by Louise Wise
‘Gorjum did a deal with them—’
‘Deal?’
Molver looked worried at Fly’s tone. ‘Yes, a d-deal. But they still punished me,’ he added. He looked at his hands in his lap. ‘They hung me upside down and’— Fly didn’t want to hear it, but Molver wasn’t giving him any choice—‘beat the soles of my feet. I think I was about ten years old.’
Relief filled Fly’s body. Somehow, despite Molver’s annoying questions, high unbroken voice and the irritating way he followed him everywhere, he was glad the boy hadn’t been hurt in that way. Gorjum and the broken Saneg had certainly looked after him but at the cost of Fly’s careful planned mutiny.
‘Strad stopped them from killing me,’ Molver said, breaking into Fly’s thoughts.
‘Strad?’ He was the ship’s authoritarian leader and had died in the crash. ‘He stopped the beating; said I could be useful.’
Sickness began to spread in Fly’s stomach.
‘And?’ he asked.
‘And nothing. Then the ship crashed.’
They drove in silence until Molver broke it with, ‘So, where are we going?’
‘Back to the valley. It’s where Jenny has gone.’
‘Jen-ney?’
‘The goddess.’
The flapping of wings drowned Molver’s sharp intake of breath as a bird swept over. Its fixed black gaze was intent on them, but it soared higher and dismissed them.
The going was uphill. They had entered the rocky terrain of the mountains.
‘You said the goddess.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ Fly looked at him with a grin. ‘We’re going to rescue her.’
Chapter Thirty Five
Jenny, on her stomach, wriggled towards the edge and looked down at the activity in the valley. She was taking in the size of the vale and the amount of Jelvias who milled below.
Jenny and the honnards had arrived at the Jelvian valley after walking what seemed like days. And now Jenny was rewarded with the view of the settlement oblivious to the Jelvias below.
There was cattle, the same as the ones she and Fly farmed, were fenced in in one part of the valley. Water spurted up from a lake before splattering back down. Jelvias were cultivating what looked like crops in another part of the valley. It looked idyllic—until Jenny saw a man leading a honnard with a manacle around his neck. They were far away, but the defeatism in the honnard’s posture was plain.
She blocked any apprehension she felt when it tried to gnaw holes in her belly. The valley was huge, and there were many caves in the walls where Jelvias came and went.
She’d studied the layout over the following day. The entrance was a shaft in the valley wall that led out into a dry gulley, and many of the Jelvias seemed to be working to excavate the passageway to make it larger. There were horse-like animals attached to carts, and the men were filling the carts with rubble. Other Jelvias stood around shouting orders, lashing whips or firing their venom into someone’s back. Her eyes had searched the dark-headed prisoners for Fly, but in her heart of hearts, she knew he was dead.
He wouldn’t have revealed her to them, and they wouldn’t have seen a reason to keep him alive.
She looked to the gully again, unconsciously rolling a small pebble between thumb and finger. She flicked it and it bounced down the rock-face. She watched it before shifting around to view the valley at another angle. There weren’t many openings where she could view, as much of the overview of the valley was hidden by a tangle of foliage and prickly bush. She looked at the entrance again and at the many Jelvias working to make it wider. She picked up another small stone and once more flicked it to fall into the dale.
‘Boom,’ she said.
A bloodcurdling howl reached her ears. Bloodcurdling yet familiar. It hadn’t come from the honnards behind. It was below. In the valley. There was an answering howl that was cut off.
She started as a honnard behind her howled in return. It was followed by several more howls. The Jelvias below looked up and around at the top of the valley.
‘Bargi!’ she hissed over her shoulder. ‘Bargi, sssh!’
They fell silent looking sheepish. She wriggled backwards from the edge, and when it was safe, sat up on her knees. She looked around at the watching honnards. Their yellow eyes were on her. Expectant.
Bo chuffed.
‘We need to capture one of the Jelvias. A leader. We need to entice him out,’ she said. She touched her throat. ‘A Jelvia can’t spit if his throat is compressed. If we can make him safe we could use him as a bargaining tool.’
‘Chuff-huff,’ said Bo.
I don’t understand a word you’re saying. You’re on your own, you know.
He regarded her solemnly, took off his effigy and laid it on the ground, then surrounded it with small stones. ‘Che-lers,’ he said, pointing to the stones.
You’re our sacrifice. When we hand you over, they will let our people go.
He chuffed excitedly and began to place larger stones around the smaller ones. ‘Bargi, chuff-chuff , lu-nups,’ he said, jigging up and down.
Jenny blew outward, lifting up her hair. ‘I think you’re getting it, boys. Me in the middle, the small stones are the Jelvias and you are the larger stones. My allies.’
‘Chuff-chuff,’ said Bo.
No, it’s just a pretty pattern, don’t you think?
He stabbed his spear into the ground, walked a short distance then squatted, and with a pained expression on his face emptied his bowels. Jenny turned her head quickly. She looked down at her effigy that was surrounded by stones.
‘I’m going to die.’
A honnard howled.
She looked back at the way she’d travelled; at the wide expanse of ground and unfamiliar landmarks. At least Diana was safe. Maybe Fly wasn’t dead and would find his way back and take over the care of his daughter, maybe there were flying pigs and pots of gold at the ends of rainbows, too.
Focus, Jenny!
She turned back to the hopeful honnards. One was pleasuring himself as another picked parasites from its fur.
‘I am going to die,’ she said again.
***
The honnards had been hard to convince that they should move away from the overview of the valley while she mulled over her possible objectives. She didn’t have many. She pulled off her improvised backpack and took out the four bombs. Fly had made a collection of explosives and weaponry in case the wardens turned up in the years he was alone and had kept them in the barn, unused and forgotten. Whether they still worked or not, Jenny would soon find out.
She’d packed netting, and had already unpicked some of it to make long strands and had coated each and every strand with liquid from the soaked pieces of inflammable cloth. She worked as the natives slipped in and out of their makeshift camp on various hunts. One had made a fire, and was roasting a pot-bellied creature, another was shelling a collected pile of nuts. She wondered if they realised they all might die.
Working alone, Jenny tied the inflammable string to the explosives then took them to the edge of valley where she lowered each bomb over the edge. There was a lot of vegetation, which she hoped would ignite, especially as she’d carefully dropped torn pieces of the sap-soaked cloth into the branches.
Like the mythical werewolf, the honnard hunted and howled at the moons, so Jenny would use their alertness to her advantage. On the rising of Eden’s first big craterless moon Jenny would light and throw a carton of inflammable liquid into the valley to get the Jelvias’ attention.
Then she would reveal that the goddess did, indeed, exist.
***
Her heart was thumping. Below was a ravine that may once have been a river. It was now the exit and the entrance to the Jelvias’ homestead. Honnards were spread apart overlooking the entrance to the valley, ready with their bows and arrows. They would capture the first Jelvia that came into the gulley. The rest would be either killed in the avalanche that the explosives would surely set off, or become trapped in the va
lley for the honnards to kill with their arrows.
The sky was clear, and the first sun had set. The second, a large twinkling star, was low in the horizon, and as that set, the big moon would rise.
She and Bo looked at the twinkling star, and Zack chuffed at it. He shook his spear at the darkening sky and was followed by answering chuffs. Softly spoken chuffs. They were primed and eager for revenge.
Zack touched her hair, followed by Bo and then they both melted into the background.
This was it.
Show time.
Chapter Thirty Six
‘They will kill you on sight.’
‘They won’t see me.’
‘How will you go in—’
‘I don’t plan to just walk in. I’ll go over the top, and climb in, see if I can see her. I’m sure she’ll be considered a prize and they’ll want to show her off.’
‘Does she really have hair the colour of the sun?’
‘All females have orange hair on Earth,’ Fly answered knowledgably. They were driving over dry, cracked ground, skirting the potholes and ravines. The huge mountains loomed in from of them as them headed towards them. ‘We were attacked when she was pregnant, moments from giving birth.’
‘Pregnant!’ Molver clapped a hand over his mouth. ‘That’s the “fari” the prims meant?’
‘I’m hoping so.’ Fly allowed a moment of anxiety to gnaw his stomach. ‘The wardens came to grab more slaves and saw Jenny and the baby instead. The honnards tried to protect her but failed, and Jenny and the baby were taken back to the valley.’
‘You don’t sound sure.’
‘I’m not. She might not be there. They might have killed her…’ he couldn’t finish.
‘You must love her very much. I wish…’ Molver broke off with a small nervous laugh, then turned to watch the passing scenery, but Fly slowed the buggy to a stop.
‘Your turn to drive,’ he said. Molver looked at him blankly, and Fly opened the door and got out. After a while, Molver copied him. They passed one another around the back, and Fly patted him on the shoulder, feeling the bone. ‘I’m going into the valley, and I might not come out. I want you to be able to drive the buggy. Take it and follow the coastline north. My house is yours.’
Molver slid behind the controls; his hands were shaking on the wheel. Fly explained the foot pedals, and soon they were driving again. Molver’s tongue was protruding with his concentration. Once his nerves had worn off, he turned to Fly saying,
‘You were telling me about the goddess, does she have mag—’
‘No. No, she isn’t magical. She’s human. She’s from a planet called Earth. She came with two others years ago. They crashed like us, and lived here for a while until another Earth ship came and two of them went home. She stayed.’
‘What’s Earth?’
Fly remembered the boy hadn’t had any schooling. ‘It’s another planet far away from here. That’s where Jen—the goddess—comes from. She’s just a person, like us. Nothing special—well, she is to me.’ The land had got steeper and the buggy’s engine began to splutter. ‘It’s OK,’ he said as Molver looked at him questionably. ‘The engine is old. We’ll see how far the buggy can carry us upwards.’
The first sun was setting, and the sky was lit with colour. ‘When I first heard about her I thought it was her that made the sky that colour,’ Molver admitted.
Fly didn’t scoff. ‘Nice thought.’ He pointed to a canopy of trees. ‘Head over there. We shouldn’t take the buggy any further in case it’s heard, so let’s park up. I guess you’re tired and hungry, eh?’
‘Starving!’
‘There’s the cave. It’s getting dark, so we’ll rest and I’ll figure a way of getting into the valley.’
‘This is where we met!’ Molver said.
Fly was getting out of the buggy. He took the flask from around his neck and handed it to the boy. ‘Build a small fire and I’ll be back shortly.’
‘Where are you going?’ The boy was skittish, and ignored the proffered flask and reached out a hand instead as if to stop Fly from leaving.
Fly knocked his hand away, and dropped the strap of the flask over the boy’s head. ‘Just getting us some food. I’ll be back.’
‘What about the food you brought?’ Molver nodded in the direction of the buggy where Fly’s bundle of food lay in the basket.
‘Not for us,’ he said and turned before more questions were hurled at him. When he was a safe distance away, he glanced back at the boy. He was standing where he’d been left, his arms crossed around his body as if hugging himself. Fly turned from him, frowning.
The boy was asleep when Fly returned with two small dead animals. A fire was contained within a well of haphazardly built stone, and Molver was curled on his side next to it. Fly skinned and gutted the animals, then wrapped them back in their skins and dropped them into the fire. The fur sizzled and sparked, and Molver stirred. Then he sat up sharply as if expecting to see the enemy. His eyes met with Fly’s, and Fly read the uncertainty about his integrity, and he didn’t blame him at all. He’d turn him over in an instant if it would get Jenny and the baby back.
They ate in silence; Molver’s eyes drooping over his food. Fly smothered the fire, and looked down at him asleep on the ground. He looked even younger, and Fly felt a pang of compassion.
‘Should have met years ago, kid,’ he said. ‘Jenny would’ve loved having you around.’
Molver gave a little snore.
‘Nice knowing you,’ he said, and walked out of the sparse trees towards the dusty and rocky terrain. He didn’t want Molver to hear his goodbyes. The boy would have tried to follow him, and Fly needed to focus on Jenny and their baby.
He hadn’t seen an entrance to the valley, but didn’t plan on using it anyway. He didn’t have much of a plan at all, other than going in and killing as many people as possible. Deep down he knew Jenny and the baby were dead. Her fragile body wouldn’t have been able to withstand the lust of the wardens. Anger engulfed him as he envisioned her pain, and he didn’t feel the rumbling ground.
He began to climb up the cliff where he’d climbed before but a trickle of rubble slid beneath him, becoming looser as the ground vibrated. The next rumble made his surroundings blur and a flock of large birds took to the sky with loud squawks. Fly instinctively pressed his body against the mountain as a series of explosions filled the air. He felt the rocky wall tremble, and larger rocks and stone slithered around him to break against the ground.
‘Fly! Fly!’
It was Molver. The commotion had woken him and he sounded hysterical. Stone and dust fell on him as he stumbled around in the uprise of the dust the tremors had caused.
Fly, looking down, was appalled to see the boy bawling. He climbed down, jumping the last few feet, and bundled Molver away from the mountain as more debris poured down.
‘The ground is alive!’ he shouted, tears and snot on his face.
‘It’s just a tremor.’ Fly turned him to face him, and gave him a little shake. ‘You must go. Take the buggy and head north along the coastline.’
‘No, we have to stay together—’
But Fly spun him around and gave him a hefty shove in the back. ‘Go!’ Then turned towards the mountain.
‘Remember what I said earlier,’ Fly flung over his shoulder as he began his climb.
The boy didn’t attempt to follow him, and just stood pathetically in the shadows of trees.
There was another explosion. Bigger than before, and dust spiralled into the darkening sky. It dislodged Fly’s grip and he fell, bouncing off the rock face and landing on the ground in a blanket of dust.
Molver squealed and ran towards him with grasping hands. Fly pushed him off, and looked up at the mountain. It looked like it was disintegrating.
Dust was pouring from it; the explosion must have happened inside the valley. And the mountain was now unclimbable.
The powder-like grime engulfed Fly and Molver, and they were forced to run
towards the safely of the trees as billowing dust mushroomed.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Jenny pulled the tie from her hair and gave it a shake, letting it fall over her shoulders. She stood overlooking the valley in full moonbeam, knowing its reflection would show up her red hair perfectly.
Below, the valley was quiet. The animals, honnards and prisoner Jelvias had been allowed to rest for the night. She held a carton filled with the sap-covered pieces of inflammable cloth. There was a piece of string sticking out of the top, and a small fire burned within the confines of rock on the ground behind her. She bent to light the string and then threw it hard into the valley.
The fire extinguished immediately and Jenny’s spirits plummeted as the lost carton tumbled down the rocky embankment to become hidden in a spiny bush jutting out from the valley wall.
‘Shit,’ she muttered. That bomb was meant to draw out the Jelvias. She saw movement down below, and with nerves battering her stomach, she pulled her sword and raised it above her head. She shouted, ‘People from Itor!’
It was shadowy in the valley, but she knew the Jelvias would be able to see her better than she could see them. The movement below became defined and she saw someone point, and then turn as if talking to someone else.
She’d been too busy preparing the explosives to think of what else she could say to goad them out into the open and stood there tongue-tied, but as more Jelvias poured from their caves she realised she’d said enough. And before long it looked as if the entire clan was standing in the valley, their upturned faces towards her. Perfect.
‘… it’s her…’
‘… didn’t think she existed…’
‘… don’t kill her…’
‘The goddess!’
‘I want her alive!’
The voices came thick and fast as did movement: they began to run towards the gully and the exit. They were unrestrained and wild-looking, as was their language. They’d maybe not want to kill her, but their shoving and pushing at one another to get to her was violent and she could imagine their grabbing hands on her body, pulling her this way and that. Her mouth dry, she took the whistle from around her neck and blew long and hard.
