CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The vale of Ca-aan offered the Druid-led travellers no hint of
welcome. Although they had to pass through what appeared to be a lived-in
settlement as they made their way along the valley, they did not see a living
soul.
“This
is strange, indeed. I have a bad feeling about it,” Irina whispered to Heron
who nodded grimly.
Not
only was the valley eerily quiet and spooking the horses so their riders had to
keep them on a tight rein, but Heron also nursed a terrible foreboding. He now wore his mother’s ring on the first
finger of his left hand. As if in response to his growing distress, it bit into
the flesh. Gritting his teeth, he tried to wrench it free. It would not budge.
At the same time, he thought he heard his mother’s voice, faintly, like a dying
echo. Take care, my son, it warned, and remember that birds of a feather do not always sing the same song. What did she mean? Heron bit his lip
and drew blood, but ignored Irina’s searching gaze.
At
the entrance to a gully that appeared to lead to the very foot of the
mountains, the Druids indicated they would make camp.
“So
why here?” demanded Arissa, “Why not in one of those dwellings we passed
earlier? So much for Druid hospitality…!”
“Forgive
my people,” said Ygor, spreading his hands in a way that might have conveyed
humility in any other. In the Druid, it merely conveyed tolerance and served to fuel Arissa’s petulance all the more. “They are unused to guests. Besides, they fear
you just as you fear us.”
“You
flatter yourself, Druid!” retorted Arissa, and drew no small satisfaction from
visibly denting this Ygor’s veneer of equability.
“But
they have nothing to fear from us!” Pers protested mildly.
“Ah,
but how can they be sure of that?” the Druid pointed out with a chilling smile.
“True
enough,” Arissa conceded as she dismounted, turned and flashed the Druid a
dangerous smile of her own. “No more can we trust you,” she added. For an instant their eyes locked. Arissa
recoiled at what she saw in them. Ygor
too, looked shaken. Each reverted to form quickly enough, but not before Irina
had intercepted the brief exchange and feared the worst. The elf girl glanced first at
Heron and then at Tol. Both were plainly
preoccupied with their own thoughts. Irina began to feel isolated as well as frightened.
Later,
Heron approached Ygor to insist on news of his parents. The Druid anticipated
the question and pointed to a cluster of rocks in the distance. “You will find
them just beyond those rocks and, with them, others from Ti-Gray.”
“So
why don’t they join us?”
“Perhaps,
like your sister, they are wary.”
“I
don’t like it,” said Heron flatly.
The Druid
shrugged. “You asked and I have answered. We cannot always like what we are
told, young man.”
Heron
bridled but merely acknowledged the jibe at his inexperienced youth with a curt
nod and went to find Arissa.
“I’m
not climbing up there!” Arissa dismissed the suggestion out of hand. “I’m much
too tired, for one thing. For another, I’m sure our parents have a good reason
for not coming to meet us. They’ll come down when it suits them, you’ll see.”
“You
won’t come with me then?”
“Are
you deaf, brother, or what?” Arissa glared, turned on her heels and crossed to
where Pers had lovingly made her up a bed of grass and spread his own cloak for
her to lie on.
Irina
did her best to dissuade him. “Surely it is better to wait?”
“It
doesn’t feel right, Irina. I have to go, if only to reassure myself that all is
well. They are my parents, after all.”
“Then
I will come with you,” she decided.
“No.
I go alone.”
“But
you would have taken Arissa…” the elf girl protested.
“They
are her parents too,” he pointed out, “Besides, Arissa can…”
“Look
after herself and I can’t, is that it? I thought you knew me better than that
by now, Heron.” Irina glared, plainly hurt.
He tried to take her in his arms but she backed away. “I thought you
loved me.”
“I
do. That is why I dare not risk taking you with me.”
“Then
you do suspect some mischief, I knew it!”
“Maybe,
maybe not,” he demurred, “But I have to find out for myself.”
“At
least take Iggy with you…”
“I
would rather take your blessing.”
“You
have to ask? You have it, of course.” She smiled tearfully, and relenting
utterly did not resist his embrace but responded with a passion that surprised
them both. He had wondered whether their lovemaking had meant nothing more or
less than two troubled souls seeking mutual comfort. Certainly, Heron was left
in no doubt now that Irina truly loved him. Even so, while he kissed her back
with feeling, he chose not to look too carefully at his own mixed emotions.
As
she watched Heron ride away, Iggy following close behind, Irina found herself
grappling with a question she had preferred to put on hold until now. How would
she explain Heron to her parents? Nor would she and Heron be allowed to make a
home together in the Forest of Gar. But if choose, she must, between Heron and
exile, Irina knew already which route her heart would take.
The
next day was but three parts gone when the remaining company found themselves
at the very foot of one particular mountain, the highest. Above, a purple mist
hung over them like a mushroom cloud, threatening to descend at any moment and
swallow them up.
At a
safe distance, Pete and the others gasped at the stupendous sight. Simultaneously,
it triggered in each of them a wondrous disbelief and appalling
apprehension. “We can’t climb up that!” Pete whimpered softly, not intending anyone
to hear.
Ace
rubbed against his leggings. “No-one going up anywhere,” Pete could have
sworn Ace said, “The idea is that we pass through the mountains…”
“I
can’t stand heights!” wailed Ricci, somewhat late in the day everyone thought,
and even Beth raised a smile.
Not
so far away, the krill leader, Radik, had a sense of coming home.
Meanwhile,
Ricci’s keen eye noticed a patch of mountainside that did not quite gel with
the rest. It was like a sheet of black satin that clung to the rock face while,
at the same time, wanting no part of it. “Hmm,” mused Ricci under his breath,
“If I’m not mistaken, that’s a Time Gate. I’ll say! And another not due in this
lifetime! Odd, I’ll say!” He glanced nervously at the others. But they
continued gazing, with rapt expressions, at the mountain. Should I tell them, he wondered?
Just then, Ace gave a long, ponderous growl as if debating the same question.
“I
think we should go down there,” declared Mick suddenly as he surveyed the scene
just below them..
“Me
too,” Pete agreed. “They’re our friends, after all.
“And
there’s no evidence that the Druids mean us any harm,” said Mick.
“You never know with Druids…” Ricci felt
obliged to point out.
“What
do you think, Beth?” Mick braced himself to look her in the face. On the rare
occasions he had managed to catch her eye since their reunion, her accusing
expression had only added to his misery. Beth merely shrugged. She had no
opinion on the matter so why bother to voice one?
“That
settled then,” said Mick with an air of self-confidence he was far from
feeling, “Let’s go…”
Ricci
having conjured up horses some while since, it did not take them too long to
reach the group camped at the foot of the mountain. The Druids barely
acknowledged their arrival and did not seem in the least put out by it. Only
Irina seemed genuinely pleased to see them, rushing forward to greet them and
hugging each in turn, the little dog as well.
Pers, sensing a heavy atmosphere between Bethan and Michal, thought she
looked terrible and he not much better. It was none of his business, of course,
so he gave them all a big smile and stayed close to Arissa.
Beth
pushed Arissa aside and threw herself at Tol. The gentle giant embraced her
warmly, much to Arissa’s annoyance. She felt very possessive towards Tol. How
dare this Bethan, motherworlder, usurp her place at the head of his priorities!
“Come
here, Tol,” Arissa insisted. But Tol ignored her even when she stamped her foot
and would have given Bethan a piece of her mind had the red haired boy not
thwarted her.
“Where’s
Heron?” demanded Pete as if Arissa alone had to be responsible for his friend’s
absence.
“On
a fool’s errand if you ask me!” was all Arissa would say and flounced off,
dragging Pers by the hand, but only as an afterthought designed to annoy
Beth. It was left to Irina to explain to
Pete that Heron had gone to look for his parents.
“On
his own…?” Pete was visibly shaken..
“He
wanted it that way,” Irina told him gently but added, “He took Iggy with
him.” Immediately, Pete looked
reassured.
Meanwhile,
Heron had spotted the krills but gave them a wide berth, thankful he’d had the
good sense to leave Irina behind or he might easily have been distracted and
fallen foul of the vile creatures yet again.
Climbing the walls of the narrow, winding gully proved no mean feat. Its
harsh features bore little resemblance to the gentler, cultivated profile of
the main valley. At last, he reached the
cluster of rocks Ygor had indicated and by-passed them eagerly but with
caution, not daring to call out or the krills might hear. As soon as he
dismounted, the horse wandered off although not far. But Iggy stayed close.
“Mother,
father, are you there? It is I, your son.” Heron called softly. No one answered.
He ventured farther, leaping from one jutting stone to another across a shallow
a ditch. At first glance, he took it for a dried-up stream cluttered with all
sorts and reeking of putrid animal remains. Iggy gave a squawk. Heron looked back. The gluck was clearly
distressed. “Come on, Iggy, a little jump like that isn’t beyond you!” coaxed
Heron, laughing. But the gluck was having none of it and seemed unable to tear
its eyes from the ditch.
Heron
took a second look, and froze.
Eyes
wide with horror, he began to take in the carnage below. For neither rocks nor
animal carcasses littered the ditch, but human remains. Nor had they lain
there, decomposing, for an indeterminate passage of time. The mutilated bodies
still bore traces of dried blood. This was a recent massacre.
Heart
continuing to deny the truth of what he saw, Heron tied a cloth over hands and
mouth before clambering into the ditch.
Just before he hit the bottom, he stumbled, put a hand out to save
himself and landed on a torso. His other hand groped the features of a severed
head and he recoiled in utter revulsion. He looked away from the head and
vomited. Then he forced himself to look again. “Father!” he sobbed, brokenly,
and fell to his knees.
Above,
Iggy watched and waited. But Heron stayed put, unable to move, hugging his
grief as if it might offer a crumb of comfort although there was none to be
had. After a while, the gluck turned back the way they had come and began a
frantic descent.
Ricci,
meanwhile, continued to agonize over whether or not he should tell the motherworlders
about the Time Gate. He tried to contact Astor and ask his advice but the
Master did not respond. Isn’t that just
typical? Ricci, fretted. A crisis like no other and he leaves me to
decide for myself. But Ricci was a decent enough fellow and there was never
a choice…
“You
mean we can go home?” Mick soon got over the shock of Ricci’s unexpected
revelation and turned excitedly to the others. “Pete, Beth, did you hear that?
We’re going home!”
“If
that’s what you really want,” Ricci stammered.
“If that’s
what we really want?” Mick threw back his head and laughed aloud. “I’ll say!
Come on you two…” He grabbed Beth’s hand, but she hung back. Pete, too, remained
where he stood. “What’s the matter? What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to
go home?”
“Of
course!” yelled Pete, “More than anything in the whole world!” He paused only
briefly before blurting, “But we haven’t finished what we came here to do.
We’ve barely even started!”
“Are
you mad?” Mick was gobsmacked, “How can you say that after all we’ve been
through?”
“Isn’t
that all the more reason to make some sense of it and…whatever?” Pete was close
to tears.
Mick
outraged expression softened. “You don’t know what you’re saying Pete. You’re
too young to understand.”
“And
you do?” Pete countered, close to tears.
Irina interrupted before Mick could attempt to
answer. “Look!” she pointed to where Iggy was coming towards them so fast his
webbed feet barely touched the ground.
“Iggy…!”
Pete ran to meet the gluck, Irina close on his heels, flung his arms around the
scrawny neck and demanded news of Heron.
“Something’s
wrong!” Irina cried. “Heron is in trouble. You must take me to him, Iggy!” She
clambered on the gluck’s back.
“I’m
coming too!” declared Pete. Irina shook her head but took the boy’s hand in
hers and said gently, “Heron belongs to Mamelon and so do I. Besides, I love him…”
“I
love him too,” Pete mumbled so that only Irina could hear.
“I
know. And be sure Heron knows it also. But it seems you must return to your own
world and leave us to make what we can of ours…” Before Pete realized what she
intended, she bent down, kissed him on the lips and then took off on Iggy’s
back among clouds of red dust.
“The
elf girl speaks wisely.” Ygor stepped forward and laid a paternal hand on Pete’s
shoulder but Pete shrugged it off and glared angrily at the Druid.
“What
would you know about it? I bet you’ve never had any real friends!” he retorted with
all the naïve integrity of a thirteen year-old.
“Come
on, Pete, let’s go. Heron will be okay. Irina will see to that.” Mick stepped
forward, took his brother’s arm and firmly propelled him in the right
direction. Pete dragged his feet but made no attempt to pull away. “Time to go,
Beth. I’m sorry about everything, but there it is…We didn’t ask to come here
and there’s damn all to stay for. So
let’s go home and get on with our lives.”
“Just
like that…?” Beth’s irony was not lost on him.
Mick
grew anxious. Time enough for recriminations once they were safely back home.
Meanwhile, there was no time to lose. Suddenly, he felt inspired. “All this
will seem like a dream once we’re back in Tonbridge Wells. We probably won’t
even remember much about it.”
“And
you think I want to forget?” She threw the words back at him between clenched teeth,
“I never want to forget, even if you do…” Both knew full well they were talking
about Mulac. “But you’re right about one thing. There’s nothing to stay for so let’s
go.”
They
said their goodbyes. Arissa did not attempt to disguise her delight at seeing
the back of them as under her watchful eye, Pers summoned every last vestige of
self-restraint and held back a flood of tears. Beth attempted to communicate with Tol, but
the giant’s expression told her nothing. Nor did she catch any words of
farewell, possibly because her head felt completely blocked as if she were
going down with a bad cold.
Mick
in the lead, the three headed towards the Time Gate. It had already lost some
of its shimmering brightness as if it were starting to close already. Mick
quickened his step. Beth, though, did not deviate from her steady pace while
Pete, dawdling, kept looking back in the hope that he might yet catch a glimpse
of Iggy and Irina returning with Heron safe and sound.
Beth’s
head began to throb. Then she felt rather than heard a voice probing and
seeking entry. At first she thought it was Tol and would have let him in had
she known how. Suddenly, her heart missed a beat. It wasn’t Tol, it was…Mulac? She stumbled, quickly recovered her footing and
berated herself for letting a vivid imagination get the better of wishful
thinking.
“We
must hurry!” Mick broke into a run but, glancing over his shoulder, saw the
others were not keeping up and doubled back. “We mightn’t get an opportunity
like this for ages, if ever. What is it with you two? Our parents must be
worried sick…”
His
last remark drew a sob from Pete and a spark of new resolve replaced Beth’s
glazed expression. Grabbing both their hands, Mick broke into a run again. There
was no doubt in his mind that the Time Gate was slowly but surely closing. “We
can make it, we can make it!” he panted and ran all the faster.
Then
Beth let go of his hand.
She
stood quite still, clutching her head in both hands. The voice was still there,
thrusting like a mad thing now, desperate to break through this phenomenon that
was preventing entry to her mind like a
brick wall around a garden. Beth had the sense of a plant left to grow but
unable to bloom for want of light. Faintly, very faintly, she heard Mulac
calling her. In her mind’s eye, she tore at the wall with bare hands. Now his
voice came at her with a rush and words filled the garden with sunshine. Wait,
Bethan, wait, Mulac's voice came clearly now, like music to her ears, I love you.
Beth
looked back at the diminishing group that comprised Arissa, Pers, Tol and the Druids.
Suddenly, a tall wild-eyed figure burst through and ran towards her. “Mulac!”
she darted back on winged heels. When they finally met and fell into an
ecstatic embrace, she wished it could last forever. Pete, too, hurried back.
Any excuse was better than none to delay the inevitable, after all.
Mick
stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. It
was Mulac who, yet again, seized the initiative. Looking uncharacteristically
sheepish, he approached Mick with one hand outstretched, the other firmly
around Beth’s waist. “We are well met, my friend.”
“But…how?
I don’t understand.”
“Nor
I,” Mulac confessed with a shrug. “But who are we to dispute what is or should
be or can never be?”
“I
killed you!”
“Yet
I live, thanks to The Magela, although I have a feeling she had some help.”
“You’re
an illusion!”
Releasing
Beth, the Nu-gen took only two strides to reach Mick and encompass him in a
bear hug. “You still think I am an illusion?”
He grinned. It was so
uncharacteristic of him that Beth started. Fleetingly, it crossed her mind that
Mulac bore a striking resemblance to Heron although the two were opposites in
practically every respect. Apart from anything else, Mulac was much older. But
it was only a passing thought and she dismissed the unlikely comparison as
fanciful almost at once. A few paces
behind her, Pete had been thinking along parallel lines, only he was making the
comparison with Mick. Seeing the two together like that, the likeness was quite
extraordinary. True, this Mulac was dark and Mick was fair and much younger,
but even so…
Mick
returned Mulac’s hug with interest. Over the Nu-gen’s shoulder, he could see
Beth’s face shining with happiness and knew already that she would not be
returning with him and Pete to Tonbridge Wells. A single thought superseded all
others. How on earth would he explain to
her father?
“Who
is that?” demanded Arissa with a gasp of mixed admiration and irritation that
she had no idea.
“His
name is Mulac,” said Pers, “He is Nu-gen.”
“I
can see that!” retorted Arissa, “But…a Nu-gen capable of passion, whatever
next?”
Tol
watched with baited breath. It was vital that Bethan should remain. The fate of
all Mamelon hung in the balance. It was ironic, indeed, that it should fall to
a Nu-gen to tip the scales. Could it be, he wondered, that his old friend
suspected? True, the tribe was not best known for its perceptive qualities.
Arissa, though, was right about one thing....
There was nothing typical about Mulac.
To be continued
