by Oisin McGann
‘A terrible accident. When the bubule in the tank you had been working on bloomed, he tried to lower himself in to take samples. He slipped, smashing the tank in his fall. The whole thing came down on top of him. It was a horrible sight.’
Groach felt a lump rise in his throat. To hide the tears welling in his eyes, he turned to take in the passing buildings that led to the outskirts and walls of Hortenz. He was not sure how to feel. He was shocked; it did not seem real. And it had been his tank. If he had not run away, Hovem might still be alive.
‘You mustn’t feel responsible,’ Namen reassured him. ‘It was an accident.’
‘I suppose,’ Groach whispered.
‘He was devoted to the project. He would have wanted you to continue your work.’
‘Yes, I suppose he would. Of course, we have to go on.’
‘So I can count on you to continue? I can tell we’re almost there – it’s almost within reach.’
‘Yes, it is,’ breathed Groach. ‘Prime Ministrate, can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course, Shessil.’
‘What is almost within reach? What is all the work for? What will you do with it?’
‘I’m glad you asked,’ Namen sat forward and unfolded his hands. ‘Let me tell you how it’s going to be. Let’s talk about the future. I’m sure a man of your intellect will appreciate it.’
Taya and Lorkrin were walking ahead of Draegar and Hilspeth. They were both feeling thoroughly miserable. Taya’s colour had even turned slightly bluer than normal. Their uncle would be absolutely furious with them when they got back to his house. They were sure to be punished, probably by being made to weed the garden and paint fences and things like that. There always seemed to be loads of work that needed doing whenever they had been up to anything. On top of this, they were beginning to feel ashamed of what they had done to Shessil back in the sewers. Then there was the fact that Shessil still had the quill from Uncle Emos’s studio, and that there was a large hole in the town of Hortenz that somebody would have to fix. The more they thought about it, the worse the whole affair seemed, and the worse it seemed, the more they each wished they could do something to make things better.
The sound of heavy engines behind them made the group look back, in time to step off the road into a doorway to get out of the way of a convoy of military vehicles. Two armoured battlewagons passed, followed by a luxurious wooden-panelled coach with a liveried soldier driving, and a huge yellow-skinned warrior sitting on the back, staring at them as he rode past. They were charging out the gate in the town wall ahead, at high speed.
‘There’s Shessil!’ exclaimed Taya over the noise of the wagons. Lorkrin and the others followed her pointing finger and sure enough, there he was, visible through the window of the coach.
‘That’s the Prime Ministrate’s vehicle,’ Draegar told them. ‘This is the main road to Noran. They’ll be taking him back to the city.’
‘We have to help him,’ Hilspeth urged him, her voice tinged with desperation.
She was surprised at the passion she was feeling. Shessil was little more than a stranger to her, and she wasn’t sure she even liked him that much, and he was definitely a bit odd for her taste. But he was interesting too, and she couldn’t deny that seeing him stand up to that soldier with nothing but a pot of tea had made an impression.
‘You do what you like,’ Draegar answered. ‘The children are going back to Emos. If you’re smart, you’ll leave well enough alone, get on with your life and let your friend get on with his. You are not cut out for crossing the Noranians.’
‘How noble of you,’ Hilspeth smiled bitterly. ‘I’m touched by your concern.’
Draegar said nothing. His face was impassive as he watched the last of the convoy roar past.
The two children carried on walking. Taya caught a look on her brother’s face as his eyes followed the dust cloud of the vehicles.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ she asked, careful that the two grown-ups behind them did not hear.
‘We wouldn’t have a hope of getting him out,’ Lorkrin mumbled as if trying to convince himself of something. ‘I wonder why he’s so important. Didn’t look very important to me.’
‘We might be able to help him escape with Draegar’s help,’ his sister pondered aloud.
‘Except that Draegar just wants to take us home.’
‘We’d go home afterwards. It’s just this thing we have to do first.’
‘Right, but he won’t see it that way.’ Lorkrin shook his head. ‘Although, we would be sort of doing it for our honour, wouldn’t we? He’s always talking about honour. Especially when it’s about him getting into fights. Maybe he’d understand.’
‘Yeah, he’s always getting into fights over honour. Why not this time?’
‘Aww … he’ll never go for it, Taya.’
‘No. But if we tried it anyway, he’d help, wouldn’t he?’
Lorkrin regarded his sister with narrowed eyes.
‘You mean, if we were rescuing Shessil and Draegar just happened to be there, he’d have to help us to rescue Shessil?’
‘Right.’
‘But we’d have to get him there first. He’d never just let us follow the wagons.’
‘No,’ Taya continued. ‘But if we catch up with the wagons, he’ll have to catch up with us.’
‘And this road winds about a lot. If we go across country, we should be able to get ahead of them.’
‘Right.’
‘Right.’ They walked on in silence for a bit.
‘So,’ Taya clucked her tongue, ‘how do we get away from Draegar?’
Now that she knew where Shessil was heading, Hilspeth carried on out of the town with the others. She would walk as far with them as possible. Despite not wanting to involve the two young Myunans, she still hoped she could persuade Draegar to help her. They were now passing through a cornfield, the corn on either side of the road almost as high as her head, and the wind rustled gently among the stalks with a whispering noise. Ahead of them, a large flock of sheep was coming down the road, guided by a stout shepherdess and her three dogs. Draegar and Hilspeth moved to the side to let them pass, but the two children, walking a good way out in front, stayed in the middle of the road. Draegar called out to them to move aside for the animals, annoyed that they should be so rude, but just as he did, they ducked down into the flurry of bleating wool that filled the road from one side to the other.
The Parsinor stopped when he saw this, and waited for the two shape-changers to reappear. When they did not, he strode towards the sheep. Wading into the flock, he searched ever more frantically for the children. But he found nothing, and let out a bellow of frustration. The sheep panicked and scattered in all directions, dashing into the tall cover of the corn. Draegar tried to catch sight of the Myunans, defying the shepherdess who was hurling abuse at him.
‘You stinking pig’s bladder!’ she shouted at him while whistling directions to her dogs. ‘Raised on a vegetable patch, were you? Sand in the skull – it’s the same with all you bleedin’ Parsinors!’
‘Madam …’
‘Don’t you madam me, slug-breath. It’s market day today, and thanks to you I may have nothing to sell,’ – a pause to give a whistle – ‘you drizzle of ditch-water…’
‘Madam,’ Draegar was struggling to get a word in, while still searching for the two escapees.
‘… like something that was dragged from the bottom of a bog, if you ask me,’ – whistle and a yodel – ‘… stupid and pig-ugly to boot, cost me my stock, will you? You great lump of dried manure.’
‘Shut up, you old bat!’ Hilspeth barked. ‘The man is trying to apologise.’
The shepherdess, her greying hair askew, and wrinkled face like a crumpled paper bag, stopped in mid-insult as if she were only noticing Hilspeth for the first time. Draegar, who had given up trying to find the shape-changers, took advantage of the relative silence.
‘Madam, I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused. I will
, of course, help you get your sheep back. Though I must say that you have a mouth like a sewer, I am not a man who shirks responsibility for his actions. Please forgive me my mistake.’
The woman uttered some crude grunt, then, avoiding his earnest expression, she stiffly nodded her head. Draegar gazed helplessly out across the cornfields at the lines of movement that marked dozens of straying sheep and, somewhere, a couple of straying young scamps, and he sighed. Turning to Hilspeth, he told her:
‘Just so you know. I blame you for this.’
Hilspeth rolled her eyes and snorted.
9 CREFTING BATS’ WINGS
Lorkrin and Taya lay on their stomachs and watched the convoy driving away from them down the valley below. They had been giving chase all afternoon, and it was proving more difficult than they had expected to get ahead of the Noranians. Although the vehicles were not especially fast – they could be outstripped by a fast horse – they did not tire, and the same could not be said for the two Myunans. The two would-be rescuers had thought they could catch up on the wagons by going cross-country, but they were still far behind.
‘We’re not going to make it if this goes on,’ Lorkrin grunted. He was fiddling with his hand, sculpting his fingers into octopus tentacles.
‘I’m not just going to give up,’ said his sister.
‘I didn’t say I was giving up. It just doesn’t look good, that’s all.’
They lapsed into silence once more, alone with their thoughts. Taya turned over onto her back and stared at the sky. They were lying in the low undergrowth at the top of a hill, a herd of ornacrids chewing weaving trails through the scrub nearby. Above them, birds wheeled and dived down to peck at the insects disturbed by the slow animals.
Taya gazed up at soaring shapes above her.
‘What if we flew?’ she asked, dreamily.
‘We’d fall and die,’ Lorkrin answered. ‘Limstom tried it last year, remember? He got way up, almost to the clouds, and then lost it. I still hear the sound when I think of it. He hit the ground so hard they had to roll him up to carry him back to the village. And he was two years older than us.’
‘We’re better than he was. I talked to his sister after. She said he never could get the hang of crefting properly.’
‘Well, he’ll never get the hang of it now, and I for one can wait to learn flying properly. I have no intention of dying as a Lorkrin-shaped carpet.’
‘Can you think of a better way?’ Taya pressed.
There were many stages of study for a shape-changer. The ultimate aim was to be able to mimic any creature, and mastering amorphing was considered an art. Myunans had unique flesh that could take almost any shape, but sculpting that flesh into different forms was a skill that took years of hard training to attain. Their parents and their Uncle Emos were considered artists among their peers. Flying was one of the more advanced accomplishments, as a person needed first to achieve a suitable form, and then to grasp the principles of flying itself. Neither Taya nor Lorkrin had ever been taught it, and their few attempts had been only as part of simple gliding games with their friends. To catch the convoy they would have to fly high and fast, assuming they could get up at all. Lorkrin contemplated this as the dust cloud marking the passage of the wagons drew further and further away.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s try it.’
They unwrapped their bundles of tools and picked out the ones they would need. Then they let their bodies go soft, making them into living modelling clay. Gravity did the first bit of the shaping for them, their torsos sinking down to mix with their legs. They allowed their legs to shorten, then tooled and tensed them into shape. Then they crefted, holding the form once they had achieved it. With their legs done, that left a loose slab of flesh from their hips to their shoulders. They gathered bulk around their chests and stomachs, moulding the strong, broad chests they would need to take the strain of flight on their bodies. Then they started on the wings.
They did not even consider trying to mimic birds. Even the best Myunans in the world found feathers difficult. They were too big to use insects’ wings, and could not generate enough hot air to glide like balloon fish or esh floaters, so they settled on bats’ wings. They had to help each other, as it was hard to sculpt your own arms and shoulders. But eventually they had their new forms finished. The final touch was added, each of them smoothing their head back into a long, sleek shape, before they made their way to the edge of the hill for take-off.
‘Want to go first?’ Lorkrin prompted.
‘No, you can go first if you like.’
‘This was your idea.’
‘Yes. I came up with the idea, so now it’s your turn. You have to try it out,’ Taya said primly, pleased with her logic.
‘Okay, I’ll do it. But only because you’re scared,’ retorted Lorkrin.
‘I am not. I just don’t see why I should do all the work.’
‘Scaredy-cat!’ her brother taunted, spreading his wings and wiggling the little claws at the bend in the joints.
‘I am not!’
Lorkrin clucked like a chicken and Taya charged at him. He giggled and set off down the hill, both of them flapping their wings to keep their ungainly bodies balanced as they ran. Then, without meaning to, Lorkrin took off. He let out a yelp and pushed down with his wings in reflex. The push lifted him further into the air and his heart slammed up into his throat. Taya wobbled into the air behind him with a squeal. Lorkrin struck out strongly for a few moments and then lost his rhythm, thrashing in a panic instead of flapping smoothly. He lost control, and felt himself slip down through air. Screaming, he fell.
He hit the slope and rolled, folding his delicate wings to protect them, and bouncing down the grassy hill. He skidded to a halt and lay there on his back, panting. Taya sailed over him:
‘Are you all right?’ she called, gliding into a turn to get a closer look at him.
‘I’m fine,’ he snapped, more embarrassed than hurt.
‘This is easy!’ she shouted. ‘We should have tried this ages ago!’
Lorkrin snorted and picked himself up.
‘You need to keep calm. Don’t rush things,’ she cried down to him. With that, she went into a steep turn too slowly and dived straight into the ground. Lorkrin burst out laughing, but then stopped when his sister did not get up.
‘Taya!’ He sprinted over to her as fast as his short legs could carry him.
Taya had landed head-first in a patch of deep mud. She was stuck in up to her chest. Stunned and unable to breath, she was struggling weakly. She could not push herself free because of her wings, which scrabbled uselessly on either side of her. Lorkrin grabbed her feet and yanked her out. Taya coughed a few times and dragged air into her lungs.
‘How’s your head?’ he asked.
Taya wiped mud from her eyes and nose, and spat mud out of her mouth. Her long, sharp face was coated in the stuff. She wiped it clean clumsily with her wing and sat down, tears welling in her eyes.
‘This was a stupid idea,’ she grumbled miserably. ‘This is all just stupid. How are we going to rescue Shessil anyway? He’s got soldiers and all those people around him. We should go home.’
Lorkrin sat in front of her and said nothing. He was very close to thinking the same thing, except that he had seen his sister flying. If they could fly, he thought, they could do anything.
‘My head’s sore,’ she continued at last. ‘But I don’t think I really hurt anything.’
Because Myunans could turn their bodies to something near jelly at will, it took more than a bit of a fall to injure them. But even Myunans bruised. Lorkrin could see that Taya was going to have a fabulous black eye. At least she could hide it a bit by changing the colour of her skin. It was something Lorkrin was not so good at. He was better at mimicking dangerous or disgusting creatures – a gift his mother despaired over.
‘I want to try again,’ he urged her. ‘You had it there for a bit. I think we can do it.’
Taya shuffled her wing
s and looked away.
‘One more go each. We’ll keep really low,’ he said. ‘If you still want to stop then, we’ll catch up on the wagons some other way. We can’t just give up, Taya. Draegar says the Noranians torture their prisoners, and we know they kill people all the time. I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing to Shessil … and it’s our fault he ran into those soldiers.’
Taya did not move at first, but then she lifted her head up and clambered to her feet.
‘You’re right. Let’s try again. I’ll go first.’
Without another word, she jogged down the slope, wings striking out and down, lifting off and touching back down again until she had gathered speed, and then she was off. Flying a hundred paces, she dipped to the left, turning in a half circle and landed again, stumbling to a halt in front of him.
‘Stay low, keep your feet back and your head up,’ she told him. ‘Mind the updraft off the hill – it catches you as you turn in to land.’
Lorkrin sighed to himself. His sister was back to her old self again; two flights and she was an expert. Bracing himself for the effort, he trotted down the hill and pushed down with hard beats of his wings. Then he was airborne again, more relaxed and careful this time. He felt his rhythm go for a moment, a sharp drop that flipped his stomach and made him flail with his feet, but he caught the updraft and glided on the rising air. The lift gave him a chance to get his timing back. With the wind rushing in his ears, Lorkrin swooped low across the grass and howled with delight. Taya cheered him on, then took off herself and gave chase around the top of the hill. The two Myunans played in the fading evening light, forgetting everything else in the giddy joy of flight.
Groach rocked with the movement of the cabin, the engine revving loudly as it tackled a hill. He was still trying to come to terms with all that the Prime Ministrate was telling him. The Noranian leader had been talking for so long, Groach had hardly noticed the sun setting. Now it was dark and they were passing through a town, he could hear dogs barking and saw the silhouettes of people at lit windows as they peered out to see the noisy vehicles that passed their houses. He numbly watched it all roll by.
