Straightening, Spite kept her arms loose at her sides. She cocked her head, scanning the bamboo thicket surrounding her. She called in a sing-song voice: ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are …’
The amber light of dawn fought the lingering emerald glow of the Visitor, which now bruised the sky all the night and the day. Mist coiled among bamboo shafts and through the vapours low hunched shapes slunk forward. Spite turned, scanning the grove; she was surrounded.
The nearest creature reared up on its hind legs, squat and wide, yet far taller than she. It was vaguely humanoid with thick muscular limbs bristling with hair, and a wide deep chest. It stood hunched as if unable to straighten fully. Its wide blunt head, likewise thick with bristling hair, boasting thrusting tusks and black glittering eyes, resembled more that of a giant wild boar than anything human.
Spite sneered her distaste. ‘Soletaken degenerates. Gone feral, I see. What would you have of me?’
The creature waved a wide, black-taloned hand. ‘Begone.’
‘Begone? How dare you? Do you know who I am? My lineage?’
‘Aye,’ the boar-beast growled deep in its throat. ‘We know you. Thus – we wish you gone.’
‘Well … no. I will not. I seek something stolen from me. This has nothing to do with you.’
‘We do not care. We want you gone.’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
The boar-beast raised its gaze to indicate the way she had come. ‘There is a pit in the north that awaits you, Spite. Perhaps we shall shove you back in.’
Spite’s bright amber eyes hardened and her lips compressed. ‘Do not tempt my anger, you pathetic night-beasts. Slink away before I tire of you.’
The boar-beast drew itself up even taller. ‘We tire of you!’ And it leaped.
A blast of argent power met it in mid-leap. The creature spun away, crashing through the bamboo. Another beast slammed into Spite, sending her tumbling. Wide and far more burly than any human, it shambled off on all fours, its thick black hair all grey down its back.
Snarling her rage Spite climbed to her feet and wiped the mud from her face. ‘I’ll have all your heads for this!’
‘But the muck and mire is a fitting place for you, Spite,’ commented a new voice, one much more smooth and cultured. A man emerged from the mist. Lean and muscled, this one’s hair was a short tawny yellow, like a pelt, and his eyes glowed as brightly amber as Spite’s. The fangs of a hunting cat dominated his mouth.
Spite hunched, now wary. ‘You I know.’
The man inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘We have warned you, Spite. We ask that you go. Just leave and you will live.’
A scoffing laugh burst from her. ‘None of you are a threat to me.’
‘Not now, no. But who knows when – on some day or night to come – you will suddenly feel my teeth upon your neck.’ He raised a hand and snapped it shut into a fist. ‘Then, well … it will be too late and I will break your spine.’
‘Well. In that case. The prudent course for me would be … to kill you now.’ Her power flickered to life about her, licking in crimson and argent flames.
The man-leopard raised his eyes to the tops of the bamboo forest lost in the mist above her. ‘It is not I you must worry about today, Spite.’
Her mouth curled her annoyance and she turned, raising her gaze. ‘Oh, what now? Surely not your fabled bird-women.’ Seeing a hint of movement she squinted. The mist swirled, disturbed by the descent of a something massive. Darkness blossomed immediately above her; an immense yawning mouth, close to three fathoms across, set in a slim featureless albino head resembling that of a salamander.
Spite’s shoulders slumped. ‘Oh, shit.’
The titanic Worm of Autumn lunged, smashing into the muddy ground, snapping the rearing bamboo. The man-leopard leaped aside, running half on all fours. Of Spite, no sign remained. The monstrous beast writhed, flailing, its jaws working. Its length could not be guessed as its segmented mass disappeared into the murky distance.
The Worm’s thrashing reduced the grove to a wreckage of smashed and broken bamboo. It writhed and twisted, gouging great swaths of mud. Thumping blows shook the ground until it boomed and echoed. The battering raged on even as the sun broke the horizon to begin burning off the mist from the night’s rain.
An eruption of power shone blazing argent, for an instant brighter than the rising sun. A thunderclap followed, shuddering the distant standing trees. It blasted leaves from branches in all directions, sending them flying.
The Worm lay still. The gigantic body ended at a tattered stump of blackened smoking flesh. Gobbets of muscle and fat and skin littered the expanse of the flattened bamboo grove. A fresh mist rose from the steaming gore. Among the fat and segments of torn organs the size of a man, something shifted. A shape lurched erect: Spite, sheathed in mucus and pulped flesh.
She wiped the smeared gore from her. She retched and staggered upright. Her frenzied gaze raked the surroundings. ‘You see!’ she shrieked, transported in an ecstasy of rage. ‘You see! Nothing here is a match for me! I will destroy you all!’
A disembodied voice answered from the jungle depths: ‘Foolish girl … we could only lure here … the smallest of them.’
CHAPTER X
The Moon, in his first quarter, was only a fine inlay of silver against a sky of lapis lazuli, which fused into the dreamy serenity of the stream by which I gradually felt impregnated … I would have liked to have communicated with the wild nature surrounding us, to listen to her dark language and to understand her, to become like the simple people of this country. And so I lost myself in dreams that floated from one bank to the other, until a far away voice tore me from my solitude.
Matha Banness
In Jacuruku
SAENG AWOKE TO a jolt that spasmed her and sent fresh knife-edges of agony shooting through her thigh. She sat up and clutched at the leg, finding fresh clean bindings encircling it. What has happened? She remembered the crashing flight through the jungle in Hanu’s arms. The burgeoning searing pain of the stab. Then the terrible slow numbness spreading from the wound until she could no longer feel the leg. Then, horrifyingly, the other. All the while the hardest thing for her to endure had been Hanu’s helpless panic and sorrow – for they both knew what the killing numbness presaged.
She lay now in a small cave, a shrine or jungle temple. Rain pattered down in fat heavy drops beyond its stone lip. A small fire of dried moss, leaf litter and twigs smouldered, offering a dim orange glow. In the darkness next to her someone moved. ‘Hanu,’ she said, relieved.
But it was not Hanu. It was that damned captured Thaumaturg. So stunned was she that he had the time to put a hand high on her bared thigh to test the dressings. ‘Careful of them,’ he murmured.
She slapped his hand away. ‘Where is my brother?’
The young man’s thick black brows rose. ‘Your brother?’ Then he nodded to himself. ‘I see … how very interesting.’
Ignoring him, she yelled, or tried to: ‘Hanu!’ The effort brought black spots to her vision and left her dizzy.
‘I am here,’ came the answer.
‘Where are you?’ she sent in kind.
‘Guarding.’
‘What happened?’
‘The Thaumaturg saved your life.’
‘Really? In truth? Why would he do that?’
‘I believe he means to use you to control me.’
Ah. She studied the young acolyte more closely. I see. One of their officers, plainly. She pushed herself up on her elbows then slid backwards to lean against the cold stone wall. He was pale, like all of them – never working under the sun like everyone else. Unusually, his hair was long and it now hung as an unkempt mess. Facial hair dusted his lip and chin. ‘What is your rank?’ she demanded.
Again the man arched a brow. ‘Not the thanks I was expecting, but I will answer regardless. I have the black, if that is what you mean.’
So, trained to the highest level. But she k
new that beyond that threshold lay a near-infinity of subtle gradations of rank leading all the way up to the highest achievement: the ruling Inner Circle of Masters. ‘What do you want?’
Now the lips crooked in a mocking half-smile. ‘Still no thanks?’
Saeng adjusted her skirts over her legs, crossed her arms, took a deep breath and levelled her gaze. ‘My thanks.’
He tilted his head in acceptance. Leaning forward, he warmed his hands at the anaemic fire. ‘So, your brother, you say? I am very surprised. Well, in any case, by now you no doubt understand that he has developed … how shall I put it? Flaws … problems that must be treated.’ He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. ‘So will you not help me by returning him to Anditi Pura so that he may be healed?’
‘Healed?’ she sent to Hanu.
‘They will no doubt try to erase my mind,’ he answered, radiating amusement at this idea of ‘healing’.
She felt her mouth draw down in a hard scowl. ‘Never mind Hanu. You have far larger problems.’
‘Oh?’
‘Your masters are intent upon bringing the Visitor down upon us. The firestorm will annihilate everyone alive in these lands. Including you.’
The officer threw himself from the fire to lean back against the chamber’s stone wall. She noted how mould and lichen mottled the wall in black, green and white. ‘That again,’ he snorted, derisive. ‘How came you to this insanity? Is this what has driven you here into Himatan? Are you—’ He stopped himself, and she could read him forcing himself to relax. ‘What is your name, anyway, girl?’
‘Girl? I’m no younger than you, I should think. What of you? What is your name?’
He eyed her, his gaze superior, and then she saw him remember that he wanted her cooperation. The natural arrogance of his class was quickly tucked away and a carefully constructed expression of neutrality replaced it. ‘Pon-lor,’ he allowed.
‘Saeng.’
He eased himself into a more comfortable position – though she understood that this was all show as the Thaumaturgs scorned all allowances for the flesh. ‘Well … Saeng. It would appear that we are in disagreement regarding this impending catastrophe. Perhaps after it fails to materialize we could return to Anditi Pura?’
‘Perhaps I could have Han—my brother throttle you in your sleep?’ she suggested with a smile.
He smiled back just as winningly. ‘I believe I could severely wound Hanu, if not kill him, before he succeeded.’
He probably could, at that, she had to admit. Damn him. And I did mention Hanu’s name. Still, he seems to have no hold over him. He can tag along then. So long as he keeps that superior smirk off his face.
A new figure came scuttling in from the rain and Saeng jerked upright – a damned bandit!
The Thaumaturg actually rested a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately struck aside. ‘It is all right,’ he said, lowering his arm. ‘He’s with me.’
The sopping wet lad made a show of avoiding Saeng to bend close to Pon-lor’s ear and murmur something. He then hurried off, but not before shooting Saeng a look of sullen resentment and fear.
‘What’s his story?’ she asked.
‘He works for me now.’
To Saeng’s surprise she couldn’t detect a single hint of self-satisfaction in that pronouncement. ‘Well, tell him to keep his distance.’
He laughed then, but not mockingly. Through the wind-brushed canopy high above silver moonlight flickered upon them and it struck her that not only was the man a member of her nation’s ruling aristocracy – he was an unfairly handsome bastard too. ‘Pray tell what is so amusing?’ she enquired, overly sweetly.
The Thaumaturg gestured to the cave mouth. ‘Keeping his distance is not his problem, Saeng. It was all I could do to convince him to have anything to do with you. The lad’s terrified of you. He’s convinced you’re a servant of Ardata. He believes you bewitched the yakshaka. That you even summoned the locals that attacked us.’
‘Well,’ she enquired, ‘how do you know I didn’t?’
He merely smiled indulgently, as if to say: come now child, we both know how.
The conceit that he could somehow see through her troubled her more than she thought it would. She was suddenly conscious of her dirty torn skirts and shirt, the awful state of her hair. It occurred to her that she must certainly look the part of a witch. ‘No? What am I then?’ she asked, smoothing her skirts further then hugging herself, feeling very cold in the dampness of the cave.
He studied her in the darkness across the sputtering fire. ‘You are a village girl who has come into power but has no idea what to do with it. You are scared and lost and terrified of what you possess.’ He cocked his head as if struck by a new thought. ‘Come to Anditi Pura with me. We could train you. Teach you how to harness that power.’
She snorted a laugh and shivered. ‘I have had more teachers than you could imagine. Most older than your vaunted Thaumaturg Academy. Have you not considered that perhaps that is why power terrifies me?’ She adjusted her seating on the litter on the floor of the cave, peered out into the dark where Hanu’s broad armoured back was just visible in the shifting glow of the Visitor. ‘In any case, I know what to do. I must find the Great Temple – the old temple to Light.’
The Thaumaturg was quiet for a time. She glanced over to see him eyeing the fire, his mouth gently pursed. ‘And should you find this temple,’ he murmured, ‘and find there is no impending calamity … what then? What will you do? Where would you go?’
Saeng felt her eyes drooping. Gods of the Abyss, she was tired. Her leg ached abominably, her back was stiff, her buttocks numb. ‘I do not know. Hanu cannot have a life here – hunted by you and Ardata’s creatures as well. Perhaps we will leave this cursed land. Sail away. I have heard many stories of all the continents across the seas. Of beautiful fields of ice. Rich empires. Huge cities.’
‘You are cold,’ the Thaumaturg said. ‘May I strengthen the fire?’
‘Go ahead.’
The man did something, she wasn’t sure what, and the fire brightened, leaping to life. A wave of warmth enveloped her. Yet sleep would not come – not immediately – not with an enemy across from her. Through slit eyes she watched him in the flickering glow. He was staring out of the cave mouth, looking very thoughtful, showing no sign of exhaustion. She knew these Thaumaturgs could go for days without sleep and she knew that he intended to keep watch through the night.
As her eyes blinked heavier and heavier the thought came to her – just like Hanu.
In the morning the bandit lad, Thet-mun, produced root bulbs he’d collected from various plants in the jungle. He showed them how to prepare them and cook them over the fire on sticks. The entire time not once did he directly look at or address Saeng. Though, furtively, he did make warding gestures her way against hexing and evil. Pon-lor spoke for her, asking what the plants looked like, whether the time of year mattered, and such questions. It seemed the lad had learned all this esoteric natural history from his aunt.
Pon-lor then explained that Saeng was looking for a great temple, a major structure of some sort, and asked whether Thet-mun had heard of any such thing. He hadn’t. But he did admit that his aunt had told him stories of such things here in the forest of Himatan. He said he’d climb a tree and have a look around. Which he promptly ran off to do – perhaps merely to get away from Saeng.
As she sat there nibbling the hot bulb on its stick, it occurred to Saeng that they all owed this lad’s aunt a great deal.
After she finished eating, Saeng limped a short distance off to relieve herself. She found fresh rainwater trapped in broad leaves and tipped it into her mouth. She even wet a corner of her skirt to clean her face as best she could. When she returned Thet-mun was back. Spotting her, he quickly turned away, slouching, and hurried off. Pon-lor came to her.
‘The lad says he saw no tall hillock or structure standing above the canopy in any direction.’ He offered a small apologetic rise of his shoulders. ‘I’m s
orry. But there’s nothing here.’
‘Well. We’ll just keep going then.’
His brows crimped in frustration. ‘Saeng …’ he began, but she brushed past him, gingerly, holding her leg. She motioned to Hanu.
‘We do not need him,’ she sent to Hanu.
‘We could use the lad.’
Saeng paused. ‘True. But we’ll just have to go without.’
‘Saeng,’ the Thaumaturg repeated, a note of warning in his voice.
She turned, crossed her arms. ‘Yes?’
‘I cannot let you wander further into the jungle. We must return.’ He took a deep breath, as though saddened. ‘I’m sorry.’
She looked to Hanu. ‘We’ve been through all this already …’
‘I thought you would listen to reason.’
‘Reason?’ she snorted. ‘Your thinking is reason? Then pray tell, what is mine? Blind wilful childishness?’
He gave her that indulgent look again – the one that seemed to say: oh, come now.
She waved him away, dismissing him to the jungle and his own fate. ‘We’re going, Hanu.’
‘Hanu …’ the young master called, low but firmly. Saeng glanced back, for some reason alarmed. What was this? Some sort of new trick? The Thaumaturg continued in slow and clear command: ‘Yeosh than’al. Azgreth sethul.’
Her gaze snapped to her brother. He had stilled, seeming immobile. ‘Hanu!’ she sent, pleading. He did not respond. Then he moved in slow heavy steps towards Pon-lor. ‘Hanu!’ she fairly wailed.
The damned Thaumaturg awaited him, arms crossed, nodding his satisfaction.
Saeng’s power erupted about her, sending the litter of the jungle floor flying in a rising gyre.
‘Hold!’ Pon-lor yelled, raising an arm. ‘I control your brother now. Shall I command him to kill himself?’
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