by Gee, Maurice
‘She will find a way.’
‘And the boy? The Mixie boy? Where is he? My guards have found his flying machine. They scour the countryside for him. Tell me where he is.’
‘We do not know.’
‘Look at my dogs. They are hungry.’
‘We flew first. We did not see Nick or Susan again.’
‘Nor will you ever. I grow tired of this. Let us have some sport.’ He nodded at the dog handlers. But before they could move, an old grey dog Nick had not noticed before stood up from beside Claw’s throne and began to growl. He was ancient, he tottered on his legs, but Nick felt his hair begin to prickle. The dog had his wet eyes fixed on him.
Claw reached down and grasped the animal by its collar. For the first time he looked alert. His little eyes gleamed. ‘Hold. Something troubles Gnasher.’
‘Lord,’ the officer said, ‘he was trained to sniff out mixed men.’
‘I know that, fool! So, there is a Mixie in my hall. Ha, ha! Good. They come to me.’
Nick got to his feet. He had thought he was brave but those terrible dogs were more than he could face. Yet he did not run. Delay – delay was everything. He must buy time for Susan while she climbed. He risked a look behind, over the crowd. The shadow where Susan was climbing reached up in a long inverted V. He could not see her. She was still in there. But when she came to the ceiling, when she was in the open, it was up to him to see that no one looked.
Claw raised his voice. ‘Listen,’ he cried, ‘listen slaves. There is a Mixie in my hall. Every man must turn back his hood. I must see every face. Obey me now or I shall tell my guards to kill you all.’
At once the Halfmen obeyed. They reached up, turned their black hoods back, and their grey heads gleamed dully in the light. Eagerly, each man turned to his neighbour. Nick was the only person who had not moved. At once a dozen pair of hands tore at him, hands tore back his hood and showed his hair.
‘Do not kill him,’ Claw cried, ‘bring him to me.’
Guards rushed into the crowd and dragged him free. They pushed him into the open beside Brand and Breeze. He stood there shaking, trying to look defiant.
‘Kneel,’ cried the officer. ‘Kneel to the Lord Darksoul.’
‘No -’ A spear butt struck him between his shoulders and knocked him down.
Claw smiled. He had small sharp teeth and glistening gums. ‘See how easy it is. Tell me who you are.’
Nick caught his breath. ‘My name is Nicholas Quinn,’ he managed to say.
‘Nicholas Quinn. And you are the Mixie boy? Where is the girl?’
‘She’s dead,’ Nick said.
‘Oh Nick. Oh, no,’ cried Breeze.
‘I’m sorry. She – she couldn’t control her glider. It went out over the sea. She must be drowned.’ He hated lying to Breeze. Her face was crumpled with grief. Brand too had slumped. They had no hope. But he had steered Otis Claw away from Susan. He saw his face smiling benevolently.
‘Drowned? Oh, how sad. We must set up a memorial statue to her. A bird perhaps, like the Birdmen of Morninghall, who soon will be my subjects. A pity, boy, that you will not live to see it. But my dogs are hungry. Their diet is monotonous. You will make a change.’
‘I can show you how to make gliders,’ Nick said.
‘Ha,’ Claw said, ‘I do not need toys. I have men and they have knives. And I have my smoke.’
‘I can tell you where to find Jimmy Jaspers. He‘s the one who killed Odo Cling.’ He heard Brand and Breeze gasp and felt them shrink away. He did not look at them. Anything, anything to keep Otis Claw talking, to keep him from looking up. Susan must be on the ceiling by now.
‘Jimmy Jaspers?’ Claw said. ‘I have heard of him. He was my agent. I have reserved a special death for him. But I do not need Mixie boys to tell me how to find him. I will find him. And before he dies I will thank him for ridding me of Cling. Cling wished to sit on my throne. My throne! The throne of the Paingiver! Ha! But enough of this. Hear how my poor dogs whimper. Which of you will run first?’
‘I can tell you a secret pass to Morninghall. I can tell you where the Woodland villages are. I can –’
‘Silence.’ The spear butt struck Nick again, knocking him on his face. Claw looked down at him narrowly. ‘This boy keeps me talking. Why is that?’
‘Lord, perhaps the girl is not dead. Perhaps she is in the hall.’
‘No,’ Nick said, and the spear butt struck him again. He blacked out for a moment, and when he came to he saw the old grey dog on its feet, pointing its nose at the ceiling, and in the silent hall, heard it give a single hungry yelp before it collapsed. Claw looked up. Nick looked up. Half-way between the top of the wall and the ceiling’s centre Susan clung to the stone, spread out like a moth.
Otis Claw screamed. It was a cry both of rage and pain. He rose from his throne. His belly trembled and his huge thighs quaked.
‘Who is that? Who is that who crawls upon the stone?’ His voice went winding up into the gloom towards that black moth-shape like the fearful cry of a lost child. No answer came. The watchers saw an arm move, and then a second arm, and the shape inched forward.
‘Who? Who is it?’ He sent his cry at Nick and the Woodlanders. His sagging face had a look of desperate woe, and his little dome of skull, bare as a tennis ball without its fur, bobbed in a panic.
Breeze answered, ‘It is Susan Ferris.’
‘She has the Halves?’
‘She has them, Otis Claw. Your time is done.’
‘No, no,’ he screamed. ‘I am Lord! I! Guards. Throw your spears. The one who brings her down shall share all the treasures of the land. He shall rule Wildwood in my name. Throw! Spear her!’
The guards about the Stone left their posts. They ran to the lip of the basin, set themselves, and hurled their spears up into the gloom at Susan crawling slowly across the stone. The spears fell short. The ceiling was too high. The guards ran and retrieved them, threw again. Those from the walls, those about the throne, ran to join them. In the crowd people screamed as the spears rained down. Others were throwing knives wildly at Susan. The air was thick with weapons. But Susan was well clear. Though her weight pulled her in a painful arc she kept on, one arm after the other. To Nick she seemed to slide forward like a snail.
He and Brand and Breeze had slipped back to the wall beyond the throne. The old dog tottered at them with bared teeth, then lay and panted. Farther off, the hounds bayed at Susan. Nick picked up a knife and cut Brand and Breeze free.
‘Nick, how can we help her?’
‘She’s all right. They can’t throw their spears that far.’
‘What is she going to do?’
‘Fall into the light.’
‘Ah, yes. The light will receive her. Marna said.’
Otis Claw ran wobbling down to the edge of the basin. He stood there, a great jelly-figure in black silk. ‘Hold! Hold your spears. Fetch bowmen. Quickly. Arrows will bring her down.’
Guards ran out of the hall.
‘You cannot get away, Mixie. We will pin you like a beetle.’
The crowd roared. But Susan moved forward. Her cloak flapped beneath her. Her hood had fallen back and her yellow hair streamed down.
‘She’s nearly there,’ Nick said.
Three Halfmen ran through the crowd, holding great black bows. They stood on the edge of the basin.
‘Shoot her down,’ Otis Claw cried.
The first man set his arrow on the cord. Nick darted out from behind the throne. He ran across the open space and clawed on to the man’s back. They rolled down into the basin. The arrow sped off at a tangent over the Motherstone. The second man had his arrow set. Brand seized the knife. He threw it and it lodged in the man’s thigh. He gave a scream and dropped his bow. Breeze sped towards the third man. She was too late. He had his arrow notched. He drew it back, released it, and it sped in a black flash into the gloom, into the very apex of the ceiling, where Susan lay spread-eagled on the stone.
Only Brand and Breez
e with their Woodland eyes saw what happened next. To the Halfmen, even to Nick, the arrow seemed to pierce her. But Brand and Breeze saw her release her hold an instant before the arrow struck. It pierced her cloak and lay across her throat. Claw gave a yelp of triumph. The Halfmen squealed and capered. And Susan fell.
Later she told Nick she had had no fear. It was as if a hand was waiting to catch her. She turned as she fell. Her black cloak trailed like a broken wing. She fell head first, and turned slowly over and stretched out her arms. It was as if she was reaching out to embrace someone. The great dome of light looked like a pool. She fell towards it, she came down like a stone, but to her it was like floating. She saw Nick’s face, horrified, wailing up at her, and told him later that she smiled at him.
The light received her. She came down on the curve of one side but it drew her in, and slowed and settled her, and turned her slowly, easily, on to her feet. It was like floating in honey. Warm and sweet, it lapped her round. She opened her mouth and drank it in, and held her eyes wide and let it wash them. Everything outside was golden. Even Otis Claw and the Halfmen were golden. She saw them on the basin slopes, and saw Claw on the rim, his face collapsing into rage and grief. She saw Nick only a step away, and spoke to him. Then she turned and looked at the Motherstone. It was grey, ordinary, a simple slab, but it did not disappoint her. She sensed the huge powers sleeping in it.
She took off her Halfman cloak and dropped it with its piercing arrow beside her. She stood in Woodland green, and smiled at Brand and Breeze, coming to stand with Nick. Then Otis Claw was there, in front of them.
‘Girl, Mixie,’ he cried. His voice was raging, pleading, it wobbled uncontrolled between the two. ‘Girl, do not, I order you, I Otis Claw order you. I am Darksoul, I am Paingiver. You cannot disobey me.’
She looked sadly at him. She unbuckled her belt from under her cloak and took out the Halves. She held one in each hand. Otis Claw saw them. His eyes bulged.
‘I will give you half my kingdom. You shall rule with me. You shall have riches, slaves.’
Susan shook her head.
‘Give them to me. I beg you. They are mine.
She bared her arm. She placed the good Half first, then the bad. They lay on her wrist a moment like ornaments. Then they started to glow. The good Half glowed blindingly in gold, the bad in a red that was almost black. Their radiance dulled the light of Freeman Wells’s dome and filled the Pit. And Susan seemed to shrink and she grew pale. She sank to her knees. Then the Halves faded a little, they settled into a steady light, one warm, one cold. She picked them off her wrist and rose to her feet. Again she smiled sadly at Otis Claw. She approached the Motherstone.
Claw had no cry left. He made broken mouthings. He jabbered with rage and terror. With hand and claw he attacked the dome. He raked at it, trying to come at Susan.
White light gave a single flash on the curve, printing him there, flesh and arteries, skeleton and organs. A clap like thunder sounded in the Pit. Otis Claw fell back, charred and dead. All about, Halfmen whined and shrieked. They ran about like ants in a broken nest. Nick and Brand and Breeze huddled together. They sheltered each other, and watched Susan in the light approach the Motherstone and reach out the Halves, one in each hand, and fit them in their places. A tiny thread of light ran round them in a circle, through them in an S, fusing them in the Stone and to each other. That was all. The Motherstone made no sign.
But outside, every Halfman fell on the ground. All over the Pit they groaned and thrashed. They beat their heels on the stone floor, they pounded with their fists, their faces snarled and writhed. They rolled over. Some drew themselves tightly into balls. The bowmen, the guards, the dog-handlers, the officer, all fell to the ground. The officer shrieked. He seemed in special pain. The dogs fled, howling.
‘What’s happening?’ Nick said.
Susan stepped from the light. She was pale and weary. She gave a small scared smile. ‘The good and bad are coming back in Balance.’
They huddled together, clinging with tight hands.
‘Each had the seed in him,’ Breeze said, ‘and now it grows.’
‘It takes them like an illness,’ Brand said.
‘Can we help them?’
‘No. We must let them be. It may be days before they are well. Look about. Already they are going into coma.’
‘What will they be like when they wake up?’
‘They will be in Balance. They will be what they should be. Probably more bad than good, that is the way with men. But good will have its chance. They will choose.’
‘Is it like this everywhere?’
‘Wherever there are Halfmen in the world.’
With whimpers of pain, with little murmurs that might have been of pleasure or of fright, the Halfmen were drowning into sleep. Their convulsions had left them stained with sweat and scratched by their own fingernails. Now they sank. Their whimpers died. A cold silence settled on the Pit. Even the body of Otis Claw seemed to sleep.
‘The Halves are on the Stone,’ Breeze said. ‘Who knows what will come of it? Now we must go back to our own land.’
They made their way out of the Pit, up into the City, into Manhome.
13
An Exchange of Gifts
They walked two days through Otis Claw’s ruined land, and came to Sheercliff. Breeze had recovered her food-pack from the guards. They ate dried fern roots and boiled their water from streams, and kept their pads of Shy over their faces. Everywhere they passed Halfmen and Halfwomen, children too, lying as though dead. Breeze could not say how long it would be before they woke.
Climbing the path on Sheercliff, they met men coming down – Mixed men now, whole men. Some smiled, some were hostile, others merely looked dazed. A natural colour had come back to their skins.
‘We have been slaves too long,’ one man said.
‘Otis Claw is dead,’ Brand replied, ‘the Halves are on the Stone.’
‘We must stop his filthy smoke, we must bring our land to life.’ He went on down.
Nick and Susan, Brand and Breeze, climbed out of the smoke into the sunshine. They breathed freely at last. The children threw away their Halfman cloaks. Verna and Dale and Jimmy Jaspers were waiting at the top of the path.
‘Jimmy, you got away,’ Susan cried.
‘Yup,’ Jimmy said, ‘they didn’ ’ave no leader without Cling. They started scrappin’ among themselves. So I charged ’em an’ they run away squawkin’ like chooks.’
‘What’s wrong with your arm?’
‘Cling ’ad a poison bite. It got swole up. Verna give me some medicine. I’m all right now.’
They found a stream and washed the filth of Darkland from their bodies. They scrubbed off the dye with sand. Susan and Nick put on the sneakers Verna had fetched from Deven’s Leap.
‘What will happen in Darkland?’ Susan asked.
‘The wind will drive the smoke away, the rivers and sea will dissolve it. One day the land will be green again. What men will make of it, who can say?’
They travelled through Wildwood to Shady Home. Susan rested there. She was very tired. She felt as if she were recovering from a long illness. She lay in the sun, Breeze brought her fruit and berry juice, and Jimmy Jaspers, pieces of baked trout. She grew strong again. At night the Woodlanders sat about their fires and sang new songs – about Susan and Nick and Jimmy and the placing of the Halves. Nick began to talk about making a new glider.
‘No, Nick. We’ve got to go.’
‘Back home, you mean? – I suppose you’re right.’
‘I love this world. I love O. But we can’t live here.’
Next day they started for the mineshaft. Five of them: Nick and Susan and Jimmy, with Brand and Breeze as guides. Verna wept as she said goodbye. They travelled north through Wildwood and followed the Sweet Water east towards the mountains. One day they came to a place Susan knew.
‘This is where you rescued me from Odo Cling.’
It was all familiar after that.
They went up step by step over the plateaux. They went through the gorge where Susan had tried to escape. She shivered at the memory of the Deathguard falling, and touched her birthmark. Now it was just a mark, no life in it. She was glad though that it had not faded away.
Up they went, ledge after ledge, Brand leading, Nick whistling tunes. He was happy and eager, getting ready for home. Jimmy Jaspers was quiet. And Susan grew sad. There were many things she was going to miss about O. She was even going to miss the danger.
Early one afternoon they climbed on to the tongue of rock in front of the cave. Jimmy snarled at some memory. He scratched his chest. But the cave was neither threatening nor inviting, it simply stood there, a black opening into another world – their own. They did not look at it. They sat on the sun-warmed rock and ate their last meal with Brand and Breeze.
Then Nick and Susan stood up and took off their Woodland cloaks. They stood in their T-shirts and shorts.
‘Well …’ Susan said.
‘Are you ready, Jimmy?’
‘I been thinkin’ as we come along,’ Jimmy said.
‘What Jimmy?’
‘I’m gunner stay ’ere. If they’ll ’ave me.’ He looked at Brand and Breeze. ‘I know it’s not my world.’
‘We will have you, Jimmy Jaspers.’
‘But Jimmy –’
‘I got no one back there. An’ the fact is, the cops want to talk to me. But look, girl, look.’ He swept his arm out, and they looked: the curving mountains, the blue south, Wildwood and the sea. And north: unknown lands.
‘There’s country out there, girl. Mountains, rivers. First orf, I’m gunner build that bridge I bust. Then I’m goin’ explorin’. Reckon I’ll see how big this Wildwood is. An’ I’ll go and visit them Pretty Pollies again and ’ave a look at them mountains over the plains. I might even get as far as them ’ot-lands I’ve ’eard about, where them pussycats live. An’ then when I gets too old I’ll sit down by one of these rivers an’ pan me some gold.’
‘You won’t be able to spend it, Jimmy.’
‘It’s lookin’ fer it that counts, not spendin’ it. I know that now.’
