Windrunner's Daughter

by Bryony Pearce

  Fingertips pressed against her neckline. “Are you sure about this?” Raw’s voice was low and deep.

  Wren spoke into her palms. “My brothers are in there and -” She stopped herself before she mentioned the cure. “I’m going in,” she snapped.

  Raw sighed. “Fine.” He turned to Raw. “We’ll go with you tomorrow.”

  Chapter fourteen

  “It’s a reasonable request, Chayton. The children are old enough not to need their mother so much. The girl could even come with her. She could enter the Women’s Sector like a respectable female instead of training for this unnatural life.”

  Wren was beneath the Runner-sphere, balancing a pile of smooth rocks, when the voice floated up the path.

  Her father’s footsteps crunched on the gale-loosened gravel but the sound of his tread was offset by a quicker, heavier step she didn’t quite recognise. These must belong to the owner of the voice. Strange; it sounded like her grandfather, but he never left Elysium.

  The men didn’t know she was there. A thrill shivered to her toes, she was hearing something she shouldn’t. Kicking over her rock tower she wriggled further into the shadows; maybe she could hear more.

  “I’m not talking about this any longer. You asked me to meet with you, I heard your ‘reasonable request’ and I denied it.”

  Wren clenched her fists, her father’s tone held a clear warning to the speaker; he had to back off.

  “Chayton, you aren’t thinking. She’s given you children: two boys to be Runners and, if you insist on keeping the child at Avalon, a girl to bear more. She’s met your needs, your line will continue. Now let her go.”

  Let who go? Were they talking about Mother? Did she want to leave?

  Anxiously Wren wormed her way to the front of the house. There she saw her father and Grandfather. She clenched her fists to her chest, fighting not to cry out: ‘she doesn’t want to go, you nasty old man, she doesn’t want to leave us.’

  “There’s a good partnership waiting for Mia in the settlement if you let her go. The man has waited a number of years for you to grow tired of her.”

  Wren shoved her knuckles into her mouth to stifle a gasp and saw her father’s shoulders shoot back.

  Then her eyes widened as her grandfather’s face crumpled. His shoulders slumped as though someone had cut an invisible set of strings and his voice was almost a whisper. “I’m only going to beg once, Chayton. We miss her. Please, let her come back to the Dome.”

  Her father shook his head and she saw him spread his hands. When he spoke his voice was astonishingly gentle. “Win, she wouldn’t go.”

  “Have you asked her? Have you?”

  Her father shook his head and made no reply.

  What did that mean? Wren held her breath. Had he asked her, or not? Did her mother yearn to leave Avalon and live in the Dome again? She leaned forward until the sunlight teased her fingertips.

  “Well then.” Her Grandfather glanced down at his tunic and slowly flattened the material against his thighs. When he looked back up his face was once more set in hard lines. “Aside from Council business you’ll not hear from me. Mia’s no longer my daughter, she’s a Runner. Make no mistake I’ll have nothing more to do with her, or any of your brood.” He raised his voice until it carried into the house. “You hear, Runner? Don’t ever come crying to me, because you’ll get nothing.”

  Wren woke with a gasp. She was curled up under the table with Raw’s shirt gripped in her fists like an old blanket. Despite the eerie calls of the Creatures, the snores of the other Runners and the pressure of Raw’s O2 canister against hers, Wren had fallen asleep almost immediately, exhaustion dragging her under. Perhaps it wasn’t strange that this particular memory would resurface now. She should have remembered it earlier; recalled Grandfather’s warning against asking him for help.

  At least now she had another way to help her mother. There was a plague, but there was also a cure.

  Slowly she unfurled, muscles protesting as she adjusted her O2. The others were snoring in bags around her and she carefully stepped over bodies. She needed to pee. Web hesitated at the latrine curtain. She was used to going with her brothers around, but not these strangers. And what if one of them opened the curtain and saw her sitting? There were many things she could do just the same as any boy; going to the toilet wasn’t one of them.

  She glanced at the door then made up her mind. She would go on the rock. It was probably where the latrine was emptied anyway.

  Tiptoeing to the exit, she pressed her halfie into her nose, tightening it against her nostrils. She licked her lips as she touched the door handle. Without a biosphere there was no difference in atmosphere between the hut and the night sky. The air might even smell better outside. She would be able to breathe. Still her heart raced and she held her breath as she opened the door and slid beneath the stars.

  At first she clung to the wall and made no attempt to inhale. The sky above her seemed vast and the stars further away than they did from Avalon. Phobos was already starting to set in the West, the bright star of Deimos almost directly overhead. Her chest tightened. If she wanted to pee, she would have to inhale.

  Breath shivered from Wren’s lips, tinting the cold air with mist. Grimacing, she forced herself to trust the tube and sucked air in through her nose.

  Her O2 canister held, oxygen filling her lungs as it ever had. She just had to remember to breathe through her nose and not her mouth. Wren released her hold on the hut and slipped her toes along the rock. The Creatures were quiet now, perhaps seeking other prey.

  She glanced towards Vaikuntha. The walls rose overhead, so vast that she could see nothing past them. The shimmering biosphere even blocked out the stars. She edged around the hut and saw that the rock the Runner-hut was built on formed a kind of bridge that ran all the way up to an airlock set into the black wall.

  She undid her trousers and crouched on the rock out of sight of the door. Urine streamed between her feet, steaming as it hit the cold.

  She continued to stare at the black walls. How was Orel planning on getting them inside? Surely the airlock would be guarded. If she was caught or shot, her mother would die alone.

  Wren shivered as she gathered her clothes back together.

  She turned automatically, searching through the dark for Elysium Mons. Maybe she should just go home. She was only a girl. What could she do against a colony bent on murder?

  If she went home, she could at least be with her mother when the end came.

  Wren closed her eyes. Perhaps her father would return in time to take word to Convocation about Vaikuntha’s plan. He could save her brothers.

  She clenched her fists. Somewhere behind those walls there was a cure. Maybe her brothers had a little time, but her mother did not. If there was any chance she could get to that cure she should take it. Wasn’t it better to try and save her mother, than to be there to comfort her while she died?

  She pressed her lips together and opened her eyes. Then she blinked. A figure was slipping into the Runner house.

  She frowned. Had the Council of Vaikuntha decided to bring their remaining Runners into quarantine? She had to warn them.

  Heart pounding, she ran on padded feet back to the door, but it was firmly closed against her. She put her ear to the panelling. There was no sound from inside.

  Her imagination ran wild and she threw the door open, a shout already building in her throat.

  There was no sign of an intruder. The Runners slumbered on, mouths slightly open, eyes shut.

  Her eyes sought out Raw. He was stirring next to her spot, trying to get comfortable. As she watched, his eye opened. “What’re you doing?” he mouthed.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Confused, she stepped back over bodies and crawled under the table once more. Maybe she’d seen only shadows after all.

  As she settled into place her gaze fell on Orel, wrapped in a blanket near the doorway.
He was studying her with serious eyes. After she had curled up, he kept his eyes locked on her for a moment more; then he rolled over.

  Wren clenched her fists under her chin. There were a few more hours till dawn and she’d need her sleep. She squeezed her eyes closed once more.

  “Can you feel it now?” Jay pushed her hand further into the hole.

  “What?”

  “The nest is in there, just reach a little further.”

  Wren stretched and her knuckles scraped against the stones that enclosed the side of the hole. Grit dug into her armpit. Then, suddenly, her fingertips brushed something smooth, hot, and oddly soft. She gave a little cry.

  Jay grinned smugly. “There you go. I’ve been watching her for weeks.”

  Wren withdrew her arm. “Where is she? Isn’t she going to be angry?”

  Jay shrugged. “I’m going to catch one when they hatch - I’m going to have my own sand-snake.”

  The sound of shouting from the Runner house stopped Wren’s reply and she jumped to her feet. “Another visitor?” she asked.

  Jay shook his head and the sun shot highlights through his dark blonde hair. “Mother would have called if there was a landing.”

  Wren tucked escaping curls into her headscarf and caught her brother’s elbow. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”

  Together they ran the short distance to the cliff path. There they were halted by a terrible cry: fury, frustration and grief wound together and punched into the air, Wren had never heard such a sound. She gasped and Jay shoved her behind him. “What was that?”

  Jay shook his head. She gave him a shove and they pelted towards the house.

  Just as they reached the safety lines the door slammed open and their father stomped onto the curved porch. His face was pale and his blue eyes almost black with rage. It was an expression that had become increasingly familiar over the past months, but Wren had never seen him so furious. She shivered and dropped her eyes. Only then did she see the Grounder lying on the floor behind him, a pair of wings draped on a chair between them. The boy was trying to get up, but blood dripped from his mouth and he collapsed again, to face away from her.

  “Jay, take your sister somewhere else.”

  Wren’s eyes flicked towards her brother.

  “Who is that?”

  “Do it, Jay,” their father snapped. A sun-shaft illuminated crimson spots on his shirt and knuckles. He looked down at himself and then he took a shuddering breath. “Go somewhere else, both of you.”

  Clearly it was not a good time to appear disobedient.

  Jay had frozen. Gently Wren gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s go find your snake,” she said.

  “Wake up, Wren.” Raw’s face floated above her, his scars glowing in the dawn light.

  After her dream she couldn’t stop herself from recoiling and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of hurt before his face assumed its usual hardness. Had it been his voice that had screamed in her memory?

  “Get up. We’re eating and they’re starting to plan.”

  He stalked to the fireplace where Genna was serving bowls of soy porridge.

  Wren scrambled out from beneath the table and stretched. She rubbed her eyes and found Orel watching her again. He was leaning against the far wall with a bowl on his knees. When he saw her looking he saluted her with his spoon.

  Her stomach rumbled and she grimaced. Raw shoved a bowl and spoon into her hands. “Eat,” he snapped.

  Although she hated appearing to obey him, Wren’s hunger forced the spoon into her mouth.

  Raw looked at Adler who was pulling his goggles over his eyes. “Where are you going?”

  Genna spun around. “Adler! You can’t Run - the only reason we’re not quarantined with the others is so we can deal with incoming. If you leave, the rest of us will be on lock-down.”

  Adler raised a hand. “I know, but someone needs to let the Patriarchs at Convocation know what’s happening.”

  Genna tugged at her skirt and there was a long silence. “All right then,” she said. “It’s a risk we need to take. But if the guards see you leave -”

  Wren jumped up, grabbed Raw and pulled him towards the door. “We’re going to check on our wings,”

  She dragged him into the open air and closed the door behind them.

  “What’s the matter?” Raw frowned.

  “We can’t let Adler go.” Wren dragged her fingers through her short hair.

  “I don’t understand - your father’s at Convocation isn’t he? I thought you wanted to get a message to him. You can ask Adler to speak to him when he gets there.”

  “I did. I do. Chayton needs to know about Mother. But things have changed …” Wren dropped her voice and stared at the walled colony. “This is hard to explain.”

  “I know it’s torturous for you, but look at me.” Raw snatched her attention back to him and Wren swallowed a flash of anger. “What’s the problem?”

  “What do you know about Convocation?” Wren asked.

  “Just that you Runners have your own separate Government. Why wouldn’t you want them here?”

  Wren swallowed. Then she reached out a hand as if to touch Raw’s face. Her fingertips stopped a feather’s width from his scar and for some reason her skin tingled with the almost touch. She pressed her lips together before she spoke. “You think my father was harsh when he refused to give you medicine when you got Caro’s. When he beat you?”

  Raw jerked back, as if propelled by the idea that she really would touch him. “Harsh?” he spluttered.

  Wren dropped her arm. “Yes. You think he was wrong, that he went too far, hurt you too much?”

  Raw grit his teeth. “You could say that.”

  “If he had told Convocation, you would have been tortured to death. That’s what happens to Grounders who take wings. No mercy. If they find out about me, I’ll be thrown off the platform at Avalon - without my wings. The High Patrions never bend the law. They don’t have families, so they can’t be influenced.” She shivered.

  “High Patrions.”

  “A bit like your Council, but there’s no rotation. At Convocation the Patriarchs debate an issue and the High Patrions decide.”

  “Don’t you want these people punished?” Raw gestured towards the colony. “They’ve got your brothers.”

  Wren shoved her hands under her armpits. “Chayton tried to keep relations good between us Runners and you Elysium Grounders.”

  “Rubbish.” Raw curled his lip.

  Wren shook her head. “Now you know what should have happened to you, but it didn’t. Do you know what he should have been demanding as payment for his Runs? Do you have any idea how hard he works to keep Convocation from interfering in your deals? There’s a faction that thinks we’d get more respect if we lived like Councillors. Father won’t join them, but I think that’s why he’s at Convocation now, the High Patrions are making some sort of decision.”

  “No way would we pay you more,” Raw snarled. “He knows it.”

  Wren’s eyebrows raised. “Even if Elysium was sanctioned - if you were unable to trade seeds for food, medicine or tech, even if Elysium was taken off the baby exchange register? Even then?”

  “You -” Raw clenched his fists and stopped.

  Wren hung her head. “Chayton thinks we’re heading for a breaking point, that it won’t be long before people like you try to take our wings.”

  Raw turned on her. “That should happen.”

  Wren rounded on him, her own fists curling. “Really? You did so well without me that first flight.”

  “I -”

  “You don’t understand how hard Running is. Runners have years of lessons before flying. And whoever took our wings wouldn’t find out till it was too late. Not until the Runners were gone and they had broken the wings trying to fly for themselves. Then what? One day the last of the communications arrays will be broken by the mega-storms and the last of the spa
re components will have rusted. What if, on that day, there are no Runners, or no Runners willing to carry messages between the colonies? You need us. But we need you too. We need each other.”

  Wren stopped. Raw’s face was pale. She turned back to the biosphere looming above them. “Things could be better.” The sun was rising above the walls, a blazing ball that pitched the stone into black shadow. “But they could be so much worse. If the High Patrions find out what the Vaikunthian Grounders are planning it’ll be war. And if the Patriarchs come here and find us – you know what’ll happen then.”

  Raw’s jaw tightened. “We can’t let Adler Run.”

  Wren nodded. “I know.”

  The hut door opened behind them and Adler ducked beneath the low frame. He nodded at Wren and Raw. “I’m heading out.”

  Raw blocked Adler from reaching the waiting wings in their clips. Only when he squared up, did Wren see how broad Raw really was, how huge he would become in a few years.

  Adler noticed too. “What’re you doing?” The big man frowned.

  Wren stepped close to him. “Don’t Run yet. Give us a day.” She touched his arm. “If the Runners haven’t been freed by tomorrow night, then Run to Convocation.”

  Adler shook her off as Genna joined them on the rock. “What’s going on?” she looked at Raw.

  “Our visitors don’t think I should make the Run to Lake Lyot.”

  Genna frowned. “We’ve made our decision. He has to go now - every hour could count.”

  Raw folded his arms and his biceps became subtly more defined in a way that, for some reason, dried out Wren’s mouth. “Orel said he needed us to get the Runners out. If Adler Runs to Convocation now, we won’t go into Vaikuntha.”

  Genna faced Wren full-on. “That so, Wren? I thought you wanted to get yer brothers.”

  Wren swallowed. “If Convocation comes here, you won’t be able to control what happens, it'll be war.”

  Genna looked at Adler. “The boy could be right. The first thing the Patriarchs’ll do is place sanctions.”

  “And the rest of the colonies will lose the expertise of the Martian macro-biologists.” Raw spread his hands.