The Reef (10 page)

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Authors: Mark Charan Newton

BOOK: The Reef
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This particular title, she discovers, is on marine ecology. There are wide diagrams of oceans, cross sections of animals that make far more interesting shapes, she thinks, than the animals themselves. Pencil notes decorated the vacant spaces to the sides, much of it incomprehensible.

‘Enjoying it, Jella?’ he asks.

‘Dad, surely if there isn’t much fish of one sort in the sea, won’t it die if people keep fishing it to eat?’ She looks up from the book and kicks her legs.

‘Yes, yes it will.’ He face is the picture of satisfaction.

‘Why don’t they stop?’

Her father shrugs. ‘It’s not for us to say. We can believe something on this inside, on our own, but unless everyone pulls together, things don’t change.’ Then, ‘You know, you’re a very bright young girl.’

‘I thought my skin was dark though. How can I be bright if I’m dark skinned?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t mean literally.’

‘Okay. I like this. The words are too long in places though. And it’s like they don’t want normal people to understand some of it.’

‘Lots of books are like that,’ he says. ‘So, you going to be my pupil, then?’

‘You bet,’ she says. She puts the book down, squirms into her father’s neck, puts her arms as far around him as they will go. And just as the girl lifts her head to see his face–

–Jella woke up thirsty. Lula’s head was rubbing against her shoulder. She sat up in her tent, the canvass door open and flapping. It was dark outside. Allocen was by the fire, and somewhere she could hear the men snoring. She lay down again and stared at the roof of the tent. She started to think about the mind, how memories played tricks, how time affected them. She wondered if what had happened in her dreams was true, if dreams recalled true events at all. Jella hadn’t thought about her father in a long time, and this dream brought back some awkward feelings with in her, poking at something that she didn’t want to wake.

She lay awake for some time, listening to the rhythm of her lover’s breath.

Eleven

Lula looked up, saw the walls of a town. She turned to Allocen, could see that he was looking at it too in a calm way that suggested he had known about it’s presence for days. She felt the wind on her neck, pulled a hood up, then nudged Jella who was resting her head on her back. ‘Jella, look.’

Jella regarded the scene.

‘Judra. We’re here then,’ Jella whispered. Aloud, she said, ‘Guys, we’re at Judra now, we can stay here tonight and get some sleep and real food.’ ‘Judra,’ Yayle said.

‘Aye,’ Menz said, nodding. ‘I remember a time years ago, before when Lucher went communal, and we had the army. I spent time here. I wonder if they still fight lizards. It was a beautiful city then.’

‘Really?’ Yayle asked.

‘Yep, oh yeah. Was good, what I remember. But those lizard fights, you should really see’ em.’

Yayle said, ‘Do you think they still do them?’

‘We’ll find out, but Arrahd it was a great place to be a young man.’

Jella nudged her horse towards the wall, the others followed, Allocen at the back. As they approached, Jella noticed just how tall the walls were, estimating them at forty feet, with battlements crowning them. She heard a sharp explosion from the other side of the wall.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Lula asked. She looked at the others, who said nothing. They glanced towards Menz.

‘I think, and that’s only if I remember, that it could be the fiestre,’ he said, with some excitement on his face. This usually dour man had become something of a more younger self.

‘And what the fuck is a fiestre?’ Jella said. She could see a smile on his face, his eyes were bright.

‘Fiestre? It’s a celebration, and that explosion-’

Menz was interrupted by a sharp snapping sound. He jerked his head to see a bright light spark at the top of the wall. They looked up as more appeared and they watched until their necks hurt.

‘Fireworks,’ Menz said. ‘I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight.’

‘Great,’ Yayle said. ‘That’s just what we need when we finally find decent beds.’

It was hot as they stepped out into the main square, despite it still being morning. The sun was making its way over the high stone walls, illuminating the stone centre of Judra. All the rumel and Lula were wearing similar styled long-sleeved shirts and baggy, sand-coloured breeches. They were sweating, squinted as the sun came into view. Gateposts were being put up to close the streets and to hold people back from a track that spiralled around the square, through a shaded, narrow corridor that led up a hill.

Empty firework canisters were being cleared from the street. Small boys walked with baskets full of dark bottles. People were beginning to gather. Everyone in Judra was human. Lula had said casually to Jella , Menz and Yayle that people stared at them and was it because they were rumel. Some of the elderly who walked by travelled in an arc around them, tilting their heads up and down to examine their tails. Lula put her arm on Jella’s waist, as if to say it’s okay, it’s normal, they’re normal, they’re with me.

‘Right,’ Jella said. Let’s just stick together. There’re too many people around. I don’t want us loosing our explosives or create any attention. Just in case we’re still being followed.’

‘We haven’t seen anyone for days,’ Yayle said.

‘Doesn’t mean they’re not out to get us,’ Jella said, regarding the street scene. There was so much activity, so many markets. Carcasses hung in the sun, drenched in flies. Giant paper dolls were being erected. This was a town waiting to enjoy itself.

The only room they could find during the fiestre took them the best part of the day to find. It was in a small tavern overlooking the town square, illuminated constantly with flashes of light. Fireworks coughed smoke and the smell of gunpowder into their room.

Their lodgings were about twelve feet square, with three beds of equal size, a chair and a table by the window. Menz looked outside while the others placed all their belongings in one corner. Jella had instructed them to bring everything in, all the explosives and tools.

‘Be careful with those,’ Jella said as Yayle was heaping the bags. ‘I’m being careful,’ he said. ‘Although I’m not exactly happy sleeping with these things in the room.’ ‘None of us are, but we can’t leave them outside with the horses can we? Just be careful with them. They’re expensive.’

‘I am being careful.’

‘Good.’

Yayle placed the last of the bags on top before he stretched out on one of the beds. Jella and Lula sat together, on the bed that was next to the wall furthest from the window. AlIocen had removed his hood, and although everyone else’s heads were facing away, their vision was never that far from him.

Jella scanned down his face, once again, looking at all those eyes, his skin, which reflected light from the activity down in the square. She glanced over to the old rumel, Menz. He was still looking out of the window and on to the streets, leaning against the wall with one hand.

Around his frame you could see humans spilling out of every corner, wearing garish masks. Fire-crackers coughed, fizzed. Bonfires begun to burn large human-like dolls. Chants echoed around the square. The music invited you to dance and sing in drunken, happy voices.

Jella watched the lights flicker on Menz, as he stood at the window. She thought she could see a smile on his face. ‘Memories, Menz?’ ‘Aye. Like I said, I served a season or two this way, many years ago.’

‘Not all doom and gloom then.’

‘No, not all. Saw too much of that, as you know. No, its times like this that I like. I think they’ll bring out the lizards tomorrow. You all talk of bravery and no fear.’

‘What do you mean, “bravery and no fear”?’ Lula said.

‘Exactly what I say. Men fight horned lizards, which they get from way down south. They breed ‘em especially for this. Men will come and stand in front of those great beasts, facing death, staring into those eyes.’

‘That’s a little cruel isn’t it?’ Lula said.

‘Cruel? Some might say that. Youngens, mainly. Horned lizards live a long life, better than most people ever manage to. Pampered, some might say. They make ‘em tough and strong that way, before they bring ‘em to fight. Then if the lizard gets killed, they give the meat to the poor. But it’s killed in such a way, that they never feel a thing. You’ll often see priests standing on the side to sense their pain, and if so then the killer is never allowed to fight again. So what’s cruel about feeding the poor and giving the lizards a long and healthy life? Otherwise they’d rot in the sand. It’s something you youngens don’t always see. It’s something you have to understand. Most types of people don’t much talk about death. Killing is either for food or sport. Here it’s different. We should think about it a little more.’

‘Still,’ Lula said quietly, ‘it’s not right.’ Jella held her hand. Yayle nodded to himself. A firework exploded outside the window, spitting green sparks against the glass. Menz smiled, walked to the bed closest to the window, turned then fell on top with a groan. ‘I tell you what though,’ Yayle said. ‘I wouldn’t fancy fighting one of those things by the sounds of it. They must weigh a ton.’

‘Aye, they do, and the rest. They’d skewer you in a heartbeat, pushing you against the wall and turn you into pulp. They’re beasts, but by Arrahd, they are graceful. I’ve heard of an undefeated lizard who would let its breeder rub its horns and nose like a pet, then in the fight it butchered three fighters.’ Menz turned on his side, faced the room.

‘I think it’ll be fun to see it,’ Yayle said. ‘What do you think, Allocen?’ Allocen moved his head a fraction then turned back to facing the floor.

Yayle turned to Jella. ‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’

‘Not surprised. He’s probably seeking some intelligent conversation, and he’s not getting much of that is he?’ Jella said. ‘Anyway, we won’t have time to do this. This isn’t a holiday, we’re on a mission. We don’t know if anyone’s onto us so I want to get going. Come on, I need some sleep.’

‘You can try,’ Menz said.

Jella watched the old man turn to face the window again, draw the sheets over his body. You could still hear the singing and dancing, could smell the bonfires and the food that was cooking somewhere. There was a prominent melody where you swore you could hear a female voice. You thought of her dancing, maybe twirling in a long dress. You guessed she would have blonde hair, brown skin, bright, promising eyes.

Menz couldn’t sleep. After he splashed his face with water, and changed shirts, he prepared to step outside. He was careful not to draw too much attention to his movements. Before he went, he whispered to Yayle, ‘I’m popping out for an hour or two.’

Yayle waved a hand, said, ‘Yeah, knock yourself out.’ He turned over.

As he stepped out of his tavern, a tide of people flowed by. Within seconds he was gone, holding a bottle of wine in the wave. People were singing, dancing, smiling, he couldn’t help but let the years fall away, and soon he, too, was singing with them. A young woman took his arm, led him away, smiling, not saying a word, and Menz did not complain as he ran with her past an alleyway in which a man was beating a drum. Menz looked up the side of the stone building where you could see people dancing on balconies, waving strips of coloured materials as they swirled. The woman next to him cheered. She was short, dark, her cheeks glistening with perspiration despite the cool evening. She dragged Menz into the main square where fires burned dolls that were twenty feet high.

In another alleyway he could see men crowded round something. As they approached, Menz and the girl could see two large pterodettes, with their wings clipped back, and they were fighting, scratching in the dust. Menz saw gold exchange hands as one pterodette stumbled before the girl dragged him away again.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked, pulling him to a cafe.

‘Menz,’ he said, looking through a steamed up window. Inside was filled with smoke but quieter than the streets and the girl shuffled through and brought Menz and herself a cup of red liquid.

‘Drink it,’ she said. She tipped her head back whilst other men looked on and cheered. Menz, too, poured the liquid down. It seemed to both chill and burn his throat pleasantly. She danced him out of the musky cafe and out into the street again, back into the central square and Menz took a long look at the girl’s beautifully plain red dress. It aired as she turned and he watched the curls of her black hair bounce on her shoulders. All of this reminded him of something hidden inside that he’d never looked at for years. Some incident in his youth, something of those military days. That was when he had a life ahead of him, full of promise, not like now, where all he had was Jella’s mission. There was no one to coax him out of soldiering, to help him integrate with the world as it was without a musket and a sword. He’d seen so much evil in the world that it had effected him. He was glad to have met Jella, a youth with ambition, determination, and with their past being destroyed in Lucher, she presented him with something to focus on. It meant he didn’t have to sit in silence waiting to realise that he had nothing really to live for.

Her chest heaved as she breathed in. Menz took another swig of the wine from the bottle he still carried. He looked around at the lanterns that hung on walls, tilted his head up as fireworks exploded and you could smell the gunpowder in the cool air. As he looked down, another tide of people passed him, spinning him and another girl, paler this time, looked him up and down, saw his tail and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek and ran off with the people.

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