Noman

by William Nicholson

  "Looking for company, sweetheart? It's a long lonely road. You can ride with us for a kiss."

  Morning Star shook her head.

  "Don't be shy, gorgeous." They surrounded her with their Caspians, jostling her with their legs. "You'll be proud enough to know us soon. We have a new Jahan! The Orlan nation rides again."

  "A stranger too," cried another, "with eyes that all men obey."

  Hearing this, Morning Star became interested.

  "What stranger?"

  "Who knows? We go to see for ourselves. But they say the old Jahan's boy Alva tried to seize the whip, and the stranger felled him with a single blow."

  "This stranger has unusual powers, then?"

  "Looks that way. We're to gather at the old fort. Then we'll see for ourselves."

  With that, they rode on their way. Morning Star knew of no old fort but presumed it was farther down the road. As for this stranger who had made himself the new Jahan of the Orlans, she could only guess that he was Seeker himself. It was Seeker who had smashed the Orlans in their pride. Who else had the power to command such an army?

  She could see him now in her mind's eye, walking beside her as he had done long ago, on the road to Radiance. To others he might be the possessor of power beyond understanding. To her he was the best friend she had ever had. He was the only person before the Joy Boy who had known her well, even if he didn't know everything. When they had parted many months ago, he had said to her, "Don't say good-bye." It had been his way of saying they would meet again, and she had never doubted it. She had known from their first meeting when they had touched hands that he would always be there for her. She understood now, as she walked the twilight road, how important that certainty was for her. It made her feel that somewhere there was safety in a hard world, and love in a cruel world.

  Is that what I feel? Love?

  She had loved the Wildman. With Seeker it was different, not love at all, really, not that hurting, desperate need that had so shamed and excited her. When she thought of Seeker she just felt glad that he was there. She had no secrets from him. Even now in the midst of such dangerous times she looked forward to telling him about her foolish passion for the Wildman, and how it had ended as suddenly as it had begun. He would laugh at her and understand her and be her friend. She remembered lying on her back on the grass, beside just such a road as this, looking up at the stars, hearing Seeker speaking softly to the Wildman. He had talked about the hurting of the world, and how he wanted to make there be light, and how he wanted to come close to the light. "So close that I'm dazzled and flooded. So close that I'm not even me any more." Those were his words. The Joy Boy had said the same thing in different words. "When we overcome the separation that keeps us apart, we will become god." Seeker would understand.

  Night was now falling, her first night in this new and more brilliant world. As the shadows deepened, the many colors faded, and the trees and the road and the sky above stilled themselves for sleep. So too must she.

  On either side of the road the summer grasses grew high, as high as her waist. She went a little way into the grass and flattened a space big enough for her to lie down in. The trampled grass made a bed, and the standing grass made walls, so she had a little secret house for the night. She lay down in her clothes with her rolled-up badan beneath her head for a pillow.

  Once she was lying down and twilight deepened into night, a great calm came over the world. Such breeze as had troubled the air in the day now died, and the tall grass stood motionless. High above, stars began to appear, glowing with faraway colors like jewels. She lay quiet and watched them steadily and felt as if she were sailing, as if she and the earth beneath her were sailing away beneath the sequinned sky.

  Then she heard a soft clicking in the grass and caught a movement nearby. She watched and listened. She saw it now: a darker shape among the grasses, no longer moving, but the grass round about shivered. Someone was watching her.

  She calmed her beating heart and gathered her lir, as she had been taught. Then slowly, calmly, she rose to her feet, her hands loose at her sides, her senses keen, ready to respond to any attack.

  The shape in the grass did not move. It was too dark to read its aura. Whoever it was must be crouched or kneeling, to remain covered by the grass. For a long moment she waited, absolutely still. Then a hand reached up towards her, and Morning Star sprang. In midair, her senses working at high speed, she saw the crouching figure below her, saw his startled attempt to rise, aimed the heel of her left foot, and caught him on the side of his head as she landed. He fell sprawling to the ground. She dropped down onto the flattened grass beside him. He lay motionless, half stunned by the blow of her foot.

  It was Hem.

  "Oh, Hem! Oh, you stupid fool of a boy! Why didn't you tell me?"

  She rolled him onto his back and patted his cheeks. Slowly he came out of his stunned state and blinked at her. At first he didn't seem to believe what he was seeing. Then he began to cry.

  "I'm sorry," said Morning Star. "I didn't know it was you. Does it hurt very much?"

  He shook his head and went on crying.

  "What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

  He nodded.

  "Oh, Hem." She sighed. "What am I to do with you?"

  She spoke tenderly, touched by the look of misery on his thin young face.

  "Don't matter," he said. "So long as I'm with you."

  "You can't be with me, Hem. You'll make it harder for me. I have to go alone."

  "You go alone," he said. "I'll come behind. You don't need to talk to me, or bother with me. It'll be like I'm not there."

  He pushed the tears from his eyes with his fists, leaving smears all down his dirt-encrusted cheeks.

  There was no point in saying any more that night, so she let him stay with her till the morning. They settled down to sleep, Morning Star in one grass-walled room, and Hem in another close by. Silently Morning Star resolved that at first light she would creep away before he was up.

  She woke to the lavender mist of a new day. Her first thought was: How beautiful! Her second thought was: He's awake.

  As she stretched the sleep from her body, there he was, standing chest deep in grass, staring at her, with his dirty face and his hungry eyes.

  "Please, Hem," she said. "I'm asking you. Don't follow me. Go back to the others. We'll meet again later."

  He scowled and looked down.

  "Not going to leave you now," he muttered. "Not going to leave you ever."

  Morning Star knew then that she had no choice.

  "Look at me, Hem," she said.

  She held his eyes, and for a fraction of a second, she flooded him with the force of her lir. He jerked as if she had hit him, then crumpled to the ground. She knelt by his side and touched him gently on the brow as he lay in the long grass. He was breathing evenly. He would wake unharmed.

  Once more she set off up the road. As she went, it seemed to her that the colored land was singing. Then she realized that she was accompanied on her way by a thread of tinkling sound that came from the roadside ditch. It was running with water. The flow was too shallow and muddy to drink, but the farther she walked, the deeper the water burbling in the ditch. Then ahead she saw an abandoned farm building with a well in its yard. The well was gushing out water.

  She splashed over the puddled ground and plunged her hands into the cool depths. Gratefully she drank her fill. Then, when she could drink no more, she splashed water over her face and hair and clothes, soaking herself to the skin, knowing the hot sun would soon dry her out.

  Preoccupied with washing herself, her ears ringing with cascading water, she never heard the riders approach the well. When at last she straightened up and tossed her wet hair back out of her eyes, she found they were all round her. From their clothing and their horses, she knew they were another band of Orlans. They pushed close and stared at her and grinned.

  "Look what we've got here," said one of them. He was broad-chested and bl
ack-haired, and his face twitched as he spoke. His pulsing orange aura told her he was in a dangerous state of overexcitement. "We've got ourselves a girl hoodie."

  "Let her alone, Alva," said one of the others.

  So this was Alva Jahan, the one who had lost the leadership of the Orlans to the stranger.

  "I let alone who I choose," he barked, "and I meddle with who I choose. It was the hoodies who broke my father."

  "But she's only a girl."

  "Quite a girl, too," said another. They all laughed. Alva too grinned as he looked down at Morning Star.

  "Look at you," he said, "in your wet clothes."

  He signed to his men to dismount. Morning Star stood very still, preparing to defend herself. She reckoned there were about fifteen of them. Her difficulty was that they were all round her. She could handle the ones within sight, but the ones behind could be tricky.

  Alva walked towards her, rolling his hips and flexing his arms as he came. He was still grinning.

  "Wet clothes," he said, and wagged one finger from side to side. "No, no! You could catch a cold."

  The others laughed at that.

  Suddenly strong arms seized Morning Star from behind and held her arms in a powerful grip. At the same time, a coat was thrown over her head and pulled tight. Through the thick material of the coat, she could hear the laughter of the Orlans and the voice of Alva Jahan.

  "Off with her wet clothes!"

  A high scream sounded from one side. Whatever it was caught the Orlans unawares. She felt their grip loosen, and she seized her opportunity. She pulled herself free, shaking off the stifling coat.

  A small screaming, thrashing figure was attacking Alva Jahan, pummelling and biting and kicking. Alva caught him in his powerful grip and dragged him off.

  It was Hem, shrieking like a wild animal.

  "Hem!" cried Morning Star. "Get away!"

  "You little spiker rat!" shouted Alva. Holding Hem gripped in his left hand, he jabbed his right fist up under his chin in a vicious blow. There came a crack, and Hem's head snapped backwards. His body went limp. Alva threw him to the ground. He felt his own face and found blood.

  "Little spiker rat scratched me," he said.

  He turned on Morning Star.

  "This one I want alive. Just long enough to have some fun with her. Eh, hoodie girl?"

  He grinned at her. Morning Star felt an uncontrollable passion rise within her. The colors of the world went dark.

  Alva approached, confident he would meet no resistance now. He held out his arms in a mockery of an embrace.

  "How about a kiss for the big man? You never know. You might like it."

  The darkness swept over the world like night.

  "You look good wet. You should do it more often."

  He was close now, dark in the darkness.

  "I'm going to enjoy this."

  Morning Star struck, all the force in her boiling out in a rage-filled attack. Alva flew backwards with a shout of pain and surprise and went on rolling under the impact of the bolt of power, skidding over slick mud to slam to a stop against the barn wall. Morning Star swept round the other Orlans, howling like a wild animal, pouring out her force, sending them and their Caspians scattering. Only when all were broken or fled and there was no one left to strike did she come to a stop, and even then a scream was sounding in her open mouth.

  She fell silent at last, drained and trembling, afraid of the darkened world, afraid of herself. She heard the trickle of the water from the overflowing well. Slowly the darkness left her and the sunlight returned, glinting on the puddled ground.

  There before her lay Hem's motionless body. She went to him and knelt by him, her entire body shaking with exhaustion. She knew before she touched him that there was no hope. The dead have no colors.

  "Oh, Hem," she whispered, tears rising to her eyes. "You should never have followed me. I told you to go back."

  She wept for him and for herself, knowing she had been the cause of his death.

  "You wanted so much to grow up. And you did grow up, Hem. You were a man at the end. A real man."

  Alva had limped to his feet and was now climbing unsteadily back onto his horse. Several of the others were already riding away. Alva threw a look of hatred towards Morning Star, but seeing her look towards him, he turned away and urged his Caspian into motion.

  Morning Star crawled over to the old barn and lay down in its shade.

  How can men be so cruel? she thought. What makes them want to hurt and kill?

  The answer was in herself even now. She could see Alva Jahan's leering face. She could taste the sour terror in her mouth. Yes, she would hurt him if she could. She would kill him if she could.

  Fear makes us cruel.

  13 At the Old Fort

  THE OLD FORT STOOD HIGH ON THE SKYLINE, ITS WATCHtower silhouetted against the evening glow. At such a time, when the light was gone, the fort returned to its former grandeur and seemed to be a massive edifice that dominated the land. But as Morning Star made her way up the road towards it, she saw the sad truth: the fort was an overgrown ruin. Large sections of its walls had fallen away, and weeds and brambles grew over what remained. Not a single roof was still intact against sun and rain. Even the great watchtower was a skeleton of its former self, one face invaded by elder, the other crumbled away to expose the beams of the shattered stairway.

  Morning Star was very tired. She should have stayed longer by the well, she should have slept there till next morning to replenish her exhausted strength, but she had risen after two short hours and resumed her journey. She wanted to find Seeker before night fell.

  More bands of Orlans had passed her on the road, without paying her any attention. And now here before her was their destination, the gathering of Orlans. A large fire had been lit in the ruined hall of the old fort, which stood open to the road. Round the fire milled hundreds of Orlans, greeting each other and embracing. Each new band of arrivals dismounted and left their Caspians to graze among the rubble, then went to swell the numbers in the roofless hall.

  Morning Star did not follow them, made wary by her treatment at the hands of Alva Jahan and his men. Silent and unseen, she climbed a mound of fallen stones to a position from which she could look over the whole scene. Here she settled down and searched the firelit crowd. She was looking for the new Jahan.

  Her vantage point was some way distant from the fort. The road lay between them. Night had now fallen, and she could not distinguish faces, but she could pick out the faint glow of the Orlans' colors. At the far end of the hall, men were fixing torches on either side of a raised stone platform, and by the light of the torches, she could make out drummers and pipers assembling nearby.

  Her attention was distracted from this scene by the sound of hoofbeats on the road. She turned and saw a latearriving band of mounted Orlans approaching; but unlike the others, they came silently in the darkness. Their leader called them to a halt, keeping his voice low.

  It was Alva Jahan. Morning Star saw the sullen glow of his colors and knew that he had come in anger.

  I should have killed him by the well.

  The band he led had grown in size. There were a hundred and more mounted men lined up on the road behind him. They waited while he rode forward and gazed towards the gathering in the old fort. As he stared, the drums began to beat and the pipes to play. Morning Star too looked to the platform at the far end of the roofless hall. There, serenaded by music, veiled by the rising smoke of the fire, the new Jahan presented himself before his people. She caught the glint of flame reflected on a silver breastplate and heard the Orlans cheer. Was it Seeker they cheered?

  Alva Jahan returned to his waiting men.

  "Orlans," he said, keeping his voice low, "our moment has come. One charge will end the shame of our nation. Are you with me?"

  "Aye," they answered softly in the night.

  "We have only one enemy—this impostor, this thief of honor, this false Jahan! Follow me, for the pride of t
he Orlan nation! One death is all I ask!"

  Morning Star heard every word. She saw Alva position himself at the head of his mounted band. She looked to the old fort where the mass of Orlans were gathered round the platform, their backs to their silent enemy, listening to the exhortations of their new leader. Morning Star knew Seeker's great power, but the speed and surprise of the charge might catch him off guard. She could call out and alert the men in the hall to the danger, but a battle would follow and men would die. There was another way.

  She dropped silently from her vantage point and padded to the road.

  Alva Jahan drew his sword. Morning Star, unseen in the night, touched the arm of a mounted Orlan. Startled, he turned to look down at her.

  "Sleep," she whispered.

  He slid from his horse to the ground and lay there in a deep sleep. Morning Star stroked the Caspian's brow and swung herself up onto his back. The Caspian shivered and adjusted to her weight.

  "Go!" cried Alva, low but fierce.

  He set off at their head, and the hundred Orlans followed in a compact mass. Morning Star had exhausted her strength, but she still had her gift. She must force her thoughts to stillness. Riding behind the warriors heading into battle, she filled her mind with a simple memory. In her mind she was sitting on the hillside next to her father, watching the dawn. She was filling herself with calm.

  Alva increased his speed. The Orlans, and Morning Star with them, increased their speed. The firelit gathering ahead came closer. Cheers sounded from the old fort.

  Morning Star urged her Caspian forward and caused him to brush against his neighbor. With this touch, she sent her own colors flowing out like a lick of blue flame, and the Orlan beside her was embraced by the calm spirit that now possessed her. At the same time, his horse jostled the next, and the colors jumped from rider to rider. Even as Alva Jahan was spurring his Caspian to greater speed, his followers were beginning to fall back. The front line slowed, forcing the lines behind to press against them. So Morning Star's embrace caught them, too.