Monday 22 April 2013

Mamelon - Chapter 35

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