by Oisin McGann
‘We need to mark the trees, so we don’t get lost,’ Taya whispered.
Lorkrin nodded. They both took out their knives and, as they walked, they made cuts to mark their passage. They could just see the broken limbs above them where the grunchegs had fallen through, and they walked back and forth across the area looking for the Parsinor. The way was blocked with fallen debris and knotted foliage and searching was a tortuous process. Sometimes they were sure they heard somebody calling, but the sound was distant and lost in the trees. When they had made their way from one end of the area to the other and still not found anything, they began to get scared.
‘What if he’s still up in the branches somewhere?’ Lorkrin wondered aloud.
‘It would take forever to find him,’ Taya shook her head and sat down on a moss-covered stone. ‘What do we do now? Climb back up again?’
‘I suppose we’ll have to. Rug and Trankelfrith are still up there somewhere.’
‘If they’re alive. Who were those men? Were they with Ludditch, do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lorkrin sniffed. ‘They might just have been out hunting. You can’t tell with these Reisenicks. That’s going to be a long climb.’
Taya stifled a sob and Lorkrin looked at her in surprise. He sat down next to her and she turned away from him and burst out crying.
‘What are we going to do?’ she sobbed. ‘Draegar could be dead. We don’t know where we are. Everybody’s after us. And Ma and Pa are still stuck under that bloody mountain! I can’t take this. I want to go home.’
Lorkrin put his arm around her and tried to comfort her, but he could feel himself giving in to his own fears. Seeing Taya like this shook him more than he wanted to admit. He could always be brazen about things as long as she was there beside him. But now she was giving in and leaving him on his own.
‘Hey, come on. It’s okay,’ he said hesitantly, knowing it was a poor attempt at reassurance. He never knew how to deal with emotional people; he normally left that to Taya.
He wrapped his arms around her and she hugged him back, each of them drawing strength from the other.
‘We’ll be all right,’ he said. ‘But we can’t stay here. Draegar could have landed up among the trees somewhere. We’ll climb up and work our way around as we go.’
She nodded and wiped her face. Knowing her eyes would be red from the crying, she willed the colour away, and patted her brother’s shoulder as if to assure him that she was better now. It was amazing how a good cry could clear the air sometimes.
‘Let’s get changed,’ she said.
Lorkrin nodded and took off his pack. It would be impossible to search every tree from top to bottom, but they would cover as much area as they could on the way up. It would be harder than their climb down and they would need every advantage they could get, so there were a few improvements they had to make. Unrolling the tools, they started reshaping their bodies. They had to improvise at times, as the kit Emos had started making was not complete, but they managed, even in the sparse light that shone through the thin mist. It felt good to be amorphing again; the familiarity of it was comforting and exercising their skills helped restore their confidence.
Every now and again, one of them thought they heard something and looked up, but the woods were still except for the movements of birds and the small animals in the undergrowth. Their new forms soon took shape and before long, they were ready to climb.
Their legs were shortened and their arms beefed up, their toes and fingers longer and ending in claws. They had given themselves prehensile tails, which were clumsy, because adding a limb was always difficult, but useful nonetheless. In a moment of inspiration, Lorkrin had suggested giving themselves climbing fangs, like the rockrats in the Kartharic Peaks. He tried it first and Taya could not help but giggle.
‘What?’ he asked, his voice slightly distorted by the four huge, hooked teeth jutting from his top jaw. ‘How does it look?’
‘Like you’ve got a bear’s foot in your mouth. You’d better strengthen your neck if you’re going to use those. I’d hate to see you get a grip and then rip the top of your head off trying to pull yourself up.’
Lorkrin smirked. That was the Taya he knew.
The final touch to their new forms was mottled green, brown and ochre camouflage, to hide them as they climbed. They rubbed moss and soil into their packs to help the effect. They were packing up the tools when a new sound made them raise their heads. A shrill, hoarse barking. One voice cried out, and then more answered the call.
‘Hunnuds,’ Taya gasped.
‘They’re still quite far away,’ Lorkrin said. ‘They might not be after us.’
‘Let’s not hang around anyway.’
Slinging their packs onto their backs, they ran to the nearest trunk and started climbing.
* * * *
Emos did not even know what he expected to find. In his aukluk form, he circled the forest around Shindles’ homestead, wishing there was some way his eyes could penetrate the layers of foliage that hid the ground below him. The delay was maddening. They could have reached the cave by now if things had not gone so badly wrong. He was still baffled by the behaviour of Ludditch and the Reisenicks. Something had set them off and he did not know what it could be. Weariness was starting to set in. He had gone days without proper sleep, but he could not rest until he had done all he could to save Nayalla and Mirkrin. He could only hope that Draegar had found Taya and Lorkrin; he was going out of his mind with worry for them. He had to believe that his friend had got to them.
Swooping lower, he scouted the road ahead – the one that would get them back on to a heading for the cave. Something in the brush by the side of the track caught his eye and he wheeled for a better look. Reisenicks, a group of four crouching in the undergrowth, hidden from sight of the road. The clansmen did not hunt on the roads; they must be watching for something. Emos swept over them and flew back to a branch in the road. Could the four men be looking out for the two trucks? Did Ludditch want to catch them so badly? He glided down over the fork in the road and out along it. Not far up the trail, he saw another group, once again hidden from the road, but visible from the air.
Emos gained some height and looked around him. There was another road off to the west, the main one leading along the foot of the Rudstones towards the Gluegrove Swamps. It would have been his chosen route to the cave if they had not run afoul of the clansmen. He turned towards it, already knowing what he would find.
* * * *
Climbing was tricky, Rug discovered. The bark was slippery from the damp mist and the tops of the trees were thin and flimsy. Several times he nearly fell when a limb broke or his feet slipped. Further down, the branches were stronger, but the foliage was thicker and hard to penetrate. He had made it halfway down the first tree he had tried and was now at a loss as to how to carry out any kind of a search. Just getting down this far had seemed to take forever. He could see why Trankelfrith had dismissed the idea. It was getting dark too, and the gloom finished off the job the foliage had started, hiding everything around him that wasn’t within arm’s reach.
‘Lorkrin! Taya! Draegar!’ he called again. But once again, there was no answer.
At times, he heard other animals moving through the trees and more than once he was startled by birds bursting out of the leaves and taking flight as he disturbed them.
He tried calling again, almost ready to give up and climb back to the forest roof, hoping that Trankelfrith had not already left. Somebody called back, and he went still to listen.
‘Down here!’ the voice came again. It was Draegar.
With a fair amount of struggle, Rug followed the sound of the Parsinor’s voice through the maze of branches, twigs and leaves. He found Draegar’s huge feet. The Parsinor was hanging upside down, still strapped into his saddle, which was tangled up in some branches. He looked thoroughly frustrated.
‘How are you?’ Rug asked.
‘What kind of question is that?’ t
he map-maker snapped, his dignity already badly strained. ‘Get me up out of this.’
Rug took hold of his feet and pulled. Draegar let out a great roar, causing the would-be rescuer to jump back.
‘My back right leg’s broken below the knee,’ Draegar told him. ‘Get below me and cut one of the straps, so I can hold on and climb out. I can’t reach my sword. You’ll have to do it.’
Rug did as he was told, clambering down to where he could reach the sword that was sheathed on Draegar’s back. He drew it out and slid the tip under one of the straps that were supporting the Parsinor’s shoulders. The razor-sharp edge cut through the tough leather like paper. The other strap gave with a snap and Draegar suddenly dropped like a stone, crashing through the foliage beneath and disappearing from sight with a loud gasp. There was a crunching thud further down and Rug clutched the sword to him in alarm, staring down into the foggy gloom.
‘Get me out of here, you great clod!’ a voice bellowed up. ‘And don’t drop my sword!’
He was jammed in the fork of a large branch and was still upside down. Rug made his way down and took his hand, heaving him upright. The Parsinor was pale and drenched in sweat. The shin of his back right leg was badly swollen and misshapen. Draegar snatched his sword back and cut a vine free from a nearby branch. Tying it around the ankle of his injured leg, he threw the other end through the fork and pulled it back to him. Shuffling around behind the trunk of the tree, he balanced on his left leg, leaving his right sticking out around the trunk. Then he pulled slowly and firmly on the vine. A growl grew in his throat, building into a roar and Rug actually heard the grating of bone as Draegar forcefully reset the leg. The Parsinor let go of the vine and leaned forwards to rest against the tree trunk with his eyes closed.
‘Where are the children?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Rug replied, looking at the Parsinor in awe. ‘I was looking for them, but I haven’t seen any sign of them. Can you move with that leg?’
‘The front ones take more weight when I’m climbing,’ Draegar told him, opening his eyes. ‘I need to bind it up. Can you spare some material? A sleeve torn into strips will do.’
Rug hesitated. He did not want to remove even a part of his clothes. He could not say why, but he felt protected by the layers of cloth. There was no doubt in his mind that if he saw the body that lay beneath those clothes, it would tell him something about what had happened to him to make him lose his memory. And for some reason, the thought of it terrified him.
But how could he refuse the Parsinor? Taking hold of his left sleeve at the shoulder, he tore a layer free and pulled it off, handing it to Draegar, who nodded gratefully.
‘Thank you, Rug. And thank you for your help. Only the gods know how long I could have been dangling there.’
Rug watched him break off a thin branch and bind up the injured leg with splints to support the broken bones. It looked painful, but there was no sign of it to be detected on the Parsinor’s face.
‘Are we going to look for them?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Draegar replied. ‘They got off before the gruncheg fell. If they’re not topside, they’re out in the trees somewhere. Those two can get around down here like monkeys; we’d be crawling around in the dark. If they have to, they can fly too. We’ll get back up topside and wait for them there. They’ll find us.’
‘If you think that’s best,’ Rug said. ‘What’s a monkey?’
* * * *
Khassiel looked up at the sound of beating wings in the darkening sky above her. She was sitting in the shadows of the porch, her crossbow cradled in her lap. Emos spiralled slowly to the ground and landed with a stumble. He slunched out of his birdlike shape and stretched his arms wearily. His shoulders were slumped and he looked drained.
‘You were gone a long time,’ she said. ‘We were starting to wonder.’
‘The Reisenicks have men posted along all the roads to the cave. They’re waiting for us.’
‘That must take a lot of men.’ She stood up and leaned on the railing as he came up the steps. ‘Why are we so important?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied, flopping into a rocking chair. ‘This whole thing has been strange from the start. We’ve done nothing to offend them. At first, I was sure it was just a mistake – a hunting party trying their luck. I thought if Draegar could just reach Ludditch, he could sort things out and Ludditch would pull the rogues into line. But putting lookouts along our route, that’s a different matter. Only the chieftain could be organising that and I don’t know what we’ve done to earn that kind of attention.’
‘Maybe it is all for someone else.’
‘Can we take the chance of being wrong?’
Jube looked out from the doorway.
‘Cullum’s up and about. Well, up anyway. Shindles has cooked us some food too. Anybody hungry?’
Cullum was already in the kitchen when they walked in, gazing down at his plate of stew but obviously still feeling too sickly to make the most of it. He glanced up when they came in, but just nodded when they greeted him. Once they had assured themselves that he was on the road to recovery, they turned their attention to the inviting smell. It came from a huge pot that sat over the fire and looked like it was never moved from its position. Shindles was ladling some kind of stew onto plates and handing them out. The guests sat down at the long wooden table and breathed in the aroma. It smelled rich and meaty … if a little strange.
‘What is it?’ Khassiel asked, sniffing her plate cautiously.
‘Constant stew,’ the healer replied.
‘What’s that?’
‘Taste it and tell me if you like it,’ Shindles insisted.
Khassiel took a spoonful, swilled it around her mouth and then shrugged.
‘It’s nice enough. What’s in it?’
‘Different kinds of meat, rice, vegetables, some spices and a few years of simmerin’.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s constant stew. You never take the pot off the fire, just keep adding the ingredients as you use it up. The older the stew, the better the taste. Helps keep the flies out o’ the kitchen too. This stew has been goin’ since my grandmama’s time and it only stopped then ’cause o’ the Great Autumn Flood. Put out the fire, y’ understand.’
Khassiel and Jube looked down at their plates in distaste, but their taste buds overruled them and they dug in anyway. Emos was already wolfing it down. Vintage constant stew was a rare treat for a Myunan. There was little talk while they ate – everyone too hungry to chat. But once they had all had a second and third helping, they each pushed their plates back and slumped back in their chairs, bellies stuffed to capacity. Shindles took out a pipe, filled it and lit it up and Jube soon followed her lead. Talk turned to the rescue mission and the reasons the Reisenicks might have for stopping them. Shindles could offer little information. She avoided contact with Ludditch’s clansmen as much as she could. She considered them a coarse lot with no schoolin’.
‘My nephew, Pobe,’ she declared. ‘Now he hangs around with the Juddatch boys. They mix with the Ludditch clan some. They’re out huntin’, but when they come back you could ask them. Should be back soon, now it’s got dark.’
‘Time’s not on our side,’ Jube said around the stem of his pipe. ‘We need to be getting on. Those folks are down there in the dark and the cold with no food, no water and little in the way of hope. We have to get to them quickly.’
‘We need to know what we’re getting into, as well,’ Emos countered. ‘Something’s going on with Ludditch and we don’t know what …’
He was interrupted by the sound of a piercing cry, like the ragged bark of a fox.
‘Hunnuds,’ he muttered. ‘Someone’s on the trail tonight. Is that your boys?’
‘No, they don’t use hunnuds,’ Shindles told him. ‘They’re on grunchegs – they hunt topside. Which means someone else’s huntin’ on my patch without my consent. Where the heck are those boys when I need ’em? If they’re
not takin’ care o’ this, I’m likely to be addin’ kin to my pot.’
15 THE HUNNUD’S BREATH
The scrabbling of claws on bark was the only warning Lorkrin and Taya had before the hunnud pounced. It was only barely enough. The lithe animal sailed through the air at them, landing on the same branch and bolting in towards them. Lorkrin, who was further out, threw himself backwards and into empty space, gripping only with his tail, but it got him out of the way of the hunnud. The beast, carried on by its own momentum, switched its sights to Taya instead. She dived off completely, only just catching Lorkrin’s outstretched hand as she fell. His tail lost its grip, but Taya was now within reach of a lower branch and she caught hold of it, pulling them both to safety. The hunnud bounded back off the trunk and paced out along the limb again, snarling down at them as it lunged off, spreading its legs to catch the air and slow its fall with its crude wings.
‘They can’t fly – they can only jump,’ Taya breathed.
‘It’s still a good trick,’ Lorkrin muttered. ‘Move!’
The hunnud gave out a shrieking bark, and the Myunans’ blood turned cold when they heard at least three others answer the call. They dropped through a hole in the matted twigs and pulled themselves through a tangle of tree limbs. It was so dark they could hardly see. The hunnud barrelled into the opening, but was too big to fit through the knotted branches. It growled at them and sought another way around.
‘We’re going down,’ Lorkrin panted. ‘We need to go up!’
‘Right, thanks!’ Taya snapped. ‘How, exactly?’
Lorkrin had no answer. The hunnud was above them somewhere; climbing up was out of the question. They heard claws in the blackness above them and swung around a tree trunk just as the hunnud dropped into view. It cast its eyes around, nose raised to find their scent. They huddled up against the trunk, wishing they could run, but afraid to move. The creature’s breathing was quiet, but they could smell the stink of its breath from where they stood. Taya sniffed; that meant they must be downwind. It could not smell them from where it was. The beast leapt over to another tree, still sniffing the air. Taya waited until it was a little further away, then she whispered to her brother.
