Solandar is more talkative than the other members of the squad, and more than once, Dey has reprimanded him with an open-handed blow to the back of the head. Compared to the others, he seems almost human. Almost, but not quite.
Smyth and Dawkin always ride point. They are younger than the others, and fanatical. They do things totally by the book. It is Smyth’s first tour of duty and Dawkin’s second, and they whisper to each other at night, comparing notes, eager to avoid mistakes that will stain their records and deny them a future promotion.
The other three have been harder to crack. Old hands, they ride for hours without a word passing between them, their eyes scanning the surroundings for threats, their backs straight and balanced in the saddle.
Dey makes no pretence at hiding his distain for his prisoners. He is as fanatical as Smyth and Dawkin, but his years of experience and his addiction to cruelty make him a far more dangerous adversary.
Mykal slides down into a sitting position with his back against the bars and closes his eyes. He is thinking of Leana. Did she make it, or is she lying lifeless somewhere in the rubble of the old city? He drives the thought away and concentrates on the situation at hand.
– Anything? Jordan has crawled out to join him.
– What? Oh. No. Nothing new. Damned heat’s made everyone comatose. Except Dey, of course. Bastard’s enjoying every minute of it. If I ever—
The thought runs out. No point wasting energy maintaining the rage. Watch for the opportunity and be ready. For the moment, it is all they can do. His eyes slide shut and he realises that he doesn’t have the energy or the desire to open them.
An hour, a moment, later, he is awake.
From high above, hidden in the branches of a roadside eucalypt, a single pair of eyes watches the caravan as it passes. If any of the riders had looked up, straining against the glare of sunlight, past the camouflage of sticks and leaves, they may have made out the tiny human form, wedged into the fork between two giant branches. They may have caught the dull glint of sunlight on a metal blade. They may have seen the slightest movement of a tongue, moistening dry lips, nervously.
They may have – but they didn’t.
JORDAN’S STORY
– Who are you?
The question appeared inside my head and I opened my eyes.
Mykal, too, was looking puzzled, but Eliita had not stirred from her pain-plagued sleep.
I looked around, trying to locate the source of the question.
– Up here. In the tree.
Finally, I saw a boy – up high in the branches, looking down. He appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve.
– Don’t move, Mykal sent the thought urgently. If they catch you—
– What? They might hurt me? The boy’s mind-tone was somewhere between cheeky and superior. Why d’you think I’m up in the damned tree, shit-for-brains? For the view? You’re the ones in the cage!
I stood up and focused my attention on the Guards, ready to distract them, while Mykal held the boy’s gaze.
– Who are you?
– I asked first.
I could feel myself smiling. The boy had spunk. It radiated through every thought.
– Mykal. And this is Jordan. And Eliita.
– Not from around here, are they? The boy’s tone was almost condescending.
– Well, no, they’re not. How did you—
– Read them? I can read anyone. Even him.
At first, I thought the boy was referring to me, but then I realised it was the dark horseman, riding upright in his saddle, a few metres ahead of the cage. Mykal must have realised at the same moment. He looked at Lessandro Dey. I was already watching him.
– A Guard? You can read a Guard’s thoughts? What about—
– The necklace? That’s easy. It’s pretty, but it’s not much more than a primitive Shield. You just have to project past the interference.
– Easy? Now, Mykal bit – which was the kid’s intention, of course. In a thousand years no ’Koi has ever been able to—
– Yeah? Well, this ’Koi can. Which is why I’m in this tree, and you’re in a cage. You can’t Shield me, either. Go on, try. Think of something, but Shield it. Anything.
– Okay, I said. I’ll play. But first I want to know your name. You know ours. It’s only fair. We told you ours.
– D’you think I couldn’t have found them out for myself? It’s Armin. Armin Gianni. But my friends call me Min.
– Okay. Min. I was—
– We’re not friends yet, Jord.
I had to smile. He was trying so hard to be tough, but there was virtually no Shield around his emotions. It was like he could mask his conscious thoughts, but he just emanated everything that he felt. And what he was feeling was a need to connect.
By now, we were leaving the tree behind and I was thinking we would soon be out of Sensing distance.
– Don’t worry. It’ll be the best part of an hour before you’re out of range.
– An hour? I said.
– It’s a talent. What can I say? Now Shield something.
I wasn’t sure myself what thought I’d choose. I decided to let it be random. But I was concentrating as hard as I could on the Shield.
Less than a second of mind-silence, then –
– Erin’s a nice name. She’s pretty, too – if you like older women. What’s it like, dating the boss? He was laughing at me and I had to smile. I’d let my mind wander and Erin had wandered in. Naturally. And he’d looked through the Shield as if it wasn’t there. Back home, I’d heard of savants who possessed such Gifts, but I’d never actually met one. Until now.
Mykal had clearly been thinking, while we were talking.
– Armin, he began. We really need your help. You can’t do anything about freeing us, of course, but you could get word to our friends, and maybe they could—
– Get captured, too. Good plan, Myk.
– I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘maybe they could rescue us’.
He returned sarcasm for sarcasm. Armin’s attitude was making him defensive.
– Like I said, great plan. Do you really think they’re not expecting some kind of heroic stupidity like that? You don’t get it, do you?
– Get what? I was becoming impatient, and I let a small part of it leak into my projection.
– You’re bait. There’s only one road north and they have Guard patrols lying hidden all along the route. They know your friends will figure out where you’re being taken and there’s only one road north, so – think about it. Why d’you think you’re travelling so slowly? Normally, they can’t wait to get a fresh Esper back to the Citadel. You must be pretty special.
– How old are you? It was an involuntary question. He was out of sight now, but I couldn’t help feeling that the face I’d seen in the tree was far younger than the voice I could Sense inside my head.
– Twelve. The reply was tinged with pride, as if he knew what I was thinking – which, of course he did.
– And how long have you been alone?
– Since I was eight.
– Eight?
– And a half. We were running from the Guard and my mother stepped in a hole. I think her leg snapped. The pain was – Anyway, she told me to hide in a hollow tree and five minutes later, she was, well, let’s just say I’ve been hiding ever since.
– Four years. On your own?
– Not exactly on my own. I do have friends. They’ll hide me when the Guard are doing a blitz – like when you lot arrived and they mobilised every unit within two weeks’ ride – but mostly, I prefer to keep to myself. It’s safer.
You lot . . .
I kept feeling surprised that he could See right through a Shield. Old habits die hard, I guess.
– Of course I know who you are, Other-Worlder. You
don’t think you can hide that kind of information, do you? I can tell you stuff about yourself that even you don’t remember.
– So, I was anxious to get the conversation back on track. Could you go back and warn them? I mean for someone who’s remained free for four years, someone with your particular talents, well, you shouldn’t have too much trouble avoiding the traps.
I was thinking of Erin. I knew she wouldn’t sit there and do nothing, and I was pretty sure Bran wouldn’t either. They wouldn’t just walk into a trap, but the Guard had centuries of practice at using the necklace to advantage. And if Erin was pushing them to catch up with us, they might just get careless.
Part of me felt guilty asking him, but something told me this wasn’t any ordinary twelve-year-old.
– No, I’m not, said the voice in my head. And believe me, you’re not smart enough to make me do anything I don’t want to do. Anything you want me to tell her? And then he was gone, slipping out of our heads as quickly as he had entered.
I turned around and Eliita was awake. She had a strange expression on her face, somewhere between confusion and relief.
– I had the strangest dream, she said. There was a voice inside my head, telling me to ignore the pain. That it wasn’t real. And showing me how to travel down the nerves and block it out. And I could feel it there, beating and throbbing, but he just reached out his mind, and the pain began to fade, like a dream.
– You said ‘he’. I was thinking out loud. A realisation was growing like a weight in my stomach. Did you recognise him?
Eliita shook her head.
– Min. I think his name was Min.
– Armin, I said. All the time he’d been talking with us, he’d been . . . And how does it feel now? The leg, I mean.
– Much better. It’s like I can – hold back the pain. At least enough to bear it.
I looked back along the track. The tree and all its neighbours had slipped away behind us, beyond the crest of a hill, but I had the feeling we were still within Sensing range.
– Thank you, Min. I sent the thought without knowing if he could receive it or not.
– Does this mean we’re friends? he said. And through the veil of irony I could almost feel him smiling.
32
Quest
The Forest of D’nong
Northern Reaches
Bourne Region
January 11, 3384ad
SHARONNE
The moon is full, but hidden most of the time behind thick banks of cloud. Not the worst possible conditions for travelling – if you wish to remain unseen.
They are skirting the edge of the Wood, following the line of the road north, but staying within the cover of the high grass and brush that fringe the edge of the forest proper. The ground is uneven and they pick their way carefully, except when the moon emerges to light their path.
They have brought with them some of the glo-lamps that they commandeered from the Fortress basement, but they are of limited use, as they must keep them shielded when there is any chance of their being glimpsed by the Watchers in their towers.
The Watchers, who scan the roads for movement, even at night.
She walks with Erin and Reggie. Bran, Leana and Alek have taken point, scouting the bush maybe 30 metres ahead. It was difficult to talk Bran into letting her come, and in the end she resorted to the de Vries hauteur, which she rarely did with him, to make her point. ‘I’m Family, Bran. Even if I have run away. At the Citadel, they will have to show me deference. It’s the unwritten law. If we fail to intercept them on the road, if we can think of no other way in, “Family” is a card only I can play. You might need me.’
Finally, Bran had smiled.
So, here she is, Sharonne Antonia Honore de Vries, only daughter of the Family de Vries; born to privilege and noblesse, sneaking through the darkness like a thief, expecting at any moment to turn her ankle in a rabbit-hole. Breathing in the freedom and the fear in equal parts.
‘It was quite a performance, my Lady.’ Erin smiles mischievously.
They have been discussing the disagreement and Sharonne is still bristling a little, even now. ‘I know I shouldn’t have used the Look, Erin,’ she admits, somewhat reluctantly, ‘but he infuriates me sometimes. He regards me as some kind of hothouse flower. Just because I did not spend my childhood running around barefoot in the Wood and stealing corn from my father’s fields, he thinks that he must protect me from everything.’
‘He cares,’ Erin says, watching Bran’s back as he crouches behind a bush staring up at the watchtower. It stands, like the head of some giant insect, motionless, waiting for a movement to trigger its hunting reflex. Reggie has moved up to join the others. ‘It isn’t such a bad thing, you know. Jordan was the same – right from when we were little kids. He only eased off a bit when they made me mission commander over him. It’s pretty untenable to be telling your boss to stay home and tend the fire.’
Alek and Reggie have a short conference, then disappear into the forest for a few minutes, returning to beckon them forward. Moments later, they are following a winding track between the huge trunks, out of sight of the sentries in the tower.
Inside the forest, among the huge towering trunks, they can unshield the glo-lamps. Still, the track, with all its twists and turns and backtracks, is invisible to her. By herself, she would be lost among the ancient trees within moments of entering the forest.
And that is, of course, the whole point. In all directions, the foliage is thick – impenetrable, even. Though she knows that they are following signs, she is blind to them and trails with Erin a few paces behind the others, trying to work out what it is that provides them with the knowledge to move left or right in the trackless green.
Then they are beyond the tower and the invisible track leads them back to the roadside brush. Erin consults her chrono, shielding the glow from its face with her hand, then speaks aloud for Sharonne’s benefit. ‘Three hours to dawn. We’ll need to pick up the pace for a couple of hours, then we’ll have to find a place to hole up. The less attention we draw, the better.’
It is good thinking. They have already moved beyond familiar surroundings and a group of young strangers travelling without official purpose is sure to raise eyebrows – and difficult questions.
Ahead is a small creek, which the recent rains have swollen to a swift-flowing stream. Bran and Alek move off in opposite directions, looking for somewhere to cross safely, and the girls sit down, grateful for the breather.
Leana sits alone on the bank, staring down at the ghost-moon, curtained by clouds and shimmering on the running water. She is silent, deliberately breaking a twig into short lengths and tossing the pieces, one by one, into the flow. She has spoken little since she was brought back to the Village and the others are giving her the space she needs.
Erin and Reggie both lie on the grass, eyes closed, breathing gently in the cool air. And it strikes her. They are of similar age. They even look alike – as if they could be cousins. And yet their lives to this point could not have been more different.
One has grown up in the green of the forest, surrounded by the community of the Village. The other was born on a desert planet impossibly far away, among landscapes and creatures too alien to even imagine.
Yet, here they are, travelling together, risking their lives on a common quest.
They are like characters from one of the ancient fantasies in the Fortress library – the ones that Adam loved so much and from which he would read her his favourite passages.
A band of – What would the books call them? Heroes?
A little romantic, but there is definitely courage there and camaraderie.
A band of heroes.
All different, yet united. Each with strengths, each with challenges, but all the stronger for their common humanity.
They stand together now, bound by fate, to
face an ancient evil: a foe who must be overcome, an adversary who, if they falter, will crush them without mercy or regret. The only things missing are mystical creatures and magical rings.
She looks down at the ring on her hand. Her mother’s ring; the only one of all the precious de Vries treasures that she chose to bring with her from a life that already seems so far away.
The ring is a talisman, and a memory. A link to a time of innocence.
She recalls the hand that wore it for all those years. The hand that used to run its fingers through her hair when she cried; that always felt so soft and looked so white. A hand as pale and helpless as the empty life it had lived, within the walls of that opulent prison.
On cue, the moon slides out from behind its veil of cloud and a beam of pale light struggles through the thick canopy of leaves.
In the distance, a bird calls. A plaintive, lonely sound.
Her heart is beating in her ears and she feels alive, in a way she never felt in all that privileged time.
Lying back, closing her eyes and letting the peace of the forest settle into her bones, part of her knows that it might be the last moment of peace that they will experience – for a very long time.
Below the bank, the water flows gently and inexorably towards the distant sea, like the moments of her life, gathering pace, as the events conspire to wash it forward – down a channel which was formed by other rains and other flows, long, long before she was born.
ARMIN
He can sense the horses first.
To hide them from their approaching quarry, they have been tethered a little way along the track, in the direction he has come from. Animal minds carry further than humans – their primitive tones, powered by pure emotion are stronger than the more subtle emanations from a thinking mind. But they act as a warning. No smoke without fire and no horses without riders.
It is a mantra that has saved him from capture more than once.
Then the mind-tones of the Guard begin to filter through, muffled by the interference from the band, but distinctive still. He focuses, narrowing his perceptions to a needle-sharpness, and the interference disperses. He is inside.
Dreams of the Chosen Page 20
