by Mark Bowsher
‘It’s genius,’ said Krish.
‘It’s no clock-confuser. We should keep movin’.’
‘What?! We only just sat down!’
Balthrir considered this for a moment. ‘Where are they now?’ she said.
Krish closed his eyes for a few seconds. ‘They’re… they’re making their way through the sand. They’re moving slowly. They look a little lost.’
‘See,’ said Balthrir. ‘Told yer the electromagnetic wotsit would confuse ’em for a bit. Right! Ten minutes. Then we’ll bust a groove.’ She pulled out an odd-looking pack of cards. They were octagonal. Each had an identical image on its back of a thin, white-lined octagon split into eight equal-sized triangles leading to a single point in the middle, all on a red background. ‘Yer know Many-Ruled Splat?’
‘Er… no,’ said Krish.
‘Right.’ She dealt eight cards to each of them. ‘We play one card each, ’ighest wins. One with the most wins… well, wins.’
‘Okay…’ said Krish, baffled by the eclectic array of imagery now facing him on the front of the cards in his hand. Each had a picture of either a range of lean mountains, fields of something that looked like wheat, a cave or a number of boats on the sea. They also featured a compass in the corner, pointing north, east, south or west (with no apparent connection to the pictures), and between one and eight pictures of the same grey-bearded wizard, spread out across the card in rows or shapes that made them easy to count.
‘Right! Bored o’ waitin’! Me first!’ Balthrir played a card; five wizards, lean mountains, east.
Krish played seven wizards, fields of wheat, north. Seven was higher than five so surely he’d won.
‘Ah!’ said Balthrir with a smile. ‘No more than five northbound wizards in a field! You lose three so that’s four to my five. I win!’
Krish blinked in confusion. ‘What?! But you didn’t mention that rule!’
‘Course I didn’t! It’s Many-Ruled Splat! Make up the rules as yer go along, don’t yer?’
‘But—’
‘Look, yer got a counter-rule or what?’
Krish fought to make sense of the game and lost pretty swiftly. ‘I… er…’
‘Time’s up! I win!’ Balthrir grabbed both played cards and placed them to her right. ‘Go on – you go first this time.’
Krish examined his cards for a long time. He had an eight, the sea, south. An eight had to win. He played it. Balthrir played a three, cave, west.
‘Eight! I win!’ said Krish.
‘What? You mad, mate?’ said Balthrir. ‘Scar flows north at this time of year! Yer wizards drowned tryin’ to row the wrong way! Mine are safe in the Undertowns.’
‘But-but-but—’
‘Counter-rule?’
‘Yes! Erm… no… wizards in caves… um…’
‘Yer what?! Wizards blinkin’ love caves! Everyone knows that! I win!’
‘This game is stupid!’
‘Nah! It’s brilliant! My turn.’ Balthrir played a seven, cave, west.
Krish shrugged and played a two, mountains, east.
‘What?! ’Ow’d you expect to win with a two?’ Balthrir nabbed both cards.
‘No! You can’t! Erm… eastbound wizards on mountains—’
‘If I lose a couple I’m still in the lead!’
‘No! B-b-because no wizards on mountains while they are wizards in caves!’
Balthrir pulled a rather disgusted-looking face. ‘Yer can’t counter counter-rules, mate! You off yer rocker?’
Krish threw down his cards in anger. ‘Oh, this game is ridiculous! How am I supposed to win?’
‘I dunno, mate, how are yer gonna win…?’ Balthrir stared at him expectantly. Krish pondered this for a moment.
‘First person to throw down his cards gets fifty points…’ Krish said.
‘Ah! But not if the last card played ’ad more than one eastbound wizard—’
Krish interrupted as fast as he could: ‘No-counter-rules-after-a-fifty-point-lead!’
‘No counter-counter-rules!’
‘No-counter-counter-counter-rules-at-all-unless-you-touch-a-rock-with-your-tongue!’
Balthrir dived to the ground, stuck out her tongue and had almost licked a rock when she stopped and said: ‘Hey! That doesn’t make any—’
‘Time’s up!’ said Krish victoriously. ‘I win!’
‘Mate, yer gettin’ too good at this!’
Their talk descended into laughter and for several minutes they forgot the Vulrein, the quest and the danger they might have to face in the days to come.
CHAPTER 21
DAY BRIGHT AS MOONLIGHT
The laughter died down. They packed. They were on the road again in minutes. The tone became solemn once more as they headed silently onwards.
The rocks receded and Krish saw a pale, endless plain stretch out in front of them. The heat was creeping back now too, the sun beating down on a barren, featureless wasteland. He was almost blinded by how bright the landscape was. The baked ground was cracked from the heat. He barely noticed the arrival of night as the near-white landscape seemed to absorb the light and project it out again after dark. Mother and Sons danced across the horizon. The land was eerily bright. The stars almost invisible, the ground glowing white, the air awash with electric blue.
They were resting. Still standing but resting, leaning against a rock, ready to move on at a moment’s notice. Krish had no idea how he felt any more. Angry? Fearful? Bored? Exhausted? Or more awake than he’d ever felt in his life? He was tired to the point of forgetting what sleep was like. Was it normal to see dark when you closed your eyes? Or did you always see such things? Foul things. The redness in those black eyes so faint you had to stare right into them to truly see it. All he knew was that he felt old beyond his years. His eyes were wide, dry and stinging. Any new piece of information inflicted pain upon his tired mind, and everything ached.
‘Okay.’ Balthrir had decided this was the time for a briefing. ‘So, we’re not far now. This one’s gonna to be tough.’ Krish wondered just how that would be possible after fighting off the Vulrein in the pitch black at the bottom of the Night Ocean. ‘Keepin’ the feather alight, no problem,’ Balthrir continued. ‘Most people might struggle with that bit. Got a spell for that. But capturing one…’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘The only people ’oo ’ave any idea ’ow to snatch a FireHawk are the Goonmallinns. If yer find a group of them round ’ere they’re looking to nab one. I’ve ’eard a few ’ave succeeded. They get a pretty penny for the meat but I ’ear the feathers burn to dust within minutes of ’em bein’ plucked. And Goonmallinns don’t share nothin’ with no one. No secrets, no food, no water. Nothin’. So, yer could sneak into one of their camps, we could disguise yer, yer watch, yer learn—’
‘Why is it me?! Why is it always me?!’ Krish’s endless state of exhaustion had forced him to conserve energy and in a few seconds he let it all burst out.
Balthrir turned up her lip at him. ‘What yer talkin’ about, mate?’
‘Why is it always me?! I have to… to… always be the one wh-who goes down into the ocean, the Night… stupid bloody Night Ocean a-and get the pearl! Put up with questions from, from that old bat, that witch! That terrifying old witch, Old Margary! A-a-and… and I have to put up with the Vulrein! Do you know what this is like?! Seeing them all the time!’
‘Yer don’t see ’em all the time! Yer see ’em when y’er stupid enough to close yer stupid bloody eyes! Bloody idiot!’
Krish was standing up straight now, shouting at his friend, not caring if the noise summoned a hundred guards or a thousand Vulrein. ‘Yeah, b-but I do see them! I do see them all the time! When I don’t see them I imagine them!’
Balthrir was on her feet too, boiling with rage. ‘And sorry, what’s all this stuff yer’ve been doin’? Eh? What about me? Givin’ up my time, risking mylife… for what?! So you can give yer Mum a bit more time to live?! Boo-hoo! My folks might die of exhaustion in the Black Palace and this is the
only way to ’elp ’em! Do you understand that?! They could be DEAD! Right now! DEAD!’
Krish’s mouth gaped open. He’d rarely thought about Balthrir and her family. And he’d forgotten exactly where her parents were imprisoned. Trapped in that mass of sweating bodies that made up the palace.
‘But… but… I’m sorry… I…’ he said.
‘Yer know what? Yer think you’ve done a lot? Well, there’s plenty more to be gettin’ on with! We’ve ’ardly started! This new challenge’ll be much ’arder! Much ’arder! Much more dangerous! And we’ll be doin’ it for a helluva lot longer! So sit tight, matey boy! And y’er welcome, by the way!’
‘B-b-but you said you’d get something out of this! The King—’
‘Oh yeah! That old codger’ll possibly give me some work but don’t bank on it! D’yer know another reason why I’m doin’ this? Do yer? Well, apart from the fact there is naff all to do round ’ere… I saw someone in need. Someone desperate for ’elp and I thought… why not? Why not! Who cares if I lose an arm, a leg, a head, my repu-bloody-tation! Who cares? I ’ave got nowhere in life, despite bein’ bloody good at magic and stuff, so why not ’elp someone else out? Eh? Risk it all because maybe their life’ll be worth more than mine!’
Krish tried to think of something to say but his exhausted mind was a jumble of words, none of which seemed keen on getting acquainted with one another. Your life is worth so much too… He couldn’t say it. Was it even true? He’d been so selfish. She could have died, she could still die because of him.
A brief silence allowed Balthrir to sigh and begin to fasten the satchels shut as she continued talking. She spoke quietly, her tone far more subdued than before.
‘The Goonmallinns are a nasty bunch. They’ll tear off yer ’ead for being too miserable and then tear off someone else’s ’ead for laughin’ too much. When I was a kid with m’parents we ran into a group and Dad almost ’ad to sell ’is ’and to get food and water off of ’em. Always tried to avoid ’em but the Pale Hunting Grounds are infested with ’em. You do not mess with these guys. Yer wanna fight them on yer own then that’s your bag. Fine with me. I dunno why I’m ’ere really. Yer can fight them on yer own, can’t yer? Yer know yer way around. Yer know plenty of spells to ’elp out, don’t yer? Yer’ll be fine.’
Balthrir turned around, facing back in the direction of the Night Ocean and Ugethrid and the Black Palace beyond.
‘Yer want some food or will yer be all right?’ she said.
Krish suddenly realised that Balthrir was about to leave him alone in the middle of nowhere.
‘Erm…’ was all he could muster.
‘Well…?’ Balthrir waited patiently. Krish was still lost trying to formulate a sentence. ‘I don’t know you! Yer don’t say much but yer ask a lot! Why should I care? Quite ’appy to leave yer right ’ere to fend for yerself, mate.’
Krish was sure that Balthrir wasn’t going to abandon him in this hostile wilderness but he feared the possibility nonetheless. He knew that she was just waiting for him to say something, to utter a few words and they’d be on their way again but he just couldn’t find them. In the end, he went for the most basic, the most obvious choice of words he could muster.
‘Balthrir… I’m sorry. I… I really want you to… In fact, I think I need your help or I’ll probably die out here.’
Balthrir stared at him with heavy eyes for a moment. She looked down and let out a brief, droll chuckle, apparently sneering at her own feet, before looking up at him for a moment and then walking past him.
‘Yeah, probably,’ she said.
Krish watched as she walked on.
‘Can’t we at least rest until sunrise?’ asked Krish.
Balthrir’s thumb pointed over her shoulder and back past Krish.
‘Oh, what is that big shiny thing plonked over there on the horizon…?’ she muttered sarcastically.
He looked back to see that the sun was already climbing up the sky. That moment on the edge of the Pale Hunting Grounds Krish learned that in this corner of Ilir night vanished without warning, the new day bright as moonlight.
‘We’re gettin’ there, mate,’ said Balthrir with a weak yet encouraging smile. ‘We’re gettin’ there.’
CHAPTER 22
SIX HUNTERS & A TRAITOR
Krish’s eyes smarted more than ever in the blinding whiteness of the Pale Hunting Grounds in the midday sun. The occasional blink kept the Vulrein on their trail but he felt less worried now. Balthrir was with him. Her threatened departure had actually reassured him that she would never leave. They were in this together. And they were getting on better. Or so it appeared. She seemed more relaxed but she just kept laughing to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’ he’d ask.
‘Yer face,’ she’d answer. ‘Yer remind me of a little dog I ’ad when I was a kid. Can’t believe it took me that long to realise what it was yer reminded me of!’
Balthrir seemed to be trying to humiliate him. To cut him down to size.
As they walked Balthrir outlined her plan. They would observe the Goonmallinns from afar, wait for one to break free from the others and then she’d stun her (Goonmallinns were all women, apparently) so they could steal a hair and a shred of her clothing. With these, Balthrir said, she could conjure up a mask spell of the Goonmallinn and wrap it around Krish, just like the one she’d used earlier to fool Madam Nboosa. Then they’d find another Goonmallinn to create Balthrir’s disguise. Balthrir said she had a plan to keep the feather of the FireHawk burning, so Krish should leave that bit to her once they had the feather.
The dusty yellow hue of day faded seamlessly into the pale blue of night as they hid the ball of twine in the burnt-out husk of an old tree. They scanned the plain from the shelter of the rocks, slim, jagged towers of dark brown stone. Balthrir pointed. Some dots in the distance. Five, six maybe. Krish squinted at the shapes amid the low ridges that broke up the plain. He could just make out a little movement from here. As his eyes adjusted he could see poles and a large stretch of canvas. They were setting up camp. Soon a couple of Goonmallinns split from the main group, looking for kindling or a small beast for supper perhaps. Balthrir led them silently in a slow, cautious pursuit of the shapes.
They clambered over a ridge, moving swiftly, heads down but eyes always on the Goonmallinns. Krish noted that although the hunting grounds were indeed pale, the rocks were much darker, more of a muddy brown. And there was little dirt, no plants, no trees, no weeds. In the warm sunshine with its gentle breeze this seemed curious to Krish. This place did not have the eeriness of Betsarhldeth or the deep, dark terror of the Night Ocean. So why did everything keep away? And then there was the smell. What was it? He knew it. From a very specific time and place that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
As they began their descent, he looked out on the landscape. A series of narrow ridges cut through the milky-white flats and in places sand had poured in from the surrounding desert. The shallow ranges were like gigantic teeth gradually chewing up the land over the ages. In the distance were formidable rock formations that looked like waves frozen in time, bursts of lava solidified in mid-eruption.
They crouched among the rocks and observed a Goonmallinn collecting sticks. The Goonmallinn wore a hooded cloak made of coarsely stitched-together dirty brown rags, threads dangling from every poorly executed stitch. Krish clutched his knife.
‘You be careful with that thing,’ warned Balthrir in hushed tones. ‘Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.’
‘You going to stun her then?’ Krish asked.
Balthrir peered over the ridge behind them. ‘Well, none of the others are comin’.’ She turned back to Krish, who was watching her. ‘Keep yer eye on the ball, kid!’
Krish didn’t like being called ‘kid’. Particularly by someone only a few years older than him. He turned back to the Goonmallinn. She had gone. He stared intently at the place where she had been and then saw her re-emerge.
‘Where did she go?�
�� asked Krish.
‘Dunno. Stash ’er kindlin’, I guess.’
Krish tried not to let his vision stray from the Goonmallinn again.
‘What if the others are just behind that ridge?’ he said ‘And she’s not alone?’
‘Dunno. Oh and there was no dog, by the way.’
Krish was transfixed by the Goonmallinn, whose lips were moving. ‘Looks like she’s talking to herself. I can’t see anyone else unless… sorry, what did you say?’
‘The dog. I made it up.’
‘Oh. So…?’
‘It wasn’t that that was makin’ me giggle.’
‘Oh. Well… what was…?’
‘This…’
All of a sudden, Krish could hear them.
‘Let’s see how yer fend for yerself. See yer, kid!’
He spun round. Coming up behind him, slowly spreading out to block any possible escape route, were five hooded figures. Balthrir. Where had she gone? He saw a shape disappearing over the ridge. He turned to run and a savage face greeted him. Blackened teeth, filthy skin and wild eyes. The Goonmallinn snarled gleefully at him. He turned back; they had him surrounded. He held up his dagger with all the menace he could summon. Theirs were already drawn. They could sense his fear. They were exhilarated by it. They were waiting for their prey to make its move. Cruel smiles, delighted by the despair in his eyes. They encircled him. Where was she? Would she give herself away if she called out? But he needed her! He saw a shape in the rocks. He called out.
‘Ba—’
A thud from behind, then nothing.
*
Krish awoke to the smell of strong, spirit-infused tea. Stiff and groggy, he opened his eyes. The pain from whatever they’d knocked him out with was still echoing through the back of his skull. His mouth was so dry his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He swore his vision was flickering from dim to bright.
