by Louise Wise
‘Love you,’ she said. ‘If I don’t make it, remember that. Remember that Mummy loves you.’
Refusing to give into self-pity, she wrapped the baby first in the fur and then in her poncho and tied her up like a parcel, with only a small gap for her mouth. She secured her to the rope.
Placing her into the tunnel, she said, ‘Pull.’ The rope tightened and the baby gradually slid out of her grasp. She watched her disappear and pressed her forehead against the dry rocky walls as tears burned behind her eyes.
‘I have her!’ Fly said a seemingly long moment later. ‘She’s… she’s beautiful.’ He sounded choked.
Jenny couldn’t answer.
‘She has red hair.’
I thought it was more brown. She wanted to speak, but still couldn’t.
‘Is she magic?’ came Molver’s voice.
‘Jenny.’
She pushed her hand inside the gap. His hand was already there, searching for hers. They clutched fingertips.
‘She’s so tiny. Didn’t realise… she’s gorgeous.’
Jenny’s eyesight was blurry. ‘Like her dad,’ she said, her voice thickened.
‘Molver’s undone the rope. Pull it all the way through. You might need it.’ His voice became muffled, as he turned from the gap to instruct Molver to do something. His voice came back. ‘Jenny, be careful. Follow the flow of the water, that’s the only advice I can give you. I will follow it too. I’ll find you above ground.’
He pulled his hand away, and the abrasive rope hit her fingers. She pulled it all through, and attached to the other end was a bundle of clothing.
‘I went back to our house,’ he said. ‘I took a few things that I thought you’d need. Didn’t realise you’d set up a search party for me.’
She couldn’t smile.
Chapter Forty
Fly couldn’t believe he was holding his daughter. She had a mop of light red hair, but her eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the colour. Her skin was pink and she was perfectly formed. He pressed his face against her body and smelled her—smelled Jenny. The emotion he experienced earlier caught him unaware again.
He closed his eyes to see Jenny walking across their prairie, her curves so beautiful, her smile always warm. In his head, her image was so clear he felt he could reach out and touch her.
A deep rumble beneath the ground caused his eyes to snap open. A torrent of hot water burst up from the ground, tossing up rocks and boulders as if they were feather-light. Another geyser erupted close by, and under their feet, water began to seep up through the terrain.
Molver gave a little squeal, and moved closer to Fly. ‘What’s happening?’
‘My guess is this valley was once water, and it’s being reclaimed.’
Jenny had wrapped the baby completely, and apart from pushing away the fur from her face, Fly left her in her cocoon of fur. He loosened the rope so he could tie the baby onto his front. She didn’t look comfortable but she didn’t waken.
‘Are we going to leave the goddess in the cave?’
‘Yes,’ he said. It was difficult to walk away—to walk away from Jenny. It would be black inside the cave and her human eyes weren’t equipped to see in darkness. He’d have stayed and pulled away every rock and boulder, no matter how long it took, but the cave would have completely caved in and he’d have lost her forever.
The honnards had gone, and there was no sign of any other Jelvia—not alive, anyway, and certainly not the ‘thousands’ that Molver spoke of. But of course, the boy couldn’t count and had picked a number from memory, or maybe a number he liked the sound of. Fly pushed aside a wave of grief for his kind, then searched their bodies for items of use. He filled Molver’s arms with rope, water flasks and knives. He pulled a spear out of one with a slurping sucking sound, his boot holding the body down as Molver looked away in disgust.
Fly turned to look at the blocked up cave that imprisoned Jenny. It was difficult to leave; he felt as if he was abandoning her. The baby gave a little hiccup, and he looked down. A wave of protective love for the child almost took his breath away and with it came a great responsibility. It was a profound moment.
They climbed what was left of the valley walls, and walked along the cliff top and down towards the place where they left the buggy.
‘Where are we going?’ Molver asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Fly cleared his throat. ‘Back to the buggy. I want to take a closer look at the lake, as well.’
‘What lake?’
‘The lake where we met and where you stole the haryn.’
‘Are you thirsty?’
‘No.’
‘Then why—’
‘If Jenny follows the underground river it should lead to higher ground and eventually outside. She may struggle to find the correct river but she will. She will,’ he repeated. He was reassuring himself.
He glanced at Molver. The boy’s eyes were full of confusion.
‘We can’t get her out that way, so we’ll have to try another.’
‘What other way?’
‘You ask too many questions.’ Fly was sure that if he found the closest fast-moving river there’d be geysers and hopefully underground caverns that he’d be able to climb down to. He was aware that Jenny could be beneath their feet at this very moment.
Molver ran to keep up with his long stride. He looked at the baby. ‘She’s so small. Can I hold her?’
‘No.’
They were able to walk down towards the buggy; the valley walls no longer there. There was rubble to climb over and piles of boulders to skirt, and Fly could now see the land’s fault line in fractures and holes in the ground.
After dumping what they’d looted into the back of the buggy, Fly told Molver to stay in the vehicle but the boy followed him mumbling things like ‘big birds’ and ‘getting impaled against a tree’. There wasn’t much left of the lake. The ice-encrusted lagoon was full of valley debris and the water was grey and murky. Fly scanned for geysers, or anything that would tell him the lake was formed from underground rivers, but the water was still. The lake had probably formed from leftover ice and snow from the winter, and over the summer it would dry completely to leave a depression.
‘Can I hold the baby now?’ Molver broke into his thoughts.
‘Later. We need to find a geyser or a river or something.’ He walked off towards a dip in the distance. There were caverns and cavities all around and some, when he peered down to look, led to nowhere, while others were deep, black holes in the ground. It proved to Fly that they stood on hollow ground. Beneath was water, hollowed out caves and probably Jenny.
He looked at Molver, and nodded towards a fracture in the ground. ‘You’re going to go down there.’
***
Fly lowered Molver for the second time. The boy had to be persuaded, he’d squealed like a rodent the first time, and Fly had to pull him back up for fear of causing another avalanche.
Fly curbed his impatience, patted the boy’s head, and told him gently that it was an important job that only he could do. He was doing it for the goddess and her baby. Plus, Fly promised Molver, he’d be rewarded in being allowed to hold the baby.
Molver had insisted on tying the rope around himself, telling Fly he didn’t trust him in not tying the rope tight enough. He’d backed away when Fly reached out to tug at his efforts.
‘I can do it!’
‘OK, easy. I just wanted to make sure you’d tied it tight enough.’
Molver sat on the edge, and lowered himself into the hole as Fly took the strain.
‘When you’re down all I want you to do is tell me what you see, and which way the water is flowing,’ he said as he lowered him, a little too quickly, down the hole. Molver yelled in fright. ‘That’s for saying you don’t trust me,’ he said.
Molver swore.
‘Such bad language from one so young.’ Fly steadied the rope and waited before lowering him further. ‘What do you see?’
‘Nothing
. I see nothing.’
Fly lowered him some more. ‘Let me know when you hit water.’
‘How will I know?’
‘It’ll be wet.’
‘Are you going to leave me down here?’
‘Still don’t trust me?’
Probably fearing a sudden loosening of the rope, Molver said quickly, ‘I trust you!’
‘Good. And I’m not going to leave you in there. I need you up here with me.’ He looked down at the sleeping baby fixed to his front. She was sound asleep. ‘Need you to help me with Diana.’ He lowered him further. There wasn’t much rope left, and Molver had disappeared into the dark completely. ‘What do you see?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Molver, do you have your eyes closed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you open them?’
Silence. Then, ‘Oh! It’s nice. The rocks are red—hey! I bet the goddess has made them red. There’s lots of smoke.’
‘It’s steam,’ Fly said. He had to raise his voice: ‘Molver, shout the word “Jenny”.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s the goddess’ name. See if she can hear you.’
Fly listened to Molver shouting. There was no answering cry, and even though he didn’t expect to hear her, he felt something heavy in his chest grow heavier. ‘Can you see water?’ he shouted down the hole.
‘I’m in water!’ Molver shouted up. ‘It’s warm!’
‘I haven’t any rope left. Can you tell me which way the water is going?’
‘Down,’ Molver said.
‘Down?’
‘It’s down. Down here.’
Fly closed his eyes in frustration. ‘Is it moving your feet?’
‘It’s warm!’
‘Molver, if you don’t tell me which way it’s flowing I’ll let the rope go.’
There was silence.
‘I didn’t mean that. Molver, I need to know which way the water is moving. Is it pulling on your feet?’ Diana was stirring with all the shouting. She opened her eyes. They were Jelvian. Huge and black. She yawned, and closed them again. Fly was caught momentarily off-guard, and he didn’t hear Molver answer him. He had to ask him to repeat it.
‘It’s pulling my feet that way.’
Fly hauled him back up, trying to keep the rope as still as possible. When his head and shoulders were through the hole, Fly gripped him beneath the armpits and stood him in the same position as he had been down the hole.
His hands were firm on his shoulders, keeping Molver still as he tried to wriggle away.
‘Pretend you are still in the warm water. Close your eyes. Now,’ he said as Molver complied, ‘which way are your feet being pulled. Point.’
Fly half expected him to point at his feet, and braced himself not to shake him, but Molver pointed towards the snow-peaked mountains in the distance.
Chapter Forty One
Wrapped inside the foil cover was an animal-skin poncho, cartons of food; the water already mixed, slices of melon and a flask of water. In the pocket of the poncho was a knife.
She’d pressed the animal skin against her nose—it had his scent—and then pulled it on over her head. She hadn’t realised how chilled her body was until it touched her flesh. She picked up the slices of melon and rammed one into her mouth, and placed the knife in the same sheath as the sword. ‘Jenny?’ he’d said.
She’d climbed to the gap, and put her hand inside. His hand was already there. ‘Love you,’ she’d said, but pulled away before she broke down completely.
She hadn’t answered his responding, ‘Love you too,’ and walked away, bundling up the rope in her arms and finishing the rest of the melon, as she walked into the darkness of the cave.
Now she was back at the ‘dead end’, on her knees and peering through the gap at the amber water below. She had tied the rope around her waist and the other end was secured around a protruding rock in the cave wall.
Knowing she had no way of carrying the food Fly had given her she’d eaten the whole lot: two cartons of cold porridge-type gruel. Tasteless, but it strengthened her body and mind.
The glints of day bursting into the next cavern from the rocky roof were also giving her confidence a boost. She’d tied the insulating foil cover around her waist, under the rope, and blocked from her mind the creatures that lived on the river floor as she knelt down. She pulled out the knife Fly had given her, and began stabbing at the lower gaps to make them big enough for her to fit through. The rock was thinner and corroded from the water and it wasn’t long before the gap was widened, but as the gap grew, so did the strength of the water current.
Smacking her head against the rock for the fourth time, Jenny put the knife back in her pocket, and planted her backside on the ground as water gushed around her. She raised her legs and kicked out at the rock wall.
A crack zigzagged sideways. Jenny didn’t have time to admire her handiwork as the momentum of the water pouring through the newly made tear caught her unaware and she was slapped against the rock, which in turn caused the fissure to widen further.
Sucked through the gap, she found herself dangling metres over an underground lake as water from above poured over her. She could hardly breathe. The toing and froing of the rope changed to a spin; her weight the governing factor in its motion. The rope groaned and then jolted as the rock she’d tied the other end to moved under her weight. The foil cover, which she’d tied around her waist came away and fell into the water below. It floated downstream at a steady pace.
She gave a strangled scream as the rope snapped and she joined it in the warm water. She hit the riverbed hard and shockwaves spread through her body before she was able to burst upwards.
She could stand; the water was only chest high. She coughed, spat out water and looked around the new cavern she was in. A rust-coloured moss carpeted the walls but the air smelled cleaner. The water was beautifully warm to her chilled body. A geyser broke the surface in front of her, and steam filled the cavern. But the glints of daylight, which streamed through, were far above in the cavern’s roof and out of her reach.
‘Fly!’
She waited, holding her breath, hoping for an answering shout. Only her echoing voice answered her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled again at the mocking glints of light above.
The silence, after the echoes had receded, was eerie.
She checked her small possessions that she carried on her body. The flask, which she’d looped over her neck, had gone. She still had her knife and sword. The rope had tightened uncomfortably around her waist and she sliced through it with the knife, then retied it loosely.
She looked upward again, cleared her throat, cupped her mouth, then filled her lungs and screamed as hard as she could. It hurt her ears, but there was no answer. Not so much as a trickle of rock falling from the walls. Remembering the whistle, she scrabbled in her pocket. She blew into it long and hard. Nothing.
She waded to the wall and reached a hand towards the moss, her fingertips came away covered with a greasy film. She took out her knife and began to cut the moss away.
Chapter Forty Two
Fly settled Molver in a cluster of trees and then put Diana in his arms. The baby had woken a while ago, and was fractious. Her little mouth was puckering, and her tongue protruded as she searched for food.
Fly emptied the basket onto the ground, taking out the carefully cut squares of muslin.
‘I need to change her,’ he said. ‘She’s wet.’ He expected puzzled questions from Molver but the boy said,
‘I used to look after a baby on the spaceship. I can do that.’
Fly handed him a square of cloth realising it was with relief. He hadn’t any experience with babies, and this one, even though it was his own daughter, scared him. She felt so fragile in his hands. It felt like if he gave an inappropriate sneeze, she’d be killed.
But the boy laid her down and unwrapped her from the fur. She was sodden, but he cleaned her up impersonally using water fro
m the flask and then tied a dry square nappy around her. He wrapped her in the foil because the fur was too wet. She began to cry.
‘She’s hungry.’
‘I know,’ said Fly.
‘We need to find her some food.’
‘I know that too.’
The night had moved into day almost unnoticed, and it wouldn’t be long before it was night again. Fly wondered if he could leave Molver with the baby while he searched for Jenny. He’d sent Molver down many potholes, and the boy no longer protested although he didn’t like Fly touching him. Fly suspected he’d been sexually ill-treated, and wondered if this was why Gorjum found him so important—the man wanting the boy to himself. Disgust filled Fly, but he forced it away telling himself he didn’t care. It was none of his business, anyway. His priority lay with Jenny and Diana.
‘You want to look more for Jenny?’
‘I don’t want to waste a moment. You rest here with the baby. I’ll bring food back.’ Fly rose, but turned as Molver grabbed the flask, and washed his hands. Then he dripped water on his forefinger and placed it against Diana’s mouth. The baby sucked on it furiously, he pulled it out and repeated the process.
‘I’m impressed,’ said Fly.
‘I know. I could tell by your shocked gasp.’
Fly was momentarily caught off-guard by his humour. ‘I’ll get us some food.’ He felt guilty. Jenny was all alone down there in the dark. Maybe laying hurt—or worse—and all he could think about was his stomach.
‘She’ll be fine.’
Fly looked at Molver. Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face. He found a smile from somewhere. ‘I’m glad I bumped into you. I’d have gone crazy otherwise,’ he said and meant it.
Molver cuddled the baby against his skinny chest, and grinned over the top of her head. ‘I know. But she’ll be fine with me, don’t worry.’
Fly’s smile dimmed. ‘You know, for a moment…’ Sometimes, the kid seemed very perceptive, but whatever his intellect, he was proving to be helpful with Diana.
***
Fly felt despondent. He’d climbed, shouted and looked down many holes but there had been no sight or sound of Jenny. He’d taken a small animal back to their makeshift camp and cooked it on the open fire he’d previously made, as Molver fussed over the baby.
