by Oisin McGann
In less than half an hour, the bright yellow biplane came into sight. Chamus leaned forward to look at it. He knew instantly that the field would be long enough to take off and his heart leapt. He was on his way home.
They came up to it from behind and he jumped down before the truck had even come to a halt. He ran up to it, slowing down as he studied the fuselage and wings for any damage, it looked alright … he stumbled to a halt, a puzzled frown on his face. Then he sprinted around to the front and held his hands to his head.
‘Oh God, no,’ he groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’ Riadni jogged up to him. ‘Isn’t it okay?’
‘Well, look. What do you think?’
She gazed at the machine for a moment. There was definitely something missing, but then she had only seen the aeroplane a couple of times. Then she noticed.
‘Oh,’ she said simply. ‘Was that important?’
‘It doesn’t fly without it,’ Chamus said through gritted teeth.
The propeller was missing. Somebody had immobilised the plane by simply unbolting the propeller and taking it with them. Chamus trudged over to the cockpit. The radio was missing as well, not that it would have been any use. He slumped onto the wing and lay back, one hand covering his eyes.
‘Bloody hell!’ he bellowed.
Paronig was out of the cab, sub-machine gun in hand, scanning the countryside around them with suspicion.
‘We have to get out of here,’ he called to them. ‘Get back in the truck.’
Chamus was reluctant to leave his beloved biplane again, but they had to go. If the Hadram Cassal suspected that he would come back, they might have left someone to watch over the aeroplane. They climbed back into the cab and Paronig gunned the engine, throwing up dust in their wake as they sped away down the track.
They were driving down a section of trail where banks of earth rose up on either side when they came upon a boulder lying in the centre of the track. There was no way past for the truck. Paronig threw the vehicle into reverse, grabbing his gun with his free hand.
‘Get down!’ he barked at Chamus and Riadni, then to his men in the back, ‘Lads! We’ve got company!’
Another boulder tumbled down the bank and rolled into the track, blocking their path behind. The truck slammed into it and ground to a halt. Paronig trained his sights on one section of bank after another, trying to catch a glimpse of their attackers. He could see the tops of at least four heads, but he had no clean shot. A voice called down to them.
‘Give us Riadni and the boy and you can go!’
Riadni raised her head.
‘Papa?’
‘Come out to us Riadni, and bring the Altiman with you.’
Paronig looked at them, Riadni with her loyalties divided, Chamus frightened and staring back at him to see what he would do. The soldier gazed back, his mind chewing over his options.
‘Get out,’ Paronig growled, ‘both of you.’
‘What?’ Chamus quailed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, get out. You’re not worth the risk to me and my men. We have a job to do and you’re not it. Now get out.’
He shoved Chamus toward the passenger-side door. Chamus could not believe what was happening. Riadni took one look at Paronig’s face, grabbed the bags and opened the door. She stepped out and pulled Chamus out with her.
‘Do you know what they’re going to do?’ Chamus roared at the soldier. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’
Paronig pointed the gun at him.
‘Go,’ he grunted and slammed the door shut. Chamus fell back against the bank. Riadni pulled on his sleeve.
‘They’re not the Hadram Cassal. It’s my father and my brothers.’
‘What’s the bloody difference?’ Chamus tore his arm away.
‘The difference,’ Riadni said coldly, ‘is that they don’t kill people. They might still help you. You won’t get any more pity from that swine, anyway.’
Chamus cast one more despairing look at Paronig and then miserably turned to climb up the earth slope to the top, where he was grabbed and his hands tied by Kinasa and Bowrin, Riadni’s two eldest brothers. There were six of them altogether, her father and her three older brothers, as well as two of their cousins. Sostas strode up to Riadni and gave her a tight hug.
‘You scared me like you wouldn’t believe, girl,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s get you home. Where’s Rumbler?’
‘He’s dead,’ Riadni said numbly, gazing at Chamus. ‘I had to shoot him.’
Thomex Aranson sat in his office, facing a radio set with the instructions from the Hadram Cassal in his hands. He read them and reread again and again, turning the matter over in his mind, looking at it from all angles. It was quiet in the office and he did not have the record player on as he usually did. The insidious whispering in his skull was intense in the silence. It was a Wednesday, but the offices around him were empty because of the holiday, Airday, when everyone took to the skies to celebrate the anniversary of the first powered flight. He was alone in the building, just him and the damned voices. His jaws were clenched together as he picked up the microphone and spun the dial to the frequency written on the piece of paper.
It was a hard decision he was making, but in truth, he had made it already. When he had set the G-men on the Fringelander, he had effectively sacrificed Chamus, but if the lad was in the hands of the Hadram Cassal, then he was as good as dead anyway. This way he might not be tormented. He was of no use to them, so they might as well kill him. Thomex told himself this, but it did not really matter. Sacrifices had to be made in war. He had already made his decision. It only remained for him to let the bastards know where he stood. Checking the door behind him was closed, he turned up the volume on the radio.
‘This is Thomex Aranson, speaking to the leaders of the Hadram Cassal,’ he called as he keyed the mike. ‘This is Thomex Aranson, speaking to the leaders of the Hadram Cassal.’
He waited.
‘Aranson!’ a voice crackled through the wooden-framed cloth of the speaker. ‘Use the code! Anyone could be listening!’
‘This is Thomex Aranson, calling any of the Hadram Cassal leadership who might be able to hear me,’ Thomex repeated, ‘and what I have to say will not require any encoding. I do not bargain with terrorists, not for anything. The man you sent to me and the others with him are dead. The same fate awaits any other assassins that you send to our country. I do not bargain with the likes of you, not while there is a breath left in me. My grandson is dead and gone. You will not make a puppet out of me.’
He turned the radio off and hung the microphone back on its brass hook on the side, heaving a deep breath into his lungs. Sensing someone behind him, he looked over his shoulder. His son was standing in the open doorway.
‘What have you done?’ Kellen asked in shock. ‘Do you know something about Chamus? Do they have him?’
He stared into Thomex’s eyes and saw the zealous fever in their depths. He strode over and grabbed his father by the collar.
‘What have you done?’ he shouted, lifting Thomex out of his wheelchair and shaking him bodily. ‘What have you done now, you stupid, crazy old man?’
‘Listen to me, Kellen,’ Thomex growled. ‘They were trying to use me, to betray our own. One of our people in Bartokhrin has just found the location of a key terrorist camp, close to where Chamus landed. Plans are in motion. Do you follow? Tonight, a glider will deliver an air strike over that area that will change everything.’
‘An air strike? But what about Chamus? Have you even thought about how you might be putting him in danger?’
‘This is no ordinary mission, Kellen. This comes from on high, from the men who hold the real power in this country – men with the will to do what needs to be done. In two days the Bartokhrians will be begging us to come to their aid, and when they do, we’ll bring our army with us. We’ll scour that country from top to bottom, and that is the only chance Chamus has. We can’t bargain with these people. They do not respect a
nything but force. Only force can save Chamus now.’
Kellen snatched up the piece of paper that had fallen from Thomex’s hand.
‘They had my son and you weren’t even going to tell me,’ he snarled. ‘This wasn’t your decision to make. This isn’t over.’
‘Don’t you interfere!’ Thomex barked.
‘Do you think I’d ever listen to you again, after this?’ Kellen shouted back.
He pushed his father back into the wheelchair and strode out.
They had been travelling for about fifteen minutes, Chamus riding behind Kinasa, Riadni’s eldest brother, Riadni behind her father, when they heard a droning sound. Riadni had been pleading with her father to let Chamus go, but Sostas would not be moved. The Hadram Cassal had given him a simple choice: help them find Riadni and the boy, or let his daughter pay the consequences for her betrayal. And though it shamed Sostas to do it, that was no choice at all. The drone of engines interrupted their argument.
Chamus twisted his head around, identifying the sound immediately. It was a pair of single-engined dive-bombers, Bellam Dragonflies, approaching from the south. Their hoarse, buzz-saw growl was unmistakable. His heart lifted, maybe he could get himself seen …
The two planes were flying fast, their up-tilted wings and sharp noses gleaming in the sun, the flyers looked as if they were going to pass wide of them to the west, but then they swung around and made straight for the small group. They swooped overhead and Chamus yelled up at them, lifting his bound hands in the air. They banked back around and came in again. Chamus was the first to spot their intentions. The smile faded from his face as he saw them position themselves for a strafing run.
‘Get off the track!’ he shouted. ‘Get down, they’re coming in for an attack!’
He threw himself off the horse and hit the ground hard, twisting his ankle, but he stayed on his feet, running for a ditch at the edge of the trail. The others were quick to follow, but Barra tried to pull his horse with him.
‘Barra!’ his father yelled. ‘Forget her! Get down!’
The planes opened fire with their cannon, tearing four ragged lines of explosions along the track and the fields on either side. Some of the horses were killed outright and dust rose in a haze around the group as they huddled in terror while shells tore up the ground around them. Chamus cried out in frustration. Why were they firing? After all he had been through. His own air force was trying to kill him! The dive-bombers pulled up and away, their engines changing pitch as they climbed and banked in again. There was more cannon fire, and something white-hot struck Chamus’s right thigh, and then he heard a whistling and tucked himself right in to the side of the ditch, his hands over his ears and his mouth open. Something struck the ground further down the track and a shriek like no other rent the air. Chamus was suddenly right back again at the airfield on the day his classmates had been killed. It was a sireniser, the noise blotted out every thought; he could feel the vibrations in his bones. Even at this distance and in the relative protection of the ditch, it was unbearable. He could not even hear his own scream. The mind-numbing noise seemed to go on forever.
It was a couple of hours before anyone could move. When the sound eventually died down, the Mocranen family clambered to their feet with ringing ears and trembling bodies to take stock of their situation. Riadni was near Chamus in the trench and she crawled up closer when she saw his trousers soaked in blood. He had been hit in the thigh by shrapnel and he was pale and in shock. She looked around for something to stem the blood, but could find nothing, so she pulled the wig from her head, rolled it up and pressed it hard against the wound.
There was a wail of misery and she lifted her head up to look out of the ditch. Her father was holding Barra’s lifeless body in his arms, pressing his son’s face to him. Kinasa was also injured, his left arm hung limp and bloody by his side and blood ran from his left ear. One of her cousins, Crivak, had been completely deafened. Riadni clenched her eyes shut against the tears. She could not handle it; this was all too much. She kept her hands pressed against Chamus’s wound and started to pray for strength.
‘Bring that wretch up here!’ her father called out, his face twisted in grief and anger. ‘Let him see what those bastards – the gods and their machines – let him see what they have done to my son!’
Bowrin and Poulie, the other cousin, jumped down into the ditch.
‘He can’t move,’ she snapped. ‘He’s hurt!’
‘Your brother is dead, by Shanna!’ Sostas bellowed. ‘Bring that swine up here, we are taking him to Elbeth!’
‘He can’t walk!’
‘Then we’ll drag the little bastard!’
Two of the horses had bolted, one was so badly injured it had to be shot, the rest were already dead. Using branches from nearby trees and horse blankets, they rigged stretchers for Chamus and for Barra’s body and started walking. Chamus was conscious at first, watching in a daze as the sky passed slowly over him. Then he passed out.
He woke in a cave. It was cool. An evening light shone in from somewhere around a corner in the rock. It took some time for him to remember what had happened. He lifted his head and looked around. Some men in Bartokhrian dress sat nearby, talking in low voices. They had not seen him wake. His leg had been treated and bandaged and was not as sore as he would have expected, but he felt weak and dizzy and slightly sick. His wrists and ankles were bound by rawhide straps to the stretcher on which he lay. He let his head sink back onto the ground. The whispering was back, crawling around at the back of his skull and it was stronger than ever. The voices were clearer and he was sure that some of them sounded familiar. He dismissed the thought. He had just survived another sireniser. Nothing he heard for the next couple of weeks would sound normal.
‘So, you’re awake,’ a middle-aged Bartokhrian rose from the huddle of men and walked over to him. ‘We were getting a little worried about you.’
Chamus cast a glance around for Riadni, but she was nowhere to be seen. None of the Mocranens was there. With a sinking heart, he realised where he was. Riadni’s father had kept his promise.
‘My name is Lakrem Elbeth,’ the man told him. ‘I am an elder in the Order of the Hadram Cassal. And you are Chamus, Thomex Aranson’s grandson.’
Chamus’s voices scraped the inside of his skull and he felt the hate and fear rise inside him. He pulled against the straps that bound him, but Elbeth held his hands to try and soothe him.
‘You can relax, young Chamus. We’re not going to hurt you. On the contrary, we have treated your wound and soon we’re going to take you back to your family. And you will take a gift back with you. Relax … sleep if you can. You leave at sunset.’
Chamus felt no comfort at his words. He suspected that whatever happened at sunset, it could only be something that the Hadram Cassal would enjoy even more than killing him. He turned his head away from the Fringelander and saw his propeller standing against the wall of the cave. It only served to make the whole nightmare more real.
Riadni was distraught. Her brother was dead, Kinasa badly hurt, Crivak deafened and Chamus would soon be dead too, if he wasn’t already. And she felt as if it was all her fault. She had started it all. She sat alone in her room, still in the clothes she had worn for the last few days, wading in her misery. Somewhere in the house, her mother was sobbing over her dead brother. Kinasa and Bowrin had decided to join the Hadram Cassal. They would ride back to Sleeping Hill in the morning. Their father had not tried to dissuade them. He was down in the gathering room with Brother Fazekiel, who had come to offer what comfort he could to the family. She could hear them in the room below, speaking softly, the pain in her father’s voice audible even through the floorboards.
Riadni covered her eyes and tried to pray, but the peace it normally brought her would not come. Eventually, she gave up. Shanna was not listening. She opened her clothes chest and took out another wig and a headscarf to secure it. She picked herself up and started down the stairs. Rumbler’s saddlebags lay un
touched outside the door, she took some things from them and put them in her knapsack. With a careful peek around outside, she walked out into the yard and off towards the hills. No one saw her leave.
Chamus was lost among his whispers, the more he listened, the more he was sure he heard voices he recognised. He was sure some of them sounded like his dead classmates. He could feel their frustration and hatred welling up in him and he strained against his bonds. Then another voice came across, even clearer than the others. This one he definitely knew. He listened intently. It was different, it crackled and buzzed like a radio. It had static. Then it became clear, as if someone had tuned it in properly. It was his father. Chamus blinked, the voice was unmistakable, and it wasn’t in his head; it was carrying down the cave from a radio where three men sat listening. He gaped in amazement.
‘… I repeat. This is Kellen Aranson trying to contact the men who have my son. If you can hear me, please reply. Over.’
‘We can hear you, Kellen Aranson,’ Elbeth answered. ‘What do you want? Over.’
‘I want to speak to my son. Over.’
Elbeth motioned with his head and one of the other men walked over to Chamus and dragged his stretcher over to the radio. Elbeth held out the mike.
‘Dad?’
‘Chamus, son, is that you?’ his father was close to tears. In the background he could hear his mother break into a sob. ‘Are you alright? Have they hurt you?’
‘No,’ Chamus said dizzily, ‘but I got shot by a plane. I got its registration number.’
His mother cried out and he could hear his father comforting her.
‘Now,’ Elbeth took the mike back, ‘his wound has been treated and we are keeping him safe, but his grandfather has not cooperated. I am glad to see you are more reasonable. You called us just in time. Unfortunately you have contacted us on an open channel without the use of a code, so you will be no use to us as an informant. I am sure that your security services are on their way to your house as we speak. Over.’
