by Gee, Maurice
‘Soon you will see Odo Cling and the Bloodcat,’ Breeze said.
As if in answer, a hideous cry came winding through the air. The pain of it made them cover their ears. It was like a fingernail scraping on a blackboard – but it was filled with hatred and a mindless cruelty. Far below, sunlight came at last to Marna’s basin. The stream shone like silver and the grass was suddenly painted green and gold. It was like a jewel, an opal, set on the edge of the forest. But the cry hung over it, a ghastly echo; and the Deathguard came bursting from the wall and scattered like an army of black ants across the grass.
The Bloodcat came, held on a leash by Odo Cling. The sun made it burn like fire. It was not large. It stood no higher than Odo Cling’s waist. But even at this distance they could see its awful sinuousness and hideous strength, and feel its blood-lust quivering in the air. It was the colour of an open wound.
‘Nick, it’s looking at me.’
The Bloodcat raised its head and screamed.
‘It can see me. Odo Cling can see me.’
‘Easy child,’ Breeze said.
Cling raised his arm and pointed, and though he was far away, tiny as a house-fly on a wall, Susan felt he could have reached out and touched her – and that the Bloodcat could have caught her in one bound. Behind her the sick moved off again, urged on by the Woodlanders. But Jimmy Jaspers pushed his bearers aside. He rolled off his litter and heaved himself to his feet. Like a grey old elephant he lumbered to the edge of the rock slab and looked into the basin.
‘Cling, yer bloddy twister. I’m gunner get yer, Cling,’ he yelled.
‘Hush. Go. Your bearers wait,’ Breeze said.
‘Yer hear me, Cling? I’m gunner tie a knot in yer. I’m gunner ram yer skinny legs down yer throat.’
‘Go,’ Breeze commanded.
‘Keep yer hair on, nursey. I just wanted ’im ter know.’ He went back to his litter and lay down.
‘Take him. Quick. We do not have much time,’ Brand ordered, coming on to the rock. Marna was at his side. She looked into the basin.
‘They are looting my cave.’
‘Cling lets them have their sport. He knows we cannot get away,’ Breeze said.
The Deathguards dragged out beds, curtains, tables, mats – everything that would move. They tore and rent and smashed them, leaping in a frenzy, and heaped them in a mound and set them alight. Smoke rose in the still morning air.
‘Now he has them in order. Now he comes.’
‘Why are we waiting?’ Nick said. ‘He’ll be here in ten minutes.’
‘I shall meet them on the Living Hill,’ Marna said. ‘Breeze, take them on.’
‘Marna,’ Susan began, but the old woman stopped her.
‘We have made our farewells.’
Below, the Deathguards swarmed into the track, with Odo Cling and the Bloodcat leading. Breeze took Susan by the arm and pulled her over the rock. They started up another path that ran across the hill. Soon they turned the ridge and came up with the stretcher.
‘We should be setting an ambush,’ Nick said. ‘We should be doing something, not just running.’
‘Marna has a plan,’ Breeze said.
‘What can she do? One old woman?’
‘This is the Living Hill. She will face them here.’
They had come off the ridge on to a path crossing a slope studded with boulders. It was steep almost as the wall of a house and ran down into the forest half a kilometre below, and up it seemed forever into the sky. It was like a giant slide or chute. The Woodlanders and the patients were making their way across, heading for an abutment on the far side. The stretcher bearers started out, moving with great care. One slip would send them sliding into the forest. Jimmy Jaspers rolled his head and bellowed with alarm.
‘Come,’ Breeze said, ‘and be careful. The path is narrow.’
That, Nick thought, was an understatement. At times it seemed no wider than a piece of string. They moved gingerly, the length of a football field, out into the middle of the slope. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ Susan said. She was pale. She clung to tufts of grass and knobs of stone. Below, the tops of the trees looked like knots of dark green wool. Now and then parts of the hillside showed. They seemed to hang in space. But mostly there was only the yellow path and the distant forest floor, and nothing in between.
Ahead of them was a great boulder. There the slope grew easier and the path more safe. They stopped a moment to breathe. The sick had reached the other side. Jimmy Jaspers and his bearers were nearly there.
‘You’re doing well, Susan,’ Verna said.
‘I don’t like heights.’
‘Why do they call this the Living Hill?’ Nick asked.
Breeze had come up with them. ‘Can you feel it tremble beneath your feet?’
‘No.’
‘Be still.’
‘I feel it now. A kind of small vibration. Feel it, Susan?’
‘Yes.’
‘So we call it the Living Hill.’
‘I don’t like it here. Can we go on?’
‘Rest a moment. You are safe.’
Susan saw Brand and Marna coming along the ridge towards the Living Hill. ‘Do you know what Marna’s going to do?’
‘I think I can guess,’ Breeze said. She laid her hand on the hillside in a gesture that seemed to include gratitude and sadness.
‘How can she fight them? And the Bloodcat? She’s an old woman.’
‘She is old. But there are other strengths. And a single way. Susan, if she fails then we must fight.’
‘I know. Can we go on now?’
‘Yes. Let us go.’
Down in the cleft where the bush lay thick they heard the Bloodcat screaming.
‘How can she fight that?
The rest of the path was easier. In a few moments they joined the Woodlanders and Jimmy Jaspers on the abutment. Marna and Brand had reached the Living Hill and were coming across. The old woman seemed weak on her legs. Brand supported her and urged her on. When they reached the boulder half-way along the path they stopped. Using her staff, supported by Brand, Marna began to climb. She made her way up the slope beside the boulder. Brand went ahead and kept a grip on her, pulling her by her cloak, supporting her when she slipped. At last they came out on the giant boulder, and stood on it where it jutted over the path.
‘Why are they stopping there?’
‘Brand is not stopping. Marna stops alone.’
‘Why there?’
‘It is the Keystone.’
‘Look,’ Nick said, ‘there are the Deathguards. There, in the trees.’
They were coming in an ant-line, coming fast. Soon they would be on the ridge, and then on the Living Hill. The Bloodcat glowed like an ember.
‘What’s Brand waiting for? We’ve got to get out of here.’ But Brand was not coming. He turned away from Marna. The old woman had slumped down on her knees. ‘Breeze,’ Brand called, his voice sharp and urgent, ‘bring Susan. Marna must speak with her.’
‘Come child,’ Breeze said. ‘Quickly now.’
‘She can’t go back there,’ Nick said.
‘She must. Marna needs her.’
‘Then I’m coming too.’
‘Yes. It does not matter. Let us go.’
With Breeze leading, they hurried back along the path. Brand held Marna’s staff down to them and they scrambled on to the Keystone.
‘She cannot do it,’ Brand said.
Nick had gone to the edge of the boulder. It was like standing on the prow of a ship; or on the nose of a jet-liner, speeding through the air. Far below, the forest seemed to roll back under him and draw him down.
‘She cannot kill.’
‘I am a Halfwoman,’ Marna whispered. ‘They left no dark in me. Susan, you must help me.’
‘Yes. How?’
‘You’ll have to hurry,’ Nick said. ‘Here they come.’
The Deathguard came round the point of the ridge. Their robes flapped as they ran. Odo Cl
ing and the Bloodcat appeared. The Cat gave a scream.
‘Come here,’ Marna said.
Susan went to her and knelt at her side.
‘Give me your wrist. I must touch the mark.’
‘No. It’ll kill you.’
‘I will touch only the dark side. I must take some evil into myself.’
Susan folded her robe back off her wrist. The mark lay there, ordinary, innocent. She had known it all her life. But Marna trembled when she saw it.
‘Hurry,’ Brand said.
Marna put her hand out and painfully uncurled a finger. She brought it down slowly to the mark. A groan came from her lips. She seemed to force her hand forward against a great repelling force.
‘I cannot, child. Help me.’
‘Take her hand,’ Breeze said.
Susan gripped the old woman’s wrist. As firmly as she could she forced it down. Marnna’s finger touched the blood-red mark. At once she began to writhe and scream.
‘Hold it there,’ Breeze shouted. ‘Do not let her go.’
‘It’s hurting her.’
‘This is what she chose.’
Susan felt something vibrating, humming, in Marna’s hand. She felt a live thing, like a lizard, wriggle and slide along the old woman’s wrist under her skin.
‘Oh-uh, oh-uh,’ Marna screamed. They were cries of terrible pain and grief.
‘Enough,’ Breeze said. She rushed forward and knocked Marna’s hand free. She bent to help the old woman to her feet.
‘No,’ Marna panted, ‘do not touch me. Give me my staff.’ Brand gave it to her and she struggled to her feet. ‘Now, now I can do it. Now I can slay them. And myself. I have the maggot in me. Death is all I am good for. No, do not touch me.’ But Breeze leaned quickly forward and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Marna, Wildwood thanks you. The Woodlanders thank you.’
‘Go. Leave me. Odo Cling comes.’ She went to the edge of the Keystone and faced back along the Living Hill at the Halfmen running on the ridge. Brand and Breeze helped the children down off the boulder.
‘Goodbye, Marna,’ Susan cried.
‘She cannot hear. She hears only her purpose.’
They ran back along the path to the abutment Already, on the other side of the Living Hill, Deathguards were on the slope. They ran sure-footedly on the narrow path. Their knives gleamed in their hands and their eyes showed like pink sockets under their hoods. They came so eagerly that one behind thrust a slower guard out of his way, and the man went tumbling down the hill, flopping like a bird, sending up puffs of dust as he clawed the earth. He bounced from sight over a boulder. The others made no sign; they came on silently. Marna, in her robe of pale blue, with her plait of hair pulled over her shoulder, stood on the Keystone with her staff in her hand.
‘Odo Cling,’ she cried.
But Cling stopped on the other side of the slope.
‘Why doesn’t he come?’ Nick said.
‘He holds the Bloodcat back,’ Brand said. ‘He wants to take Susan alive.’
The Cat strained on its leash. They saw its yellow eyes and milk-white fangs. It reared on its hind legs and they saw its claws gleaming in the sunlight. Muscles rippled under its red hide. Cling struck it with his whip. It cowered at his feet.
‘If he released the Cat nothing could save us.’
‘They’re going to kill Marna,’ Susan wept.
The first Deathguard had reached the Keystone. He climbed up the grass at its side, holding his knife in his teeth.
‘Odo Cling, come!’ Marna cried.
But Cling stayed back. Members of his Deathguard ran by him on to the hill. Out in the centre a dozen men had scrambled up the sides of the Keystone. Others ran silently on, making for the party on the abutment. The only sound was their padding feet.
‘Now,’ Breeze whispered, ‘before it is too late.’
And Marna raised her staff. She faced back up the slope, she seemed to look into the sky. Deathguards came sliding out on to the jutting Keystone.
‘Oh Living Hill, forgive me!’ Marna cried. She brought the heel of her staff down with a sharp blow on the rock. The sound came cracking through the air. And everything was still. The clouds in the sky stood still, the breeze was still. The Deathguards froze in their movements. They stood as though made of stone. One of them cried out with fear; and the Bloodcat gave a dreadful howl.
‘What’s happening?’ Susan whispered.
Breeze put her arm round her. ‘Listen.’
From deep in the Living Hill came a small creaking sound, like the creaking of house-timbers on a still night.
‘Marna struck the Keystone and the Living Hill begins to die.’
There came a groan, a sound of grief from deep within the earth. It began to grow, to rumble. It was the rumble of herds moving, of heavy trucks thundering along highways. It grew and grew. And as it grew the Living Hill began to shake. The Keystone reared from the earth, it rose with a slow majesty, thrusting huge and grey as a battleship. The Deathguards tumbled off and fell like twists of paper. But Marna stood on the prow, holding her staff. It was fused in the stone, and Marna was lifted up till she towered in the sky. Then the rock began to fall with a stately slowness. All about, the Living Hill was sliding into the forest. The Deathguards fluttered on the liquid earth and vanished beneath its surface. The Keystone crashed down, spraying stones like water. It began to tumble end over end. A single flash of blue: Marna was gone.
Far below a giant fan of earth spread into the forest. Dust smoked up. It seemed the forest was burning. And still from up the slope, from against the sky, the living earth of the hill roared down. The sound was like a hundred earthquakes. It seemed it would never stop. The abutment where the children stood was jumping like the lid of a boiling pot. It threw them off their feet. They clutched the rock and held on for their lives.
At last the shaking stopped and the air was still. Now and then came the small shiver of a sliding stone. Nick and Susan climbed to their feet. They looked at the huge wet wound in the land. The whole of the Living Hill was gone. All that was left was a deep V gouged in the mountain. It glistened brown and yellow. Its sides were slick as paint. It ran up out of sight, and down to the fan of earth that had crushed the forest.
Marna lay crushed in there. The Deathguards lay crushed. Only a dozen had scrambled back. They stood with Odo Cling, looking down like a band of tourists overawed by some great gorge or fall.
‘They’re dead,’ Susan whispered. ‘Everybody’s dead.’
‘Except for Odo Cling,’ Nick said. ‘And his Bloodcat.’ He counted. ‘Eleven men. But they can’t get us.’
‘Marna’s dead.’
The Woodlanders had gathered in a group at the edge of the slip. They faced out to Wildwood. Breeze began to sing. One by one the others joined in. It was a dirge.
‘That’s for Marna,’ Nick said.
‘And the trees that died. And the Living Hill.’
Jimmy Jaspers had struggled out of his litter. He came to their side, bent painfully in two. ‘There’s too much bloddy singin’ goes on here. They should get across an’ throttle that little geezer.’
‘There’s no way across.’
‘Yeah. She was some slip. I reckon nursey knew a trick or two.’
The song changed its rhythm. It became a hymn of gratitude and praise. Odo Cling shook his whip in the air. The Bloodcat raised its head and howled. But the Woodlanders sang on till their hymn was done.
‘Breeze and Brand came back to the children. ‘Marna has saved us,’ Breeze said. ‘We have given thanks.’
‘I wish there was a song I could sing too.’
Breeze touched her cheek. ‘Your tears are thanks enough.’
Nick said, ‘Odo Cling’s still alive. Will he follow us?’
‘Yes, he’ll follow,’ Brand said. ‘He still has his Bloodcat and some men. But he cannot cross. He must go down to the forest and climb up on this side. By that time we will be over the pass. The Bloodcat comes
from the hot lands. She will not follow in the snow.’
‘So we’ve got away.’
Jimmy Jaspers straightened up. He raised his head and laughed. ‘Hey Cling,’ he yelled, ‘I’ll bet that landslide made yer wet yer pants. There’s no way yer can catch us now so go home to yer mammy.’
7
Morninghall
Two days’ marching brought them to the pass. Another day’s hard trudging in the snow and they came down into the hills where the Birdfolk ran their flocks of half-wild goats. It was a bitter country. Grass with blades as rough as emery paper grew from the soil. Thorn trees, yellow-tipped and poisonous, blocked the trails. In every hollow an icy stream foamed down. The wind from off the mountains cut like a knife.
At nightfall they made a fire and warmed some food. They slept huddled in blankets. In the morning the band broke in two. The Woodlanders from Marna’s hospital were going south along the foothills. They would return to Wildwood round the southern end of the range. Dale and Verna led them. These two had been good friends to Susan. She felt lonely to see them go. But Breeze and Brand were left. And Nick was there. And bad old Jimmy Jaspers was on his feet, scratching himself, grumbling at the food.
‘What I really needs is a bit o’ meat. All this greens an’ stuff’ll give me gas.’
‘They’re good for you, Jimmy. They’ll make you strong.’
‘That’s what me old Mum used to say. God rest ’er. Then she’d give me a belt on the lugs with the back of ’er ’and. Aargh.’ He scratched his bandages. ‘These bloddy things is itchin’. I’d be all right if I had me baccy.’
Brand came back from a scouting trip down the stream. ‘It turns north. We will follow it.’
‘How will we find the Birdfolk?’ Nick asked.
