by Chris Walley
A diary call to Daoud, the old man’s brother, revealed that the stable hand was now staying at the Planning Institute. Somewhat puzzled by this change of address, Merral walked with Lloyd over the causeway to the Institute. As they approached, Merral found himself mystified at the way the extensive complex was now crowded with men, animals, and machinery until it came to him that he was seeing the results of the sudden closure of Wilamall’s Farm. Resisting the desire to visit his old office—what good would it do?—he made inquiries as to where he might find Jorgio. Eventually, they were directed up a flight of steps to an attic above the stables.
Merral peered through the open doorway. The long room was lined by rafters and beams and lit by shafts of dusty sunlight from four skylights.
Halfway along it, an older man with a twisted body sat on a battered sofa, unpacking crockery from a box.
Merral knocked. “Jorgio, my old friend!” he called out.
Jorgio looked up and rose awkwardly to greet them, bending to avoid a low wooden beam.
“Mr. Merral,” Jorgio replied, rubbing his rough hands on his faded green suit and shaking his head. “I might have known as it would be you.”
Merral was struck by an odd tone in his voice—a note of regret or even irritation.
“Why, I could almost imagine you weren’t happy to see me,” Merral answered, aware of the noises and smells of animals drifting through the open door.
“Oh, I’m happy to see you,” Jorgio said, hugging him. “But there’s more to you turning up than just you. Mr. Merral, I reckon as you bring more than a guest with you.”
“That’s a riddle, my old friend. But this is Lloyd Enomoto. My aide.”
“An aide?” Jorgio asked, with a sharp glance at Merral as he shook hands with Lloyd. “That’s a fancy word for a fighting man. And with something under his jacket.”
Merral and Lloyd looked at each other. “I should have warned you, Sergeant, that Jorgio is full of surprises. He will probably tell you your future.”
“His future?” Jorgio said with a troubled pout. “Tut. I reckon as I have enough bother with my own. But, Mr. Lloyd, take your jacket off. You’ll be too hot. Come, both of you, and have some tea.”
Lloyd hung his jacket on a nail, revealing a bush knife handle protruding from an inside pocket, then helped Merral pull another old sofa closer.
Jorgio’s mood and his ambivalent welcome had put Merral somewhat on edge. He looked around the room, noting a pot of red carnations, the half-opened trunk, stacked rolls of carpet, and dust motes drifting through the beams of light.
“So what are you doing here, my old friend?” Merral asked. “I thought you were staying with Daoud.”
As Jorgio turned to reply, Merral was suddenly struck anew by the way one amber eye was higher than the other.
“Tut. That was temporary that was. A great mercy too. Ynysmant is an odd town now. There were children making fun of me the other day. That never happened before.”
“I’m appalled,” Merral said, but realized that he was not surprised. It is just another symptom of the spiritual disease that has affected us.
“Anyway, when they moved all the animals down here last week they realized as they needed someone to look after them. So they found me. And then there was this attic, so I asked for it, and they said why not? So, here I am. It needs work—a bit of paint at least—and I’ll need some heating for winter, but I reckon as it could be cozy. And there’s a bit of a garden outside I can work on.”
“I’m delighted. So you are here to stay?”
A look of profound emotion crossed Jorgio’s face as he rubbed a stubbly cheek with a finger. “Tea’ll be brewed by now. Let me pour it and you can tell me about the fighting you were in. Then I’ll tell you what’s happened to me.”
So, as they drank tea, Merral recounted the tale of the battle of Fallambet Lake Five for the second time that day. At least with Jorgio I’m able to be a little more open about what happened.
As Jorgio listened, he slurped his tea and made low tut-tut noises. When Merral described his encounter with the Krallen pack, the old man looked uneasy and his hands shook so much that tea slopped over the edge of his mug.
“Four legs, hard skin, and teeth, you say?” he interrupted, his eyes seeming to focus a long way away. “So what have we? Something a bit like lions or dogs?”
“A bit. Or big lizards. In a pack. But they were machines. . . . Why do you ask?”
“Never you mind. Not now, at least.”
Merral resumed his account. When he had finished, there was a hush.
“Well, thank you,” Jorgio said. “Thank you, indeed. I knew as there was a real nastiness on that ship, but I didn’t know what. And I reckon there was more that went on there than you have said. But there’s such a thing as privacy. Anyway the Lord, bless his name, was as gracious as ever.”
He gave a rough, enigmatic snort and looked at Merral with his strange eyes. “You do know as this isn’t the end of the fighting?”
“Yes. We assume there will soon be other ships. Vero and the others are already making plans for the defense of Farholme. I will be taking charge the day after tomorrow.”
Jorgio nodded, sipped his tea noisily, and seemed to stare into a dark corner of the room for some time. Finally, he turned uneasy eyes to Merral. “That’s good that is, because trouble is on its way.”
“What do you know?”
Jorgio put his mug down slowly. “See, Mr. Merral, I have been dreaming again. Not good dreams, they are.”
“What are they about?”
“Not much. Mostly just . . . well . . . shadows. Lots of them. All moving. It’s all dark and I just hears footsteps.”
“Footsteps? You mean human footsteps?”
“No. Not human.” Jorgio screwed his face up. “Too small, too light, too many. I wasn’t sure at first, as it was such a quiet sound. But I am now.”
“Two legs or four? Or even more?”
Jorgio’s face twisted. “Four, I’d say. But there are so many of them. So very many.”
“Animals?”
“I don’t know. I’ve worked with animals all my life and I don’t reckon these are animals. Like them maybe. . . .”
“You think they might be these Krallen?”
Jorgio nodded stiffly. “I reckon.”
“What else?”
“Something big. Something that rattles when it moves. Something that brings night with it.”
“Rattles?”
“Like dry sticks.” His shoulders shuddered.
Jorgio is afraid, Merral realized with a shock of alarm.
“Where are they from?” Merral asked. “The north?”
Jorgio rubbed his bent nose with a heavy finger. “No. It’s like . . . I don’t know. . . . It’s like someone has opened a door beyond the stars and all these things have come out and are running across the roof of the world.” He made a grimace. “Like rats. And then I usually wake up and pray to the Lord of All Power and the noises go away. But then, the next night they come back, only this time, it’s a bit noisier . . . as if they’ve got a bit nearer.”
“What makes the sounds?” Merral inquired softly, noticing that Lloyd’s blue eyes were wide. “Can you see them?”
“No, it’s all dark. But whatever they are there are so many of them that they blot out the stars.” Jorgio bared his irregular teeth and made a face. “And they are on their way here.” Another shiver passed through the big frame. “I don’t mind saying, Mr. Merral—and you, Mr. Lloyd—I’m scared.”
“I understand. Any idea when they will get here?”
“Don’t know. I really don’t. I wish it weren’t in my lifetime.” He looked at the roof as if trying to see the creatures. “But it will be.”
“I see. Weeks? A few months? Longer?”
“Weeks.” The word was no more than a rough whisper.
“Has anything else happened?”
“Yes.” There was a long pause. “I’ve been given
a choice.”
“What sort of a choice?”
“I’ve had a conversation.”
“With who?”
“With the King.”
“Ah,” Merral said. “Is it private?”
“’Tis and ’tisn’t.”
Jorgio tilted his big bald head, a gesture that seemed to make it even more distorted. “Two days ago. No, maybe it was three. First night I was here anyway. I was lying in my bed.” He waved a large hand toward a bed tucked under the eaves. “And I was just praising the Most High for him giving me this place when I was aware of him being with me.
“‘Jorgio Aneld Serter,’ he says.
“‘Sir,’ I answers back.
“‘Do you like this place?’ he says, and I can see as he is looking around. He was standing there.”
Jorgio pointed to the floor in the center of the attic and continued. “‘It’s very nice, Your Majesty,’ I says. ‘Ideal for me. A bit of room, a patch of garden, the animals. Everything as I want and I’m very grateful, sir.’ And then, because I reckon there’s no harm in asking, I says, ‘I confess, sir, I’m hoping as I can keep it.’
“‘Are you?’ he says, and he looks at me, and I can feel his eyes searching me through and through. ‘Well, I have come to tell you that you will soon face a choice. The great battle is beginning. I would like you to fight for me elsewhere.’
“‘Elsewhere?’ I says, not liking the sound of that one bit.” He fell silent for a moment as if pondering something. “And then what he says is this: ‘Jorgio, there is a task I have in mind for you. If I asked you to leave Ynysmant, to travel and fight at the heart of the battle, what would you say?’
“‘I would say . . . ,’ I says and then I stops. ‘I would say, sir, if I may, that I am no soldier. I’m an old man with a little strength, but no speed or skill.’
“‘Jorgio, I know my servants. I never ask them to do what they cannot. I do, however, often ask them to do what they do not want to do.’”
There was another pause and Merral sensed the old man grappling with what he had experienced.
“And then I says—I hope you two don’t think badly of me for saying it as I don’t have a lot of courage, least of all against the sort of thing as the enemy is. I says, ‘Indeed, to be honest, sir, I’m frightened by them.’
“He looks at me and he says, ‘Remember, Jorgio, there is only the thinnest line between fear and lack of faith.’”
Jorgio picked up his mug of tea again and sipped it, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “So I says, ‘Sir, would I get to come back here?’ But all he says is this: ‘I make no such promise. In fact, all I can promise you is—’” He broke off, his eyes seeming far away, his broad brow rippled into a frown. He shook his head. “No, that’s private that is—what I saw. And it was what I glimpsed, not what he said.
“‘The request will come in a few days,’ he says. ‘You will know it when it comes.’ And then he was gone.”
There was a long silence in which Merral could hear the sound of flies buzzing in the warm still air and noise of the animals outside.
“My old friend,” Merral said slowly. “You may as well know . . . I came here to ask you to come to Isterrane with us.”
A succession of intense emotions showed on the jowled face. “When?”
“The four o’clock flight tomorrow.”
“Isterrane? I’ve never been there.”
“Sentinel Vero has a house—Brenito’s old house—that needs some gardening. It’s by the sea. You’d be out in the country. We need you nearby. Your visions confirm that.”
“Are there any horses?”
“That,” said Merral, with a smile, “can be arranged.”
Jorgio rose awkwardly to his feet and walked to the nearest skylight, his lurching gait seemingly more evident than ever. There, his head just peering over the frame, he stared out over the Institute grounds. Finally, he turned round and a single, heavy tear dribbled down a cheek.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, his words drawn out with reluctance. “I had to choose. And I’ve made my choice. I don’t come happily. The King has offered me a long dark road. But I’ll start on it at least.”
That evening Merral went with his family and Lloyd to the reception that Warden Enatus had arranged at Wyrent Park, a broad area of spreading trees, grass, and fountains near the civic offices high on Ynysmant.
It was a typical warm summer’s evening. The gritty feel to the air was only slightly allayed by the humidity that rose from the lake. All around the crowds mingled under the trees, ate the food, or just listened to the music.
Enatus had invited everyone who was a relative or friend of Merral, a condition that a surprisingly large number of people seem to feel they fulfilled. Merral didn’t mind the numbers; after all, being among several hundred people meant that no one expected him to be with Isabella all the time. In fact, they said very little to each other—mainly forced pleasantries spoken with fixed smiles.
We are both acting a part. That unhappy thought merely strengthened his resolve to make sure the matter between them ended.
Lloyd, still wearing his jacket and sweating slightly, took up a position under a clump of chestnut trees a few meters away from where Merral stood and tried to look relaxed.
Merral talked with a seemingly endless stream of people before his uncle Barrand came over and embraced him heartily. Feeling encouraged by his uncle’s apparent high spirits, Merral expressed his sympathy about the closure of Herrandown.
Barrand shrugged. “Oh, ‘the Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be his name.’ No, Nephew, it was a decision that had to be made. But it was made swiftly and done well. So, here we all are. We have a house, praise be. They have even found room nearby for my parents.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“Me? For the next week or so, putting all the equipment from Herrandown in storage. And then?” A smile crossed his ruddy face. “Ho! We will see what the Lord sends us.”
“I have to say, Uncle, I’m delighted to see you in good heart. The last few times I vis—”
“Ah yes, that.” Barrand frowned and moved closer as if to ensure that no one overheard his words. “An odd business that. Most odd. And I need to apologize to you. I really do. I have now come to realize that something evil came upon us.” He ran his fingers through the curls of his black beard. “Ho! It took me a long time to realize what was happening. Then I saw that I—we—had given in to evil and listened to the lies of the enemy of our souls. So, I fasted and prayed.” He breathed out heavily. “Ha. What a battle. But in the end, the mist lifted. And I saw we had been tricked. So I decided to fight against it.” He shook his head. “I wish I had known that evening when the meteor fell . . . the meteor that was really the intruders’ ship. Instead, I lied to you.”
“So I gathered. And the rest of the family?”
Barrand stroked his beard. “Ah, well, Elana understands what has happened. The others . . .” His face clouded. “Not so far. But we pray on. Ah, here is Elana now. I know she wants to talk to you. But before she does, let me say something.” He edged closer to Merral. “This ‘commander’ business you are about now. With a ‘Defense Force,’ whatever that looks like. Count me in, if you need people. I may not be the most agile man around, and I doubt I’ll ever fit into any spacesuit if you want to attack them up there, but I do have a respectable experience with explosives and cutters. Most respectable.” He gave a hard smile that displayed teeth. “And oh, I have some scores to settle.”
Merral clasped his arm. “Uncle, this is one of the best pieces of news I have heard for days. Fight on. And if we can use you, be assured, we will.”
Barrand gave him a broad wink and slapped him heartily on the back before walking away.
As he saw Elana coming over, her curly blonde hair bobbing as she moved, Merral nervously drew in his breath and felt his hands clench as he remembered their troubling encounter at Herrandown.
&n
bsp; As Lloyd suddenly stiffened in response, Merral gestured him to relax.
Elana looked up at Merral with a strained face, and then quickly stared at her feet, her cheeks flushed. “Merral,” she said in a barely audible voice, “can I apologize?”
“Apologies are due on both sides,” he said slowly. He knew that he blushed as well.
She shook her head. “You did nothing wrong. I just want to say how sorry I am. I don’t know what came over me. I was desperate. It was wrong. And that’s what I wanted to say.”
She lifted her head and Merral saw a look of release in her blue eyes.
“Thanks,” said Merral, “I admire your courage. It was . . . well . . . awkward. . . . Oh, I don’t have the words for it.”
Elana colored again, swept a strand of blonde hair from her forehead in embarrassment, and nodded slightly.
“Anyway,” Merral said, “apology accepted. The matter is forgotten.”
“There’s something wrong in our world, isn’t there?”
He nodded.
“More than the Gate going and the intruders coming?”
“Yes, more than that.”
“I think . . . I think it’s like an invisible fungus—an evil, slimy fungus that sneaks into your life.”
“That’s a fair way of putting it.”
“And it has spores—we did spores in school last month—and they spread and hatch. And it makes you stop praying, takes your eyes off Jesus and makes you want to do what’s wrong.” She stopped and seemed to consider something before looking at him with widened pale blue eyes. “Actually that’s not right. It doesn’t make you. You do the wrong things. It’s a thing that just encourages you to do wrong. It whispers in your ear and you listen.”
“Ah, that is an excellent statement of the way things are.”
“And we have to fight it.” As she said the words, she seemed to bounce on her feet almost as if she wanted to stamp on this invisible fungus. “And, Merral, that’s what I shall try and do. My father has realized it too.”
“I know. Fight on, Elana.”
“I will. Thanks.” She smiled and Merral felt that the young girl was back. Then she glanced around, leaned forward on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear. “You aren’t going to marry Isabella, are you?”
