She looked at Basrillene and decided she would have to ask him to step aside so she could meditate on her problem, as the vibrations she was receiving from him were continuing to perturb her, ruining her concentration.
“Could you get me one of those bottles of flavoured drink? Please?” As the grey-eyed lad backed away, nodding and perhaps feeling that he should have thought of this himself, she held back a sigh until he was out of range. Then she took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she could, closing her eyes as she did so. The world seemed to breathe with her. She felt the earth beneath her boots, the mighty dome of sky above her, the echoes of creatures above and below, near and far, that she had not yet seen or even contemplated on previously… and the slight breeze, as it caressed her cheek and caught a strand of hair that had worked loose from her braid, making it move against her neck. I know I have the power. She gave it to me. She … trusts me! The well… it is … wherever I want it to be!
Eyes open, she walked towards the back door and chose a spot about ten yards from it. Nearer would be better!
Gefforen rolled out and struggled to get back on her feet, the coils of rope looking huge and heavy compared to her relatively slight frame.
“Here, let me!” Eshezy bounced over and helped her closest friend up from the ground. “Would you like to see the well appear?”
Gefforen’s eyes flew wide open, the blue almost impossibly deep. She nodded, speechless for the moment.
“Shall we put it here?” Eshezy asked with a smile, pointing at the patch of trampled grass a few feet from them. “Not too close?”
“It was too far… before.” Gefforen’s reminiscences could almost be read out loud by her tutor and guide – recalling screams, a lost arrow, and the kind gifts of water, bread and apples that had eventually brought them together.
“This is it, then!” Eshezy took the rope, wrapped one end around her left wrist, turned so that it went behind her, and, lifting all the remaining coils, dropped it gently on the ground. She stopped, seemingly deep in thought. Too much work! “You can look, but I must close my eyes now.” Turning back in the opposite direction, so that the rope no longer went behind her, Eshezy reached upwards, stretching, until she felt her progress blocked by a barrier.
A gasp from Gefforen confirmed the presence…
Opening her eyes, Eshezy found a small section of peaked roof before her, grey and imposing like that on her Fortress, and a wooden shaft of exquisite smoothness mounted beneath it. Leaning against the brickwork now solidly encircling what she knew would be a suitably deep hole, she wrapped the end of the rope around the shaft and made a knot which seemed to almost tie itself. The coils of rope were now balanced, somehow, on the top of the curved wall, and she pushed them in, listening as the rope slithered and scraped against the brickwork below.
Gefforen leaned over the side in time to see the end of the rope hit the water, far below. There, floating on the sparkling surface, was the same bucket that she had used to fill her container, or at least, so it seemed. “You are so marvellous, oh…. Eshezy!” She fell to her knees in adoration.
“Please!” Eshezy realised she had used this word twice in one day – no, in much less time than that – when she could not remember using it ever before, during her short life in Terraless. “Don’t. It isn’t me. It is She…”
Gefforen got back up quickly, looking around almost as if she expected to see the One in question.
“Why don’t you do the honours?” Eshezy reached out and grasped her friend’s shoulder, turning her to face the well, and Gefforen saw that there was a curved metal rod extending from the side of the well roof – or at least just below it – equipped with a beautifully curved, wooden sleeve-like cover for easy grasping.
She reached for it, intending to turn it with enthusiasm, but looked down into the well first. “The rope isn’t attached yet, Eshezy.” She smiled and shook her head slightly in mock regret as she seemed to recalibrate her expectations of and attitudes to her heroine.
“Good grief!” Eshezy closed her eyes once more and held her hand out over the water, and the bucket far below, smiling with relief at this most fortunate and timely demonstration of one of what she thought of as her own very obvious and numerous inadequacies. And I don’t want her to worship me! No one can handle that much praise!
Gefforen watched as the rope attached itself. “That’s better!” She muttered with a grin as she began to work the handle. It still took some effort to raise the bucket, but she could manage, and as the first of those notified by the ever-watchful eyes inside rushed out to see the miraculous new well, the bucket rose above the edge of the wall, glistening with water in the bright light of… night.
Seirchaal
Far away – he watched Terraless, his absolute dominion – his new world – enjoying the deceptively calm views across the vast plains, rolling foothills, and the great ‘ocean’ that filled the centre of the land he now thought of as his. Then his attention was drawn to a smoke plume in the distance. I know which town that is coming from. Someone has been careless – they will already have been punished, I am sure! He felt some frustration at the thought that his soldiers would have beaten the offender, and he had not been able to witness it. Perhaps not, perhaps it will have been caught on camera!
A few gestures changed the scene: there, before him, was Neechaall, looking much as he had planned it, though imperfectly executed by the dedicated – or desperate – efforts of his serfs, under the tyrannical directions of his hand-picked scum soldiers… except of course for the remains of the buildings which had been razed to the ground by fire. Not just one building… not just one or two close together, but some spaced far apart – this was no act of negligence, this was rebellion!
And there is no one here! He moved his hands, and the viewpoint changed. No one at all! I will review the data in my concealed video system; then I will see who it was who would dare to defy me. His moving viewpoint centred now on the principal building in the town. MY temple! Aaaargh! I will kill them all for this! He found the remains of the building that he had designated as the place where his soldiers would worship him; it was reduced to cinders and ashes, and so his record of the movements within it and around it were obliterated, too.
Now, I know that ‘my leopard’ will be the perfect gift for these rebels. They will suffer such fear… and then they will die. ALL OF THEM!
He immediately instituted the search technique he had so painstakingly formulated, retuning his viewpoint to the world of his nativity. It took some hours and each time that he thought he would finally locate the beast, he found only the most recent evidence of its work. After he had zeroed in on the last possible location, he found only an exhausted animal control specialist. He watched the man as he bent over the body of another victim. His blood ran cold and his grip tightened convulsively as he saw the uniformed man remove a strange device from a zippered pocket in his jacket and press it into place. As he pulled it away, a new paw print left there declared the guilt of the virtual villain.
Ah! He is ‘the leopard’! That’s why it had not been caught. Well, I can use him to track the rebels. Even with no recollection of these achievements, I predict he will join the chase and tear them all apart. Perhaps he will create a legend of a man-eater in Terraless, too… the more fear there, the easier it will be for me to mould them all to my will!
Soon, no one will dare to defy me again – for they will not be left alive to do so!
Chapter Eight
A Good Night’s Sleep
“Eshezy?”
No response.
“Eshezy?” Louder this time. “It’s me, Gefforen.”
Eshezy raised her head, and looked blearily at the figure in the doorway. “What? Did I miss breakfast?”
Gefforen chuckled. “I would have knocked on your door, but as you don’t have one… The others thought I should be the one to wake you.”
Eshezy sat up, her hair falling over her face as she shook her h
ead to clear it. “Do they think I’ll bite?”
Gefforen shook her head, finding the idea that the sleepy figure in front of her could be frightening to be absurd… until she remembered arrows unerringly aimed, fiercely flown, and the deadly devastation caused to the soldiers the previous evening. Bodies… and screams! “I-I brought you some meat.”
Eshezy got slowly out of the heavy blankets and stepped onto the polished wood floor; providing Gefforen with a brief flash of pale, long legs as she emerged, until the nightgown dropped back into place. “I am hungry!” She walked over to the doorway. “You never answered my question? What meal is this?”
“Mid-day.”
“Lunch.” She took the premier proffered portion of pinkness from the platter, and popped it between her lips. “I call the midday meal ‘lunch’. Ah… assuming some of that great bread Jeraldanine makes is also available?” She looked around hopefully and laughed out loud as the red-head sprung in from the hall, holding a particularly soft-looking loaf out proudly before her. Eshezy pulled both girls close and hugged them with pride and gratitude. Both healthy… and clean, too! She looked down on both heads, and saw that Gefforen had a really light blonde head of hair, and Jeraldanine’s red was much brighter and bolder than she had realised. Their clothes were changed, too: Jeraldanine was wearing a silky version of the basic shirt which before had been the only option for the females of Neechaall; it was a marvellous shade of lime green, contrasting with her hair and complementing her similarly tinted eyes. Her skirt seemed more velvet-like, though clearly made of a tougher material that Eshezy could not identify with one glance. Pulling back a little, she found that Gefforen was dressed in a tunic of deepest maroon, ‘vee’-necked and close-fitting, and beneath it she was wearing dark brown leggings. Hmm, I wonder who she is imitating. How flattering can a girl be! “Did you use the bath next door? I hardly recognise you both!”
“No!” The chorus from both girls sounded shocked.
“There are baths in each wing – that was what you said the long parts of your Fortress are called, wasn’t it?” Gefforen continued for the pair.
Eshezy nodded, masticated another morsel of meat, and took a hunk of bread from the loaf, the two girls still crowded around her. “Where’s Tresnian?”
“Still sleeping!” Jeraldanine piped up, her vivid green eyes wide with amazement.
“I think she’s still adjusting.” Eshezy offered. Kind of like ‘jet-lag’… whatever that means!
“I must get someone to make me some doors.” She put this half-remembered terminology aside, having experienced something similar so many times that she barely reflected on it. She was more troubled by a very practical concern; she had been thinking about the bathing she longed to do. But I do not want to be interrupted by a Neechaallite with a question about defence tactics; especially if it is someone like Basrillene, or Harthangan!
“Why don’t you just wave your arm?” Jeraldanine whispered, thinking about the stories that Gefforen had recounted to her earlier in the day.
Eshezy looked at her, astonished by the idea. And yet… She closed her eyes and gestured towards the entranceway. Two heads twisted to look and there was a gasp as one girl tripped over her own feet, causing the three of them to stagger…until they thudded into a drum-like surface – or at least that was how it sounded to their still self-sight-starved centre. She opened her eyes and found the passageway was no longer visible and the space she had hoped to fill was now occupied by a panelled door of dark, soft-sheened wood. “Now, that is nice!” She checked for and found a bolt of considerable thickness, brassy and ornate, mounted halfway up the non-hinge side, reached to pull it back, but found that her excitable companions inadvertently moved her out of range.
“Ooooooh!” Jeraldanine almost moaned her admiration, still absorbing the impact, both figuratively and literally, of the door at close quarters, and now being almost more impressed by the fact that the bolt was sliding without being touched.
And I was watching, too. “Hmm.” Eshezy took her entourage on a tour to the bathroom, pleased to find that a door had appeared in the entrance to the large but empty room which led to it, making that entire space a private one for her ‘toilet’. “Well, girls, I’ll come down as soon as I’m done.” She ushered them out and bolted the door – this time, automatically using her hand to move the brassy cylindrical component.
Once dressed, her hair left loose to dry – she found somehow that it was never tangled, after washing it with the all-purpose soap – she opened her curtains and looked out. There, as always, was the sun creature, drifting, flying < swimming? > behind the little white fluffy clouds that skittered by. I must figure out what is happening, why this wonderful beast is so sad, or … is it sick? And how long do we have before Seirchaal finds out that the ‘cold heart’ of his town… village, really – is destroyed, his soldiers vanquished and his vassals freed? She turned to hurry down, intending to question anyone and everyone, until she could figure out what was going on in the mystical world of Terraless.
“No one here…” Eshezy muttered out loud as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Do they think I would object to them even entering the personal portion of my home? She shook her head and grinned wryly as she realised that the terminology she had used in expressing her viewpoint probably proved that she might.
She walked around the room, looking at the large fireplace and seeing the kitchen with her next glance. Both looked exactly as she remembered them. She opened the drawer which enclosed the pink meat, and found the block to be complete, as she had expected. Bread without meat would be … She did not complete the thought. I think I need to be outside. She collected her bow, re-fitted the string, checked that her quiver had been restocked, unbolted the back door – two on the right, one on the left – lifted the strange, hatch-like panel and rolled out underneath. Fluidly bringing the bow into position, she slipped an arrow into place and let it fly – straight into the left-hand post which supported the little roof over the well. It bounced off and fell to the ground. “Ha!” She ran the few paces needed, picked up the arrow, running her finger over the tip to check that it was undamaged, and turned to gesture the bolts into place. Then she ran all the way to the end of the cleared section of the surrounding grasses, heading for the top of the path to Neechaall, her hair flying out behind her like a battalion battle banner. Before her, in the farthest portion of the roughly cleared area next to the trail, there were three fresh graves – a reminder of the single-mindedness of the soldiers. And they paid the ultimate price, though they had planned a quite different story…
Turning and looking back as she reached her target, she examined the outside of her fabulous home in the seemingly inexhaustible daylight of Terraless, absorbing the details as she had never paused to do before. The end walls of the nearer wings, where watchers were undoubtedly observing her with a mixture of curiosity and awe, showed as being constructed of solid, imposing stone of light grey, interlocked like massive bricks. This contrasted with the darker grey slate roof, which was ingeniously curved so that the roof end was almost like a turret above the ‘squareness’ below. She noticed the chimney for the fireplace in her grand room – the highest point on her Fortress – as the original structure was a few feet taller than the ‘additions’, and realised that there were other, slightly shorter chimneys in each wing, as evidenced by a faint white smoke from each one that billowed upwards until the columns dissipated in the breezy air. The ends of the two wings extending towards her now loomed above her elevation; she had run slightly down the slope towards the distant Neechaall and only the topmost ridges of the further two wings could be seen above the grasses from this vantage point. They must be cooking like crazy – it would take a lot of bread to feed our new household! Quickly she calculated how many were now living in her magnificent Fortress. Hmm, more than two hundred – perhaps fifty more – came with me the first trip, and there were twenty-seven miners with us when we arrived last night. She thought about t
he distance she had put between herself and this amazing collection of humanity and realised that she could ‘see’ things more clearly now she was outside, feeling the gentle wind and listening to the ‘shoosh’ of the air through the tall grasses, sensing the presence of small, hidden animals and experiencing the freedom inherent in the broad sky above. What is that expression: ‘can’t see the wood for the trees’? Pleased with this recollection, though she knew not from where, she pulled back on her bow and looked at the flexing of the wonderfully carved wood. I’ve only really used this in desperation, and at pretty close range. I wonder: how far will these arrows fly? She looked at the space from her to the end of the two wings stretched out towards her and estimated it was a ‘round’ hundred yards. So, the distance to the well from here, is about a hundred and forty-five…
Pulling back, an arrow now in position, she pointed towards the well and let the feathered shaft fly. ‘Twang’ – ‘shwooosh’! It fell to the ground about half way to her target. I recall – though that seems like the wrong term – that a little elevation would assist. She leaned back, pointed the arrow at forty-five degrees to the horizontal, pulled hard and watched as the arrow curved up before falling, embedding itself in the stubble about ten yards from her target. One more! This time she pulled back as much as she could and felt the bow flex to its limit. The arrow soared, dropping into the soil two yards from her carefully ‘placed’ well. That’s more like it!
The back door opened and a head popped out. She could see that it was Basrillene, and he looked – even from the extreme distance – to be a little hesitant about coming fully out onto the impromptu practice grounds.
“Don’t worry!” Eshezy shouted. “I’ve stopped!”
He rolled out and was followed by Travakane and Harthangan. The three – two bulky, heavily muscled and mature, either side of the comparatively slender youth – walked across the bare ground, collecting arrows as they came.
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