
‘Saeng …’ Hanu murmured, awed.
Before her a great swath had been cut from the ground. It gouged a path through the brush to end at the base of a towering tualang where the broad bulwark of its arched roots had absorbed the blast. But not without damage as a bright fresh crack now curved up its tower-thick trunk. Branches and leaves pelted down from on high. On all sides roars and shrieks and squalls of protest sounded into the waning afternoon light.
Movement and a scrabbling of nails on bark and the gibbon-like creature emerged from among the buttressing roots. It slapped a hand to its head. ‘That’s … a start,’ it gasped, breathless.
‘A start to what?’ Saeng demanded. ‘Speak!’
The beast began edging up the trunk by feeling behind itself with its elongated hands and feet. ‘To what is to come.’ It grinned, baring its teeth.
Saeng closed on the giant of a tree. ‘And that is?’ she shouted up at the creature.
Now close to the mid-canopy heights it called down, mockingly: ‘Something for which you must prepare.’
‘Not good enough,’ she snarled to herself. Hanu had come to her side but she pushed him back. ‘Prepare for this, you insolent ape!’
She pooled all her resentment, rage and frustration into one concentrated searing spark and threw it against the base of the tualang.
The release tossed her flying backwards. The next thing she was aware of was Hanu pulling her upright and steadying her. She stood with his aid, blinking, dazed. ‘Look!’ he urged, sounding almost fearful.
The immense straight length of the tall emergent tree was swaying and bending like a whipped sapling. Hanu’s strong arm urged her back now as bursting explosions shook its base and, one after another, each of the broad arching supporting roots snapped.
Slowly, the great sky-tall stretch of its trunk came tilting down through the canopy, which it crushed and parted with ease. The trunk, far broader round than any hut, slid off its fresh stump, shaking the ground, and seemed to simply lie down across the jungle like a giant taking its ease. Reverberations of the series of crashes echoed from all about. Yet this time the surrounding leagues of forest were utterly silent, as if shocked, or disbelieving.
Strangely, the only thought that came to her was: I hope I fall as gracefully.
At her side, Hanu raised his yataghan blade to examine it, shook his helmed head, and sheathed it. ‘You hardly need my protection, Saeng.’
‘But I want it.’
He grunted something that might have been a shy sort of gratitude. ‘Well.’ He invited her forward. ‘Let’s see how our friend fared.’
He helped her up the great tilted base with its torn roots like severed arms reaching to the sky. Together they walked the length of the trunk. It lay as a clear easy path through the crushed tangle. Close to where the crown had snapped away they found the beast. It lay next to the slim bole, one arm beneath it, blinking up at them. ‘Shouldn’t go throwing trees at people,’ it croaked.
‘What do you know?’ Saeng demanded.
It tugged on its arm. ‘Ah, well. Nothing, really. Serves me right. Just what the seers among us sense. A terrifying thing is coming. And you may play a part.’
She knelt to better peer down at it. ‘What is your name?’
‘My name? Varakapi.’
‘And what is this terrifying thing?’
‘Saeng …’ Hanu murmured, calling her attention.
‘This thing?’ the creature answered. A fresh grin grew, pulling its black lips away from its prominent fangs. ‘Why, that most terrifying thing of all. Change, of course.’
‘Saeng …’ Hanu urged anew.
She straightened. ‘What?’ He lifted his armoured chin ahead. She turned to squint into the deepening honey gloom of dusk. The fall of the giant tualang had parted a swath of the jungle and now she could glimpse a section of the river. There, in the far distance, a bizarre feature seemed to overtop its flat course. It took some time for her to understand what she was looking at as she’d never before seen one of its type. It appeared to be an enormous bridge.
She glanced down to ask Varakapi of it but snapped her mouth shut. He was gone. She snorted her grudging half-admiration. Cunning beast. Yet not truly a beast. A man-ape, child of the jungle, ward of the Queen of Witches, Ardata.
It was long after dusk when they reached the structure. Saeng was in an awful mood. The last stretch had been the worst she’d experienced yet: low-lying swampy ground plagued by biting insects. She was filthy with sweat and reeking mud. And the evening downpour was gathering in rumblings and distant flashes of lightning. The wide causeway that led to the bridge emerged from the muck as if from the sea. Saeng imagined the river must have flooded countless times, or shifted its course, since the edifice was built. Indeed, huge jungle emergents crowned the causeway. They had pushed aside its cyclopean blocks the way a child might knock over toys. The river coursed ahead, silent and dark.
‘We may just make it …’ Hanu murmured.
‘Not tonight. Not in the dark.’
He glittered now in the night. The rain had cleaned the dust and mud from his inlay mosaic of semi-precious stones. Sapphire, emerald and gold flashed keenly as he moved. He gestured aside. ‘Perhaps there is cover from the rain below.’
‘And beasts.’
�
��Nothing you cannot handle, Saeng.’
She followed, wishing she shared his confidence in her abilities. There was cover where the wide arch of the stone bridge cleared the shore, but there was also thick clammy mud that weighted her sandals. Hanu led her to a modest hump where the mud had dried to a hardened cracked surface. She spread her thick sleeping blanket and sat, tucking her legs beneath her.
‘I will try to find dry wood,’ Hanu said and pushed off through the tall stands of grass and cattails.
Once Hanu had been gone for a time the dead came.
Saeng turned her face away; she did not want to deal with them now. Their endless demands and neediness. Who would have imagined that the dead should be so needy? But they were. They did not know the meaning of the word surcease. Which was probably why they wandered, ever searching – searching for something they would not even recognize should they find it.
They watched her silently from among the brush. On all sides their sad liquid eyes implored her. Girls mostly here. Young women. ‘What do you want?’ she hissed, keeping her gaze lowered.
‘Help us,’ they whispered in her thoughts, pleading.
‘How?’
‘Help us.’
The barest hint of their longing and profound grief touched her then and she felt tears mark their hot descent down her cheeks. ‘Go away. I cannot help you.’
‘Help us.’ Something disturbed them then and they retreated into the gloom. Their fading was like a heartbreaking sigh in the night. Hanu emerged from the dry brush to set down an armload of driftwood. He started preparing a fire.
After the blaze came alight, he sat back to regard the surroundings. ‘This is a sad place,’ he said.
‘Yes. The misery here is so strong even you can sense it, Hanu.’ She edged closer to the fire to dry her skirts. ‘It seems that for many centuries this bridge has been a favourite site for suicides. Both voluntary and involuntary. Young girls mostly.’
‘Involuntary?’
‘Yes. Pregnant, or lovesick, or just plain despairing, they drowned themselves here. Or were drowned.’ She rubbed at her neck. ‘I can feel them, Hanu,’ she said, her voice growing ever more faint. ‘Hundreds of hands at my throat, choking. I am peering up through the water at the faces of brothers and fathers, some rapists, some not. I know that later I will be blamed for my own death. But the most tragic thing is, Hanu, that even now, I still love my family. Even as they—’
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