by Simon Birks
Ja Jenza slept, and Aponser watched her.
“Sorry,” the older woman said.
She left then, heading towards the now visible mountain range.
The Harvesters were less than a day away, and that was too close for the old woman. Aponser walked away, and wished they had left her with enough emotion to care.
Content
Hoep was happy. That was the best thing. He sat with the reins in his hands and felt complete. Orsa sat down next to him.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“Because one day I will die, and yet I have had a day like today. I am blessed I have lived long enough to see this day, to feel… so content.”
“I’m not going to let you die, you know that?”
Hoep smiled.
“It is one of the cornerstones of my contentment,” he told her.
“I’m serious. I’m not going to let you die.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But we all die, it is not something to be feared.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Hoep looked at his friend.
“Your company is always most welcome,” he said. “But I think you want to ask me a question.”
Orsa put her hand on his shoulder.
“I do,” she said. “It’s the girl…”
“Visenai?”
“Yes. Do you trust her? She is powerful. Different.”
“We’re all… different,” Hoep said. “But, until she does something to break my trust, then I will have faith in her. Do you trust her?”
“There’s not much to go on. She never speaks.”
Hoep smiled.
“Before you met me, did you?”
Orsa shook her head.
“Maybe not.”
“When we get to the city…” Hoep started.
“I’ll protect you,” Orsa said.
“And if I have to leave?”
Orsa put her hands over his.
“There is no ‘I’,” she said. “There is only ‘we’.”
Options
“I’m not going to kill anybody,” Gideon said.
“Nor am I,” Yeta told him. “But what should we do?”
“I guess we have two options. We walk away, or we go to them, and see if they can get rid of the children.”
Yeta looked at the ground.
“Why did the children die?” Yeta asked him. “Why didn’t you die?”
“I think…” Gideon started to say.
“Yes?”
“I think we are here for a reason.”
“And the children?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see what these holy people have to say.”
Suffocating
Jenza stood on the balcony. Before her was a metal wall which reached from far below her, to far above. People were strung up on the wall, their hands bound together. The people did not move, and Jenza knew they were dead.
It was completely silent by the wall. Jenza raised her hand in front of her face and clicked her fingers. It made no noise. She clapped. Nothing.
Jenza tried to breathe in, and realised she couldn’t. There was no air to breathe. She panicked. She tried to breathe in again, but there was nothing there. Jenza fell to her knees, her hands at her throat. She was desperate and confused.
She looked up. The people on the wall were looking at her, watching her suffocate.
And then, with burning looks of hatred in each and every pair of eyes, the people on the wall opened their mouths and screamed, and it was deafening.
*
Jenza sat upright, gasping, her hands around her throat as they had been in her dream.
“It was just a dream!” she said.
She looked round for the old woman, worried she might have woken her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Her bag was gone. Harrar sat on the ground a few feet away, watching. The pain returned to Jenza’s arm where the eagle’s talons had ripped her flesh.
The old woman was gone. It was no surprise. It had only been a matter of time. The old woman had somehow known what they were seeking, and had made sure she’d get a good head start.
Harrar made a rumbling noise in his throat. It sounded to Jenza like a growl. She stood up, looking back at where she’d come from. There was smoke coming out of the forest. Too much smoke for a campfire. The trees were burning.
Jenza looked at the hawk.
“Are you well enough to fly?” she asked him.
Harrar took to the air in reply.
“Good,” she said, picking her pack up, slinging it over her shoulder and setting out towards the peaks. “We have a way to go.”
The Sharg
By the time they reached the city outskirts proper, Hoep was installed in the back of the carriage with Ma Poppun. Hossip held the reins, whilst Visenai sat next to him. Orsa travelled alongside the carriage, keeping pace, on the lookout for any danger. They weren’t expecting any, but the home they were hoping to stay at was on the other side of the city, which left plenty of opportunity for things to go wrong on the way.
Ma Poppun massaged her aching legs. A lifetime of standing up had given them their own way of hurting, but nothing was as uncomfortable as being cooped up in the back of the carriage for anything longer than thirty minutes.
“Never been to the city before,” she said to Hoep.
“You didn’t miss much,” he replied. “Just a bunch of people trying to get one up on each other.”
Outside, there was a shout of “halt!”, and the carriage started to slow down. Ma Poppun and Hoep exchanged a look.
*
The carriage stopped. Hossip raised a hand and called out.
“Fair weather to you!”
Orsa stood on the rooftop of a house just in front and above the carriage. The bow and arrow was in her hand, but she didn’t expect to use it. There were too many witnesses.
The man who’d asked the carriage to halt had not been Telar-Val. There were three of them, Orsa could see, and they all wore a dark green uniform. These were the Sharg; the paid hands. They were tougher than the Telar-Val.
“Where are you headed?” the Sharg leader asked.
“We are visiting family in the farmlands.”
The Sharg eyed the coachman and Visenai warily.
“What is the purpose of your visit?”
“We are stopping for a time to catch up and help out.”
The Sharg leader took another step towards them.
“We have been instructed to search all carriages.”
“By whom?” Hossip said.
“By order of the Viceroy.”
Hossip held up his hands.
“Then search away. There is nothing of any interest in our possessions.”
“We’ll be the judge of that. Everybody down.”
The Sharg watched as Hossip and Visenai got down from the front, and Ma Poppun and Hoep left the carriage. The four of them huddled at the side of the road. Slowly, methodically, the Sharg went about their search, climbing to the top and going through each bag.
When they’d finished, the leader walked up to the group.
“All looks fine. That will be fifteen etals.”
Hossip shook his head in misunderstanding.
“We do not have any money.”
“Then we will have to take the carriage.”
“But we need it to travel!”
“You do not need it if you do not have it.”
Orsa looked around. A few of the locals had ventured to their doors and windows to look on at the scene. She got the feeling this was not an isolated incident.
“These are my horses!” Hossip replied.
Behind the Sharg leader, his fellows unsheathed their swords. The leader held out his arms, palms upward in a conciliatory gesture.
“My dear friend, let’s not start a disagreement. I fear it will not end well.”
The bow in Orsa’s hand twitched. Hoep, as if feeling her agitation, glanced in her direction. The look in his eyes sa
id, don’t worry, it’ll be all right.
“You don’t understand…” Hossip said, anger rising in his voice.
With all eyes on Hossip and the Sharg, Visenai had slipped away from Ma Poppun’s side and now stepped between the two men.
“I think,” she said, “we need the horses. And the carriage.”
The Sharg leader smiled.
“So?”
Visenai smiled. A sweet, Innocent, ten–year-old girl smile.
“It was my mistress’s,” she said.
The Sharg leader leant in close to the girl.
“Just because you’re a child,” he said, “doesn’t mean we won’t harm you.”
To those that were close, Visenai’s smile grew a little wider then. A little too wide if people were willing to admit it. There was a blur, and the next time Orsa could focus, the girl had her closed fist underneath the Sharg leader’s chin, as if she was holding it up.
“It’s all right,” Visenai said. “You weren’t to know.”
Something started to leak from the girl’s fist. It dropped to the ground, red and glistening.
Visenai removed her hand from the man’s chin, and Orsa could see the dagger she was holding.
The other two Sharg were stunned. They didn’t move. Their swords were still unsheathed, but hung limply in their hands.
Visenai looked up at them.
“Would you still like the carriage?” she asked.
The question seemed to goad the nearest one into action. He took a step forward with the sword raised. Visenai rolled forward with a magnificent elegance, like she was performing on midsummers day to a cheering crowd. She stood almost as gracefully, right in front of the Sharg, so close it looked as if she was going to give him a hug.
Instead her arm went up, underneath his chest armour, and the dagger it held pierced his heart. He shuddered, tensed and fell away. The last Sharg stood there stunned. He turned to flee, but instead, simply fell where he stood as the arrow from Orsa’s bow flew into his side. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Hoep looked at Ma Poppun.
“What the hell just happened there?”
“I’m not sure!” she said.
Orsa appeared next to them.
“We need to keep ahead of the gossip.”
Ma Poppun turned to Visenai.
“Can I have my knife back, please?” she asked, with her hand outstretched.
Visenai looked at her hand, and seemed surprised to see blood on it. She passed the knife over.
“Ride with her in the back,” Hossip said. “Hoep up front with me, Orsa on the roof. Better hang on, too. I won’t be going slowly.”
Shift
Yeta slept whilst Gideon kept a lookout. He was tired too, but knew that should she go ahead with the exorcism, she would need all the energy she could muster.
The boy settled into a comfortable sitting position and cleared his mind as much as possible. Whilst he had this time, he felt he should meditate. He wanted to see if he could receive another vision.
He concentrated on the image he’d seen before, let his breathing slow and his muscles relax. When he was focused, he let the image go, feeling it melt away. He was on his own.
There was a sudden shift, like something had grabbed hold of his shoulders and tugged him forward. He thought he might actually hit the floor, but then realised the tug had only been in his mind.
Gideon couldn’t see where he was, if he was anywhere at all. He could feel something, though. A pressure on his legs. And there was a sound, the low snores of an animal. The dog.
He must be sleeping, Gideon thought. Slowly, images, no more than blurs of colour, flared and faded. The boy waited to see if they grew more distinct, and when they didn’t, he thought of a question. The most burning question he had.
How did you survive?
More blips of light. Smaller now. Brighter. And these did get more distinct. Stars, tiny stars. Gideon recognized them instantly. These were Resurrection stars. The boy smiled; this was what had happened to Ka Pinto.
Unbound. The word floated on the air. What did it mean?
We are the Bound. We are part of you. That is how we live.
Gideon opened his eyes.
Part of us? What did that mean?
The boy wiped his forehead. There was a light sheen of sweat.
He suddenly felt tired. He looked at Yeta, at her wounded leg. He remembered the monster, the Vengeance. None of it made any sense.
Progress
Aponser was making good progress. She had been right to abandon the girl. Her heart felt lighter. She would retrieve the spear. She would claim it, and the Harvesters would stay away. This was the beginning of the end.
The mountains loomed closer. Twelve in total. Each peak close to its neighbours, keeping one another company.
Everybody had somebody. She had heard it said, but never experienced that type of friendship. She had always been on her own. Always talked to herself. Always came to her own decisions. She didn’t know how to trust anyone. She had watched the Harvesters from her earliest years, had known them to be terrible creatures. The desert had served her well. But back in the green of the country, this was where they moved best.
She was on her own. There was no one to harm her, and no one she could harm. Aponser grimly put one foot in front of the other. Behind her they were coming. When they reached her she didn’t know what they would do, but if she could get the spear, she would be guarded.
She saw a shadow on the ground and looked above her, raising her arm against the sunlight. It was the hawk. Aponser was happy. It meant the woman was awake, and had woken before they had reached her.
The race was on.
Illek
They reached the farm within the hour. They bypassed the centre of town, and cut through shortcuts, which were little more than footpaths in places. It had been a rough ride.
When the carriage stopped, Hossip jumped down and knocked on the door of the farmhouse. The door opened, and coachman went inside.
Ten minutes later, they were being taken to a barn on the edge of the property, the furthest from the city. They stopped and everyone got out. Hossip led the horses and carriage inside the building, detached the animals and stabled them in the places provided.
There was little in the way of bedding, but none of them were going to complain. They half-closed the barn door, and relaxed as best they could.
Hoep walked up to the coachman.
“Go smoothly?” he asked.
Hossip nodded.
“They’re old friends. They will tolerate us for a time.”
“How long?”
The coachman shrugged.
“The less we make a fuss, the longer.”
“What are we going to do about the girl?” Hoep asked. Her earlier actions had been troubling him. After all, he had been a Telar-Val.
“I’ll let Ma Poppun talk to her,” he said. “Don’t think the rest of us have much of a chance of getting through.”
“I’ve never seen anyone move like that, let alone a child. Where did she learn how to do it?”
“I don’t know,” Hossip said. “She’s never done anything like it.”
Hoep’s stomach rumbled.
“Were you able to get some food?” he asked, as if interpreting what it said.
Hossip nodded.
“They’ll bring something over in an hour or so.”
“Not a moment too soon.”
*
Visenai was quiet, sitting on a small bale of straw in the yard outside the barn, staring into space. Ma Poppun had known this girl for a long time. Had practically brought her up, as she would have done her own, had she had any.
She thought she had done a good job.
Now she felt scared of what the girl could do. Ma Poppun forced herself to take a step closer. She was just a girl, wasn’t she?
“Visenai,” she said, quietly. The girl didn’t react. Another step closer. “Visenai?”
“Save us?”
“Those men were going to kill us. They wanted the carriage, but they were going to kill us, too.”
“Is that what you sensed?”
The girl nodded. It barely registered in the gloom.
“So, I had no choice. Did I?”
Ma Poppun thought about her answer.
“No, you had no choice.”
“And when I have no choice, that’s the only time I should do it.”
Ma Poppun perched against a wooden upright.
“Did someone tell you that?” she asked.
The girl nodded again.
“Who told you that, Visenai?”
“The Bound.”
“The Bound. Who’s that?”
“You know the voice in your head you think is yours, the one that agrees or disagrees with you?”
Ma Poppun nodded.
“I do.”
“It’s not your voice. It never was. It’s the Bound. And the Bound can teach you things if they want to.”
Ma Poppun was silent. She didn’t believe the girl. She couldn’t believe the girl.
Why not? Asked the voice in her head.
“Oh, Gods and monsters,” Ma Poppun said. “You mean… we all have them?”
“Everyone. The Bound are always with us.”
“And they taught you to do that?”
Visenai shook her head.
“Not really,” she said. “They taught me to let go. To allow them to use me.”
“And you don’t think that’s dangerous?”
“The world is dangerous.”
There was a pause.
“Are you completely in control of them taking over?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
Ma Poppun smiled as best she could.
“Well, then, just you stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.”
*
Ma Poppun walked around to the other side of the barn, out of sight of the girl.
“Who are you?” she whispered to herself.
