Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (34 page)

The moment she stepped into the sand, she caught sight of the great black form of Niono, there in the distance. He stood just before the cove, outside the circle of rocks, beckoning her forth. She could hear his call.

Swiftly she traversed the beach; but she decreased her speed, as she came upon the cove, and leapt over the white rocks. She fell into a soft trot, as she approached the place where Niono stood. He had positioned himself, now, beside a long black jetty that stretched before the cove. Nessa could see Cassie, there in his arms. She was bound securely; had the use of neither her arms nor her legs; and could only writhe there against her captor, as he spirited her away towards the jetty.

But Nessa saw his aim. She sped after him, desperate to gain him before he had gone much farther; but he managed to make it some hundred yards out onto the jetty, before she reached him.

The rocks were slippery with algae, and wet with the crashing of the waves. Even Nessa’s sure feet slid across them, risking her falling down into the merciless sea, which slammed with such anger and passion against the jetty. She swallowed thickly, as a foot slipped down into a crevice, and the ankle twisted; but she jerked it free without pause, and went on just as assiduously as before.

She stopped some feet from Niono, as he lifted Cassie up into the air, and held her tauntingly out over the wild water. “Come no closer,” he cried. “I will cast her out!”

Now, Nessa knew very well that he would do this, no matter what her own conduct proved to be. He had come all this way, to do just that; and he would in no way be dissuaded from the immolation of Cassie, in what he had come to view as an integral piece of his father’s vendetta. So she watched very carefully his movements, looking for the point upon which his arm would extend, so as to throw Cassie out over the jetty. Then she would rush him, just as quickly as she could, in an attempt to fetch Cassie from the very air; for she knew that she could never manage to loosen his hold upon her.

But she was distracted, as she looked then into Cassie’s face. It was filled with more fear than her heart could bear. Yet she could not cry out, for Niono had fixed her mouth with a gag. She looked directly, though, into Nessa’s eyes; and it was this that rendered Nessa, for a moment, unable to move.

She was caught off guard, as Cassie was loosed from Niono’s grip. She began to soar through the air; and though Nessa hurtled towards her with a speed unmatched, she could not catch hold of her, before she fell down into the water.

Though Cassie had not the use of any of her limbs, she fell at first in a fortunate spot, which allowed her to huddle up against a hollow place in the jetty. She grasped with her fingers, and kicked out with her feet, so that she was temporarily stabilised upon the rock; but then came a series of especially fierce waves, and though she withstood their buffeting for a little, she was finally cast out from her place of safety. Her head was immediately dashed down below the waves; and though she rose several times, there above the water, her time spent without breath was too much.

Nessa would have dived directly after her; but there came against her, as she prepared to spring, a heavy blow from Niono. She was felled, and lost sight of Cassie.

She had struck her head against the rock. Her vision blurred, and all objects before her doubled, then trebled. It seemed that Niono came at her from several different directions, all at once, and she could not pinpoint the correct one. Neither did the waves do her any service, as they fell heavily against her. She therefore suffered another series of blows, under Niono’s great paws, as she tried to recollect her strength, and her sight.

As he made to dash her head against the rocks, she managed to slip out from beneath his arm, and rounded upon him before he could turn. She sprang towards him, and clung to his back, as he tried to shake her off. She was attempting to reach his throat; but she could not seem to manage it.

Unsurprisingly, a vicious shudder tossed her off, and she fell again to the rocks. She could feel a sharp edge, piercing her side. When she looked down, she saw the dark rock stained with her blood, that washed away a little with each passing wave.

“Will you give it over, Endalin?” hollered Niono, raising his voice up over the din that surrounded them. “Have you had enough?”

Nessa made him no answer, but only flew forth at him again. Her anger was so great, and her strength of the moment so impressive, that she succeeded in knocking him over; and then down, off of the jetty, into the sea.

But he had his arms wrapped round her neck, and she fell down alongside him. He tried to hold her head under, as he maintained his position above the water. She could feel the blood gushing from her wound, and her strength ebbing slowly away. Yet she made the most of her advantageous situation there below Niono – and nipped upwards, as he took his hands from her, to right himself after tumbling behind a vicious wave. She tore his very throat away. His hands came after her no more, for he was occupied with the stanching of his wound. But there was no saving himself. There was a hole in his neck, nearly as large as his own balled fist; and the blood fell down all that much quicker, with the help of the rushing waves.

Nessa waited, till she saw his head dip below the surface. He did not return.

And so she shook herself, and made with all possible alacrity towards the jetty. They had fallen off the wrong side, and now she was forced to mount it once more, so as to gain the opposite ledge.

She stood for a moment on the jetty, searching the surface of the water for signs of Cassie. But there were none to be seen.

She wasted no more time, and dove back down into the water. The salt burnt her eyes, as she sought madly a glimpse of Cassie; and she had no choice but to swim upwards again, for a short breath of air.

Yet her luck proved better than she had dared to hope, after this. She stayed near to the jetty, hoping that Cassie would have gained a hold of it somewhere; and indeed she had, though this hold was located some ten yards below the surface of the water, and she was held down helplessly by a cruel current.

When Nessa grabbed onto Cassie, she noted no response from her. Her eyes were closed, though her hands were frozen into the fists that had kept her from washing out to sea. She made no move, as Nessa locked her teeth onto her collar, and swept her up above the waves. Yet Nessa could not tell, in their turbulent position, whether or not she breathed.

There was now an almost unbearable pain at her side. The blood flowed more freely, escaping her only to join with the rushing of the sea. She merely prayed that she could keep alive, till she gained the jetty with Cassie.

Unable as she was, in her weakened condition, to toss Cassie out of the water, she needed hang her up as best she could upon a jutting piece of rock, as she pulled herself onto the jetty. She had hardly the ability, once she had, to snatch Cassie up, as well – but somehow she accomplished the feat.

She afterwards changed her shape, and cried out sharply, with the pain of her wound. But she clenched her teeth, and turned her mind from it, as she lowered her head to listen for Cassie’s breath.

She could hear none. So she pushed with great strength (quite all she had left) against Cassie’s chest, and then breathed long and hard into her mouth. She kept this up what seemed a very long time, growing more hopeless by the second – but finally was granted the wonderful sound of spluttering, and the beautiful sight of Cassie’s eyes fluttering open.

Nessa looked for the briefest instant into her face, and managed the very smallest smile, before falling down upon the jetty. Her sight grew once more distorted, and blurred; and she enjoyed only a glimpse of what she thought was Cassie’s face, bending over her own, before blackness reigned.

Chapter XLII:

The Battle-Front

T
o turn aside at such a moment is admittedly cruel; but there must be given an account of events taking place in the swamp, even while Nessa still fought with Niono upon the wave-swept jetty.

Following behind Morachi, the small army of Mindren flew through the night, scarcely visible under cover of shadow, though they took not much care at all to conceal themselves, sticking rather to the main highways which would carry them most quickly to the marsh. The stink of it came upon them, long before did the sight of it; and they trailed the stench with little doubt of their path, just as Nessa had.

But the Voranu were waiting. They had done many minutes ago with the binding of Arol’s party, and were now gathered round an open, blazing fire in the centre of their encampment, fearful nothing at all of the Endalin King’s approach. They were not wholly certain that he did in fact approach; but they stood solemn, and wholly prepared; and they took no measures at all to hide themselves from the sight of the wolves that may have been coming. They believed that somehow Qiello would arrive ahead of them, luring them to the fight, and strengthening his people for victory.

The encampment held, in that hour, what with the combination of the runaways of Curu-ga and the clan of Qiello, well-nigh two-hundred-and-fifty wolves. Xersha stood at the middle of the congregation, talking quietly with the sons of Qiello. Arol’s paltry forces, as we said, were bound fast, with Arol, Arog and Kolag positioned directly beside the fire, at Xersha’s feet.

But it had eluded the notice of none present, that a single member of the captive company had managed to slip through their clutches. Upon appraisal of those prisoners whom they did have in possession, and a bit of rough questioning with those females who seemed most likely to break, they discovered the identity of the escapist to be that of Arol’s Endalin son, Aramort.

But upon this great party, anyway, marched a force of merely five-and-seventy. Of an available resource of nearly two hundred, surely this was a pathetic outcome; but there could be nothing for it at present. Racing towards the swamp were those whose hearts were inclined to fight, and such an inclination cannot be bred by mere begging and tears. Therefore the remainder of Mindren lay silent, then, brooding darkly and silently over their own candles, in their separate chambers.

The Endai entered warily into the first trees of the swamp, breaking out of file and into a winged formation, so as not to be surprised by any creeping foe. As we know already, however, none did creep; but rather, waited patiently for their enemy to draw nearer to themselves.

Yet Morachi signalled careful commands to his people, as he moved stealthily along through the soft ground and underbrush. Of course he saw nothing at all, and heard nothing at all, save for the hides and breaths of his comrades, the former glinting occasionally in a spare ray of moonlight; the latter breaking sometimes through the silence, uncontrollable in their owners’ anxiety. 

They stole along outside the extreme boundaries of the camp, when finally they sighted their targets. Here they crouched in formation – but one of them wandered restless behind all the others, searching every bit of ground for trace of the scent he sought. What seemed hints of it began to draw him away from his pack; and he needed be pulled back several times, to keep from roaming out of the circle of protection. Yet he heeded these warnings little, and only continued to ramble; so that eventually, preoccupied as all the others were with deciding action, he broke entirely away; and none noticed.

He followed his trail full around the encampment, and so impressive were his endeavours in furtive travel, that not an ear or a nose of the Voranu gained knowledge of his passing.

By the time his pack discovered his absence, he was nearly four miles away from them, following quickly along his winding and uncertain trail.

~

What can be said of battle? As the fighting had commenced between Arol and the swamp-gathered Voranu, so did it begin between the latter, and the people of Morachi.

The Endai still were huddled together, and watching the Voranu closely, when there came the first sign that the objects of their observation were becoming privy to their presence. They began to turn, one by one, in the direction where the Endai lay hidden. Still Qiello had not arrived; and his people seemed to understand, that now he would not come. Yet Xersha, Onelen and Tilego marched to the front of the ranks, and grinned hideously upon their enemies.

“What do you do there, Morachi?” called Xersha. “Why do you hide there, like a frightened pup? Have you no more courage than that?”

“Come forth!” cried Onelen. “Our father is not here to witness the fulfillment of his greatest wish – but we shall carry it out nonetheless.”

“Where is our father, Morachi?” asked Tilego. “Did you slay him?”

Morachi changed his shape momentarily, so that he might speak. He said nothing of Qiello, but asked merely: “Where is Nessa? Give her to us, and avoid battle.”

“You shall not have her now,” Onelen replied. “Come, if you will!”

There went up, then, a fierce battle-cry from all the Voranu behind. The Endai swarmed into position; and the battle was thus begun.

~

Presently, however, the paltry host of Arol lay trapped in their strong bindings, listening helplessly to all that took place outside the heap into which they had been thrown.

It has been said already that Aramort did manage to escape the vigilant violence of Xersha’s followers. He afterwards roamed the bounds of the swamp, out of the danger of his being detected, and bided his time. But now, at the sound of the initiation of battle, he snuck forth, all the way to the place where his father’s host lay bound.

“Aramort!” Arol whispered, as he caught sight of his son’s approach. “Come, my boy! Let me loose!”

Aramort obeyed promptly; and then helped his father to free all of the others.

“The Endai have come,” said Arol, cocking his head to one side.

“What shall we do, Father?”

“Much would I like to set upon the Endai, and rip out just as many of their throats as I could manage – but I refuse to fight alongside the traitors of our house. Let them be killed; I care nothing for them.”

Aramort waited patiently for further instructions.

“Let us, instead, use this unexpected time given us, to its greatest effect,” continued Arol. “Never before have we had the chance to bear down upon Mindren; but surely the feat is not so great now, with so many warriors gone. Let us send scouts there, to see what they can find. You and I will remain behind, and watch what becomes of the fight.”

Arol grinned; but Aramort only swallowed thickly, and obtained rather a sick expression in his countenance. But his father did not notice. He only took him by the shoulder, and signalled to the small host behind; who then set off through the thick of the marsh, with the war-sounds raging on their right-hand.

~

The fighting had gone on long, and with no real gain to be found in the victory of either side. The Voranu were many, and stronger; but the Endai were determined in their purpose, and moved with infinitely more precision and grace, so that their aim almost never failed.

There is not a great deal to be said for the tediousness of such a ghastly occupation. Therefore we skip to the first visible change, the first obvious movement from bloody mediocrity. Here, a shadow passed over the moon, throwing the swamp into darkness. Blackness reigned for some long moments, shading the eyes of the combatants, and staying the power of their blows.

But, on return of the light, it seemed that the tide of the battle began to shift. It was almost as if this new radiance was infused with some sort of helpful endowment, given by the sky above, somewhere in the midst of which stood their – and our – mighty Creator, to the rightful victors. The Endai began felling the Ziruk with great speed. A host led by Dahro fell back, while that of Morachi pushed forth. The latter stamped down a path through the sea of Ziruk; and, just when it seemed that they were in danger of being swallowed by an approaching wave, Dahro’s force fell forward, felling an even greater number of their opponents.

Upon appraisal of the situation, it seemed that the sides had been nearly equalled, with far fewer of the Endai having fallen. The light of the moon seemed now to increase, illumining the entire, tree-strewn battlefield with pure white light. The blood shone silver in its cold bath; and the scene was lit up brightly, while the Endai trod down the last of the Ziruk. Several of their stronger members (Xersha and Onelen, for two; though Tilego had been slain some time before) could be heard moaning upon the ground; but the Endai here delivered the last, merciful death-blows.

Perhaps this seems not enough, when contrasted with the anxiety and vigour in the breasts of the Voranu, engendered by the prospect of slaying their foes? Perhaps. Perhaps it does not seem a likely end, that the Endai should have conquered? Perhaps. But every tale has its end; and in the end it came to pass, that the Endai did conquer.

This particular end had no room, either, for those which may not have been so very vile, or so very hateful, of the children of Qiello. Haply there were even some of
Arol’s brood (that died of Xersha’s pack), whose hearts were not so very dark as we would like to think them. But it is no matter now, for every heart – dark or no – lay still now upon the misty marsh, never to beat again.

Yet we must, once again, turn aside – for the first and foremost thread of our story is yet to be followed. We leave lying the dead of the Voranu, and the dead of the Endai – and return to the Bellman’s Cove.