by Drew Wagar
‘I’ll listen,’ he said.
Mel patted him fondly on the shoulder and left, leaving Meru standing outside Coran’s cabin. Meru took a deep breath and walked in.
Coran was staring at the far wall. Without looking he signalled for Meru to sit opposite. He took a flask and two small pewter cups out of his desk and placed them on the table between them, pouring a dark red liquid out of the flask. Only then did he turn and regard Meru, picking up his cup and gestured for Meru to do the same.
‘Here’s to your apprenticeship then, young Meru,’ he said with mischievous smile. ‘Quite a stretch, yes?’
Meru didn’t respond, he was still thinking over Mel’s words, trying to align them with what he’d seen and learnt.
Coran downed the contents in a single gulp followed by a satisfied sigh, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Meru stood still, ignoring the drink.
‘Well, don’t be wasting it, boy!’ Coran said with a laugh. ‘Don’t trust me? I wouldn’t waste this on killing someone. A slit throat and a body dumped overboard is much more efficient.’
Meru’s face went pale.
He is a pirate!
‘Listen lad. I’ve seen some rough places and tough times, but I have a purpose and a story. Will you hear me out?’
Meru nodded.
‘Good lad. But first, a toast,’ Coran refilled his cup. ‘To your apprenticeship, young Meru. I think you’ll find it will be most interesting.’
Coran downed the second drink. Meru took the cup and swallowed a gulp of the liquid. It was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. It was rich, strong and fierce with a sudden burning sensation that lit his mouth from his lips to the back of his throat. Alarmed, he spluttered, trying hard not to spray the drink out, half choking in the process.
Coran laughed and slapped the table in appreciation, lowering himself into a chair on the far side.
‘You’ll learn to enjoy that, boy. Can’t call yourself a mariner ‘til you’ve mastered a measure. Consider that your first lesson. Sit yourself down.’
‘What … what is it?’ Meru managed, still coughing, the heat now hitting his stomach. It was already making him feel lightheaded. He staggered into a chair and sat down clumsily.
‘It’s called Ochren,’ Coran said, with a familiar fondness. ‘Brewed from the leaves of enormous trees called furlers in the far shadeward. Trees a thousand paces high and which take a spell to walk around their huge trunks. Harvesting them is an operation all right.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Not something you find on Amar.’
Meru frowned and looked at the captain.
‘There are other lands? You’ve been there?’
‘Smart boy.’ Coran raised his cup and downed another dose of the liquor.
‘But they learned us in schooling that there was nothing beyond the Straithian Sea, it had all sunk in the past days …’ Meru began.
Coran leant forward. ‘Schooling is set by the senate, boy. They decide what the truth is. What do you think is beyond the sea?’
‘My grandsire told me it was peopled with witches,’ Meru replied cautiously.
‘Some truth in that,’ Coran conceded, causing Meru to frown again. ‘But back to your schooling. Tell me what you know about Amar.’
Meru shrugged. ‘We came to our island to avoid pestilence and plague that swept in from the shaderight. Those old lands died and sank beneath the waves. We fled, we crossed the sea and found Amar, our lush and fertile island, swept by rains from the Straithian Sea and blessed with good soil and all the resources we could want. The city of Amaris was built on the original site we landed many generations ago. We are safe and secure.’
Coran smiled, though it now seemed a little wan to Meru.
‘Well told. A neat and tidy story, eh. You think that’s what happened?’ Coran was looking at him intently.
Meru shrugged and pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Good answer. Funny how Amaris is fortified at its lower levels don’t you think? All those towers, walls and guards? What do you suppose they guard against?’
Meru shrugged again. ‘My grandsire said it was just an excuse, the senate’s way of raising taxes and keeping order. Tradition.’
Coran nodded. ‘Smart man, your grandsire. But that’s only half the story. You see, young Meru, it wasn’t pestilence and plague that drove us out of the shaderight. And the lands didn’t sink behind us. It was a battle that drove us out. One that we lost. Our distant ancestors were slaughtered mercilessly by an invading force and that memory has been repressed, their sacrifices forgotten. The forces that exiled us from our real home may still remain. Perhaps they will return.’
Meru gasped. ‘Then the towers and the guards?’
‘There for a reason.’
‘So who were these invaders?’ Meru demanded.
‘Well you might ask,’ Coran said. He stood up and moved to the cupboards and drawers that festooned the captain’s cabin. He pulled out a tattered roll of parchment. It was secured by a black ribbon that Coran carefully untied.
‘What I’m about to show you is a secret, young Meru,’ Coran said, looking directly into his eyes. ‘Decide if you’d know more. Truth can be a dangerous thing. You can’t undo what you learn today.’
Meru’s eyes narrowed.
‘If I say no you’ll let me go, no questions asked?’
‘I will.’ Coran’s answer was immediate. ‘Take you home myself I will. I’ll not deceive you Meru. Never that.’
Meru thought about it for a long moment, looking back at the enigmatic captain.
Mel said she would trust him with her life …
‘I want to see,’ Meru said warily, wanting to see how Coran would react. Coran clenched his fist and grinned, his eyes bright and intense.
‘Bravo!’
CHAPTER NINE
The Coastal Forests of Scallia
Round 2306, Second Pass
Ioric and Rajan had picked up the girl’s trail after a search at the top of the fields. Rajan had spotted the crumpled greens and a small patch of crushed vegetation on the hillside on the limits of the forest.
‘Good work,’ Ioric said, examining the patch. ‘It would seem she was up here for some reason. Providence.’
‘She was crouched full length I would say,’ Rajan replied. ‘Keeping out of sight. You can see the hall clearly from here, particularly with a youngster’s eyes.’
Ioric looked back at the hall, wondering what a young woman all alone would have made of the bloodshed and slaughter. He turned to the forest and quickly found what he was looking for; broken twigs marking the passage of something, something moving quickly.
‘And then she ran,’ Ioric said softly.
‘She’s got an entire stretch on us,’ Rajan remarked.
‘Then we’d better hurry.’
Rajan turned as he studied the ground, before he looked back down towards the hall.
‘Sire!’
Ioric looked round as Rajan gestured. The group of armed riders had appeared in the grounds of Tarq’s hall, no more than a mark behind them. As Ioric watched he saw one rider point upwards directly at them and then gesture to his companions. Within moments they were astride their hergs and galloping away from the hall.
‘The chase is on,’ he murmured. ‘Quickly now.’
Both men climbed astride their hergs and guided them into the heavy eaves of the forest.
Zoella kept walking the entire stretch, only stopping to hunt marsips when she felt hungry once more. They were in shorter supply deeper into the forest but it didn’t take her long to locate a burrow. She lured them out by digging a bunch of grubs from the dirt, mashing them in her hands and then smearing the resultant mess on a rock outside the burrow, secreting herself nearby. Within minutes the inquisitive marsips emerged, drawn by the enticing smell. It was child’s play to shoot what she required. It wasn’t the most varied of diets but combined with the shadewater, it would sustain her and Raga indefinitely.
Li
ghting a fire presented a challenge too. The sunglass didn’t work in the shade, so she had to walk around for a spell until she found somewhere where the light penetrated the canopy.
The ground underfoot had changed subtly too. She had been aware that she was slowly descending throughout the stretch. Without a map she had no idea of the lie of the land and the forest stopped her from being able to see anything far ahead. She was passing out of the hills that surrounded Serenia. Now the ground was becoming increasingly boggier. Despite how carefully she stepped she was often walking ankle deep in mud. It had slowed her down considerably. Wherever she could she hopped across the thick bases of the shades, which gave her something solid to walk on.
She’d lost track of time. Without the accurate sand timers that marked the passage of the chimes she could only tell by her own tiredness roughly what time it was. She reckoned she’d been in the forest for two stretches now, having covered something like thirty marks or thereabouts, a proper traipse. Though well-versed in forest lore, she knew she was leaving a trail that could be followed by experienced trackers. They might be close behind her. She could not afford to stop.
The light abruptly faded around her, the gloom of the forest intensifying. She looked up, wondering what was happening. The light from Lacaille had been cut off. Clouds had bubbled up from the coast. A storm was coming.
Zoella had only once been caught out in the deluges that cascaded down from the sky in the storms. She had been astonished by the amount of water that could drop in even a short spell. She had always tried to watch from inside as the skies darkened and the lightning came.
A flicker of light and a deafening crackle of thunder made her cower instinctively, it seemed so much louder out here in the forest. Everything had turned grey about her, there was an unusual sense of anticipation. She placed her hand up against the steady trunk of a nearby shade …
Water!
She took her hand away in shock and surprise. The shade had given her a distinct impression, much like the simple thoughts that Raga communicated when she stroked him. But the shade was a tree, a plant – how could it do such a thing? Lightning flashed again and the accompanying rumble of thunder was near instantaneous. She could hear rain splashing high above, though only a few drops made it down to the ground. She reached out to touch the shade again.
Water, sustenance …. Life!
Zoella gasped.
The ground shifted under her feet. A deep groaning sound echoed through the forest, almost too low to hear, a rumble that started imperceptibly, but grew to a throbbing crescendo. The shade she was touching flexed under her fingers and began to move.
Stretch!
Around her, the shades were reaching for the sky, stretching up to capture as much rain water as they possibly could. Each drop was precious, storms were brief and irregular. Each shade was trying to outdo the others, out compete by stretching further. The forest echoed to their groans of exertion.
Zoella let go and looked up, enjoying the few drops of water that made it past the Shades. They were all swaying, jostling for position, trembling with the effort; all straining to receive as much of the life giving water as they could.
As abruptly as it had started, the storm stopped and the clouds rolled away. The light from Lacaille blazed through the gaps in the shades once more. All about her the shades seemed to relax, shrinking down again. Before long everything returned to how it had been before.
Zoella looked about her and then went on her way, thinking it through, stepping through the thick mud carelessly.
They’re not plants … they’re creatures. The shades are creatures!
Her thoughts thus occupied, she slipped, losing her footing and plunging forward into the mud. She gave out a short screech of surprise, finding herself waist deep in the mud, cross with herself for becoming distracted. Raga barked from nearby. The mud felt curiously warm, unnaturally so.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, ineffectively wiping the mud from where it had splashed across her face. Raga continued to bark, jumping up on his rear legs.
‘Raga, quiet!’ Zoella scolded, trying to gain her balance in the thick mire. ‘Just give me a spell …’
A strange liquid slurping noise brought Zoella’s attention around. In front of her, not more than ten hands away, the sludge was shifting, rising and flowing aside as if something underneath was climbing to the surface.
Zoella watched with widening eyes as the surface of the mire began to heave and then move towards her. Raga’s bark became a howl. She turned and thrashed back the way she had come, trying to get a purchase. The sludge was thick and viscous; there was nothing to push against. Her feet slipped, pitching her forward, deeper into the filthy mud. The stench of rotting vegetation assaulted her nostrils.
She threw herself forward hoping to be able to reach the base of a nearby shade. It was tantalisingly out of reach. Raga got as close to her as he dared, but she couldn’t reach him either. He was still barking furiously, but there was nothing he could do without becoming stuck himself.
The slurping noise changed to a soft sucking as whatever it was that lay in the pool surfaced. Zoella could hear the sound of mud and slurry slopping down, falling off the thing behind her. She spared a backwards glance.
The sight chilled her. She cried out in fear and desperately tried to scramble away and out of the mud, clawing and kicking furiously, heedless of anything else but evading the thing behind her.
It was big, three times the length of Raga, a mass of pale white translucent and mucus-covered flesh, quivering and moving towards her. As she turned the front of it opened up, revealing a dark maw ringed with writhing tentacles. Atop its head were three dark orbs, eyes perhaps, it was impossible to say.
A molossc! Save me!
It slithered closer, able to move unimpeded in the mud by a sickening series of contractions. Zoella could see she would never escape before it was upon her. She turned in defiance, pulling her bow around, trying to string it with trembling fingers. The molossc moved closer, unconcerned. She could smell it now, an unpleasant earthy stench rather like the grubs she had squashed earlier in the stretch, mixed with the stench of decay. She gagged, only just controlling the instinctive reflex to vomit.
The string pinged off the bow as she tried to hook it over, her muddy fingers clumsy with panic. The molossc was close now, ten hands away and moving slowly but deliberately towards her. On the second attempt she managed to string the bow, holding it horizontally in order to pull it back.
The molossc paused for a moment as if sensing danger. Zoella saw it pulsate and contract, squashing itself, rather like a spring coiling up …
She fired at the same moment she realised what was happening. The molossc lurched forward, almost engulfing her, the tentacles around its mouth grasping towards her but just failing to gain a purchase. The arrow had gone straight down its maw, through the pale flesh out straight out again, such was the force with which she had fired. If there were vital organs present, Zoella had missed them.
The molossc shifted forward again and Zoella felt the tentacles wrap themselves around her arm. Her body was abruptly tugged towards the slavering maw. She could see mucus dripping from it. A burning sensation rapidly spread up her arm.
It’s eating me alive!
Ioric and Rajan had followed the erratic trail and reached the meadow. It took them only a few brief minutes of searching to find the remains of a fire and the crushed grasses where Zoella had battled the marsips. The storm overtook them in the meadow and they crouched by the edge of the forest until it had passed.
Ioric ran his fingers through the soggy ash of the fire, gingerly touching the few charred bits of wood he could find.
‘Not quite cold,’ he announced. ‘But she’s moving fast. Didn’t expect a girl to be able to travel this quickly.’
Rajan found the scattered remains of marsips in the weeds. ‘It would seem she was able to hunt too, we should be careful. She seems learned in forest lore.’
Ioric nodded. ‘It bodes well for her surviving. We just need to catch up.’
‘She’s heading into the lowlands,’ Rajan said. ‘If she keeps going that way …’
Ioric nodded. ‘The bogs. She’s just moving in a straight line. Perhaps she doesn’t know the terrain. Let’s keep moving.’
The disgusting creature was almost upon Zoella.
Desperately she tried to push against the pale pulsating flesh, but the grip of the tentacles was inexorable, dragging her into the maw. Sensing victory the molossc began to retreat, pulling Zoella with it.
The movement pulled Zoella’s legs out of the mud, trailing behind her as the molossc dragged her backwards. She could just see the rear end of the creature disappearing under the mud.
Dragging me under …
She pulled her knees up to her chest and then kicked out at the molossc. The flesh felt rubbery and sticky to her exposed feet, like kicking a vat of treacle. She kicked in a maddened frenzy, twisting and jerking her body in an attempt to escape, her hands ripping at the molossc’s flesh, claw-like.
‘Leave me be!’ she screamed. ‘Leave me be!’
One wild kick struck one of the black orbs she’d seen earlier. The molossc flinched and vibrated, a strange echoing low-pitched sigh escaped it. For a moment it lurched upwards, leaving Zoella suspended in the air before the grip of the tentacles gave away and she crashed into the mud with a splash.
She struggled to the surface, spitting mud from her mouth and wiping her eyes. The creature paused for a moment clearly surprised that its prey was putting up such a spirited defence. It wavered back and forth for a moment, but its primitive brain refused to let such a tasty morsel escape its trap. It slithered forward.
Zoella held her ground, pulling her knife from her belt. The bow was out of her reach, sticking out of the mud a number of hands away.
Don’t need it for this …
The molossc coiled itself again. Zoella tensed, knowing what to expect. As it lurched forward she raised herself up as far as she could, yelling at the top of her voice. The molossc’s maw cannoned into her waist, pushing her backwards into the mud. A moment later she felt the stinging tentacles wrap themselves securely about her. In front of her she could see the length of the creature’s body, a series of joined segments of the pulsing ghastly pale flesh. The three black orbs were nearby.
