The Reef

by Mark Charan Newton

  At midday the heat was painful. Jella could feel the sweat down her back, on her arms, even in her eyes. They rode on, every now and then looking back over their shoulders. They travelled until the horses couldn’t cope.

  They came across a small watering hole, marked by jagged trees that leaned over a stagnant pool. They jumped off, bathed and drank, allowing the horses to rest. Jella walked to the edge of the water and knelt down to wash her face.

  She stood up, looked at her group, who were all laughing like children. Sometimes she felt the did not take it all seriously enough as her. Were they here for the fun, to feel that they had some direction in riding her anger based towards Lucher? She hoped not. She was annoyed at Menz and Yayle for costing her munitions, but they were part of a team. Together, they were working towards the mission.

  A bizarre metal structure stood at one edge of the water, behind a tree. About fifteen feet high, was thin, skeletal, like a fossil, in the shape of a giant wing. It had oxidised ferric, red.

  Lula walked behind, put her brown arms around the rumel. She said, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Jella said. ‘I suspect it’s something from an earlier age, some ancient technology of some description.’ They held each other, stared at the structure. It cast a long shadow across the sand.

  Menz and Yayle, the two other rumel, both with grey skins, were still dressed in the grey rags of the gaol and it had darkened where they had splashed in dirty water. Their tails stuck out of a hole in the back of the breeches and were swinging.

  Menz took off his shirt and advanced to a deeper part of the pond. ‘Can fat people go skinny-dipping?’ Yayle asked, watching the heavy set Menz wallow in the cooling water. Menz turned back sharply, glared. Yayle smiled. Menz returned to shallower water, put his shirt back on. The intense heat had already dried his back. Yayle stretched then rubbed his legs. He removed his breeches to wade into the water then came back out again, patted his legs dry. There was a scar that stretched from his knee, up along his thigh.

  He saw Menz looking, and the older rumel looked away whilst Yayle pulled his breeches back up. ‘You don’t have to stare y’know.’

  Menz said, ‘I wasn’t, lad. I wasn’t. Still gets to you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It would if it was your leg, too.’

  ‘I know, I was just saying. We’ve all got wounds, some of which we can’t see.’ ‘Yeah, well, this one you can see, as I have every damn day for the last ten years. You’ve got yours from the army, I made mine myself.’

  ‘Weren’t your fault, though, was it.’

  Yayle turned to the flat stretches of sand in all directions. He didn’t want to think about this. Not again. He was content being free again, was beginning to worry that their gaol plan would fail them. Although he’d only been locked up for a night, it was more than a relief.

  They walked over to the women, coughed loudly.

  ‘Come along you two,’ Menz said. His white hair had been shaven off to stubble. He was almost fifty years old, his skin tough, creased. He was stout, solid, muscular and had a keen look about him that made him appear much younger than he was.

  Yayle was younger, taller, with a liveliness in the way he stood, shifting weight from foot to foot. ‘I take it you brought the money and the notes?’

  ‘Of course she did,’ Lula said.

  ‘We brought everything that you’d kept under your hut and ours, everything. It’s only the explosives that have gone, but that is, of course, your own fault,’ Jella said.

  Yayle did not say anything, but simply looked at her.

  She said, ‘What the fuck did you two do to get caught?’

  ‘Guess our neighbours needed cash,’ Yayle said. ‘Grassed us up. Anyway, where to now?’ He brushed his hand over his stubbly head. ‘We haven’t a guide this time.’ ‘Well, we’ve a couple of options,’ Jella said. ‘One, we go back and get hunted and shot down.’

  ‘Hmm. What else you got?, Yayle smiled. He always smiled. Jella wasn’t sure if it was something that annoyed her or not. Sometimes it helped, given the grimness of their work.

  ‘Or,’ Jella said, ‘we’ve to get on with the mission, a week or two ahead of schedule. It shouldn’t matter, this was the time of year we had hoped to leave anyway.’ Yayle made a cautionary noise, the inhalation of air through a small hole in his mouth.

  ‘Look,’ Lula said, ‘we’ve more than enough money, and a lot of knowledge. All we need are the materials, which we can easily get from our friends in the desert.’

  ‘Ain’t no friends you’re referring to,’ Menz said.

  ‘They can help us get the explosives. And last time they acted as a go-between for us and the guide. They’re an organised operation. Look,just about everyone in Has-jahn hates Escha. It’s a parasite. The Qe Falta possesses one or two effective fighters, and we need all the defence we can get, especially after the last time. We can’t afford to lose any more of us can we? And we aren’t taking any guides this time. It’s just us lot, with our notes and charts.’

  The group fell silent.

  Lula said, ‘If you two hadn’t gotten arrested, we wouldn’t be in this situation so soon, so I don’t think you can complain.’ She removed her arms from the rumel, put her hands on her hips. ‘You’re still in this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Hell, yes,’ Yayle said. ‘I want revenge like the rest of you.’ Menz nodded. ‘Good,’ Jella said. It was reassuring, to hear it again. It always helped to hear the words spoken. A confirmation.

  ‘What sort of protection we got though?’ Menz asked.

  ‘The best we can buy off of the Qe Falta,’ Jella said. ‘We’ve two sacks filled with coin, we can get rock borers, explosives of the most powerful quantity and a hired bodyguard that’ll not allow anyone to be taken this time.’ Lula nodded.

  ‘I don’t trust Qe Falta,’ Menz said. ‘I don’t trust ghouls. They ain’t gonna stop one of us being dragged into the sea again. It’s bad enough with us disturbing things down there, without more weirdness.’

  ‘No one was dragged into the sea, Menz, it was just your old eyes letting you down,’ Yayle said, resting his hand on the stocky back of the rumel, smiling, always smiling.

  ‘I saw it right. I fucking saw it with my eyes-two goodens-so just you shut the fuck up, ‘cos no ghoul ain’t gonna stop anyone from being dragged underwater.’

  ‘I didn’t see anything that time, nothing,’ Yale said. It could’ve been the tides or anything that caused them to drown. And it was night time. When we took a submersible down, we didn’t see anything that could’ve done what you say. There was nothing. Nothing but the reef.’

  ‘No, you didn’t fucking see anything,’ Menz said. ‘You didn’t see his eyes when they went under, did you? You were on the other side, making your bloody notes. I was there, I watched all three of them go under-all good, strong, men they were-and you didn’t see it. Didn’t see the blood shootin’ up nor the fright in those eyes. Ain’t no ghoul gonna stop that.’

  The wind picked up. A pterodette croaked from above. The reptile was gliding on a thermal with its vein-filled wings stretched out wide. It curved down over their heads before it arced to the north.

  Jella broke the silence. ‘We’ve no choice but to have some faith. Come on guys, all any of us have left is the plan. Think about all your relatives that died in Lucher, all those years ago. Think about them, choking, coughing up blood, vomiting, dying in their own excrement, withering away to nothingness, no dignity and with no justice. Think about losing everything, being shipped out of a city to live in a tin can surrounded by filth and shit and think about getting one back for them and then worry about trust.

  ‘The Qe Falta can help us, sure they might be weird and sure, we might not know what creature we’re actually dealing with, Arrahd may not have designed such a creature, but they can help us get one back for our families and loved ones.’

  All of them nodded. Lula aired her shirt.

  Jella said, ‘We can head towards caves
tonight. There’re some about a two hours ride south then tomorrow we can head towards where the Qe Falta might be. They’ll help us. They’re known terrorists after all.’

  She walked away from this, regarded the landscape to clear her mind. There was only ground and sky. Where the two met, the horizon wobbled. Beyond that there were only things that her imagination might make up so she shook her head and looked at the trees. The spindly branches and palms seemed to ache in desperation to suck water up. She felt her face gathering sweat and she wiped her brow, tied her hair back. She glanced again at the strange sculpture, the buried wing, and through its frame she could see a small plume on the horizon, where a yellow cloud extended upwards into the endlessly blue sky.

  They were being followed.

  Nine

  They travelled through the centre of the desert for twelve days before Jella saw the boat.

  Up until that point, everywhere that she looked she saw bright sand and blue sky at every point along the horizon. There was an intense loneliness about the desert that was welcoming to her. It meant no one was around to disrupt her thoughts, her focussed anger.

  Sometimes she pointed out scrub plants to the others. Occasionally she pointed to things that disappeared, which were never really near anyway. The horses were tired and the group was almost out of provisions. Two days ago Jella had pointed out the Lo Gurate hills in the distance, which looked like low, blue rippled clouds.

  They sat on horseback, wrapped in cloaks to stop the penetrating heat, were staring at a boat that was in the sand. Jella could guess how large it was because, as they approached it, it increased in size almost at the same rate as the hills in the background, which were some hours away. The group dismounted, stood by the horses.

  ‘What is it, that thing?’ Lula asked.

  ‘The Aarc,’ Jella said. ‘It’s where the Qe Falta live.’

  ‘Ghouls,’ Menz said. His face darkened.

  ‘They live there?’ Lula asked. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘The library had its benefits. Also, news and contacts are prolific, if you know where to look.’ ‘How d’you mean?’ ‘There’re a few Qe Falta in Rhoam, although no one knew because their deformities are subtle, in certain cases. Like I keep saying, you know they’ve helped us on our previous scouting mission. They put us in contact with our guide that time, as a sort of in between. You meet many people in those cobbled streets, Menz, many people. People can hide by being right in front of you, because it’s the last place you expect to look.’

  A pterodette approached. Jella looked up at the small creature. At first a mere dot in the blue, became large, graceful as it flew above their heads in a circle, drifting on a thermal, hardly moving its wings, then turned sharply towards the home of the Qe Falta.

  ‘They’ll come for us,’ Jella said, her eyes fixed on the creature.

  Within the hour, shapes could be seen approaching from the boat, a plume of sand above them, unmoving with no wind to disturb its path. The shapes became larger, and soon Jella could see that it was in fact horses approaching. She counted ten in a wide line. On each of them was a figure wearing a dark cloak and she could see that because they rippled, obviously riding fast. Menz and Yayle opened a bag that was hanging on the side of their horse and each drew a musket.

  ‘Put those back,’ Jella said. She was facing away from the rumel, towards the riders. ‘You won’t need them.’

  ‘Why? I ain’t gonna trust no ghoul,’ Menz said.

  ‘Just put them away,’ Jella said, turning to them.

  Menz and Yayle placed the muskets back, closed the bag. It snagged against the rope that held it and fell off, smacking the sand. They held each other’s gaze. Lula stepped in between the rumel, put the bag back on the horse, tying it secure.

  The sun was directly overhead, the horses were almost upon them. Lula stepped alongside Jella . ‘I’m frightened of these things,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be, beautiful. Don’t be.’ Jella held Lula’s hand, squeezed it. She could feel a pulse. Lula smiled, wiping further sweat off of her brow. The horses were almost there. Menz and Yayle stood closer. The group huddled alongside their horses. Menz’s fingers tapped his side.

  The horses arrived under a dust cloud. A figure in the centre raised his hand and the horses came to halt, which threw up even more sand and the wind had risen, sending it in an upward spiral. The cloud thinned, revealing the ten riders.

  Yayle held up his hand to protect his eyes from dust.

  Jella looked at the horses and her eyes widened. They ought to have been dead, they couldn’t possibly be alive. They were grey, gaunt, each appearing to be no more than a walking skeleton. Jella’s vision followed every bone that seemed to stick out like a fossil; their skin looked as thought it had been sucked inwards. Each rider wore similar black cloaks, and hoods were drawn over their faces. The central rider pushed off, jumped to the floor, airing his cloak. Muscular and tall, he stood still whilst it raised its right hand. Jella saw that it was not a hand at all, more of a claw that was like a crustacean’s. She let go of Lula’s hand and raised her own, then walked forward. It advanced towards her with its cloak flapping in the breeze. Menz, Yayle and Lula did not move, but stared with their mouths open slightly.

  ‘Welcome to the seas around the Aarc,’ the rider said. Its voice was frail, a hiss. ‘You have not drowned in these sands then?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Jella said. She looked straight at the creature and her gaze travelled around the body as if to see what it was, but there were no clues under such loose clothing. There was another long silence.

  ‘Why’re you here?’ he said. ‘We don’t normally expect any visitors.’

  Jella remembered all the stories about the Qe Falta, the false people. She remembered that they were used to scare children who misbehaved. Rumour being the main source of lore, in the absence of information. There were stories that they were a leftover from before the rebellion against science. The Qe Falta had all sorts of combinations of animal parts grafted onto them, in the previous age. Legs exchanged with those of a dog or a cat or worse, and stitched on by science. Monsters were grafted, the stories said, and the people of the age couldn’t stand them or the science that accompanied them. They were forced underground, hidden, secret. They did not want the world to hunt them down, to kill them.

  An Age passed, the Qe Falta rose again. Some took to the cause to fight for their recognition, for them not to be shunned as ghouls. Some began to focus on the cities, mainly Escha, since it was industrial, anti-nature. More recently, lives were taken by ‘equality bombs’. A wave of terrorism emerged just so that they could be treated as normal, to live in peace. Small battles were fought. There was much blood, a failed attempt to rid the world of them once again, but they stayed. They remained undetected.

  Now they were in front of her: the ghouls, the terrorists.

  Jella said, ‘We need your help.’

  The creature turned his head without moving its torso, taking everyone of the other riders in view, before it gazed at her again from within the darkness of his hood. ‘Help you? Why should we help you? What do you want that would possibly be in our interest to help you?’

  Jella turned to her companions, looked back. ‘I’ve contacted others of your kind race. We’ve a plan that you may be interested in. We think you’d want to support our cause.’

  The Qe Falta said, ‘Oh, really? Please, tell more.’

  Jella wasn’t sure if the creature was humouring her, but she walked back to the horses to fetch her plans and charts. ‘I’ll show you,’ she said out loud. She couldn’t look at anyone, so she stared out to the desert.

  That evening, Jella had watched what thought was possibly the greatest sunset she had ever seen. She was in awe as she sat on the sand with Lula in her arms, staring at the sun as it enlarged. The sky turned purple, and she could see desert mammals rising in the cooler climate. It had become cold now, so they had made a fire using a small pile of wood that
the Qe Falta had brought for them. They cooked spiced meats, which satisfied even Menz, who sat with his legs crossed alongside Yayle, playing dice. The four of them remained seated under a dark sky, which seemed somehow larger than they had ever seen, now that they were so far from civilization. The stars came out in their billions.

  Lula had said that it was quiet, calm, pretty-which was exactly what Jella thought of the woman in her arms. She did not tell Lula this, as she thought it would be patronising. Sometimes, Jella felt that she was controlling to the point of misogyny-a strange concept for a woman. She wanted a pretty, young girl, one who would not answer her back, and one who would pretty much just sit there, being attractive. It helped if she could shoot well, too. It wasn’t shallow,just that Jella simply couldn’t connect with people on a personal level. The problems she’d experienced in life forced her to focus internally. She was not capable of sharing experiences with someone.

  Jella had worked through dozens of ‘relationships’, none of which she had told Lula about. She remembered her teen years where she wanted to have sex with as many women as she could, just to prove she could. She felt an absurd level of control and power when she had her tail inside a girl, rumel or human, though she always preferred the latter. She wondered if she was mistaking sensation for emotion, but in the end she didn’t really care. It wasn’t important. But what she had with Lula was special. Jella could lie in her arms sometimes, and let the girl’s soft nature take over, or she could get a kick out of pleasuring the woman endlessly. There was always something so satisfying about that. Lula wanted simply to be loved, and that was not difficult-in the sense of showing love, tenderness.

  Jella combed Lula’s black hair with her fingers.

  Yayle glanced towards them, pulling a hood over to conceal his face. He stared at them holding each other.

  The group stood up as they heard hooves strike the ground. The low bass sound rode the sand across some distance. Lula could see that there were only three riders this time, silhouetted even against the night. They approached the fire, came to a halt. The claw-man dismounted and landed on the floor within a beat of her heart. He walked towards one of the other bone horses, which did not carry a rider but instead several large bags. Sounds seemed to travel across the horizon. The rider extended his claw, took down the bags, two at a time then placed them on the sand before her partner. She was discomforted by his presence, and feared for Jella a little. Lula wanted no harm to come to her. Sometimes she resented the fact that Jella was involved in such a dangerous lifestyle-but that was who she was, and she respected that. She’d not ever leave her, and that meant putting up with these shady operations.