The Tower of Bones (39 page)

‘Why would this worry you?’

Iyezzz stood erect, his nostrils twitching, and in speaking he spread open his wings, as if to embrace the
entire company. ‘My father is old – and Mahteman older still. Their views will be conservative. Service to the Great Witch is deeply ingrained in that generation. Such subservience must be brought to an end. I, Prince Iyezzz-I-Noor, must be present – must be allowed to speak.’

‘Why is this meeting so important to you?’

‘The Momu will be accompanied by your friend, Greeneyes. She has the power to heal the wounded land.’

Alan nodded, swallowing against a dry throat. He was beginning to understand what was really going on. This was some kind of rebellion. If so, Iyezzz was playing a dangerous game. But if Iyezzz meant what he said about ending the Garg’s alliance with the Great Witch, it was a game that might also suit their purpose.

‘You know that I’ll be watching you. If you betray us, I’ll kill you.’

The young Garg stood haughtily erect, towering over all but the Shee. ‘If I fail on my mission my father, the King himself will killhhh me.’

Ainé, assuming a threat to Alan, pressed her tall frame between Alan and the Garg, as tall as each other, each too proud to be afraid. The Kyra had her hand poised on the hilt of her sword.

‘In my world we have legends that speak not of the City of the Ancients but of the City of the Dead. How do we know that you are not leading us into a trap?’

‘Killhhh me then, if you will not trust me!’

But even as the Garg and the Shee faced one another
in an edgy confrontation, a renewed howling sounded from all around them in the forest.

‘Quickly! Before it is too late! The warriors will not follow us into the forbidden labyrinths.’

A noisy trumpeting roused Kate from a restful sleep. She was surprised to find herself back in the sea-urchin chamber, with its walls glowing with light. Pulling the bedcovers over her face, she willed herself back into the dream-like state she had woken from, her mind serene in … a kind of revelation. She had spent many hours in the company of the Momu, during which she had been introduced to mysteries of being that were deeper than mere images, or words, or even feelings. She had experienced a transcendent level of communication, something deeply intimate, enabled by that wonderful language … and oneness … that thrilling level of communication that seemed to derive from music. Even now the memory of it was already fading and she didn’t want to lose it by waking. Was this what Granny Dew had intended? Had she directed her not only to meeting with the dragon, Driftwood, but also – maybe even primarily – to the Momu?

You will discover one both ancient and wise enough to understand your need
… But now she asked herself:
But what does that mean?

Was it possible that through this crystal in her brow, she had acquired an ability to communicate on a more complex level? Kate wasn’t altogether sure. She had no memory of being brought back to her chamber from the cave of the Momu and yet it felt as if her mind had expanded to embrace some important knowledge. As if she had, during the time they had communicated, absorbed a new level of understanding of the burden and power that had been placed on her shoulders.

It was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

She had also realised something vital to the survival of the Cill and their lovely underwater city. The Momu was dying. It was clear that her time was very limited. And this presented Kate with a dilemma.

A new Momu, young and vigorous, must be born. But before ever the Momu could give birth to her successor, she herself had to rise from her despair. And to do this she must have the blessing of hope. Hope for the future of her people so that her successor could bring the joy of new life into the world.

All of this Kate recalled before she drifted away again into a doze of contentment only to be woken for a second time by the trumpeting of conch shells. But this time she knew what it signified – an alarm sounding out throughout the whole of Ulla Quemar. Then she heard many voices
answer the call, a cacophony of cries, musical, as would be expected of the Cill, but also strident and alien, like an orchestra tuning up for some grand performance in this wonderful city of beauty and peace. Even as she sat up in her bed the handmaidens arrived into her chamber, all of a bustle. They brought food, which they placed on a table before the window. But Kate was too excited even to think of eating it.

They showed her some strange new clothes. They clearly intended to dress Kate in what looked like a body-hugging material of a glistening, emerald sheen.

She was still attempting to shake the sluggishness of sleep from her mind. ‘What’s happening?’

‘The Momu waits. Greeneyes must make ready. She will accompany the Momu on her historic journey.’

‘What journey?’

‘Why – to counsel the Garg King, Zelnesakkk, in the City of the Ancients!’

Kate was too astonished to do anything other than to allow the handmaidens to wash her down from head to foot and then dress her, but all the while a thrill of alarm coursed through her. And with it, the oraculum flared in her brow, the most powerful flare she had felt since Granny Dew had implanted the crystal, suffusing her with an overwhelming wave of power that made her feel giddy. The chamber glowed with a crackling green lightning that coursed, like static electricity, over the walls and ceiling. The handmaidens stepped back a pace, astonished.

‘It’s all right! It won’t harm you,’ Kate attempted to calm them. But deep down she felt something changing within her. Somehow, as a result of her meeting with the Momu, her control over her oraculum appeared to be growing.

But there was no time to think about it. The handmaidens were hurrying her out of the chamber to where Shaami was waiting with an honour guard of six warriors. He took Kate’s hands in his, his turquoise eyes wide with excitement.

‘Shaami – what’s happening?’

‘For the first time in a thousand years the Momu is leaving Ulla Quemar. She has signalled her need for communion with the Garg King. There will be a Grand Council. You must accompany the Momu to the City of the Ancients.’

As they made their way down the gentle slope towards the waterfront, it seemed that the entire population was heading in the same direction. And more warriors. Kate saw the fearsome shapes of the Cill fighters everywhere. They were marshalling the crowds lining the streets, their strange medley of weapons glinting in the morning light.

‘Are the Cill going to war?’

‘I hope not. But the Momu, and Greeneyes too, must be protected on their important journey.’

‘But how? You can’t let the Gargs know about Ulla Quemar. And the Momu told me she can only travel in water.’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘All will be revealed.’

Thousands of Cill crowded the waterfront. Where Kate had never known the Cill to wear clothes of any sort, today they were dressed in diaphanous hooded gowns – silk, like the clothes they had manufactured for Kate, and dyed in a wide variety of pastel colours. Given her conversation with the Momu, Kate couldn’t help but notice the absence of children. The Momu arrived at the waterfront only minutes after Kate herself, carried in a palanquin by four burly warriors, her elegant head towering above even the tallest warrior as she alighted, then turning to bestow a blessing on the population.

The warriors formed into ranks. A column of conch-trumpeters sounded out another salute. The army, as one, came to attention before the majesty of the Momu. Even as Kate’s eyes scanned the waterfront, searching for any means of transport for the coming journey, the crowds began to chant a farewell in that spine-tingling counterpoint, as if it were a melodious harmony under the control of a master conductor. When it was finished the Momu stood erect, the crystal around her neck pulsating brightly, her right hand gesturing an elegant acknowledgement of their deference and love for her. Then she inclined her head to speak softly to Kate as the bustle recommenced about them. ‘I thank the powers I lived to see this day.’

Kate sensed the importance of what the Momu was intimating.

‘I hope our meeting was more blessing than confrontation?’

Kate nodded. ‘I … I learnt something important from you. I feel more confident in what’s expected of me.’

The Momu bowed her head. ‘My dearest Greeneyes, we both know the dangers you will face when you confront the Tower of Bones. You will need that confidence if you are to have any chance of succeeding.’

At the mention of the Tower, Kate’s fears resurfaced, though she tried to hold them back. ‘I’m not used to confrontation – to fighting.’

‘Yet will you promise me that you will not allow your understandable fear of the Great Witch to deter you?’

‘No – I promise you that I won’t.’

‘It is your strength that by nature you are gentle. But gentleness alone will not prevail against the enemy you face. Even war, in all of its horror, is an inadequate term for the nature of the confrontation that is imminent.’

Kate took a deep breath.

The Momu reached out and held Kate’s shoulders. ‘Remember that you bear the Oraculum of the Second Power of the Holy Trídédana. A goddess empowers you. Be not afraid to invoke her help.’

‘I wish I could say that I’m not afraid. But I’ll still fight the Witch. I’ll fight her with all the power that I possess.’

‘Well said!’

‘But I don’t understand what’s happening here. Why is it so important – this meeting with the Gargs?’

The Momu performed one of those rapid oscillations of her silver pupils, as if the change of subject evoked her own fears.

‘It is important that we meet with Zelnesakkk, King of the Eyrie People.’

Kate hesitated for a moment. It seemed so odd to hear the Gargs referred to as people. ‘But they’re your enemies. Why would you risk leaving Ulla Quemar to talk with your enemies?’

‘None, not even the King, would break the covenant of a Grand Council. Even through war, and the horrors of all that has afflicted these wasted lands, there are places that yet hold the sacred promises of history. Meet we must. Wars are won by the considerations and preparations that are made in advance. The Gargs have allied themselves to the Great Witch for many thousands of years. Yet precious little have they received in return, other than craven survival. They can but resent her enslavement. And who better than they will know her defences.’

‘You think the Gargs will help us?’

‘I will appeal to our common legacy of suffering as well as to their pride – and, it must be said, to their brave hearts in battle.’

The Momu was interrupted by a loud splashing coming from the water behind them. The crowds cheered. Kate
turned around to see something enormous, a gigantic greenish-yellow cylinder, rising out of the surf. She glanced towards Shaami, who was watching her, eyes agape, from outside the immediate protection of a ring of warriors.

Kate cried out in astonishment: ‘A sunstealer!’

She looked down in realisation at her clothes, guessing that they were water resistant and heat conserving, like a finely woven wet suit. She was to be ferried to meet the King of the Gargs inside a giant plant-animal.

‘It is natural,’ said the Momu, ‘for a land-born to fear the mother ocean. Even for my ancient heart it will be a testing experience to journey far from my beloved Ulla Quemar. Yet be assured that the globe of the sunstealer is resilient and the ocean its element. You will be protected within by our stoutest warriors.’

The Momu allowed herself to be lifted aloft by four of the warriors and then carried into the sweeping tide. Kate was still dumbstruck with shock as the warriors waded out until the surf was up to their waists, then laid the Momu down with a perfect coordination into the gentle tide.

‘Come, now!’

Kate’s eyes widened as the arrays of feather-like gills became upstanding on the head of the Momu, and her long streamlined shape slid into the ocean, leaving scarcely a ripple on the surface.

As far as Alan could see the tunnel was entirely natural, lined with stone and earth. Leggy spiders with speckled bodies hesitated, as if considering whether the intruders represented food or danger, often holding their ground up to the last minute, as if they were the rightful owners here and intent on denying them passage, before scuttling into the many deep cracks and crevices. A hoary dust coated everything and their nostrils were filled with the smell of decay.

They were walking down a steep slope. After half an hour of continuous descent he was convinced that they must be back to the level of the forest floor, or more likely the roots of the mountain.

They emerged into a vast chamber in which their feet left impressions in what seemed to be the undisturbed dust of ages. Exploring the chamber in the rubicund light of his oraculum, Alan could see no limits to its distant
extents, though its walls and high ceiling were lumpy and distorted, with gigantic knobs and protrusions breaking up the space into a semblance of streets and squares, yet too organic in shape and too enormous in size to be ancestral to any population of Tír today.

Iyezzz was gazing about himself, gibbering with excitement, his eyes reflecting the light like torches.

From the floor immense needle-shaped stalagmites formed a crescent, like some triumphal arcade they were obliged to pass through. Alan sensed power or energy about the guardian stones, and so did Ainé. When Iyezzz reached out, as if to touch one of them, the Kyra leaped forward and restrained the Garg’s wrist. Her green-glowing sword blade was suddenly pressed up tight against Iyezzz’s throat.

‘Easy!’ Alan put his hand to restrain her. But Qwenqwo had also stepped forward and his dagger was also pressed against the Garg’s ribs.

‘Hey – I don’t think he plans to betray us.’

‘Betray? Nooo!’

There was such a jumble of thoughts invading the Garg’s mind that Alan struggled to pick up the thread of it. ‘He’s excited about something. But I don’t sense betrayal. More like reverence – wonder!’