“What lies beyond Yerth?” Copin asks.
“You don’t know?” Iva lets out an unamused laugh. “The mountains. Cave dwellers. Little more. Strange that Kands would travel so far to hide weapons.”
“We didn’t. Someone else did. We’re just here to take them back.”
“Very well. I see you when you come back through Yerth. Now, we return to claim the spoils of today’s fighting.”
“Are there more people out here?” Copin asks.
“There are screamers everywhere,” Iva says. “They paint their faces white and hunt in packs. Was just one pack we faced today. If they don’t see or hear you, they probably will not look for you. It is not normal to find people on water. You can avoid them.”
“Thank you for your help,” Marquos mutters, and the bandit gives him an efficient nod. Iva ducks out of the cabin, climbing the stairs, then pauses, thinking of something else and ducking back in. He says “This river is wild. Men do not use it. They don’t suspect you of travelling on it, if you don’t let them see you, but you have other dangers. If you don’t know, you will be safer using more light and risking bandits than avoiding bandits and risking the river.”
Copin and Marquos thank him again, and he disappears into the dark. The pair stand in silence and share a look of exhaustion. Copin turns away and ignites one of the hobs, commenting “A quick drink before we retire.”
“I’m going to collapse,” Marquos shakes his head, edging towards his room.
“As you like. I’ll stay up for now. You did well today, Marquos.”
Marquos pauses, forcing a weak smile. He answers “So did you. You know…if you were not here, I would have died coming up here. Right now, I would be dead. All of this…your war, the Border Guard, the violence…without it, I would be dead right now.”
“Could be. Could be that’s why you came?”
Marquos groans loudly, covering his face with a hand. He shakes his head and asks “Are we safe here?”
“I doubt it, but we must rest. Hart should still be keeping watch over us.”
“How do you know those bandits won’t come back for us whilst we sleep? Or that they will meet us here when we return? If we return?”
“How do you live with so much thought going on in your head?” Copin retorts. “Get some rest.”
Marquos does not move, though, saying “You must have some plan.”
“It’s simple,” Copin says, “They have to return to the other bandits, they do not have time to bother with us. We have given them their weapons, so what else do they need? This boat is no use to them, and we are but two men. They killed dozens earlier today, a much more fitting hunt.”
Marquos thinks for a moment. He realises that Copin is no longer talking about the bandits’ material gains, that they were better armed than the bandits they left behind, and that there is only one grim reason they might be interested in returning to the scene of battle. After all, there is no food out here. The pilot does not want to think about it, choosing instead to slip into his bedroom and try to sleep.
13
Against his expectations, Marquos rests well after the intense day, and feels refreshed when Copin enters the room to wake him, a lantern swinging from the Kand’s hand. The new day is no lighter than the past night, and Marquos heeds Iva’s advice to light the boat well, revealing a grassy bank to one side of them and open flowing water to the other. Beyond the glow of their lanterns, all is black, and the Hypnagogia seems adrift in its own dark space. When Marquos jumps from the boat to untie the moorings, the grass crunches underfoot, caked with ice. Climbing back on, he sees icy patches dried across the surface of the boat. His breath forms chilling clouds ahead of him. Rubbing his hands together and looking out to the dark, the only solace he can take is that there doesn’t appear to be any fog.
They stoke the engine and move with a quiet rumble, slowly rising up the river against the pushing water. The gushing of the water casts some masking sound for the engine to operate at a reasonable capacity, leaving Marquos free to concentrate on any obstacles ahead. Copin makes sure that the pilot is okay, checking him for wounds from the previous day, but is otherwise quiet for much of the morning, huddling up to keep himself warm and alert to the texture of the river ahead. It does not take long for the grassy bank to turn to solid rock, flanking them with jagged, foreboding walls.
Hart returns to the boat after a few hours of travel, when the sunlight has just started to emerge. She hops over the rocks high above the boat, calling out that she is about to board, then runs up ahead, clambers down to a lower level and springs onto the deck as it slides past. She is shaking from the cold, and Copin immediately hugs and rubs her for warmth. She accepts it for a few minutes, before saying in a quivering voice, “I’ll rest and warm myself below, if you can keep watch.”
They do not argue, and Hart disappears into the cabin for a few hours. Copin goes down to check on her only once and returns to inform Marquos that she is fine.
The light of day reveals little more than the lanterns, with the rocks on the river bank raised to vision-obscuring heights. It does reveal the extent of the river, however, a good hundred feet wide flowing in the opposite direction to their travel. The rocks on the opposite bank are no shallower, confining their world to this cold tract of water. When Hart returns, after only a few hour’s rest, she comments simply “Deadland is right, isn’t it?”
The Kand looks in perfect health after her limited rest, colour returned to her skin and eyes brightly alert. She brings hot food up to the deck, this time for everyone, and settles down to help watch the water. She comments that she was impressed Marquos was able to guide the boat through the darkness and explains that she had trouble keeping up. She does not mention the fight with the white-faced bandits, or where she was when it unfolded, and they do not ask. Marquos finds himself thinking that if he were in her position, watching the savages attack, he would probably not join in the fight either. Eventually, Copin peels away from them to return to the cabin, complaining that he hates to miss the light of day, but the dark of night is when he will need to be most awake. They let him go. For a lengthy period after his departure, the pair on deck do not speak.
The wind starts to howl as the river rises up a mountainous stretch. It whisks between the rocks and throws water splashing into the banks. Marquos and Hart have to squeeze their clothes tightly around themselves as the cold bites at their skin, water spraying steadily over them. The light has already started to fade, whilst the height of the rocks at the banks is declining. The boat heaves from one side to another, the water swaying more dangerously as the river narrows, and the pair struggle to stay upright as Marquos steers them on.
“You see that?” Hart shouts over the sound of the river, pointing a finger to the sky. Marquos follows her gesture, but can see nothing but cloud. “We’re near the top! The clouds are thinning.”
“How can you tell?” Marquos shouts back, “What does it mean?”
“You can see that they’re thinner!” Hart responds loudly. “It means the clouds can’t rise this high, it’s too cold, and if the clouds aren’t rising then it means there’s no source of water up here!”
Marquos stares at her dumbly for a moment, unsure what she is talking about. He looks up at the clouds himself and cannot see the difference. The blanket of grey still hangs there. He accepts her points and keeps drumming the boat on.
“Over there, look!” Hart pulls herself onto the roof. She looks to the left of the river, a hand over her eyes to see better. She shouts “We’re almost there!”
Marquos follows her gaze but sees nothing but rock walls. He notes, though, that the rocks are in decline up ahead. As the river starts to calm, he increases their speed and cranes his neck to see beyond the banks. It happens with a majestic simple movement, that they slip by one of the large rocks and there is suddenly a wide space beyond it, looking out at the mountains. The cloud is thinner, Marquos can see it now because the horizon appears tha
t much clearer. Beyond their river, the rocks undulate up and down, with such variety of height and shape that the landscape is difficult to take in as a whole. It looks unreal, so many towering peaks and dipping valleys, and the pilot’s jaw drops open in wonder. The river has taken them unnaturally high up, higher than dozens of smaller mountaintops that he can see below, but there are still dozens more that stretch far beyond their altitude, up into the clouds. As the river levels, Marquos turns to the bow and sees that for the first time all day the horizon is also clear ahead of them, beyond a few hundred feet, to show more mountainous surroundings.
“Up ahead,” Hart calls out, scrambling across the roof of the boat, “The water’s calmer, we can stop.”
Marquos does not answer, merely looks ahead and follows her direction to take them between some rocks. Hart jumps off and helps Marquos moor the boat to some craggy outcrops, and the pilot follows her to shore. Spinning on the rocks with amazement at the view, he laughs with delight, hysterical at the beauty of what he sees. Hart, however, is jumping from rock to rock, scanning more analytically.
“We’ve gone too far,” she says, making the pilot frown. She returns to him shaking her head, “We’re too far up the river. The light won’t last long enough for us to get down there and return today.”
“Then we can continue,” Marquos replies without really listening, wearing a dumb smile on his face. “Head towards another peak and try to climb out of the clouds. See where this river takes us.”
“It’ll take you to a bunch more rocks,” Hart glares at him. “And you won’t survive another peak. It’s too cold out here already.”
“It’d be worth it,” Marquos says, not noticing how much he is shivering, the wind buffeting his clothes. The Kand gives him an uncertain stare, returns to the boat and climbs into the cabin. Marquos drops himself down and sits on a rock, staring to the landscape beyond. There is no lava, no exploding mountains or light from the fires, but the scale of the scenery is magnificent enough. He draws his knees up to his chin and rests his head on them, content. Some minutes pass before Hart comes back, and he does not respond as she crouches to look into his face. He simply keeps staring out at the view, enthralled by its variety.
“You have to get inside, it’s freezing out here,” Hart tells him, but he does not listen. She takes his chin in a hand and forces his head around to hers, looking into his eyes. She orders him, “Inside, now.”
14
The Kands have a fire stoked in the Hypnagogia’s stove. The trio huddle around it, wrapped in all the clothing and blankets that the boat holds. With the declining daylight, a vicious storm has picked up outside. The wind rocks the boat from side to side and the rain hammers on the roof and walls with a terrific racket. None of them voice their fears that the boat might not be strong enough to withstand this weather, though they all know it is possible. Marquos thinks of Lian, and his horror at the rain, and knows that this is the sort of storm that warrants that fear. Into the night, the boat grows colder, and they have to keep shovelling fuel into the fire, shuffling closer and closer to it. Copin jokes about how cosy the situation is, but the others do not respond.
The storm dies as quickly as it came, its thundering roar suddenly subsiding, the boat steadying. They all look up to the ceiling, as though they can see through to the sky, listening for the rain. The howl of the wind is gone, and all that remains is the running of the river, a gentle rumble compared to what went before. Marquos mumbles that he wishes to look outside, and the Kands are too settled to stop him. He hugs a couple of blankets around him and edges onto the deck. As soon as he opens the cabin door he realises that it is not pitch black above. His mouth drops open and he utters “By Kail.”
The Kands shift in their seat to look over at him, intrigued. Marquos walks up the steps, forgetting himself and dropping the blankets, marvelling at what he sees.
The river glistens. The rocks and boat are framed in simple, grey-shade silhouettes. The vast expanse of the sky above is alive with the brilliant light of the stars. Marquos gawks up in wonder. A view too immeasurable for his eyes to take in, the stars fill the night sky with infinite numbers. Their depth is unimaginable. The pilot cannot move in awe.
“You could’ve shut the fucking door!” Copin yells out, thumping through the boat to seal the cabin, but as he reaches the base of the steps he sees Marquos is still stood at the top and says, “I thought you were checking the boat?”
The Kand climbs out after the pilot and sees what has caused the hesitation. He, too, is locked into staring at the stars, gasping “That’s amazing.” He pauses, then shouts down to Hart to join them. She does so reluctantly, dragging the discarded blankets with her, and soon finds herself as transfixed as them.
The three weary travellers stare out into the stars all aware that they are looking to a distance further than they have ever seen before, further than they are ever likely to see again. The possibilities of an entire cosmos are stretched out before them, and as the wind returns and their skin pricks with burning cold, none dares look away and miss a moment of this sight. Hart shuffles on the spot, mumbling “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Copin spots it first, frowning and looking sideways, and mutters “Best to go back in now.”
Marquos does not look away from the stars, though, and cannot see what is approaching. Hart follows Copin’s gaze. Without another word, she slips back into the cabin, staring up at the sky until she is out of view. Copin puts an arm around Marquos’ shoulders and says “Come on.”
The pilot shakes him off and keeps staring, his eyes racing from side to side. He catches sight of what Copin has seen and whimpers, “No. Not yet.”
The cloud returns in ominous shapes without texture; dark patches that slip in front of the stars as though erasing large chunks of the sky. They float in with huge swathes, suddenly sweeping over the mountains, and entire clusters of stars appear to simply disappear. The wind increases, and as it rushes through the rocks it emits a sinister howl, a screeching personification of the horror Marquos feels quelling in his heart.
“No!” he screams out, and his voice is carried across the mountains, bouncing back off the rocks. The clouds increase in numbers, sweeping in from all directions, and the stars are blotted out. The pilot screams again, and Copin quickly takes both his shoulders in his hands and says “It’s over, Marq, come on!”
“It can’t be!” Marquos squints at the last patch of stars in the sky, catching one last glimpse of light before the clouds swallow it up. The world is suddenly dark again, and no matter how wide he opens his eyes the pilot cannot see. Copin drags him back to the stairs, but Marquos breaks free from him, yelling out in anger “It’ll clear up again, we just have to wait!”
“It’s over!” Copin shouts back, following him onto the deck. The Kand pulls him back and Marquos shoves him away. The pilot stands steadfast, looking up at the darkness. Copin growls at him, “We’re going inside, both of us, right now.”
“It can’t be finished. The clouds are still moving, they’ll move away again.”
Copin does not listen, surging forwards and catching the pilot around the waist. Marquos struggles and flaps his arms out feebly, unable to see what is happening. The pair roll to the floor and Copin shoves Marquos firmly towards the cabin, where the lantern’s light gives a small trickle of visibility. The Kand slams Marquos over the stairs, and the pair tumble down them together. Hart jumps to her feet as Marquos rolls to a halt beside her, and she grabs him by both arms as he tries to flail back at Copin. Copin lumbers back into the cabin door, slamming it shut and leaning against it. He shakes his head as the pilot struggles in Hart’s grip. She holds Marquos still in a vice of a grip, until his energy is spent and he finally gives up. The pilot slumps, slipping down to the floor, and both Kands stare at him as he shakily snivels.
“You’re fucking freezing,” Hart crouches over him, scooping a blanket around his shoulders and rubbing his arms with hers. Copin crawls over to
join them, forcing his face into Marquos’ vision, and sternly says “We need you, Marquos. Don’t let the lunatic in you take control.”
Marquos stares back at him, shaking as much from emotion as cold. He shivers, uttering, “Just a little longer. I just want to see it a little longer.”
Copin takes his face in both hands and firmly tells him, “It was long enough.”
The trio settle huddling for warmth in front of the fire without words. It seems too soon after such a sight for any of them to make light of it with talk. Eventually, however, the grandeur of the experience moves Marquos to muttering, as though the words will not stay hidden in his head.
“We spend…all our days, looking into fog, barely able to see beyond our own faces, and there it was, everything before us. If I could only have captured that view…how can I ever explain what it feels like? Who will ever understand, without seeing it for themselves, that something so great exists?”
“People understand,” Copin murmurs back. “Everyone remembers seeing the stars at some point.”
“If we continue up the mountain,” Marquos goes on, “We could climb above the clouds completely. It wouldn’t be too much further.”
“This river won’t go that far,” Hart replies. “We’re lucky it climbed as high as it did. We can’t walk it, we wouldn’t last half a day in that cold. Control yourself, Marquos, each time you step out there you risk dying.”
“Would it take half a day?” the pilot asks.
“To get above the clouds?” Hart goes on, “At least. But you’d have to wait for night to enjoy it, then you’d have to wait for day to get back. Even if you had a fire burning under you the whole time, you’d die from the cold.”
“We saw it, didn’t we?” Copin says. “We saw it and will remember it, probably like no one else for many seasons. I can see why you would risk your life to experience such a thing, Marquos, but it is done now, and there is no need to risk anything more.”
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