by Ian Whates
Kat's right hand slipped, losing its hold on the whip. In desperation she tried to adjust her grip by reaching higher, only for her fingers to close on nothing at all. The horror of that barely had time to register before her left hand's hold failed completely. With no time to react in any way, she was falling. This was no mere drop from a first floor window, she was far higher, fatally so. Her arms were flailing, body tumbling, the brickwork of the conveyor flashing past with sickening speed.
Seemingly from nowhere a dark shape appeared. The Soul Thief, come to claim her life force as it had the rest of her family. Too fast. She barely had time to register its presence before the thing was upon her. Kat felt the juddering force of impact flare through every part of her body. Her last memory was of all-consuming pain.
SEVENTEEN
Above the village there was a definite trail, which came as a relief to Tom, who'd had visions of their having to clamber up the side of a mountain without any form of reference. Thankfully, the going would be a little easier than that, at least initially. Although they were yet too early for the pilgrim season to have started in earnest, this was a well-travelled path, which provided the pair with perfect camouflage. Nobody stopped to question what two such young people were doing abroad in the world alone when they took a room at a moderatelypriced inn the previous evening; pilgrims came in all ages and sizes it would seem. In a sense, therefore, the goddess was indeed protecting them, from the curious if nothing else. Tom thought better of sharing this private observation with Mildra.
Before setting out that morning, they did a little shopping. Heeding Leon's advice, they ignored the various forms of bric-a-brac that Pellinum seemed to offer in abundance, but did acquire some warmer clothing, having lost theirs when the horse bolted during the Rust Warrior's attack.
The pair headed into far starker and more rugged countryside, which made it all the more strange to be leaving the Jeeraiy behind. They stopped a few times during that initial climb to gaze back upon the rooftops of Pellinum and watch the sunlight glinting off the waters of the Jeeraiy beyond. It was only then that Tom realised how busy a port this was. There were boats of various types and sizes in the waters around the town, some of which were clearly fishing while others looked to be ferrying either cargo or passengers, but none were as quirky or beautiful as the Mud Skipper, which was nowhere to be seen having left the previous evening.
Their course brought them close to the crown of the waterfalls they'd watched from the deck of the boat. For long moments they stood on a rocky knoll, awed by the power and the majesty of the plunging torrents that fed the watery plains below them; as the mist-like fret from the falls dappled their cheeks and dusted their clothes with glistening droplets. Tom was delighted he was able to gaze down on any of this at all without vertigo overcoming him. Whatever measures the prime master had taken to remove his fear of heights were holding up admirably.
Mildra seemed mesmerised by the falls. Tom had a feeling she would have happily stayed there all day. Eventually, after he'd tugged gently at her arm, they moved on, climbing a little above the course of the Thair, which had carved a canyon into the rock. They walked now beside a broad ribbon of surging white water, bursting with energy and violence, a raging torrent, whose growling voice was their constant companion. This seemed utterly different from the deep dark giant of a river that had carried them in the early stages of their venture, or from the vast, placid expanse of the Jeeraiy flood plain that the river would soon become, which made it hard to accept that the same water comprised all three.
For the first time since the earliest days of their journey, Tom's legs began to ache, particularly the backs of his thighs, which made him think that the effort of walking uphill must place different demands on the muscles; wonderful news.
By late morning the terrain had levelled out and the Thair had calmed a little – the roar of white water replaced by an altogether more soothing murmur. They came to a lagoon, a spur leading off from the river's course which may have been a natural feature with later human embellishments or could have been entirely man-made, Tom wasn't sure. All he did know was that decorative paving stones bordered the pool around its entire perimeter, providing the lagoon with an unnaturally smooth edge, and that directly opposite the inlet stood a building which simply had to be a Thaissian temple; subtly different in many ways to those he was used to seeing in the City Below, but similar enough that he instantly recognised the general type. As did Mildra, who gave a delighted cry and hurried forward. The path led them around the lagoon directly past the front of the temple. Tom's respect and affection for the Thaistess had grown throughout their journey, but he still felt no inclination to embrace her beliefs, so rather than joining her inside he sat and waited on the temple steps, studying the water. The surface of the lagoon rippled with half-glimpsed life, as scaly forms entwined and slid past one another in some silent ballet. The waters of the pool seemed to be alive with them, and dark fins frequently cut through to momentarily invade the air before disappearing beneath the surface once more. Tom became absorbed in watching the fish, trying to predict when one would next break the surface, and completely lost track of time.
"Thaasiel," Mildra murmured as she came to stand beside him. She sounded almost in awe. "They're holy fish, the water avatars of the goddess," she explained. "They're the same fish we keep in the temple pools back home, though I've never seen them this big or in such numbers."
Tom stood up and the two of them continued around the lagoon. A girl, swathed in a white shawl, stepped out from the temple and walked daintily down to stand close to where he had been sitting, She commenced to cast a large fistful of something, perhaps nuggets of bread, onto the water. The white pellets soared out, peppering the surface in a broad arc, and wherever they landed the water broiled with scaled forms. The girl was already taking out a second handful from a bowl clasped one-handed to her stomach. After scattering these, she looked across and smiled. Her dark face was narrow and far from pretty, but there was a serene quality about her features and the smile lent them added grace. Mildra raised an arm and waved to her. She took the trouble to pause in the ritual feeding and wave back. No words were spoken, as if such coarse human utterances would spoil the moment.
There was a spring to Mildra's step as they walked away from the lagoon, which lightened Tom's heart far more than the sight of the temple or its fish. She hadn't been quite herself since the raid on the village, lapsing into bouts of sullen silence which he didn't know how to respond to.
As they continued, the landscape around them opened up, the slopes on either side growing gentler and greener, though the path itself was covered in loose shale that had the promise of grazed knees written all over it.
Directly ahead of them rose a particularly verdant slope which seemed oddly marked. At first Tom failed to make sense of what he was seeing, but as they drew closer it became clear. Tier upon tier of low walls decorated the hillside, reminding Tom of his home, the City of a Hundred Rows, except that here the rows were used to separate crops rather than people, partitioning the mountainside into a series of staggered fields.
The green shoots of crops could be seen crowding the gaps between the stark paleness of the dividing walls, and here and there people were also in evidence; small pale motes moving among the green, presumably tending the plants. From this distance they looked a little like cavern ants, scurrying around the walls of chewed up rock and earth from which those busy insects built their nest mounds. Comparing these industrious people to such mindless, instinct-driven creatures seemed hardly fair, but he couldn't fully dismiss the image.
Mildra seemed to delight in everything they encountered, maintaining the smile and carefree demeanour she'd rediscovered at the temple, which prompted Tom to comment, "You look happy."
"I am," she replied. "I am."
With that she laughed and danced ahead of him. He hurried to catch up, breaking into a run, his own spirits lifted merely at seeing her like this. Tom was
still coming to terms with the wonder of life; the paradoxical way he could feel so cheerful, giddy even, within a few short days of losing first a newfound friend and then a vital companion. The City Below taught pragmatism but offered little by way of this sort of release. In all manner of ways, the world was proving to be a far bigger place than he had ever imagined.
Much to Tom's frustration they left the cultivated slopes with their neat walls and crops behind without meeting any of the people who were so busy tending them. He had been tempted to dally, to climb up to wherever these people dwelt and learn exactly what was grown with such care in those precarious terraces and how the people farming them lived, but Mildra was keen to press on while the light and good weather held. The clear skies of earlier had disappeared as the day progressed and it was a while since they'd seen the sun, which lay hidden behind heavy clouds. The darker the clouds, the more anxious the Thaistess became, her earlier bright mood evaporating. With the sun's disappearance and the higher altitude, temperatures plummeted, and the pair stopped to unpack some of the thicker clothing they'd bought that morning. By late afternoon Mildra's fears were realised and the first drops of rain started to fall.
Never having seen rain before, Tom thought this was wonderful, holding his face up to feel the heavy drops splatter against his cheeks and forehead. Mildra seemed less impressed.
"You won't be so cheerful when your clothes are sodden through and everything's damp and cold," she assured him.
At her urging they searched for somewhere to shelter, settling on a small cave – little more than a hollow in the rock beneath an overhang, really, but enough to keep them dry. By now the rain had started to fall more heavily and Tom's fascination with the stuff had rapidly faded.
They huddled together for warmth, glad to be under cover as the rain lashed the mountainside in pitiless torrents. Tom was astonished at the ferocity, never having imagined that the sky could hurl down so much water with such vehemence. The path they'd been following now resembled a stream rather than anywhere a person could hope to walk along. The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, but by then darkness had already fallen and they decided to stay where they were until morning, which suited Tom just fine. When they first cuddled, Tom felt awkward, not knowing where to rest his hand. Then, once that hand found a comfortable position somewhere around her stomach, he'd tried hard not to move his fingers, afraid that Mildra might read intent into any slight flexing or involuntary twitch. It took a while for him to relax, but eventually he fell asleep with the warm presence of Mildra's body resting against his side and the smell of her rain-damp hair in his nostrils.
Come morning, everything seemed fresh and new in the wake of the previous day's rain. The clouds had withdrawn and they both felt cheered by the sun's return. It was hard to believe that anything could possibly be wrong in such a bright and beautiful world; apart from the slight crick in Tom's neck where he'd slept awkwardly.
A single great bird soared above them as they set out, splayed wings and strange tail held motionless, giving the impression that its flight required no effort at all. The tail was shaped like the blade of an oar, broad and rounded. An eagle, or so Tom assumed. Despite being high up, the bird was obviously huge, reminding Tom of the Kite Guard who had caught him in Thaiburley's Residences. That made him think of his ill-judged attempt to escape the razzer's clutches which led to his toppling over the wall; the horror of that sickening fall past Row after Row of the city's walls. Not his most distinguished moment, he had to admit.
"Are you all right?" Mildra asked from beside him.
"Yes," He smiled. "I'm fine."
The bird disappeared behind a craggy peak and they walked on, having to press close to the rock face as they walked beneath a waterfall – a cascade that produced a brief curtain of shifting obscurity as the waters tumbled into the Thair. They'd walked for perhaps half the day when a bird far smaller than the eagle caught Mildra's attention; a songbird, all black and yellow stripes with a red flash above each eye. The bird alighted for a second in one of the stunted, thorny trees that bordered the path at this point, trilled a few sweet notes and then took off again, to land in another tree a little higher up.
Mildra impulsively set off in pursuit, leaving the path to clamber over the moss-stained rocks. Despite her urging him to follow, Tom hesitated, strangely reluctant to leave the path. Then, with a shake of his head and a sense that, of the two of them, he was probably supposed to be the reckless one, he went after her. Tom didn't see the bird again though presumably Mildra did, because she kept climbing, and Tom followed.
There was no real path here, and the footing seemed treacherous enough to demand concentration. Tom was therefore taken completely unawares as he crested a rise and came to stand where Mildra had stopped. He could hardly believe the view that opened up before him. For long seconds the two of them stood in silence and simply stared.
They stood at the edge of a high meadow bursting with colour; a vast open area completely carpeted in flowers.
Nearest them were large and small blooms, pinks and purples predominant, though there were broad swathes of red as well, and here and there a splash of yellow, as if some exuberant artist had been let loose with a palette of vibrant colours and allowed to toss them freely in every direction.
"To think we nearly walked right past this without even knowing it was here," Mildra said quietly.
Tom could only nod. He'd never seen anything so bright, so vivid, so joyful, and on top of all this visual wonder there was the intoxicating scent. The air seemed saturated with sweet perfumes which made him want to sing and dance and laugh for sheer joy.
Whereas he merely felt such urges, Mildra acted on them. One moment she was beside him, the next she was ahead once more, arms outstretched like wings, skipping among the flowers, her laughter ringing out over the meadow.
Watching her, Tom felt a grin spread across his face. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, this unburdened. He ran after her. Then something caught his eye which brought him up short. Off-white and regular, bones poked out from a matt of foliage. He bent down and tugged away creepers and vines and small white flowers, to reveal part of the ribcage from what had been a reasonably large animal of some sort.
"Sad," said Mildra who had come back on seeing him stop. "But all things pass, Tom, and if you had the choice and knew your time was near, wouldn't you come here at the end? What more beautiful place could there be to say goodbye to the world."
Nor could he argue. He stood straight again, gazing at the sheer beauty around him, and noticed something new. A multitude of broad-winged insects fluttered between the flowers on quick-beating wings, many of them white, but just as many bore colours enough to challenge the rainbow. The effect was mesmerising.
"Butterflies!" Mildra exclaimed, evidently following his gaze. She laughed and turned to him again. "Aren't they wonderful, Tom?"
And they were, skimming across the meadow, flitting from flower to flower and at times rising in swirling spirals of dancing colour above the pink and purple blooms. One landed on his wrist – red and blue wings, each of which seemed to be daubed with a staring eye. It took off again almost at once, but he delighted in the featherlight tickle of the insect's touch. Others were less welcome, and he swatted at his neck where something had just bitten him.
Mildra was off again, leaping and skipping across the meadow. "Come on, Tom, keep up."
And his feet responded, carrying him after her, while the laughter bubbled forth – an upwelling of joy from somewhere deep inside him. Ahead, Mildra had stopped, to spin on the spot with her arms outstretched and head thrown back, face to the sky. After two such stationary circles she dropped backwards, falling onto a cushion of flowers and grasses. Tom had reached her by then, to fling himself down beside her.
They were both laughing, and the scent of the meadow engulfed him. He stared down at Mildra, and she had never looked more wonderful. Even among all this beauty, hers outshone the
rest, and he didn't want to look anywhere else. Without consciously meaning to, he leant forward. She made no effort to turn away, so that her lips were there to meet his. He felt the tip of her tongue dance across his as the kiss progressed, and her hand reached up to stroke the back of his head, his neck. A shiver coursed through his body and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.
A tiny part of Tom's mind remained detached enough to be amazed; he never imagined that his first real kiss would be with a Thaistess. Then even that analytical corner of thought was subsumed by the swell of passion, as her kiss grew more urgent and her hands started to clasp and pull at his clothing. His own hands found the soft mounds of her breasts beneath her shirt, marvelling at how hot and firm yet yielding they were, and he was suddenly desperate to touch and squeeze them unhindered. He tugged at her top, almost tearing it in his haste, dragging the garment upward until the dark peaks of her nipples lay exposed, the shirt compressed to a thick collar of rumpled material caught beneath her arms. He would have abandoned all thought of clothing there but she sat up and was helping him, grasping the hem of the top and drawing it onward over her head, to leave her naked from the waist up.