The Girl of Ink & Stars

by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

  My breath caught. Missing Gabo always crept up like this. I would not allow it.

  Feeling my way back into the open air, I scooped some water into my hands and drank. It was not the magical waterfall of Da’s stories, but at least there was water.

  I refilled my empty water flask and put it in my satchel, bringing out the full one from home and placing it on to my belt. Da always said it was important to use the staler water first on a journey, however tempting it was to drink the freshest.

  The Governor and his men were settling on the riverbanks. I sat next to Pablo on a boulder. ‘What’s happening?’ I whispered.

  ‘We’re going to have something to eat. Stopping an hour at the most, he says.’

  ‘And then?’

  Pablo shrugged. ‘Then we keep going. I’d sleep if I were you.’

  But I suddenly didn’t feel tired, even though we had ridden through the night and past sunrise.

  The Governor was standing a little apart, scanning the ground. Looking for traces of his daughter. He didn’t seem able to stay still, as if his anger was turning into hot coals beneath his feet. Guilt churned sharply in my stomach. His eyes flicked towards me, and I looked quickly away.

  ‘Runts,’ called Marquez, snapping his fingers. ‘Fetch some wood.’

  I stood up, placing the satchel on the rock. I managed to find only a little kindling, but it didn’t matter because Pablo emerged from the forest with an enormous bough of what looked like a dragon tree, black like the rest.

  The men laughed, clapping him on the back, but his face remained set in a scowl. A fire was soon heating up a pot of stew made with chickens brought by the cook. I shuddered when I passed the pile of plucked feathers, and as the smell wafted through the air I fed Miss La, grateful she was here, a piece of home, grateful even for her pecks.

  As the stew began to bubble, I decided to start on my map. But the satchel was no longer on the boulder. Had one of the men mistaken it for their own? My gaze trailed to the river.

  The satchel was bobbing there. Heart pounding in my ears, I plunged my hands into the water. The satchel sloshed as I opened it, fingers trembling over the buckles. Papers and quills twisted and floated inside, and I upended it like emptying a disappointing catch from a net.

  Ink had run from Da’s star chart and stained through several sheets of blank paper. It was now a mess of black and red, barely legible. It would be impossible to create an accurate map if I couldn’t cross-check the stars’ positions. But that was not the worst of it. Ma’s map was damp and stuck together. I held my breath and peeled it open. Surprisingly, it opened easily.

  But this was not the map I remembered.

  The drawings of forests were gone. Instead, the blankness at the centre was full of thick lines, the ones I had seen faintly when I had held it up to the light. They looped and crossed as the silk of a spider’s web does, or the channels of a maze. In fact, the more I looked the more I was certain that this was what it was. But some of the lines ran through the area we had just crossed, and there had been no sign of roads there.

  Perhaps it was the ancient layout of Joya? No villages were marked and, apart from the lines, the only shapes were circles dotted about the edges. At the centre was another circle, larger than the others, and drawn in red. This was the only colour on the map.

  I hurried over to the fire and held the map up to see more clearly. But the lines dissolved back into the paper, like ink in water, and disappeared.

  ‘No!’

  Marquez looked up at me, frowning. I traced them desperately, chasing them up the map even as they faded. The familiar shapes of the forests were reappearing, along with the names of the villages. Within a few seconds the map was back to normal.

  I was certain I had not imagined it, though what had happened was so fantastical it belonged in one of Da’s stories. What made the map change?

  It was wet when the hidden layer emerged, and when I held it close to the fire it changed back. Now it was dry. I fumbled for my flask, pouring water over the surface.

  Nothing happened.

  I tipped the flask over the map again and again, but still nothing happened.

  ‘You didn’t imagine it,’ I whispered to myself firmly. ‘It was real.’

  ‘Boy,’ said Governor Adori suddenly, making me jump. He jerked his head. ‘Come here.’

  Pablo raised his eyebrows as if to say, Hurry up.

  I walked shakily towards the Governor.

  ‘I thought we’d find her here. I was sure she could not be far ahead.’ His voice was low but dangerous, shaking slightly. ‘Which way now? Which way would she go?’

  It was obvious he wasn’t talking to me. I waited, the map’s transformation slipping from my mind. Lupe would go wherever the horse took her. I hoped she wasn’t too afraid, as the adventure wore off and fear crept in. I felt breathless at the thought of her somewhere in the black forests, and a killer somewhere out there too.

  ‘The villages,’ said the Governor in a louder, decisive voice. ‘Which is the closest?’

  I looked carefully. ‘Gris, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘Gris it is. You’ll be ready to lead us there?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you’re working on a new map?’

  I thought of the smudged star chart and sodden paper. ‘About to start, sir.’

  ‘Good. Don’t make me regret bringing you.’

  He turned his back, and I considered myself dismissed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Pablo quietly.

  ‘We’re going to Gris. A village.’ I wondered what we would find there.

  Cook clanged the side of the pot with his spoon and shouted, ‘Ready!’

  Governor Adori was the first to eat. He ate by dunking bread directly into the pot, and after he had eaten his fill the others fell on the food like starving men. I could hardly eat a chicken stew with Miss La so close, and lost my appetite completely after one of the men started eating so fast the food came out of his nose.

  I moved off to the riverbank to try to start work on the map. Da’s voice rang in my ears as I laid out the pots of ink, damp quills and measuring devices.

  The trick is leaving the space for what you don’t know. Any man can draw where he’s been – only a cartographer knows how to draw it to fit with where he’s about to be.

  I leant the satchel carefully on a nearby rock and selected the driest piece of blank paper. I stretched it on the ground, holding down its corners with rocks, then took the marked pad of leather from the pocket of Gabo’s trousers and placed it next to everything else.

  Before I started to draw, I looked around at the trees, casting shadows even in the early morning light. I tried not to imagine something looking back at me. Taking a deep breath, I dried the nib of the reed quill on my tunic, dipped it into black ink, and began to draw a new map of my island. It would not stay forgotten.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Consulting Ma’s map, I took them north-west to Gris, hoping Lupe’s instinct would be the same as the Governor’s – to get out of the forest and back towards the coast.

  ‘Don’t get us lost, runt,’ Marquez sneered. My fingers shook as I traced the path.

  We followed a spine of rock that ran from the waterfall’s overhang, creating a natural break in the trees and opening up a channel that the horses could travel along easily. It was a claustrophobic few hours, with the grey of the rock wall towering on the right and the grey of the tall trees rising to our left. Even the sky was unusually hazy. The whole world seemed sifted through ash.

  Finally, the forest began to fade, and we broke out on to a wide pebble beach, the metallic glint of the sea unrolling beside us. It was soothing after the forest, and also meant we only had to keep watch on one side, with a clear stretch to the treeline.

  It was easier to chart the distances with a view of the curving coast. The slow count to a hundred became effortless and my mind wandered, sometimes to Da, mostly to Cata and Lupe. T
he beach was silver in the sunlight, and the horses’ hooves skittered as they grew used to the change in surface.

  Out on the horizon, storms flashed over the sea, so distant we could not hear the rumble of thunder, only see the rolling clouds and the flashes of light forking up. I thought of the storm that carried off Great-Great-Grand-father Riosse’s boat, and wondered if he had been so far out into that wild sea.

  The ocean here seemed different, though really it was all connected and part of the same body of water. It was cartographers like Da who parcelled it up on paper and named it, to make it easier for explorers and traders to mark it as their territory. Just as the Governor had marked Joya.

  Governor Adori brought us to a halt about a quarter of a mile away from where the map showed the village of Gris to be.

  ‘All right, men, be on your guard. Marquez, you come up front with me.’

  Marquez rode up the formation, hissing as he passed, ‘Stay out of the way.’

  ‘We advance slowly, then charge,’ continued Governor Adori. ‘So if we encounter anyone – anyone other than my daughter – we put them on the defensive, make them flee. Stay on your horses until I give the order. If you are separated from the group, follow this ridge back and wait at the river. Understood?’

  The men nodded. Pablo’s face was grim, his hand tensed around his small knife. The Governor motioned for us to continue. I squeezed my heels. The mare blew out through her nostrils and moved forward.

  The horses began to trot. Ahead, a wall broken by an arch marked the village boundary. Governor Adori kicked his spurs into his horse’s sides. I heard the unmistakable crack of Marquez’s whip on the flank of his stallion.

  I flicked the reins and leant up out of the saddle like Pablo said to. The horses broke into a gallop, and as the men yelled I felt my blood rushing through me. We pounded through the arch, the yell dying in my throat when I saw what lay beyond.

  The village was gone.

  Only the crumbling fragments of mud walls and cracked streets remained. In a doorway was a sun-bleached skeleton, an adult’s, arm and hand outstretched towards a smaller formation of bones. My own arms felt leaden as I tried to will the bones into something else. A shadow fell across my neck but there was no one behind except Pablo.

  The Governor jerked his horse to a stop and dismounted in one fluid movement. The village had been razed, and at a glance it was obvious we were alone. The sea murmured beyond the houses, the blue of the men’s tunics the only colour nearby. Bones and clay snapped under boots and hooves, but I was careful not to tread on anything.

  Together we led the horses to what was once a village square much like Gromera’s. As we reached the centre, a voice rang out.

  ‘Stop!’

  We spun towards Pablo, still mounted on his horse.

  He pointed at the ground. ‘Look.’

  We followed his gaze. Under our feet ran a thick black line. I glanced around and saw another line intersecting it where the Governor stood, forming an X that divided the square. Scattered over the cross were white seeds.

  I reeled back as I realized that it was dried blood that marked the X. The men shouted and ran from the cross, pulling their horses with them and scuffing the dust from their feet. But that was not the worst of it. Those pale objects were not seeds at all.

  They were teeth.

  The Governor stepped forward and picked one up, laying it on his gloved palm to examine it. A hush descended.

  Pablo dismounted and stood beside me, so close I could smell a faint trace of the lavender Masha washed their clothes with. I looked skywards into the unrelenting grey, waiting for Governor Adori to speak.

  Finally he said, ‘These are not human. At least, not like any human teeth I’ve ever seen.’

  He held out his hand and Marquez strode over. Both men regarded the tooth, and Marquez took it and nodded.

  ‘Heavy, too,’ he agreed.

  The tooth was passed around the others. Not wanting to take it in my bare hand, I looked at it lying in Jorge’s palm. It was shaped like a dog’s tooth, only sharper, the serrations deep and irregular. The root was blackened, as if the gum were diseased. I swallowed and looked away.

  ‘What happened here?’ Marquez spoke almost to himself.

  I looked around. Judging by the rubble and the bones, the village and its inhabitants had been destroyed years ago. But was it possible the cross could lay undisturbed all that time? The ravens that flooded Gromera’s streets would surely have scavenged here.

  Something clicked into place. Scanning what was left of the roofs, and the far-off forest, I realized I hadn’t seen a single raven since entering the Forgotten Territories. No animals at all – not the wolves that had once stalked the forests like a plague, and no sign of the deer or boar Da said used to be abundant on the island. Like the songbirds, the ravens had gone.

  ‘Pablo—’ I turned just as something far behind him moved. I focused on the spot, hoping it had been a trick of shadow. But it moved again, towards the horses now. Low to the ground, almost as dark as the cliffs behind it, moving with a slow, rolling gait.

  Fear flashed through me, and my feet were released as if cut from a rope.

  ‘Over there!’

  The Governor’s men reacted fast, standing back-to-back at the centre of the X, forming a circle with each man facing outwards, holding his weapon ready. There was a moment when nothing moved. Then they flooded from the forest.

  We were suddenly surrounded, my vision blocked by broken walls and shadows.

  ‘Protect the Governor!’ Marquez yelled.

  I thrust a hand inside the satchel and gripped the handle of Da’s weapon. I let the bag drop to the ground as I pulled out the blade.

  It was not a moment too soon. I caught only a glimpse of a dark grey body before being thrown backwards. I slashed the air.

  All around was noise. The Governor was barking out orders, the chickens emitting high-pitched clucks from the cages lashed to the cook’s saddle. The horses were baying and through the white edges of panic I saw the flash of their eyes rolling back.

  My elbows and knees were pinned down, nails gouging into my neck. I tried to roll, to get free, but my assailant held on. Pain sang across my scalp as my head was pressed into the nubs of teeth beneath me.

  My name was shouted from somewhere behind me – not Gabo’s name, but my own – and in the next moment the creature was barrelled off as Pablo threw it aside. He held a shattered door in his hands, and swung at a shadowy blur attacking Marquez.

  Another creature leapt on me, wrapping its tail – or a vine – around my neck. I twisted, swinging the blade wildly. I tore at the claws – no, the hand – that was pulling the vine tighter and my scrabbling fingers caught on another vine, or string, around my attacker’s wrist. As it broke I brought the blade up.

  There was an awful feeling of the blade catching, then tearing. The pressure on my chest suddenly vanished. I tasted blood in my mouth, but it was not mine.

  I sat up, ready to leap to my feet, but instead saw a thin trail of dark red leading away across the square. Pablo was doubled up and panting nearby. The Governor wiped his blade in the dust. Marquez’s other eye was swelling, his clothes ripped to shreds.

  The ambush was over as quickly as it had begun. The ringing in my ears faded slowly, the locket pressing hard against my chest.

  ‘Any losses, Marquez?’ said Governor Adori.

  ‘All accounted for, Governor.’

  The cook was standing by the snapped tether of his vanished horse, saying fast and loud, ‘My chickens. My chickens. My chickens.’

  I spun around, heart sinking. The bay mare was gone, Miss La’s cage nowhere to be seen.

  ‘What were they?’ said Marquez, spitting on to the dust. ‘The Banished?’

  The Governor looked around the village, casting about for clues. ‘Can we be sure they were men, not animals?’

  ‘They came at us so fast,’ Cook said, eyes wide.

  ‘They had
the upper hand,’ mused Governor Adori. ‘Why did they retreat?’

  Pablo held out his hand and as I reached up something dropped from my fist. I looked down, and felt the air leave my lungs.

  ‘Isabella?’ said Pablo softly, but I would not, could not, look at him. I was staring at what was lying on the dusty ground strewn with blood and teeth. A lump the size of the locket rose in my throat.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Pablo. He crouched down and picked it up.

  On his broad palm lay a thin bracelet, its ends ragged where I had pulled it free. Twisted in with the threads was a single shimmering line of gold.

  ‘It’s Lupe’s.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Lupe’s,’ I repeated. ‘I made it for her birthday.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ croaked Pablo.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, forcing my eyes to meet his. ‘I made it. I tied it on her wrist.’

  ‘How did you get it?’

  A vine around my neck, my own nails scratching to get free.

  ‘Runts. We need to get moving,’ said Marquez, crossing to us.

  The others had already untied the rest of the horses. One more was missing aside from mine and Cook’s.

  ‘Gabo found something,’ said Pablo.

  ‘What is it?’ said Marquez.

  I tried to stop my voice shaking. ‘The bracelet.’

  Marquez looked down. ‘This?’

  He pushed it off Pablo’s palm and scuffed the string into the dust with his boot.

  ‘Don’t!’ I cried. ‘It’s Lupe’s!’

  ‘Lupe’s?’ The Governor’s voice carried across the square. Even the sea, cresting out of sight beyond the broken homes, seemed to fall silent.

  ‘This scrap,’ said Marquez, kicking the bracelet towards Governor Adori. ‘The boy seems to think it belongs to your daughter.’

  The Governor did not speak for a long moment. He crouched down beside the bracelet. I could hear him breathing. His head bowed, he gently ran his finger along the length of string, its gold thread glinting. ‘It does?’

  ‘Sir?’ said Marquez.

  ‘How are you sure it is hers?’ The Governor glanced sharply at me.

  ‘I – my sister made it for her.’