by Gee, Maurice
‘That’s the end of ’im,’ Jimmy said. He bent and picked up his knife. ‘Now flap them wings, fer Pete’s sake. I can ’andle this lot.’
The Halfmen were coming forward again. Jimmy charged to meet them. But they broke past him, heading for Susan.
‘Go, fly Susan,’ Breeze cried. She launched herself, fell, then her wings caught air and she sailed away. Brand followed her.
‘Go on, Susan,’ Nick cried. She was looking back at Jimmy, but Nick gave her a push that sent her off balance, and she took another step, looked down at the gleaming floor of smoke hundreds of metres below, and launched herself into the air. She flew from Deven’s Leap.
11
Into the City
Susan wanted to turn back and see what had happened to Jimmy, but did not know how. She dared not shift her weight. Brand and Breeze were ahead and far below. She saw the wings of their gliders bright on the smoke, like paper fans. Nick must be behind her. She dared not turn her head. But soon she heard him yelling and he came up at her side, bouncing a little on the air. He waved at her. His glider swung away, then slid back closer. He looked close enough to touch.
‘What happened to Jimmy?’ she called.
‘He’s okay. At least, I think so. I circled back and had a look. They had him trapped, but they were scared of his knife. He really fixed Odo Cling.’
Susan did not want to think of that. And she could not agree that Jimmy was all right. Trapped by twenty Deathguards! Even his knife would not save him. But she had no time to worry. The glider was bumping about. She hung on tightly and concentrated on keeping still. Nick slipped a little below her.
‘Come down a bit, Susan,’ he yelled. ‘I’m losing height. We’ve got to get down with Brand and Breeze or we’ll get separated.’
‘I can’t come down.’
‘Pull your weight forward a bit.’
‘I can’t.’ She could see only his legs beneath the wings, but he swooped and laid his glider almost on its side, and climbed towards her. He could not make it all the way.
‘Susan, do what I say. You’ve got to shift your weight. We’re heavier than you and we’re going down faster. You’ll get left behind.’ He fell away. Far below Breeze and Brand were almost in the smoke. And gradually Nick sank. He banked and climbed and fell again, and all the while his desperate calls grew thinner until at last they were no more than a squeak. Brand and Breeze vanished. The sun had sunk below the edge of the smoke. It was a deep-red ball burning up at her. The smoke seemed solid. She went down gradually towards it, towards the silver fan of sea glittering in its rim. Nick was fluttering like a moth far below.
‘Susan, Susan,’ came his call. Then he slipped into the smoke and she saw him no longer.
She felt that it was right she should be alone. He would find Brand and Breeze, he would be all right. There was no way they could help her. She had been alone since she had claimed the Halves. She felt a fearful happiness as she sped along above the smoke.
The fan of sea widened. She came over its point. Down there the Poison Water reached the ocean. It smeared the sea with grey. South was the City, and the Pit, under a lump of smoke like a swollen pudding. Far out over the water the sun, yellow again, sank its rim into the sea. She risked a tiny shift of weight. The glider turned gently. She was able to see Sheercliff, grey and gleaming, and the mountains, picked out by the sun. Soon she would have to turn again and dive into the smoke. But for a while she flew along its edge, sinking all the time. It towered in banks above her. She had seen stormclouds like this, fat and grey as pumpkins, too heavy for the sky, but they had never made her as frightened as this slowly turning greasy smoke. She felt if she went in she would choke and die.
‘Ready, Susan,’ she told herself. ‘Right. Here goes.’ But she did not go. It was not only fear held her back. Some intuition – perhaps even some memory that came from Freeman Wells, or from the Halves – advised her of a way less dangerous. So she kept on flying, dropping down the heaving flanks of smoke towards the sea. The wings of her glider drummed and vibrated. The sun went down and the clear western sky turned pink and yellow. The moon, that smaller moon with different markings, hanging low on the flank of smoke, enriched itself to the colour of cheese. She glimpsed it over her shoulder and risked turning for a better look.
Then she saw the island. It was far away, a thin crescent in the darkening sea. It stood clear of the shore by a kilometre or so, and to Susan it gave the hope of rest and safety, and a place to think what she must do. She leaned the glider into a slow curve and set off across the sea towards the island.
Soon she was flying in moonlight. The sea was silver and the island lay dark on it. She began to worry that it was too far away for her to reach. What was it Nick had said about shifting weight? She tried to push herself back a little – and it worked. The glider rose. But then it seemed to lose its speed and for a moment she thought it was going to fall out of the sky. There was a horrible lurch, and she was dropping. But the wings caught again, the air pressed up, and she was flying, the island was ahead, and she was safe. No more experiments! She was just going to hang there and let the glider fly, and hope she was going to make it.
The island came at her. She saw its cliffs in the moonlight, and saw banks of grass and patches of bush. But the sea was like a floor under her feet. She would be on it any moment. She headed for a beach, silver in a jaw of cliffs. And she risked one more shift, back a bit, a little to one side. The glider rose and banked, and she shifted again, the other way, and it swooped across the water, seagull fast, slanting at the beach. She did not quite get there. Her feet struck where the waves broke, and she ran a pace or two, sinking in. Then the glider tipped and she was sprawling on the sand in a tangle of harness and struts. Waves broke on her feet. She drew them up, and struggled with her straps, and freed herself. She ran up the sand and fell on her knees. Safe! She could hardly believe it.
In a moment she stood up and stumbled on. She was desperately tired. She knew she should explore the island. There were only a few moments of moonlight left. She should see if she was alone. But she had no strength. She came on to dry sand, and found some rocks still warm from the sun, and lay down close to them. She curled up. It had been cold flying, but now in her Woodland cloak and Halfman cloak, she was warm and safe. No food. No water. No way to get off the island. That was a worry for the morning. She smiled, and groaned contentedly, and went to sleep.
Morning came with a cold sea breeze. She was on the dark side of the island. She woke shivering, and rose stiffly to her feet. All her joints were aching. Her mouth was dry and she was hungry. Low cliffs stood behind her. In front the sea stretched unbroken to the horizon. The tide had come in during the night and floated her glider away.
She knew her first job was to find water. She climbed the rocks she had slept by and went across to the base of the cliffs looking for a pool. But of course, they were salt. Her only hope was to find a spring somewhere, or a rainwater pool. The island was too small to have a stream. She began to wish she had thought of that before landing.
The cliff sloped back easily and she climbed it through an elbow of bush and stood on the highest point of the island. It was really no more than a ridge standing up from the sea. The hollow of its crescent faced the horizon. There was the only beach – her beach. Reefs of black rock met the sea at every other point. Across the water the smoke stood up like a wall. It seemed less thick than she had thought. She caught hazy glimpses of a seashore and low buildings. They made her realize that people in the smoke could be watching her. She hurried along the island below the skyline and clambered down to the reef at the other end of the beach. And that was it – that was the island. No water. No food. She searched in the bush above the reef for some moss to suck, but found none. Perhaps she was going to die of thirst on this island. The thought struck her like the blow of a fist. She had to reach the Stone, she had to place the Halves. The trust was hers.
She searched the reef for driftwood.
If she could make a raft she could float to the mainland. There was nothing. But as she searched she began to feel she was being watched. It came like a prickling on her spine. Several times she turned suddenly, but saw only cliffs, black rocks, the moving sea. Once she thought she heard a slither and splash. She ran to the spot, a cleft in the rocks with water heaving in it and brown ropes of kelp writhing about. She waited there. Nothing came. Apart from the sea, all was still.
For a while Susan sat on the beach, hugging her knees, thinking grimly. Water. Food. A way to get to land and to the City. There had to be an answer. She could not believe she was going to die here. There had to be someone who could help her. Then she thought of Breeze. What had she said? They would try to reach the coast, and ask for help from the Seafolk. Well, where would the Seafolk be if not in the sea – whoever they were? She could not believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. It came from pride, she thought, and from her belief that she was alone.
She ran back to the reef where she had heard the noise. She went to the cleft in the rocks and looked down at the kelp. She took a deep breath. ‘Seafolk,’ she called. ‘Seafolk, I need your help.’
The water heaved. The kelp writhed. Nothing came.
‘Seafolk. My name is Susan Ferris. I am not a Halfman though I wear a Halfman cloak. I have the Mark of Freeman Wells on my wrist. I have the Halves. I must reach the Motherstone.’
Slap went the sea. The kelp made a salty rustling. Then a voice behind her croaked, ‘Show me the Mark.’
She leapt around. Reclining there on flippers was a seal. Water trickled on his fur. His cat-mouth smiled. His brown eyes watched with calm intelligence.
‘Was that you? Were you talking?’ Susan stammered.
‘I do not like human speech. It gives me a pain in my throat. Show me the Mark.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ Susan said. She bared her arm and walked up to the seal. ‘I’m sorry about the dye. Breeze put it on to make us look like Halfmen.’
‘Who is Breeze?’
‘A Woodlander. She and Brand flew down from Sheercliff with me. And Nick. They came down in the smoke. I suppose you won’t believe me if I tell you that I flew here?’
‘I believe. I saw you land. Very clumsy. Flying should be left to birds. Yes, it is the Mark. Tell me your story.’
She trusted him – or her. She – yes, she – had a friendly face. It was more seal-like than human, but less seal-like than a seal’s. She thought she saw human traces round the eyes and nose. Reddish fur, beautiful as satin, ran down to flippers like duck’s feet, mottled many colours. They looked as if they might once have been human hands and feet.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Island Lover. Do not make me use your ugly talk. It is like swallowing mussel shells. Tell me how you came here.’
Susan sat on a rock. She told her tale. Now and then Island Lover croaked. Her eyes were wonderfully expressive. They widened, sparkled, laughed, grew brown and heavy with sympathy. They watched Susan sharply as a hawk’s and softly as a deer’s.
‘Indeed. Indeed. What an extraordinary tale.’
‘It’s true.’
‘I believe you, child. We have heard of Freeman Wells. And we know Otis Claw. We see his smoke. It starts to poison our sea. And so you have the Halves?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you would go into the City?’
‘Yes.’
‘It will be dangerous.’
‘I know.’
‘It is your task. We will take you. Wait here. I will come back in the evening.’ She turned and flipped with surprising speed towards the surging kelp.
‘Island Lover,’ Susan cried.
The seal stopped. ‘Try not to make me speak. I feel as if I have a sea-egg stuck in my throat.’
‘I’m sorry. But I’m thirsty. Can you tell me where I can find some water?’
‘Water? Water? It is all about you.’
‘Fresh water, I mean.’
‘Ah, that tasteless stuff. Yes, you humans drink it. There is a spring at the other end of the island. High in the reef. The merest trickle. You can drink there.’
‘And food? Is there any food?’
‘Dig in the sand. There are shellfish. Feel under the ledges. There are oysters, mussels, sea-snails. This green weed in the pools is tasty. Do not touch the yellow. It is poisonous. Oh, my throat! Wait on the beach at sunset.’ She undulated to the cleft and flipped into the kelp. Susan watched for her to come up, but nothing broke the water. Something red flashed below the surface further out.
It took Susan half an hour to find the spring. It filled a pool no bigger than a cup. She emptied it several times and waited impatiently for it to fill again. She collected mussels and oysters and broke them open with stones. They were fat and juicy. She tried eating them with the green seaweed, but found it too bitter. When she had eaten enough she went to the beach. It still lay in shadow, but the sun had reached the water. She took off her clothes, left the belt with the Halves where she could see it, and swam for an hour in the warm sea. The water had no effect on Breeze’s dye. Then she sunbathed, trying to dream of home. But she found it impossible. The Halves kept intruding, she kept remembering what she must do. Later she climbed to the top of the island and lay in the grass, staring at the mainland. The smoke seemed thinner in the glare of midday. Once or twice she thought she saw Halfmen moving in it. She wondered where Nick and Breeze had come down, and if they were safe.
She ate and drank twice more before sunset. Then in the dusk she saw a boat approaching. It gave her a terrible fright. Halfmen must be coming. Seafolk would not need boats. She hid in the rocks by the spring and watched the boat glide swiftly on the purple sea. After a while she saw there was no one in it. It was no more than a hulk, with its deck-house pushed askew and holes rotted in its sides. In a moment she caught the red flash of a seal’s head moving along the waterline. She came out from the rocks and ran down the beach. A seal reared up from the foam and splashed towards her.
‘Are you Island Lover?’
‘Surely you recognize your friends. Ah well, all humans look alike to me. We have brought a boat. We will take you up the river to the City. Hide in the cabin. Do not show yourself.’
The boat beached gently. Susan saw seals swimming about it, keeping it straight.
‘Shall I get in now?’
‘You will find food and water in the cabin. Yes, get in. The sun goes down. We will start. It is hard work, so don’t rock the boat.’
Susan clambered in. The water foamed as the seals pushed the hulk out from the beach. She sat in the stern awhile, watching their shapes flashing in the water. Then the sun went down and dark came quickly. The island faded from sight. She went into the cabin. She could not see any danger, but felt it was only polite to obey Island Lover. The cabin was bare. A bottle and a pile of seaweed lay in a corner. She sat by them, feeling lonely.
The boat moved, slapping water. Now and then she felt a small shudder as the seals banged on its hull. After a while she lay down and slept on the grimy floor. The night went on, she dreamed it was growing darker and darker and darker. Black hands were pressing on her eyes, black hands were pouring some foul liquid down her throat. She woke choking, and at once smelled a carbide reek, and knew the boat had entered the smoke. She grabbed the hem of her cloak and covered her mouth and nose, and smelled at once the wonderful sweet scent of Shy. It flashed in colours through her. She felt her eyes grow clear and her heart beat strongly.
The motion of the boat was smooth – no slap of waves. She went outside and peered over the side. Far away, through the murk, lights shone dimly.
‘Susan Ferris, is that you?’ croaked a voice.
‘Yes. Where are we?’
‘In the river. Go back inside. We may meet other boats.’
‘What time is it?’
‘After midnight. We will be in the City by dawn.’
Susan went back inside. She drank some water. Then she lay down and tried to s
leep again. But an urgent tattoo sounded on the boat. ‘Susan.’ She went back to the side. Island Lover’s voice croaked softly, ‘A dinghy comes. Go inside. Cover yourself with your cloak. Be still.’
She listened. From far off came the creak of oars. She peered but could not see anything.
‘Go.’
She scuttled inside and lay in a corner and hid her face and hands under her cloak. Soon she heard voices calling. They had a metallic sound. Halfmen!
‘There she is. Shine the light on her.’
A light played on the boat. It beamed dully through the deck-house window.
‘She’s a wreck. Not worth salvaging.’
‘I’m going aboard. Might be something on her.’
Susan shrank deeper in her cloak. But the first voice said, ‘Don’t waste your time. There’ll be better pickings along the shore.’
‘Why was she drifting up river?’
‘Tide was taking her up. It’s turning now.’
The other man growled. ‘Something fishy about this boat. She don’t smell right.’
‘She’s been at sea so she stinks. Salt air. Filthy stuff.’
The dinghy bumped alongside and the light played through the deck-house door.
‘Bah! An old bottle. A pile of stinkin’ weed. Let’s get going. I tell you mate, this thing’s not worth the trouble. Full of holes. She’ll be at the bottom of the river by morning.’
‘Yeah,’ growled the other, ‘you’re right. By Claw, I’d like to sink her with a few Goods on board.’
‘There’s no Goods left, mate. All had their throats cut. I cut a few myself. Let’s go.’
