by Karen Hughes
For a long time, nobody spoke. They were going downstream now, and the boat moved silently with the current. Kai could hear the fast breathing of his sister. He knew she hated the dark. He also knew that if he said anything she’d probably lean over and punch him.
The river swept into a bend, and the world was suddenly filled with light. They had entered a huge limestone cavern. The walls dripped with some kind of fluorescent paste, filling the whole space with an eerie green light. High overhead, the roof of the cavern was dotted with a mass of shining stars.
‘Glow worms,’ said Sami. ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’
Kai could only nod.
The river widened, and the boat floated on. Sami reached out and scooped a handful of water into his mouth.
‘It’s sweet,’ he said. ‘Try it.’
It was. It was fresh and cool, and a startling shade of blue. Kai could see that it was alive with living creatures, darting and flashing and scurrying.
‘I used to be afraid of the water,’ said Sami. ‘When I was little. I used to think there were things down there. You know, sea monsters. I thought they would swim up and eat me.’
Indie looked sceptical. ‘Are there?’ she asked. ‘Sea monsters?’
The boy laughed. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ he said. ‘But deep down the water is salty, like the ocean, so maybe.’ He gave her a mischievous grin.
The river passed under an archway of smooth white stone, and emerged into a place of fresh air and clouded skies. The sun was rising, and in the soft morning light Kai could see they were in an open chasm, with sheer cliff walls on either side. At the top there was a fringe of glossy green trees and vines. Chattering and screeching noises broke the silence, echoing all around them.
‘Monkeys,’ said Sami. ‘And parrots ... All kinds of birds. Not many bigger animals, unless they can climb trees. The jungle is too thick. You can’t walk through it.’
Kai suddenly understood how the gypsies had kept the river secret for so many years. The river hid underground, rushing through forgotten caves. The only way to get to it was through the secret holes in the rock above. In places where the river opened up to the sky, the jungle was virtually impenetrable.
The boat drifted to a place where there was a wide stone bank on one side of the river. The trees were thinner here, and the stone was worn by the traffic of many feet.
Kai felt a tug on his arm. Indie was beside him, pointing up into the trees. He looked to where she pointed. There, tucked away in the broad branches, were tree houses. He could make out sway bridges between the trees and staircases curving up around the trunks.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Indie. ‘Those are Kalika tree houses. They look exactly like the ones at home.’
The gypsy boy looked puzzled. ‘I thought you said you lived in Ballyndor.’
‘We do,’ said Indie, ‘but our mother comes from the forest.’
Kai was staring at the tree houses. ‘It’s so strange,’ he said, as they climbed out of the boat. ‘Look at those old stone walls. See the carvings? Mottaka mottaka ... kikiyama kikiyo ... They are ancient Kalika words. Why are they written here?’
Sami shrugged. ‘Old Man Kita will know,’ he said.
Chapter 11
The Cliffs
It was bumpy in the back of the wagon, and Nima had to cling to the edge to stop being thrown against the side. The children were much smaller than she was, with bright eyes and shy smiles, and for the entire journey they talked incessantly about sea monsters and drowning sailors.
Nima hadn't slept the night before, so she dozed on and off, her body heavy with fatigue. She was relieved when Uncle Rauf reined in the horses and the wagon rattled to a stop.
Jabar poked his head through a flap in the back of the canvas. He'd been sitting up the front with his uncle, keeping a lookout for the emperor’s soldiers.
‘You can get out and stretch your legs,’ he said. ‘We’re at the first lagoon. There are three more to go around before we get to the village.’
Nima waited for the children to tumble out of the wagon, before she jumped down to stand beside Jabar.
She looked around. They had stopped at a wide lake, with clear blue waters and a white sandy shore. On the far side was a jungle of ancient ferns. Tall trees with pendulous leaves rose from the undergrowth, and at the base of every tree there was a mass of strange green bushes, bursting with pink funnel-shaped flowers.
‘I don’t know why I can’t ride up front with you, Da,’ said one of the smaller girls, leaning back against her father’s legs. ‘It’s so squishy in the back, and the boys stink.’
‘Boys are supposed to stink,’ said Uncle Rauf, tousling her dark curls with an affectionate smile. ‘That’s their job.’
‘Well, it’s not my job to smell them,’ said the girl.
‘You’re quite right,’ said Uncle Rauf. ‘but it’s safer for you to stay in the wagon. We’re almost at the village.’
The girl pouted. She ran down to the edge of the lagoon and dipped her bare toes in the water. The other children ran after her. They waded into the shallows, splashing and shrieking.
‘Quieten down,’ called their father. ‘The soldiers might hear you.’
He turned to Jabar and Nima. ‘I’m surprised we haven’t met any patrols,’ he said.
‘They don’t usually come this far, do they?’ asked Jabar.
‘No,’ said Uncle Rauf, ‘but I’ve seen three in the foothills in the last week. The patrol that stopped your Aunt Eshe and I in the forest was dressed in full fighting gear. Silver chain shirts, baggy red pants, thick black belts. And those long curved scimitars they all carry.’
He scratched his head, gazing out at the blue waters. Then he turned back to Jabar and said abruptly, ‘What happened to your father?’
Jabar swallowed. He looked at the ground. ‘He fell in battle. On the Gilliba Plains.’
Uncle Rauf nodded. ‘I saw the army of Moto marching towards the mountain. I didn’t know the Dasa Warriors were going to march with them.’
‘The Dasa Warriors followed my father without question. That’s what a warrior is trained to do.’
‘And who do they follow now?’
Jabar raised his chin. ‘Me,’ he said.
Uncle Rauf's eyes narrowed. He looked closely at Jabar's face. ‘You don’t look like a chief to me.’
Nima watched the exchange, thinking how thin and lanky Jabar looked beside his uncle. If being a warrior was about size and strength, if it was about fighting against men like Uncle Rauf, then Jabar had no chance.
Jabar looked back at his feet. ‘I’m a Dasa Warrior,’ he muttered.
‘You’re a boy with a bad haircut,’ said Uncle Rauf. ‘Now, come and help me tighten these ropes.’
The track around the lagoon was wide and well-trodden. There was no sign of the soldiers, so Uncle Rauf let the children take turns sitting with him at the front of the wagon. They passed the third lagoon on sunset, and rolled down the hillside to the houses at the edge of Sampa Cove.
Curious faces peered through the curtains, and quickly pulled them closed. It was very quiet. No children played in the streets. No neighbours leaned across the fence for an evening chat. No grizzled old men sat on their front steps, listening to the song of the crickets and watching the world go by.
‘Strange,’ said Uncle Rauf. He eased the wagon to a stop outside a neat little cottage with a sharply pitched roof and flowers in clay pots beside the door. Jumping down from the wagon, he said ‘Nima, you come with me. The rest of you wait here with Jabar.’
Nima followed Uncle Rauf up the steps of the cottage. He knocked at the door, waited, and knocked again. There was no sound of footsteps, no sign that anyone was home.
'Maybe they’re all asleep,’ said Nima.
Uncle Rauf shook his head. ‘Look at the lock,’ he said. ‘It’s been smashed.’
Twisting the handle, he eased the door open and stepped inside.
‘No,’ he whisper
ed.
Books and papers were scattered from one end of the room to the other. Overturned chairs lay broken-legged and helpless on the floor. A painting by the window had been slashed in half, the splintered frame still clinging to the wall. Bowls and plates lay in fragments by the fireplace. The ashes from the fire had been flung in all directions, and there were large sooty footprints all over the sea grass mat beside the hearth.
‘Soldiers,’ muttered Uncle Rauf, clenching his fists. ‘Stay here and keep watch. I’ll check the bedrooms.’
He wasn’t gone for long. The bedrooms were in a similar state, with torn bedding and broken furniture. ‘No sign of the family,’ said Uncle Rauf.
‘I hope they aren’t hurt,’ said Nima, in a quiet voice. ‘The children ... What were their names?’
‘Mari and Sami,’ said Uncle Rauf. ‘If the soldiers have hurt them, I’ll kill each and every one of them.’
He looked so fierce that Nima believed him. A wave of anger washed over her. There was a sudden pain in her chest, hot and shooting, burning into her heart. It was so strong she could hardly breathe. She clutched the edge of the table, her knees buckling and her face white.
Uncle Rauf didn’t notice. He was raging about the room, righting the chairs and collecting the papers from the floor. He turned to Nima, his face red with fury. ‘They’ve torn up books that have been in this family for centuries!’ He stopped. Nima was sliding to the floor.
Uncle Rauf ran to her. ‘What’s the matter?’ he cried. ‘Are you sick?’
Nima shook her head. How could she explain that his anger was raging through her body, pounding in her temples, flooding her blood like a poison.
Uncle Rauf's forehead was creased with worry. He picked Nima up in his strong arms, and carried her back to the wagon. The children clamoured around her.
‘Give her some air,’ said Uncle Rauf.
He turned to Jabar. ‘The soldiers have been here. We need to go,’ he said. ‘We’ll take the wagon around the back, and cover it with old sails. I don’t think the soldiers will come back to the cottage; they already have what they came for.’
Through the quiet streets of the village they ran, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. Uncle Rauf led the way. Nima followed, with the children pushing and shoving each other to be close to her. Jabar was last, his eyes peeled and his hand on the knife at his belt. If anyone attacked, he was ready. He’d show Uncle Rauf he really was a Dasa Warrior.
Uncle Rauf stopped. ‘We’ve reached the cove,’ he said. ‘There shouldn’t be too many people down here – I can’t see any ships, only fishing boats, and the fishermen will be home in bed by now. But you children still need to be quiet.’ He gave them a stern look. ‘You can talk to Nima when we get to Taka.’
There was a noise behind them, the faint sound of footsteps.
‘Quick,’ whispered Uncle Rauf. ‘Climb under the wharf.’
They scrambled over the sand, waded into the water, and clung to the thick, slimy stumps at the base of the old wharf. Jabar looked at the children. They were shivering, their faces pinched with fear.
He felt the stumps tremble and sway as someone stepped onto the wharf. A second person followed. They walked a short distance, and then stopped.
‘We'll have to go after them,’ said a man with the rough voice of a sailor. ‘Who knows what the gypsies will do.’
‘I don’t think Sami will lead them into any harm,’ said a second man, his voice low and measured. ‘Besides, Kai and Indie can look after themselves.’
Nima gasped. Jabar frowned at her and put his finger to his lips.
'What was that?’ asked the first man. Footsteps came towards them. Then they stopped. There was a long silence. Jabar held his breath.
‘Must be the cats,’ said the first man, at last.
‘Cats?’ said the second man. ‘On a wharf?’
‘They come for the fish,’ said the first man.
‘I’m going back to the Kalika Forest,’ said the second man. ‘I want you to come with me. If what you say about the Veladin is true, we have a lot of work to do.’
‘It’s a dangerous journey over the mountain, especially with all these soldiers about.’
‘What else can we do? You said there were no more ships to Ballyndor.’
‘We’ll have to travel at night. And we’d better go to the Tiger's Eye first. Opalina will give us food and supplies for the journey.’
The wharf creaked above their heads as the men walked back to the shore. Jabar could hear them whispering together, making plans.
When they were gone, Nima said, ‘One of those men was from the Kalika Forest. Shouldn't we follow them? Shouldn’t we find out where Kai and Indie have gone?’
‘No.’ It was Uncle Rauf. He was helping the children through the water. ‘The other man was Fintan, the gambler from Ballyndor. I’d know his voice anywhere. He’s a legend in Moto. If there’s money to be made, he’ll do anything to make it – including handing children over to the emperor’s soldiers.’
‘But they said something about Sami,’ said Nima. ‘Wasn’t that the boy you were talking about? The one from the cottage?’
Uncle Rauf nodded. ‘It sounds like Sami is going to the same place we are. And he's had the sense not to take Fintan with him. Good. I hope Mari and his parents are there, too.’
The tide was going out as they waded back to shore. The smooth white sands were scattered with pearly shells and clumps of black seaweed. Beyond the rocks at the edge of the sand, there was a trail leading up the side of the cliff. It was steep and slippery, and it seemed a very long way to the top.
Nima and Jabar carried the two smallest children on their backs. Uncle Rauf refused to carry anyone. ‘They're gypsies,’ he said. ‘They know how to walk.’
Jabar let the little boy climb down, but Nima continued to carry the girl. ‘She’s so tired,’ she said. ‘And she’s missing her mother.’
Uncle Rauf looked at his youngest daughter, and his face softened. ‘How do you know that?’ he asked. ‘She couldn’t have told you. She’s never been able to talk.’
‘I can feel it,’ said Nima. She couldn’t say how or why, but she was noticing it more and more. She’d been knocked down by Uncle Rauf's anger back at the cottage, and now she was stumbling under the weight of the little girl’s fear and sadness. Was this how it would be from now on? Did being the apiki flower mean she had to feel everything?
She took another step, her back bent and her knees shaking.
‘Let me take her,’ said Jabar. He tried to lift the girl from Nima’s back, but the girl wrapped her legs around Nima’s waist and wouldn’t let go.
‘I can do it,’ said Nima. She was finding it difficult to shape the words. Her throat was raw and burning. There was something blocking her voice: it felt like a pebble, smooth and hard. She put her hand to her throat.
‘Usha,’ she whispered.
Her hand was suddenly hot. She pressed it against her throat as she walked, head down, concentrating on the path. Jabar walked close behind her. She could feel his worry flowing over her. It was too much. It was all too much. She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes.
The heat in her hand grew stronger. The burning in her throat was like a flame. She could taste something sweet.
‘Usha,' she whispered again. ‘I need you.’
There was a shift in the air, and she knew her snow leopard was walking beside her. Energy rose through the soles of her feet, surging through her legs and into her chest, flowing down her arms and into her hands. Her skin tingled. There was a burst of heat from her fingertips.
Her eyes were doing something funny. Everything around her seemed to be green and glowing and sparkling with light. A soft, cool liquid filled her throat, as sweet and smooth as the honey Jabar's mother used to bring back from Moto.
The world began to spin. She was breathing heavily, scratching at her neck. The ground tilted beneath her feet; the sky swirled above her. There was a roaring in her
ears. And just when she thought she would collapse in a heap and plummet to the bottom of the cliff, she heard a strange popping sound and the lump in her throat dissolved into nothing.
The girl on her back leaned forward and wrapped her small arms tightly around Nima's neck. ‘All better now,’ the girl whispered.
Uncle Rauf heard her. He stopped and turned, his eyes wide with shock. ‘What did you say?’
'Better now,’ said the girl. She reached up and touched her throat. ‘Nima made me all better.’
Uncle Rauf was by Nima’s side in two long steps. He picked up his daughter and held her close. His eyes filled with tears. ‘You can talk,’ he said.
‘Nima is so beautiful. I love her,’ said the girl. ‘She’s the apiki flower.’
Uncle Rauf set the girl down and looked at Nima. ‘The apiki flower,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘It’s true,’ said Jabar.
Uncle Rauf frowned. ‘If Nima is the apiki flower, she must be protected. You can’t take her to Nagara. It’s too dangerous.’
‘He’s not taking me anywhere,’ said Nima. She rubbed her throat, feeling the last trace of pain subside. ‘I was going by myself. He offered to come with me.’
‘The road to Taka is just over those rocks,’ said Uncle Rauf. He took hold of her elbow. Nima tried to shake him free, but he held tight.
‘What are you doing, Uncle Rauf?’ It was Jabar. He was watching his uncle closely.
‘The first apiki flower lived in Taka for a long time,’ said Uncle Rauf. ‘The old ones still speak of her. They say that while she lived there, the gypsies were prosperous and safe.’
‘That was years ago,' said Jabar. ‘The apiki flower has always been a rumour, a fairytale. People said she was a plant, not a person.’
‘Not the gypsies,’ said Uncle Rauf, still holding Nima’s elbow. ‘We knew she would come back to us.’
‘She’s not staying in Taka,’ said Jabar.
