by Louise Wise
Fly’s animal-hide top had gone from around her waist; probably floating alongside the foil cover somewhere. She checked her sword and sheath anxiously. The knife was gone, but the sword was still there. The whistle was still in her pocket, she took it out and blew long and hard.
The noise frightened small birds and caused something to scuttle out of a nearby bush to hide behind another. She thought she heard an answering shout, and held her breath to listen. No, nothing. It was just the wind. She tucked the whistle back in her pocket as the quiet descended again. There was nothing around her but rocky, dry ground, with vegetation growing sporadically.
She couldn’t tell how long she’d been lost underground. Logic told her only a day and a night, but it had felt like eternity. She ran a shaking hand across her face. She didn’t ever think she’d get over the trauma.
She hugged herself and violently shivered.
Death not by entrapment, but by cold.
It was hard to think straight; she knew she’d been close to death, and was probably still in shock.
‘OK, Jenny Daykin, get your arse into gear,’ she said aloud. Her teeth began to chatter. The cold was vicious, made worse because of her emersion in water. ‘Fire,’ she said. ‘I need fire.’ Speaking aloud helped focus her mind, or that’s what she told herself. She looked around as if seeking a flame then, like reruns of a movie, the image of Fly popped up as he mechanically made a fire. She’d seen him do it many times; hadn’t he taught her how to build and make a fire in under a minute?
She hunted for brushwood and made a base, then selecting a stick, she rolled it fast between her hands within the nest of kindling. Once it began smoking, she blew gently and added dead, dry wood. As soon as she had the fire going, she went in search of food.
She came back with nothing but a handful of nuts and a bunch of small fruits. She shelled the nuts and ate them in quick succession, then sat as close to the flames as possible and ate the fruit. She didn’t want to sleep, but she did need to gather her composure. Her shivering receded, and with a belly full of food, she began to feel strong again.
Something like a smile tugged at her mouth. Fly and her baby were in reach!
At the base of the mountain lay chalky stone. Jenny picked one up and brushed a smooth surface on the side of a boulder. She wrote in English: Going downstream from here. She put the chalk in her pocket, trampled on the fire and turned to follow the flow of the water.
Chapter Forty Six
Molver jolted upright, pulled her finger from the baby’s mouth, which made Diana cry. ‘Listen!’
Fly couldn’t hear anything other than the wails of Diana. Molver put her finger back in the baby’s mouth, and Fly slowed the car and cocked his head to listen.
‘Hear that?’ asked Molver.
‘I do.’ It was fast-flowing water. The buggy began to judder as Fly pushed it to go faster, and impatiently, when it failed, he pulled to a stop and jumped out.
He ran up a cracked hill and halted on a high cliff edge. Below, in a crevice, water churned and threw up white tipped waves. He looked upstream; it was a mass of heaving, frothing water. Jenny wouldn’t have survived that.
A shudder swept through him.
‘Get in,’ Molver called from behind, and Fly looked around. She had brought the buggy up. ‘She’d have been washed upstream.’
Fly climbed into the buggy, keeping his eyes on the churning water for any sign of Jenny’s form. If he found her body, he thought, he’d take her home and bury her on the prairie and plant flowers on her resting ground. He’d tell Diana all about her. He wanted to turn his head to look at the baby tied to Molver’s front but felt too choked. He fixed his gaze on the river instead. The current was strong and broken surf was carried faster than the buggy could keep up.
They were going downhill, and had to separate from the river because of brushwood, but soon Molver was driving alongside it again. The bank was lower, and the current had slowed.
‘Stop!’
Molver braked, and even before the buggy had halted Fly was out and slipping down the riverbank. He jumped into the river and swam to the other side. Stuck within reeds was a foil insulating cover. He grabbed it and pulled it out.
‘Jenny!’ he roared, clutching the cover and spinning around in the water. ‘Jenny!’ He let the foil go and grabbed a tuft of weed growing on the riverbank and hauled himself out. He began to run alongside the bank calling Jenny’s name as Molver followed in the buggy on the other side.
Fly felt panic rise inside him. He peered into the river, trying to see beneath the grey surface for signs of Jenny.
‘Hey!’ Molver shouted. She had stopped the buggy and stood waving her hands to gain Fly’s attention. He reluctantly took his eyes from the river and looked over. She was shouting, and waving at him to come back.
Fly didn’t want to go back. He wanted to find Jenny.
Then Molver was pointing at something her side of the water: a ring of ash and blackened stone. He dived back into the river, and pulled himself up the other side and ran towards the jubilant Molver.
‘Look.’ She pointed to a boulder near to the ash. ‘More funny writing.’
Fly read: Going downstream from here.
She’d made it!
He was unprepared for the emotion. He turned from Molver, covering his face with his hands. A small hand touched his shoulder.
‘She’s alive,’ Molver said, her hand rubbing his back. ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’
Fly pulled his hands away and took a few deep breaths before turning around. He touched Diana’s soft head, but he was looking at Molver. ‘She’ll love you,’ he said. ‘Another woman to chat to.’ He felt Molver’s shock. She paled under the grime on her face. ‘It’s why you’re so important to Gorjum, isn’t it?’
Molver buried her face against Diana’s head. ‘How’d you guess? I tried my hardest to act stupid and boyish.’
Fly was walking back to the car. ‘Oh, I’m sure the stupid wasn’t all an act. Come on, we’ve a baby to feed and a goddess to find.’
Chapter Forty Seven
Jenny stood on the edge of a crag; below her was a vast blue-green lake. She’d reached as far downstream as she could. This is where she and Fly should have automatically met up. He ought to have made it before her because of the buggy, but he’d have checked every pocket the geysers made to check on the currents, so maybe he was further behind her. She looked along the cliff edge—it seemed to stretch for miles. He could be standing in the same position only miles further up and wondering the same.
She looked over her shoulder; previously she’d had a feeling that someone was behind her. Probably a honnard or native-wolf, maybe another settlement was here somewhere. She turned back to the horizon and shielded her eyes. She could see a grey impression of land, which stretched all along where sky met ground. There was a slight gap where the ocean came in, creating the giant sea-like lake. She could see her mountains! They stood so large that the tops poked through a layer of cloud and reappeared above. They were beautiful because they were a terrain that she recognised. They were slightly to the right of her, not quite opposite, but still far away.
She stared at them longingly. Then looked along at the protruding edge of the coastline again.
She thought she heard a crack of a twig snap and turned to look. There weren’t many places to hide: a mossy terrain with lowlying bush, a group of rocks where she’d chalked ‘Jen’ to let Fly know she’d been here and a group of overhanging trees. She peered into their branches but as they swayed innocently, she failed see anything suspicious. There was a forest in a gorge, which she’d skirted, but that wasn’t close enough for concern.
She turned back and took another few steps towards the cliff, and felt inside her pocket for the whistle. But her hand froze. Below her, tied to the rocky surface of the cliff below, were several boats bobbing on the water.
She jumped back several paces, her hand flying to her mouth to prevent a reflex scream.
Another Jelvian settlement? How many bastards were there?
She dropped to her knees and crawled to the bank and peered over. It was almost a sheer drop of wet mud. Obviously, the tide was low. There was a squawk, and Jenny flipped to her back instinctively pulling her sword. The bird swooped low, and then up again, as if noting the deranged look in her eyes. She sheathed her sword as the bird disappeared into the sky. She scrambled up and sat on her knees. Dare she stay and wait for Fly with Jelvias so close?
She heard a ‘whoop!’. Then a heavy force knocked her over and pinned her to the ground. She didn’t have time to kick or yell as a Jelvian man straddled her. He trapped her to the ground by leaning on her upper arms. The pain was intense and brought tears to her eyes.
Rough fingers grabbed her chin, holding her mouth closed and turning her head from side to side as he studied her. He moved slightly, releasing her arms, but not because he was concerned for her, rather to get a proper look.
She glared at her attacker. She’d not seen a Jelvia close up other than Fly before. This man had an unmarked face. He looked older than Fly and his hair was greying and roughly cut. Like Fly, he had no body hair.
She could feel his eyes roaming over her face.
‘You’re not a primitive,’ he said.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want him to know that she could understand him. He continued to stare in wonderment. She could feel his marvel.
‘I thought you were a myth! Well, well, I’ve caught myself the goddess.’
Jenny just stared back.
‘But of course, that can’t be true. Who—what—are you?’
His eyes lowered and rested on the rise and fall of her chest.
‘You’re just a woman.’
Jenny tried to slow her breathing to minimize the movement of her chest. Her breasts had doubled in size since giving birth. They were also still lactating, and she smelled of milk. Both stale and fresh.
The Jelvia’s eyes were back on her face. He sat back, letting her chin go, but was still straddling her lower body. She instantly crossed her arms over her chest. The Jelvia watched. He licked his lips and Jenny froze.
‘Are you a Jelvia?’ he asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer. He was talking more to himself. ‘A sort of mutant Jelvia? But how? A transmuted prim, maybe?’ He continued to stare. ‘No, you’re not a prim. Definitely not one of those.’ His eyes dropped to her chest again.
She could feel his thoughts tumbling around in his head. Question after question. She lowered one arm and felt around on the ground. Her hand closed over a rock, but it was embedded in the ground.
‘All the runaways were killed on the ship.’ He leaned forward and took a handful of her hair in his fist. ‘Even so, none had this colour hair on Itor. We had the odd albino but nothing like this.’ He let it fall through his fingers.
Jenny’s fingernails scraped around the rock, loosening it.
He sat back, and looked over her. ‘Where are you from?’
Jenny braced herself, and using surprise as her advantage she aimed a punch towards his genitals, and as he made a movement to protect himself, another to his head with the stone. Caught off guard she was able to flip him off. She moved fast, didn’t think, and ran to the cliff and jumped.
She burst up, gasping for breath, the water was cold. Skin-biting cold. Jenny struck out for the boats as the Jelvia splashed into the lake behind her.
She reached a boat as he burst up from under water. Her muscles were beginning to cramp up in the cold, but she hauled herself into a boat and drew her sword to cut its tether. The Jelvia was quick in the water, he grabbed the edge of her boat, but Jenny brought her sword down on his head. It knocked him under the water in a feathery stain of red blood.
She didn’t wait to see if he came up. She began to row, heading for her mountains and home. Her arms were automatic on the oars. In, out. In, out. She refused to acknowledge the cold, and the first sun setting. Her arms were a machine on the oars. In, out. Survival was a strong instinct.
A tiny part of her consciousness saw the Jelvia surface from the water and pull himself into another boat. Coming after her. She shut him out to focus on keeping her arms pumping. Pistons.
In, out.
Chapter Forty Eight
Dusk was falling, and already moons were visible, bobbing in and out of the fast-moving cloud. The wind had picked up; it was icy on the skin. Jenny didn’t like the cold. She always had the fire on in the living room—the fire as well as the cooker, which caused arguments sometimes. If he found her, he’d never moan again. He’d build her another fire in the bedroom, in fact.
‘This is familiar,’ said Molver, breaking Fly from his thoughts. Molver was looking around; twisting in her seat one way and another. They were driving through tall grasses and bouncing over spongy-heaped moss. The terrain seemed to stretch forever.
‘You recognise the area?’
‘I do.’ Under the dirt, there was a pink tinge of excitement to her cheeks. ‘Hooboo!’ She pointed at a cluster of trees whose branches appeared dead. The fruit looked brown and wrinkled.
Since it had been revealed that he was a she, Molver admitted that it had been Gorjum’s idea that she pretend to be boy both on the ship and in new situations—like being captured and taken to the valley or being found by Fly.
Gorjum and Saneg had been the only ones who knew of her true gender on the ship. She still wasn’t sure of her age, but said that Gorjum calculated she was somewhere around her mid-twenties. He’d learned a lot about Molver as they drove alongside the river, occasionally stopping to see the letter ‘J’ carved on a tree, or ‘Jen’ written in chalk on a boulder. She was in love with Saneg, only he was so traumatised by his treatment on the ship that she’d never professed it to him. There were times when the other men in the camp made a pass at her, but Gorjum dealt with them so harshly, there was never a second time.
They had also heard of Jenny, or rather, a flame-haired human roaming the planet. Some of Molver’s clan had seen the second human’s spaceship arrive, but it had taken off before they could find it, sparking talk that it had been imaged or made up.
Then Jenny had been seen. Fly suspected Bodie and Matt had remained unnoticed because they blended in with the honnards, whereas, Jenny with her red hair and obvious female shape had not, and her appearance had restarted the rumours of an alien spaceship.
‘That way,’ Molver said, and Fly turned the wheel.
‘Yes, this is where I live. This is home,’ she said. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at Fly. She pointed to a mass of trees. ‘Over there is our valley. Beyond is a salt-water lake. It leads to the ocean. You’ll find Jenny there, I’m sure.’
Fly slowed on spying a funnel of smoke rising from the trees. He stopped the buggy and got out. ‘I don’t want your people to know about me, and the buggy’s too noisy,’ he explained to Molver’s questioning look. She scrambled out of the vehicle. Diana was fast asleep on her chest. She’d been asleep for a while now, and Fly was concerned, although Molver insisted the baby was just weak from hunger and would naturally sleep.
Fly circled the buggy and held out his hands for the baby.
Molver stared at him as if uncomprehending she’d have to give Diana up.
‘I’ll take her now,’ he said. ‘Goodbye Molver.’ He hesitated and then reached out and ruffled her hair.
‘Come with me,’ she blurted out.
‘No. Gorjum will kill me as soon as looking at me. I’ll collect hooboo fruit and then continue my search for Jenny.’ He took the baby from her and Diana whimpered as though in pain. She probably was—the pain being hunger. ‘I’ll walk you as far as I dare, but no, there won’t be any help from your friends.’
‘You can’t search for Jenny and look after Diana at the same time!’
‘Don’t have much choice.’
Their voices were low as if worried they’d carry into the vale.
Molver was looking indecisive. ‘We’re almost at the oce
an. Jenny will be there, I’m certain. I’ll come with you,’ she said with a sudden burst of resolve.
Fly looked surprised. ‘You’d do that for me and her?’
‘You can’t judge everyone by how you used to be. Gorjum and Saneg have protected me from the beginning, and I’d stake my life on them helping you.’
‘They’d be interested in the baby and Jenny, but me,’ he made a cutting motion with a finger against his neck, ‘they’d kill.’ They heard a bell tolling within the greenery of the dale. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘It’s our alarm.’ Molver looked worried. ‘We’d better get out of here.’ She took the baby back off him and headed back to the buggy. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Coming?’
Before he could react, shadows burst out of the forest and Fly had time to see Molver hurriedly lay Diana in the well of the car before something heavy struck the back of his head. As he fell to his knees he heard her scream, and then saw someone grab her arm. Baring his teeth in anger and frustration, Fly tried to pull from the hands that held him. He bucked and twisted, but was hit across the shoulder blades, then hands grasped his arms, and pulled them up behind his back as they hauled him to his feet.
‘Gorjum, Gorjum!’ Molver was shouting as Fly was pressed face-first against a tree; his forehead hitting the bark with a crack. A rope was thrown up and over a branch and the end loop went over his head, as someone else tied his hands behind his back. He felt the noose tighten and was forced onto tiptoe to lessen its effect. Then, he was spun back around to face his attackers.
‘Gorjum! It’s me. Let him go,’ said Molver. She was appealing to a tall man with biceps the size of boulders.
‘I know it’s you,’ he said, turning from Fly. His voice was soft. He took her chin in his giant hands and tipped up her face. Then pulled her to him and hugged her. ‘What happened? I’ve men out looking for you. Where have you been?’
‘Fly brought me back. Don’t hurt him,’ she said wriggling free. ‘Let him go. Please, I’ve so much to tell you.’
