The Wraeththu Chronicles (71 page)

"Do men still live here?" My voice was an awed whisper. "If they do, I don't want to find out," Leef replied. "I never saw anyone when I was here before," Cal said. It took us several hours to skirt the city. I had never imagined a town could be so huge. It was scary, but the kind of scary that makes you want to explore. Cal and Leef wouldn't hear of it, and I was secretly relieved, though I pretended bravery. "It's just wasting time," they said, "and it may be dangerous. It would be senseless to go in there."

Before then, I had not thought that men had had real technology. I had only seen photographs and it was like looking at something out of a story. In that gaunt, sprawling ruin, I could see the vestiges of past greatness. Now it was too far gone for Wraeththu to rescue it. Cal said that Wraeththu should concentrate more on building their own cities anyway. They had stolen enough from men. It was too easy to do that. Nothing new could be gained from it. He began to speak, then, of Immanion, the Gelaming's city, that Thiede had built. He said that it was a true Wraeththu city. "Thiede must be very strong," I said.

"He is," Cal agreed, suppressing a shudder, but not before both Leef and myself noticed it. "He is strong, ruthless, clever ..."

"What does he look like?" I asked, and Leef repeated my question. Cal had actually met Thiede; to Leef and myself he was just a terrifying name.

"He looks like God," Cal said grandly, but that wasn't enough. We pressed for more details. "Well, he's very tall," Cal continued, screwing up his eyes to remember, "and he has red hair which is very long and spiked up over his head like a halo of fire. Naturally, he possesses unnerving beauty, and his eyes sometimes look yellow. He looks like a child and he looks a thousand years old. His fingernails are varnished claws that could take your eye out. He talks like an actor and pretends weakness. I must admit he scares the shit out of me!"

For a while we were silent, all of us thinking of the omnipotent Thiede. I was terrified that it would be him waiting for me at my journey's end, waiting to throw me my father's head before he killed me too.

Being on horseback all day and sleeping rough at night had been a great shock to my system at first. I never thought I'd get used to it. On the day after we'd left Galhea, my thighs had been rubbed raw, and the skin between my fingers. My horse was a headstrong yellow mare called Tulga. It amused her to fight with me constantly, tugging the reins through my fingers, never keeping her head still, walking sideways when the mood took her, no matter what instructions I tried to give her. It also grieved me having to feel dirty all the time. I was used to creature comforts and now it seemed I had only the comfort of creatures! Both Cal and Leef were used to traveling. They soon fell into a routine; it neither inconvenienced them nor did they appear to dislike it. I had to get used to eating partially cooked food peppered with soot and grass and leaf bits. I had to get used to feeling tired all the time. After

some weeks, the discomfort did seem to lose its sting; I became inured to it. As we traveled towards the south, the air gradually became warmer; nights became more bearable.

Sometimes we faced hostility; it was impossible to avoid everyone. Once I had to fight for my life. I killed a man. It was not a momentous event for me, not even sickening. It had been either me or him; that simple. Luck had been on my side. Warm blood had touched my skin and I didn't even bother to wipe it off properly. Round about that time, we lost the pack-horse. We never found out what happened to it, for it just disappeared silently one night. Someone may have stolen it, or its tether may have come undone and it wandered off. We never found out; but of course, a lot of our supplies disappeared with it. Leef was furious.

I began to dream of floating hair and beckoning eyes again. When I had those dreams I would always wake up craving aruna with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Cal and Leef did not pamper me. I learned how to survive and my conscious self forgot the Swift that had lived within the nurturing womb of Forever. I could feel myself maturing. I felt stronger and crueller. Traveling became my life until it seemed I had known no other. At first I had felt hungry all the time, but I became accustomed to that and started to smoke Cal's thin, acrid cigarettes. It helped me get over the hunger.

We stole, we fought off hostile strangers and we rode. Aruna was our only luxury. Through that we became close. Through that we became one unit, anticipating each other's thoughts, moving forward like a well-tended machine; it seemed nothing could touch us. We occasionally gleaned snip pets of news about the Varrs, but never anything much. People had seen them pass. They had seen no-one return.

One day, Leef s horse broke its leg and we had to kill it. Impassively, we cut some of it up for meat and left the rest for the scavengers. Leef had to ride Tulga with me until we came across a small Wraeththu settlement where we could buy another horse. We had to pay much more for it than it was worth, for it was not nearly so fast or so fit as our Varrish mounts and it slowed us down. As we traveled, tension and strangeness reached out to us from the south. I could feel it most at night and we took more care with our rituals than before. Once, when we took aruna together, a spirit manifested itself in the air above us. Cal told us not to be alarmed even though it trailed us for about two days. Above the trees, the air seemed to shiver with electric currents; hair-raising noises, just audible, fingered the darkest corners of our souls. We could sense it. Unearthly power grew in strength around us, reached out tentatively to touch us. Plants along the way sprouted in giant abundance, dappled animals that we had never seen the like of before scuttled half seen through the foliage. If you gazed at the air in front of you for too long, faces would appear with gaping mouths and empty eyes. It was as if the land were cursed. Settlements of hara became less and less. What towns or villages we came across looked abandoned.

One night, as we made camp skittishly at the edge of a drooping forest, Leef said, "Tomorrow we reach the marshes."

"If they are still there," Cal added drily. He drank deeply from a water bottle, grimacing at the staleness. His horse kicked gnats from its belly in the dusk.

As we approached the Gelaming, I could feel Cal's apprehension building up. He had once said that the Gelaming might have a price on his head, supposing there was some connection between Thiede, Seel and Saltrock. The land was in turmoil, nobody really knew what was going on, everyone was concerned only with their own survival, which generally meant leaving the area altogether. Only misfits, loners and rogues appeared to remain. If any hara ever came to share our fire, we were always on edge, for we had seen too many crazy eyes, too many death carriers. As far as Cal's fears of meeting the Gelaming were concerned, after all I had seen, I felt that his murder of Orien was just one more forgettable atrocity in a wilderness of atrocities. I knew how afraid he was, yet he had still agreed to ride with me, without reservation or question. I knew my mission, or part of it. Cal also followed a quest, but he had no idea what it was.

That night, I hugged him to me, his head on my chest, and he spoke of Pell once more. After some time, he also began to speak of Seel, somewhat disjointedly and nervously, but I learned how deep their relationship had once been.

"Seel was a dear friend whom I once tried to love," he said with a sigh. "But Seel's ideals are beyond that. I watched him change until the child I had once known died forever. That spirit in the air we saw, floating above us, tasting aruna with us, that is like Seel. Available, physical, but just when you think your arms are full of him for good, there is only mist. He is a true adept and I fear him. I fear we will meet again."

In the morning, we woke up beneath a blanket of fog. The horses were jumpy and Leef spoke of heavy movement in the undergrowth around us, although we could see nothing. Since we had left Galhea, the three of us had got along together very well, but that day saw us arguing and snapping at each other; me bemoaning my discomfort, Leef getting annoyed at my moaning and Cal becoming fed up with the pair of us. "Let's get moving!" he said. "This place is dank; we should not have stayed here."

By midday, a pale sun was trying to burn through the mist. Ahead of us, huge, straggling tufts of waving reeds signaled the edge of the marsh.

"This is it," Leef told us, "Astigi, home of the Froia." The Froia were a tribe that Cal knew very little about, although Leef was vaguely familiar with them.

"Here be magic, Swift," he said, light-heartedly. "I hope they'll be friendly. Most tribes are edgy nowadays and fear to welcome strangers."

It was clear that we could no longer travel on horseback; most of the land was flooded and the roads were now dark waterways between banks of lofty reeds. Leef said that we would need a raft and that if we waited in the right place for long enough, hara of the Froia would come along. They habitually acted as guides through the marsh and accepted payment for providing transport. Leef only hoped they still provided the service.

The marsh was motionless and silent, but for the soft song of the frogs, unseen among the reed roots and the occasional rattle of a startled bird. We walked the horses for some miles along the edge of the waters, until we came to a rough jetty, poking precariously into the marsh. Here we would have to wait.

Cal was impatient; he could not keep still, insisting it was dangerous for us to sit out in the open. Leef calmly pointed out that we had no other choice. When he had last traveled south with my father, the Froia had still been hiring out their rafts. He did not think the situation would have changed, but. . . Cal snorted and threw stones into the water. Our horses jostled and groaned behind us. I sat with my chin on my knees and tried to think of home, but it was like a dream. I didn't think we knew where we were going, perhaps Tel-an-Kaa's message had been false; we could die here waiting for the Froia.

Leef came to sit beside me. "They will come, Swift, I can feel it. You will go into the marsh and out the other side. That Pythoness woman knew your destiny and I reluctantly agree with her."

I smiled weakly at him, thinking, Oh, we are vagabonds, we are filthy. No-one can mistake us for Varrs, at least! We had not taken aruna together for over two weeks. Our bodies were wretched, our spirits low.

Leef laughed, guessing my thoughts. "Yes, we are a sorry sight," he said. "I have only dragon's breath, but it's yours if you want it."

"My dragon is lonesome," I said and we embraced, clinging mouth tomouth, in an attempt to shut out reality. After some minutes, Cal kicked me on the leg.

"Break it up, we have company," he said.

Sliding over the misty water like a wraith, a large raft sliced through the reeds. Two tall figures, swathed in concealing robes, poled it toward us. Leef jumped up and signaled them. One of them raised a hand in response. Our supplies were low, we were exhausted and needed rest; Leef asked for us to be taken to the Froia settlement of Orense in the heart of the marsh. We goaded, shoved and shouted our reluctant horses on to the raft. Tulga seemed obsessed with throwing herself over the edge into the weed-choked depths; I was hard pressed to calm her.

We traveled for about an hour, through narrow waterways and avenues of tasselled reeds, through whirring, hanging balls of mosquitoes, into unexpected lagoons thronged with white birds. It was a place of pervading stenches, hidden dangers and eerie beauty. Eventually, we could see humped dwellings rising up above the reeds; the floating town of Orense. At the prospect of comfort, food and drink, our good humor was restored almost immediately. We had reached a new level of existence, where pleasures were simpler and easily gratified. Barrel-vaulted buildings constructed entirely of reeds glowed pale beneath the watery sun. Only the electric shiver on the horizon reminded us of absurdity. Orense was placid, a pocket of tranquility within the boiling magic that existed beyond the marsh. As was customary for visitors, we were conducted to the Braga, leader of the Froia. It was more than politeness or respect; they were naturally wary of strangers. His palace of reeds was roofed with mats of muted gold and pink, and carefully woven stalks formed a palisade at the front. All the time I was conscious of slight movement beneath my feet as the great platforms shifted upon the water below. We could smell pungent coffee. Voices called softly in the distance. Tulga stamped the ground behind me, nervous because she could not feel the earth. I was smiling with relief and Leef put his hand on my shoulder.

The Froia are extremely reticent about revealing their skin and affect clothing of the most concealing nature. Only their hands, feet and faces are habitually visible. At the door to the Braga's house, we had jasmin water poured on our wrists and an aynah bud tucked behind our ears. This was to banish any evil we might be carrying with us. Inside, the light was golden. Tiny shafts of sunlight penetrated holes in the woven roof. Froia in hooded robes regarded us implacably from around the walls. Veils of pale muslin drooped to the floor and in the center of the room was a wooden throne containing the august presence of the Braga. I was unsure what to do. Was some kind of obeisance required? Fortunately, Leef stepped forward, bowed gracefully and requested if he might be given leave to speak with the Braga. The Braga raised his hand carelessly: Leef may speak.

I looked at Cal and he smiled and shrugged. "I hope all this ceremonial crap doesn't go on for too long," he said. "I'm starving and I itch and I can think only of cool water and hot coffee."

"You have no respect for other people's cultures," I replied lightly.