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Chapter 31 - The Jungles of Ankara

Jehenna’s concerned face was lit up by brilliant lightning flashes off the starboard bow.  The ionized air crackled as tongues of blue, orange and magenta lightning licked the weltering clouds above.

          The seas off the coast of Ankara were often the venue for extraordinarily beautiful and fierce electrical storms and The Fortitude had stumbled in on one of the largest, most violent tempests the region had seen in years.  Long strands of coloured lightning spread out across the skies like a shatterbug’s web.  Successive electrostatic discharges seared the air above the ship.  The rain had also become electrically charged.  The polarized drops sizzled as they hit the ship and stung those who had not retreated below deck to take shelter from the storm.

          Jehenna’s dark hair was pressed flat against her forehead as seething sheets of rain slapped down upon the ship.  Drenched sailors scurried up and down the boat, fastening lines, trimming sails and battening down anything that moved.

          ‘Lilith!’ Jehenna screamed above the relentless thunder that rolled across the disturbed sea.  ‘Can’t you do anything about this?’  Jehenna grimaced as countless raindrops pelted her body, each one carrying with it a small electric shock.

          Lilith Cortese looked across at Jehenna with one eyebrow slightly raised.  ‘You’re not serious are you?’

          ‘You can summon the wind.  Can you not control the weather?’

          ‘Even Morgai have their limits Jehenna and I reached mine days ago.’

          Able Seaman Hawkins stood at the helm beside Jehenna and Lilith.  His long brown hair hung in thick wet clumps, plastered across his neck and scalp.  Eyes red from lack of sleep peered out of his gaunt face.  Exhausted, he hung his arms over the steering wheel and scanned the exploding sky above for some sign of respite from the fury that had filled his sight for the past three days.  He had hardly slept since the Ryugin had attacked the ship and a week had passed since that tragic day.  Striving to step into the breach left by Simeon Kallady’s death, Hawkins had managed to bring the shattered vessel thousands of leagues closer to the isolated islands of Cephalonia, but now he and the ship had now reached their limit.  With a guilty look he turned to Jehenna and said, ‘Consul, we must take refuge from this storm.  If we don't hole up in a safe haven soon, we’ll perish.  We have no choice – we need to make repairs.’

          Jehenna knew he would not say it if he had any other options.  But they were still far from Cephalonia and no closer to fulfilling their mission objectives than the morning they left Cessair.  With a voice contorted by her sense of failure, she said, ‘Do what you have to do Hawkins.’

 

 

Two more days passed before the lightning storm finally abated.  Hawkins had found a small, secluded cove about fifty leagues north of the Ankaran city of Xochipilli.  It was a pretty bay which the ship shared with a number of small, lushly vegetated islets.

          ‘It’s a lot worse than we thought,’ Hawkins said as he peered down into the hole the Ryugin had torn in the main deck.  We can’t maintain the integrity of the hull without bracing the keel properly.’

          Jehenna followed his gaze to the tortured mass of timber that rose from the large pool of water at the bottom of the hole.  ‘How long do you need?’

          Hawkins gestured towards the dense forests that sat hunched over the nearby beach.  ‘Fortunately, the jungles of Ankara contain a lot of good wood.  We won’t have to travel far to find the timber we need for the keel.  But it won’t be easy to make the repairs, especially with such a small crew.’

          ‘How long?’ Jehenna said a little impatiently.

          ‘Two weeks.  Maybe three.  It’s hard to say.’

          Jehenna’s face dropped.  ‘Three weeks?’

          Aware that he had disappointed her, Hawkins blushed and lowered his head like a remorseful child.  ‘I’m sorry Consul, but she’s a big ship and we have lost many men.  The shipwright on board was killed when the –’

          ‘You don’t need to apologise, Hawkins,’ she said as she turned her back on the broken deck.  Her voice was softer now.            ‘You’ve honoured yourself by getting us this far.’

          Rama sat on the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, polishing his golden staff with a strip of cloth.  As Jehenna approached, he stood and smiled her way.  ‘May I inquire as to our status?’

          ‘We’re moving on Rama.  On foot.  We'll get to Cephalonia if we have to walk every step of the way.’

          ‘That may prove rather difficult Jehenna, considering that Cephalonia is on the other side of a rather deep sea,’ he replied with a smile.  ‘We’ll just have to hold our breaths.  I’m sure we’ll be fine.’

          Even though he could not see it, she could not help but smile back.  His calm optimism was remarkable in someone who faced each day in absolute darkness.  Rama had the ability to diffuse a tense situation.  His disarming smile was a reminder to Jehenna that though things seemed bleak, there was always the promise of something better.  Despite his snoring, which had remained a constant source of irritation to her, she found she actually liked the Ankaran.

          ‘It’s good to see you so positive about it Rama,’ she said with a smirk.  ‘You can be the one to tell Sela we’re walking.’

 

 

‘I am not walking another step!’ Sela shouted as she threw down her pack upon the mud-encrusted jungle floor.  She had managed to trip over every single root that lay across their path and was annoyed that Rama had not snagged his considerably larger feet on anything.

          ‘I wouldn't shout so loudly if I were you,’ he said softly to Sela as he took a seat on a thick twisting log that lay to the side of the similarly twisting path they had been following up and down the steep, overgrown landscape.

          Sela looked incredulously at the impenetrable jungle around her.  Viridian vines covered with exotic flowers hung between the moist boles of dark trees that curled their way up through the dense underbrush to a sky that lay somewhere above the crowded canopy.  She felt as far away from civilised society as one could get.  ‘Are you saying I should keep my voice down because someone might hear me, Rama?’

          He lay his staff across his lap and smiled at her benevolently.  ‘Perhaps it would be best.’

          Sela placed her hands upon her hips and scoffed.  ‘Who is going to hear me out here?’

          ‘The sleeches.’

          ‘The what?’

          ‘The sleeches.  We’re lucky we haven't run into any so far.’

          ‘You're making me nervous.’

          ‘You should be.  The sleech is something to avoid.’

          Sela looked around warily at the jungle, as if a sleech could jump out of it at any moment.  ‘What does it look like?’

          Rama gave a self-effacing grin.  ‘Well, as you can understand, I’ve never actually seen one, but I have been told that they are roughly ten feet in length and are the blackest black.  There’s not much to them actually.  They’re long and have no limbs.            Someone once described them as dark, oily socks with teeth at one end.  The sleech’s body tapers to a prehensile tail that it wraps around branches overhanging jungle paths.  The other end is a wide mouth that stays open whilst it waits for its victim.  When the sleech hears someone walking under it, it simply releases the branch it is hanging from and falls down over the body of its victim, swallowing them whole.  The teeth then shut like a trap, slicing off the victim’s feet.  The sleech will then roll to the side of the path looking much like an every day log.  From what I hear, it takes weeks for someone to be digested by a sleech.  I have heard stories of people who have heard muffled groans coming from the underbrush where semi-digested victims have cried out for help.’

          Behind her mask, a look of horror spread across Sela’s face.  ‘That’s the most disgusting thing I have ever heard.’

          Rama nodded like a sage.  ‘Yes.  I agree.  That’s why it pays to be quiet in the jungles of Ankara.’

          Sela dropped her voice to a frustrated whisper.  ‘Whose insane idea was it to come this way?’  

          She looked accusingly at Jehenna who shrugged and said, ‘I didn’t know there were sleeches here.’

          Sela lifted a finger and pointed it into Jehenna’s breastbone.

          ‘Well you should know!’ she hissed.  ‘You’re the leader!  Now, lead us out of this mess.’

          Sela had obviously changed her mind about not walking another step.  She shouldered her pack and stormed off quietly down the path.

 

 

Later than afternoon, Jehenna caught up with Rama who was setting a rapid pace through the jungle.  Sela had managed to stay close to him for most of the day, but had fallen back a number of paces as fatigue wrestled with her fear of the sleeches.  Jehenna used the opportunity to question Rama about his tale.  ‘I have been to Ankara many times and I have never heard of sleeches before,’ she asked suspiciously.  ‘Are they only indigenous to this region?’

          ‘They’re not indigenous to any region,’ he confided to her.

          ‘You made them up!’ she exclaimed loud enough to be heard by any non-existent sleeches in the area.

          ‘Yes, I made them up,’ he confessed.  ‘Anything to keep her quiet.’  If his blind eyes had eyelids, he would have winked at Jehenna.  His mouth tightened as he tried to avoid a grin creeping across his copper-skinned face.

          Jehenna made no such effort.  A smile as wide as her mouth would allow stretched across her face.  She looked back down the path where Sela had tripped over yet another root.  She punched at the root but did not articulate her annoyance in any aural fashion.

 

 

Although the trek through the Ankaran jungle was arduous, it passed without major incident.  Rama led the way through the moist rainforest followed closely by Jehenna.  Occasionally Jehenna would swipe at the lush undergrowth with her glaive which cut through the green tendrils of the jungle like a sharp knife through poddoo mash.  Sela had done her best to keep up with Jehenna and Rama but her companions’ long strides meant that a significant gap soon formed between them.

          Bormanus preferred to walk on his own and whilst he was clearly unhappy about the steep climbs and muddy descents, he kept any comments he had to himself.

          Lilith brought up the rear of the walking party.  She was struggling.  It was not surprising.  For six days she had filled The Fortitude’s sails with a wind drawn from her own mystical energies.  It was a feat few Morgai before her had tried and it had depleted her.  The sheer act of walking around the puddles that lay across the jungle path was a strain and as the hours passed, she fell further and further back.  It may have been a trick of the ethereal light under the jungle canopy, but there were times when Jehenna caught glimpses of Lilith through the trees and she looked like an old woman, with dirtied purple and gold robes hanging over a stooped, shaking body.

          ‘Rama,’ Jehenna said to the tall Ankaran in front of her.  ‘How far to go?’

          He stopped and swivelled around.  His long, thick dreadlocks swept around in a flourish much like the dresses of women who graced the ballrooms of the palaces Jehenna had grown up in.  A contented smile greeted her.  She could see he was actually enjoying the jungle hike.  He had dispensed with his robes and wore only a pair of tan breeches.  The moist, humid air of the jungle coated his amphibious body in fine droplets of water which glistened in the thin shafts of sunlight that pierced the leafy fronds that arched above their heads.

          ‘It is not far,’ he said in answer to Jehenna’s question.  ‘I imagine we will clear the jungle before sunset.’

          ‘Good,’ she said with a sigh.  ‘I have concerns for the Morgai.’

          ‘As do I, Consul,’ he said with an uncharacteristic inflection in his voice.  He did not infuse the statement with the same meaning Jehenna had given it.

          ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, puzzled by his tone.

          Rama sidled up to Jehenna and whispered, ‘Don’t trust a word she says.’

          ‘Why do you say that?’

          ‘Look at what’s happened to us Jehenna.  The ambush in the tunnels.  Kleesto’s attack, and last week the Ryugin.  These aren’t random attacks.’

          ‘No, but why would you suspect Lilith?  She got us here Rama.  She saved us from Kleesto.’

          ‘She wasn’t appointed to join us by the Chancellor.’

          ‘Yes, so she couldn’t be held responsible for what happened to us on the Way.  She couldn’t have known our route.’

          ‘Jehenna, she’s a seer.  She sees things before they happen.’

          ‘Perhaps she’s already seen this conversation, heard those words long before you thought them up.’  She was being flippant.  It was clear she didn’t share Rama’s concerns.

          ‘That’s all very amusing Jehenna but I don’t trust her.’

          ‘Rama, she defended my brother against the Ryugin.’

          ‘Perhaps to save herself.’

          ‘Why don’t you trust her?’

          Rama cocked his head to check whether anyone was within earshot.  He was uncharacteristically anxious.  ‘Jehenna, I heard her talking to herself in her cabin the day the Ryugin struck.’  

          Jehenna laughed.  ‘You listened to her talking to herself?  You spied on her?’

          Rama shook his head slightly.  ‘No, I didn’t.  She was shouting.  I will let Kallady die!  And Baffin.  And Tawhawki.  Jehenna, she knew your brother was going to die and she did nothing.’

          Jehenna’s veneer of light-heartedness shattered and what lay beneath was cold and hard.  The image of her brother dying in her arms burned across her mind’s eye.  He was looking up at her, commenting upon the wound on her cheek.  Tears were filling her eyes.  

          The sound of Sela coming up the path behind Jehenna brought her mind back to the jungle.  Her temples throbbed as a dangerous rage coursed through her veins.  The scar on her face ached.  She moved off down the path before Lilith Cortese came into view.

 

 

The last part of their trek through the jungles of eastern Ankara was the most difficult.  The land before them rose up steeply, a wall of moist, green vines and cold, dark mud.  The path became lost in the tortured flora and even Rama struggled to find a way forward.  They could hear the cries and cackles of strange native birds, seemingly mocking them as they tried to find a way out the dense environment.  No-one spoke as they scrambled up the sodden incline.  Even Jehenna slipped a number of times, sliding back down the slope before staunchly marching back up to try again.  Sela was so exhausted that she derived no joy from the sight of the mud-spattered Acoran falling on her backside.  The only thing that mattered was leaving the jungle behind.  They extended their hands to one another and pulled and pushed their way as a group up the wet slope.  No-one, not even Rama, expected what they found at the top.

          ‘By all the gods!’ Rama exclaimed as he stepped out from the fringes of the jungle.  Sounds of countless animals filled his ears and these were accompanied by the smells of more species than he could count.  This strange perfume was embellished with the sweet but potent smell of flowerfall in full bloom.  ‘So, it does exist.’

          ‘I don’t believe it!’ gasped Jehenna, echoing his astonishment.

          Sela, Bormanus and Lilith were equally surprised by what lay before them, but lacked the strength to say anything.

          They had walked out of the jungle onto a wide sweeping hill covered in blazing flowerfall.  It was late afternoon and the shadows of the jungle behind them lapped over the fringes of a great field.  Further out from the jungle, the sun’s orange glow touched the land, lighting it up like a stage upon which a fantastic show was being performed.

          An incredible menagerie of animals had gathered across the wide meadow to amble in the glow of the afternoon light.  There were thousands of them: flocks of woolly shelp and long-haired grizzums, herds of proud staggorns and placid garumphs, mobs of wild snorses, congregations of stone gluks, droves of grouts, armies of friggu, farrows of swiggu, rafts of ducca… even a pack of jungle marroks had found their way out onto the grassland.

          It was Sela who vocalised the most astounding aspect of what they were seeing.  ‘The animals – they’re flying!’

          It was true to a certain extent.  Not a single hoof, paw, claw or talon touched the grass beneath the animals’ feet.  The beasts hung contentedly in the air, floating above the long grasses like furry, scaly and woolly clouds.  Occasionally a beast would kick its legs or flick its tail and move through the air in much the same way as it would in water, but most were happy just to laze in the warm sunlight on a cushion of air.

          The meadow was home to many creatures that were not native to the region.  A train of calumphs galloped across the air playfully chasing a shoal of sandgups while a herd of barga looked on with mild interest.  A huddle of snufflegroots waddled along above the flowerfall and teams of pulloks pulled this way and that on their way to nowhere in particular.

          Remarkably, there was no sign of animosity among the animals despite the fact a number of them were the bitterest of old enemies.  The marroks did nothing to suggest they were even slightly interested in the shelp and the swiggu did not show any sign of fear when a pair of blood-beaked ostra floated past.  A smuck of bloaters nestled under a business of flummoxes which had in turn nuzzled into the soft fur of tribe of huks.  A bale of bobugs climbed across the backs of some sleeping bogcrabs.  

A pair of land turtla looked over at the jungle fringes, giving a cursory glance at the group of Myrrans that had appeared on the crest of the hillside.  Almost a league away from where the company stood, a brace of white mockworms hovered over the meadow pretending to be a patch of sky.  Overhead, flocks of white larida, yaffle-birds, quawks and gillygulls filled the sun-soaked air.

          ‘What is this place?’ Jehenna said, rubbing her eyes as if waking from a dream.

          ‘My people have long regarded this place as just a fanciful myth,’ Rama said in disbelief.  ‘The meadow before us is known in our stories as Vanna Nir.  It is an ancient Ankaran phrase that loosely translates to field of joy.’

          Bormanus eyed the area suspiciously.  ‘Why aren’t the animals killing one another?’

          Sela gave him a perplexed look.  ‘Surely that is less strange to you than the fact these beasts don’t ordinarily float above the ground like that?’

          Bormanus said nothing in response but took a few steps back from the edge of the meadow.

          ‘How did they all got here?’ Sela asked Rama but he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to listen to the wondrous carnival of beasts before him.

          Jehenna stepped forward out onto the flowerfall and found that her toes did not touch the ground.  She giggled as a sensation imbued with pure happiness crept across her skin.  It was like a breeze had blown away all her troubles and left her with an oddly calm yet euphoric feeling.  Ripples of contentment gently drifted up her body, swirling around her navel and tenderly brushing across her neck and face.  She swung her arms before her, as if swimming across the surface of a pond and her body floated out over the meadow.  As it did so, Jehenna was wrapped up in a feeling of serenity unlike anything she had ever experienced before.  She felt safe.  She felt certain.  This strange but comforting attitude extended to her mission, her companions and her leadership.

          She looked back to where the dark shapes of Rama, Sela, Bormanus and Lilith stood at the edge of the meadow, like swimmers unwilling to enter the ocean because the water was too cold.  With the exception of Rama, they crossed their arms and frowned at the sight of their squad leader rolling about in the air enjoying herself.  Rama raised an arm and beckoned her back to the fringe of the field.

 

As Jehenna’s feet touched the ground, her body slumped and the feeling of wellbeing slipped from her body like a discarded dress.  She felt colder than before and the four Myrrans who stood before her felt more like strangers than companions.

          ‘Are you alright?’ Sela said tentatively.  Her curious eyes peered out from a mask encrusted with mud and grime as a result of her passage through the jungle.

          Jehenna went to speak but found she was out of breath.  Her pulse was racing and she felt restless.  The calmness that had enveloped her seemed as far away as home.  Everything seemed darker now.  Colours had faded from the land.

          She whirled around and found that that field was no longer draped in the effulgent sunlight of late afternoon.  The animals were still there happily lolling about above the grass, but it was now nightfall.  Thousands of shatterbugs lit up the field and the blossoms of flowerfall responded in kind, twinkling with their own iridescent beauty.

          She turned back to Rama.  ‘What has happened?’ she asked panic-stricken over the changes in her surroundings.  ‘How long was I out there?’

          Rama threw back his dreadlocks and looked at the voluminous spheres above him – all three moons had risen.  ‘Jehenna, are you saying you don’t know?’

          Frustration took a hold of her and she snapped.  ‘Just tell me how long!’

          He stepped back, wary of the volatile mood that had descended upon her.  In a soft voice he said, ‘Consul, it is almost midnight now.  We have been calling to you for many hours.’

          Jehenna felt weak and vulnerable.  In a strange way, she felt violated.  She had lost at least six hours from her day.  She sat down on the grass at the edge of the meadow, eyeing the field with suspicion.  ‘I don't understand.’

          Rama turned towards Sela, Bormanus and Lilith who were staring at Jehenna as if she were an exhibit in a travelling show.  They said nothing but he knew their presence would be awkward for the Acoran who was obviously struggling with what had happened to her.  ‘Good night, my friends.  We will speak in the morning but for now you must rest.  Do not wander by the meadow.  Take your sleep under the trees to the west.’

          Without a word they responded, each one wrapped up in thoughts about the strange occasion they had just witnessed.

          Rama leant on his golden staff and took a seat beside Jehenna.  She was staring out across the meadow with a look of shock plastered across her face.  Without meaning to she scowled at the scene, distrustful of what she was looking at, and as her brow furrowed, a stinging pain shot down her face.  The wound she had received when the Ryugin had attacked The Fortitude throbbed and her body ached.  Any happiness she had experienced out in the field had well and truly faded.

          ‘Rama, what happened?’ she said, her voice frail, almost unrecognisable.  ‘Where did all the time go?’

          Rama dug one end of his staff into the soil at his feet, carving out small circles as he tried to piece together the situation.            ‘Jehenna, how long do you think you were out there?’

          ‘Only a moment or two,’ Jehenna said with the sadness of one who had lost something special, something that cannot be retrieved.

          ‘What do you purpose now?’

          She sighed.  ‘I don’t know Rama.  I know I should know, but I don’t.’

          Rama said nothing for a while as the significance of her comment took full effect.  He had led them through the jungle to this place and had planned to continue their route northwards into Tamu and from there across the Sea of Mists to Cephalonia.  As long and arduous a trek as it seemed, it was simple.  They were basically following a straight line to their destination.  Now they had an obstacle in their path, the most unlikely of obstacles he could have imagined.  ‘Would you venture out on to the meadow again?’

          A quick but unequivocal shake of her head made it clear to Rama that crossing Vanna Nir was not an option.  ‘I fear we would lose ourselves out there.  Whilst there is a part of me that wants nothing more than to roll about on the air unburdened and free, we are not animals.  We have responsibilities.  We have people who have entrusted us with their welfare.  There are lives at stake here.  We cannot forget that.’

          Rama smiled.  ‘You are quite an astounding person, Jehenna Canna.’

          Jehenna was caught off-guard.  It was not the response she had been expecting.  Her face blushed as she tried to absorb the compliment.  ‘Thank-you Rama, but I'm not sure I –’

          ‘Deserve it?’ he laughed.  ‘Of course you do.  It seems to me that out on that meadow you experienced a joy that cannot be articulated and yet you would deny yourself even a brief respite from the hardships you bear to finish the mission.  You are remarkable Jehenna.  I hope you realise that.’

          She had always struggled with compliments.  Fortunately, she had married a man who gave her none, so she was spared the clumsy feeling she now experienced as she tried to think of a response to Rama’s kind words.

          Sensing her discomfort, Rama focused upon the problem at hand.  ‘Where will we go?’ he asked.

          She gazed northwards, across the strange meadow to a distant horizon marked with conical mountains silhouetted against the starlit sky.  ‘That way lies Cephalonia so that’s where we must go.  We can’t turn back to The Fortitude on the vain hope she will be fixed by the time we get there.’  She looked to the east and west where the land fell away into darkness.  ‘Can we get around the meadow?’

          ‘We can try, Jehenna.  I guess all we can ever do is try.’

 

 

Early the next morning Jehenna informed the others that they would be walking around the meadow.  No-one questioned the decision.  Whilst Sela found the sight of so many wild animals floating over the flowerfall to be engaging, she did not want to lose herself to the meadow the way Jehenna had.  ‘Who knows how long we could be lost out there?’ she mused as they made their way east, skirting across the hillside where the jungle met the meadow.  ‘I have a family to get home to.  No offence, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life with your four.’

          ‘You have a family?’ Jehenna said with obvious surprise in her voice.

          ‘Yes,’ replied Sela doing little to disguise the annoyance in her voice.  ‘A husband and a child.’

          ‘Really?’ remarked Jehenna.

          ‘Why do you find that hard to believe?’

          ‘I’m sorry Sela, but I just never pictured you as the marrying type.’

          ‘Not the marrying type!  I have had eleven husbands Jehenna!’

          ‘Eleven husbands!’ Jehenna exclaimed.  Lilith and Bormanus also raised their eyebrows in surprise.

          ‘What happened to them?’ Bormanus inquired.

          ‘They asked too many questions,’ Sela said coldly and quickened her pace across the grass unwilling to explore the topic any further.

 

 

By lunchtime, they could travel east no further.  They made their way down to a beach that formed a long white line up the lonely coast of northern Ankara.  The meadow faded into long seagrasses that marked the coastal fringe.  Rolling surf teased the golden beach.  Standing watch over the shoreline, a line of flaming red palms stretched out into the distance.  About five hundred yards out to sea, breakers relentlessly crashed on a sharp reef that ran parallel to the beach.  The reef was the reason why the region was so devoid of any sign of civilization.  Ships could not approach the beach by sea without suffering the same fate as the waves that ended in foamy white explosions.

          The squad ate a modest lunch on the beach and then continued their journey along the coast.  The sand was firm and made for easy walking.  Following the pattern established on their jungle trek, Rama and Jehenna walked together, followed by Sela then Bormanus with Lilith at the tail of the group.  The group spread out on the wide flat beach, bound on one side by the meadow of Vanna Nir and by the Tamu Ocean on the other.  Every now and then silver-clawed crabbula stuck their heads out of the tightly packed sand to watch their passing, but other than the odd crustacean and occasional shatterbug (and the creatures floating in the meadow to their west) they saw no sign of life on their journey up the sands.  No ships sailed by on the horizon and no birds flew in the sky overhead.

          ‘I wonder how creatures as evil as the Ghul would fare out on the meadow,’ Jehenna mused as she looked at the green and purple field beyond the small dunes that framed the beach.

          ‘Much like the marroks I’d imagine,’ Rama said.  ‘I can’t be sure but I think it affects all creatures the same way.’

          ‘But how does it work?’

          ‘If you’re asking for a scientific explanation for Vanna Nir, you’re asking the wrong person.  Maybe Tawhawki could have explained it.  Or perhaps it’s just one of those things that can’t be explained.  Like magick.  Or love.  Or the afterlife.’

          ‘Or snoring,’ Jehenna added.  She was feeling tired.  Rama had kept her up half the night with particularly robust snoring and she had tried to include a reference to it in most of their conversations that day.

          ‘I said I was sorry,’ he laughed.  ‘After that jungle trek, I was tired and I always snore when I’m tired.’

          ‘You must be tired all the time then,’ she retorted, ‘because you have snored every night since we left Cessair.’

          Rama did not have a defence, nor did he have a criticism to make of her that would even the scales.  He decided to focus upon other matters.  ‘In answer to your question, if a scientific explanation is required, I hypothesise that what you experienced was a chemical reaction to certain pheromones released by this strain of flowerfall.’

          Jehenna was impressed.  Rama actually sounded like he knew what he was talking about.  ‘And what about the floating?’

Rama nodded and opened his mouth as if he had an answer for her.  He nodded some more, but didn’t say anything.  Finally he smiled weakly and said, ‘I can’t explain the floating.’

          She laughed.  ‘I’m disappointed in you Rama.’

          ‘Jehenna, we live in a world where a woman can summon the wind with a thought, where people live in cities on the backs of crawling mountains, where monsters dwell beneath our feet and you want me to explain why you were floating a few feet above the flowers?’

          ‘I take your point,’ she conceded with grin.

          He could feel the sun on the right side of his face and the salty smell of the wind rolling down the beach.  ‘So the plan is to stay on the sands and head north.’

          ‘Yes.  If we keep to the beach, I think we could reach Tamu in four days.  I hope to replenish our supplies in Nuadu, Sela’s village.’

          ‘It sounds like a good plan – we must avoid heading inland.’

          ‘Because of the meadow?’

          Rama shook his head.  ‘No.  Something much worse.’

          ‘Jehenna!’

          The cry came from behind them.  It was Sela.  About five hundred yards down the beach, the Tamuan was huddled over Lilith who lay crumpled up on the sands with her robes over her head.

          Jehenna sprinted down the beach.  Tiny explosions of water erupted from the wet sand as she raced to see what the problem was.  She ran past Bormanus who was just standing on the shoreline watching the situation unfold, like an impartial observer in a dispute.  He looked interested in what was taking place, but not concerned.

          As Jehenna approached, Sela looked up and said, ‘She’s hardly moving Jehenna.  She’s gone into some sort of shock.’

Jehenna knelt down beside Lilith.  She was rigid.  She clutched at her gown so that her face was obscured, but her hands revealed that something strange was going on.  Lilith’s long, smooth fingers had been replaced by knobbly joints covered in sallow, speckled skin.

          Jehenna grabbed Lilith by the shoulders to sit her up.  She almost recoiled when she felt Lilith’s bony body.  It was like the Morgai had lost all muscular definition and was little more than skin wrapped around a skeleton.

          ‘Lilith?’

          Underneath the robes draped over her head, a long, hollow voice rang out.  ‘Leave me!’

          Jehenna looked up at Sela and gave her instructions.  ‘Tell Rama and Bormanus to find some shade further up the beach and wait for me there.  Prepare a bed for Lilith.  We will be with you shortly.’

          Sela raced up the beach to carry out Jehenna’s orders, leaving the Acoran to coax Lilith out from her purple and gold cowl.            After some gentle persuasion Lilith released her hold of her robes and they slid off her head to reveal a face so withered and wizened, Jehenna could not help but gasp aloud.

          Lilith licked her cracked, white lips and spoke.  ‘You have every right to be shocked, my beautiful Acoran.  This is a secret I have kept from you.’  Her voice was as cracked and coarse as her skin.

          Jehenna’s eyes flicked back and forth over the worn visage before her.  ‘What has happened to you?’

          Lilith’s thin smile was little more than a fold in her face.  What was intended as laughter but sounded more like a groan broke from her pursed mouth.  ‘This hasn’t just happened, Jehenna.  It’s been happening for centuries.’

          At first, Jehenna did not understand the comment, but as Lilith’s dark eyes looked up from under eyelids resembling discarded sacks, the Acoran could see the wisdom and knowledge of hundreds of years.  Lilith was old.  Older than any Acoran.  Older than many trees.  And she was coming to the end of her days.

          ‘The journey has taken much out of me, my sweet girl.  My powers are fading.  Not much time left have I.’

          ‘Are you dying?’ Jehenna blurted out, her concern for the frail figure before her bringing a smile to the old woman’s face.

          ‘I have been dying for many years and I have wasted much power trying to extend my life beyond my allotted time.  But do not worry.  I won’t die here upon the beach.  My death takes place further north.’

          Jehenna had never considered that the Morgai would have foreseen her own death.  Even more alarming was the way in which she had reconciled herself to her own fate.

          ‘But if you know the manner of your death, you can avoid it!’

          ‘Dear girl, I could no more avoid my own death than I could stop your brother’s.  I’m sorry he died, Jehenna, but if there is one thing I have learnt in all of the chaos that has descended upon the world since I told Remiel Grayson of the threat his brother posed to the welfare of the Myr, it is this – what will be, will be.  It isn’t the end that matters – it is how we fill up the time in between.  Your brother was a good man.  His life mattered.’

          Images of Simeon floated up in Jehenna’s mind and she found it hard to push back the tears that thoughts of him brought to bear.  She hurriedly rubbed her eyes and fixed her mind on the present situation.  ‘Are you in pain?’

          The old woman shook her head slightly.  ‘No.  Not really.  My body aches from wear and tear, but I'm not in any real pain.  Just drained.  It’s tiring maintaining the guise of a young woman.  You’re lucky you don't have to exhaust yourself to do it.’

          ‘I don’t understand.  Why do it if it exhausts you?’

          Lilith dropped her head and after a long silence, finally confessed her fault.  ‘Vanity.’

          Jehenna was perplexed.  ‘What?’

          Lilith continued to look down at the sand around her.  ‘Like other female Morgai before me, I inherited the power to alter my appearance.  I chose to wear the form of an attractive, young woman.  I have become quite fond of it, like a favourite dress.’

          ‘But why can’t you just be yourself.’

          Something resembling a smirk was sitting on Lilith’s face when she lifted it.  ‘Oh, I am being myself, Jehenna.  This was how I looked over 300 years ago.  I was the prettiest girl in Pelinore, with a string of suitors hanging on my doorbell.’

          Jehenna bent her face closer to the old woman’s.  ‘Beauty isn’t everything, Lilith.’

          Masked somewhat by her wrinkled, blotted skin, Lilith shot Jehenna a reprobating look.  ‘That’s exactly the sort of comment a beautiful young thing like you can afford to make.’

          Jehenna lifted a hand to the right side of her face and felt the long, hard scar that had formed as a result of her injury aboard The Fortitude.  ‘Not beautiful any more, I’m afraid.’

          Lilith lifted her wrinkled hands to Jehenna’s face and in a voice as soft as spring said, ‘More beautiful than ever, sweet girl.’

 

 

The rest of the day was spent under the wide red leaves of a palm tree.  Lilith slept soundly for most of that time, occasionally waking to take a sip of water from the flask that Jehenna had placed by her head.  Bormanus skulked off into the dunes and was not seen for much of the day.  In contrast Jehenna and Sela stayed by the old Morgai’s side the entire time.  They took turns to dab Lilith’s face with a piece of wet cloth to spite the hot wind blew down the beach from the north.  Rama spent much of the afternoon swimming in the surf in the hope of catching fish for the company to eat.  As night approached he emerged from the water with at least a dozen lemonfish on the end of a pole he had carved from a piece of driftwood he had found earlier that day.

          They sat around a fire that night and feasted on the fish.  Whilst Lilith did not revert to the young form she had worn for so many years, she looked a lot better than she had earlier that day.  The company was in good spirits and exchanged stories of their homelands the way old friends would, laughing and listening as the night swept by.  Even Bormanus occasionally contributed to the conversation.  When Jehenna finally laid her head upon the sand some time after midnight, she did so with a smile.  She didn’t need the meadow of Vanna Nir to know what happiness felt like.

 

 

They rose early the following morning.  Lilith had assured them she felt strong enough to walk.  Deciding not to expend herself needlessly, she did not assume her youthful façade and so she hobbled along the beach as fast as her rickety legs would take her.

By lunchtime they had covered many leagues and the land before them began to change.  The fine sand they had been walking on became thicker, interspersed with angular rocks that made walking upon the beach a less pleasant experience.  The dunes beside them also slowly changed and were gradually replaced by shelves of rock that grew higher and higher the further north the company travelled.  By mid-afternoon their comfortable stroll along the beach had become a treacherous combination of rock-hopping and wading through wide rockpools.  It was not long before they realised they could not go any further.

          ‘There are cliffs ahead of us.  How are we going to get around them?’

          ‘Perhaps we should head inland,’ suggested Bormanus.  ‘Surely we’ve left Vanna Nir behind by now.’

          Rama shook his head emphatically.  ‘It’s not a route I would suggest.’

          ‘Why not?’ Sela said apprehensively.

          ‘The rumours of Vanna Nir have been substantiated.  It is likely that another field exists that would be best avoided.’

          Sela’s hands went to her hips in her characteristic combative stance.  ‘Another field?’

          Jehenna walked over to some sharp, flat rocks that led up to a patch of grass to the west.  She clambered up the rocks, jumping from shelf to shelf until she finally stood where she could survey the land.  She turned back to her companions and waved to them, her gesture indicating that they follow her up to her vantage point.

          They were all surprised by what they saw.  The lush meadows of flowerfall had faded away, replaced by a place so disconsolate, Jehenna felt lonely just looking at it.  It was completely absent in colour.  There was grass covering the wide flat expanse, but it was grey.  It seemed that even the sky was subject to the same aesthetic - thick, low-lying monochromatic clouds robbed the land of any warmth it may have extracted from the day.  No beasts moved on the land nor did any birds fly above it.  It was the unhappiest place Jehenna had ever seen.

          ‘What’s that smell?’ Sela groaned, gagging behind her mask.

          ‘It’s the smell of sadness,’ Rama said as he joined Jehenna and Sela on the small rise that overlooked the grey land.  ‘This place is called Sad El.  It’s an easy enough translation to work out.  Just as Vanna Nir is a place of euphoria and bliss, Sad El is a place of despair.  Or so the story goes.’

          Sela looked up at Rama and said, ‘One look at this place will tell you that the story must be true.  I feel a sense of emptiness just standing near it.’

          Jehenna placed a hand over her nose.  ‘It will only get worse when we march through it.  I do not believe we can proceed.  If this drab meadow affects us as potently as Vanna Nir affected me, I do not believe we would reach the other side.’

          Sela peered at her curiously.  ‘Are you saying we turn back Jehenna?’

          ‘I do not believe we have a choice.  We can’t swim the sea and we can't traverse the cliffs.’

          Bormanus and Lilith clambered up the rise and immediately reacted to the dismal surroundings.  Lilith turned her craggy face away from the scene, overwhelmed by the sense of hopelessness the place evoked.  Bormanus brought his hands up to his milky white face and quailed at the sight of melancholy meadow.  ‘What is this?’ his thin voice whispered as he grappled with the gloom that had descended upon him.

          ‘It doesn't matter,’ said Jehenna.  ‘We’re not staying.’

          She turned her back on Sad El and made her way to the edge of the rise.  To the south, the beach stretched out like a scimitar, gleaming in the afternoon light as it curved around the deep blue ocean to the east.  Out to sea, the sun had burst through clouds, lighting up patches of water so that they glistened like coloured glass in a church window.  At once her heart lifted.  She breathed in deeply and the salty air cleared her head.  She was retreating, but it was the right decision.  The only decision.

          Suddenly, something caught her eye to the south.  At first she thought it was a low-lying cloud, but it was moving too quickly.  Its shadow skipped across the distant rockpools, sending fish scurrying for cover.  The dark shape was large but lacked distinguishing features that would mark it as an animal.  It was wide and flat but had no face, nor did it have arms or legs.  The extremities of the shape slowly moved up and down like the great leviatha of the Oshalla Ocean, but it was no sea creature.  It was like nothing Jehenna had ever seen before and that probably meant it was dangerous.

          ‘Prepare yourselves,’ she hissed to the others.  ‘Something’s coming.’

          Lilith hobbled up next to her and peered down the beach.  ‘Its name is Katkochila.  It’s one of the Cabal.’

          ‘Another one!’ sighed Jehenna as she twisted her arms slightly and cocked her crossbows.  With a click and a snap, the bows extended and a bolt was drawn into the tiller of each weapon.

          Sela and Rama took their cues from their leader and readied themselves for an attack.  Sela pulled her gown over her shoulders revealing her quills which rose up and quivered like the hair on the back of a cornered animal.  Rama raised his staff before him and kept it pointed at the approaching creature though he could not see it at all.

          Lilith sat down atop the rise and closed her eyes, focusing within as she tried to draw out what little Morgai power remained in her frail body.

          ‘There is no defeating this monster,’ Rama said solemnly.  ‘I believe it’s the one that attacked the city of Xochipilli.’

          As it neared, Jehenna could see that the creature was actually made up of many smaller parts.  Countless spherical segments floated together in a clump, all part of the one body but not actually attached to one another.  It was like looking at the individual snowflakes in a blizzard, only these were black, round and large enough to hit.  Or so Jehenna thought.  She took the initiative and fired of ten bolts in succession, five from each arm.  The shatterstone-tipped shafts burst through the air aimed directly at the centre of the great black beast.  It seemed impossible to miss, but when the bolts neared the creature, it simply shifted its segments around so that the shots passed through it.  Despite the flurry of bolts she had dispatched, Jehenna had failed to hit Katkochila and that was something for which she would pay a price.

          As Katkochila dived towards the tiny Myrrans on the edge of Sad El, it reconfigured its body.  At the point where most creatures had a head, a large knot of the black segments formed, like a great black fist being clenched.  Sela, Bormanus and Lilith were fortunate enough to escape being hit.  Jehenna and Rama were not so lucky.

          A moment before Katkochila’s blow, Lilith managed to erect a barrier between the beast and its intended targets.  The mystical energies crackled as Katkochila slammed into it.  It was a temporary measure and did much to soften the strange beast’s blow.  Jehenna and Rama were thrown backwards, down the slope towards the monochromatic field they had hoped to avoid.

As they tumbled down the hill, Jehenna threw out a hand to grab Rama.  She managed to snag his thick, moist dreadlocks.  He grunted in pain but she held on, less concerned about the tendrils hanging from his head than she was about being separated from him.  For some reason, she felt scared and she did not want to be alone.

          They stopped at the base of the slope, on the fringes of Sad El.  Jehenna lifted her head.  It felt like a great weight upon her shoulders.  Her limbs also felt heavy.  She felt nauseous.  In her mind, it seemed that she would always feel this way, that there was no other way to feel.  She looked up the long slope in front of her and could see the black shape of Katkochila wheeling in the sky.  The sight of it filled her with dread.  She found it difficult to think about how her companions were faring against the monster.  She was not even sure she cared.

          Rama shook his head, trying in vain to clear it of the fear and melancholia that had also enveloped him.  

          A forlorn expression crossed Jehenna’s face.  Her eyes flicked back and forth from the meadow to the rise above her.  She bit her lip as she tried to sort through the clutter of emotions that filled her head.  She looked at Rama who was crouched on his knees, his head hidden under his arms.  He was not going anywhere.

          ‘We should go,’ she said unconvincingly.  She knew she should climb back up the slope, but that way lay Katkochila.  She was caught in a bind.  She could not stay but she found it just as hard to go.

          Looking up the hill, she caught sight of the glaive Simeon had given her back on The Fortitude.  It had been dislodged from its harness when Katkochila had struck.  In the grey landscape surrounding her, the glaive stood out like a beacon – golden and brilliant.  She would concentrate on getting to it.  She put all thoughts of Katkochila aside and focused solely on Simeon’s gift.  She forced into her mind images of her brother smiling as he playfully teased her on the deck of his proud ship.  She crawled through the grey grass and though each step was an effort, she eventually made it to the glaive.  The further she went, the better she felt.  By the time she held the golden shaft of the glaive once more, her fear had dissipated and was replaced by anger.

          Jehenna turned to find Rama was just behind her.  She could tell by his face that he too had left his fears at the base of the hill where the meadow of Sad El clutched at their hearts.  ‘You know, Rama,’ she said with a snarl, ‘I’m getting a little tired of these Cabal smashing us across the countryside.’

          Leaning on his staff, Rama hauled himself up onto his feet.  ‘So am I, Jehenna.  Let’s get back to the others.’

          By the time they reached the top of the hill, the courage and determination that usually characterised the pair had returned, which was just as well for what awaited them was terrifying.

          Katkochila had landed on the rise and had taken the form of a many legged creature with a large head shaped like a pick-axe which it used to attack Lilith, Rama and Sela.  Lilith had erected a cocoon of magick around them.  This sphere of Morgai power was small but it had been enough to protect the trio from Katkochila’s vicious onslaught.  Each time the beast rammed its wedge-shaped head into the sphere Lilith winced and the translucent blue light that formed the protective bubble would flicker.  Jehenna did not understand the magicks involved but she could see it would not be long before Lilith collapsed under the savage attacks and the bubble would pop, leaving the three of them defenceless.

          Jehenna cocked her crossbows and fired another volley.  Although she was sure she had not gained Katkochila’s attention when she fired, the spheres simply moved aside and let her bolts pass through.

Rama was just as quick to move and his attack was similarly ineffectual.  Sensing where the creature stood, he sprinted towards it and thrust his staff upward deep into what could have been the monster’s belly.  The closely-packed segments parted and his blow struck nothing but air.

          The segments shifted dramatically, rising up high above Rama.  They formed a long pylon that hovered momentarily in the air before hammering down towards the Ankaran.  A split-second before the dark pole struck, Rama was hit from the side.  

          It was Jehenna.  Realising the mortal danger her companion was in she had leapt to his aid.  It was a most fortuitous collision.  Not only had she pulled him out of the path of Katkochila’s killing blow, but she had managed to send them into Lilith’s protective sphere.

          Jehenna wasted no time in going to Lilith’s side.  ‘How long can you maintain the shield?’

          Lilith did not move.  She did not have the energy to answer.  It was taking every vestige of strength just to keep the barrier up.  Jehenna looked out through the translucent blue surface of the sphere expecting to see the black shape of Katkochila beyond.  Instead she saw the bright sky and the shimmering sea beneath.  A sliver of hope entered her heart – frustrated by its attempts to squash them, Katkochila had abandoned its attacks and flown off in search for easier prey.

          She lifted her gaze to find that this was not the case.  Katkochila had flown away but only so far as it needed to go to build up momentum to smash the sphere of magick apart.  Up into the eastern sky it flew until it paused, hovering high above the pounding surf.  It seemed to be looking at them from afar, scrutinising them, although as far as Jehenna could tell, it had no eyes.

Suddenly it shot forward, like a spear with wings.  It moved at such a phenomenal speed, Jehenna hardly had time to tell her squad to brace themselves.

          The impact was terrible and there was none who felt it more than Lilith Cortese.  She let loose a wrenching, agonised cry as Katkochila drove its pointed mass into the sphere.  Despite the pain that accompanied such a blow, Lilith somehow managed to maintain the integrity of the bubble.  The jarring collision did not break the barrier but it did send the entire sphere high into the air.  The company tumbled around within the ball as it flew high above the rise, out into the grey sky above Sad El.

          Whatever hope Jehenna had experienced was quickly shattered when she realised the ramifications of Katkochila’s attack.  If by miracle they survived the landing upon the meadow far below, they would fall under Sad El’s disheartening influence and lose themselves in despair.  She tried to think of what to do but it looked hopeless.  ‘There is always a way, there is always a way,’ she repeated to herself, but as the ground came rushing up to meet them, she had to accept that perhaps she was wrong.  Sometimes, perhaps, there were no options.

 

 

When Jehenna lifted her head from the soft grey grass of Sad El, it felt as heavy as an anvil.  She tried to lift herself from the ground but found she neither had the will nor the energy.

          She lay her head back in her arms and wept.  She did not know why but the tears came easily.  She could hear herself sobbing, could feel the tears’ warm tracks on her cheeks and could taste their saltiness as they ran down to her lips.  She put her hand to her face and brushed the scar that had formed as a result of the Ryugin’s attack upon The Fortitude.  The scar made her feel worse as it reminded her of her dead brother.  And someone else.  Someone who was beyond her reach.  She rolled over in the grass so that her face was buried in the pungent grass.  She could do nothing but cry.

 

Sela was huddled so tightly, she resembled a small, prickly bush amongst the long blades of grass.  Her spines stuck up defensively as she wrestled with the doubts that consumed her mind.  Her thoughts weren’t centred upon herself.  They were devoted to her family.  She pictured her village, spread out on wooden platforms located high above the savannah.  Long, golden stalks of grass spread out in all directions, rippling as a warm breeze ran across the land.  It would have been a picturesque scene had she not caught sight of something moving through the grass.  Suddenly the land became a sea of teeth, gnashing and snapping at the village perched above it.  She saw her husband Tomu walking out of their hut with their baby Seba in his arms.  In her head, Sela heard her child crying.  It was not the half-hearted cry of tired child; it was a scream fuelled and shaped by absolute terror.  ‘I should have been there to protect him,’ Sela said mournfully and curled up even tighter on the dark grass of Sad El.

 

 

Lilith was barely conscious.  She had never been more exhausted in all her long life.  She could not remember a time when her body did not ache, nor could she remember a time when her mind was free of the oppressive guilt that weighed upon it.  ‘I shouldn’t have told him anything,’ she mumbled to herself.  Her voice was so broken and weak that her comment was more like a thought than a statement.  Her craggy face lay pressed against the black soil from which sprung the shoots of grey grass.  She blended into the landscape and was content to stay where she was, until death took her.  In the back of her mind, she knew that her death was not meant to take place upon the meadow of Sad El, but she had no interest in the incongruity.  All she wanted was for her life to end.  She didn’t care where just as long as it was soon.  She closed her eyes and repeated, ‘I shouldn’t have told him anything.’

 

 

Rama had fallen face first.  As he struck the dirt, he heard something crack.  Moments later, he was aware of something warm running down both sides of his face.  Ankarans’ nostrils were usually difficult to see as they were little more than slits on either side of the shallow ridge that ran down from their foreheads to their wide lipless mouths, but in Rama’s case, his nostrils became the most noticeable aspect of his face.  From them ran vivid red blood, all the more shocking in a landscape of grey.   The bleeding was profuse.  The pain under his scaly skin told him that he had fractured his skull and his nostrils became the outlet for the blood that was rushing through his aching head.  

          Rama clambered to his feet which were both spattered by his blood, as was the grass.  He lifted a hand to his face and squeezed his nostrils shut.  The swelling feeling behind his fingers made his head swim, so he reached down to his thighs and quickly tore a strip of cloth from his leggings.  He bound this tightly around his face, hoping that the pressure would be enough to stem the flow of blood.

          He raised his head and listened for some sign of his companions.  He could hear voices, soft and muffled as if they were far away.  The fact he could hear voices was uplifting.  It meant that some of the company at least had survived the fall.

          It was then that he realised that he did not feel like he had before.  There was no heaviness, nor was he plagued with the fear and dread that had almost frozen him to the spot earlier.  The bitter sting of the blood had somehow cleared his head and protected him from the effects of the meadow.

          ‘It must be the pheromones of the meadow,’ he thought triumphantly to himself.  ‘I can’t smell them so I am immune to their sickly charms.’

          Free of the melancholia that had laid waste to his companions, Rama listened carefully for the voices that sat on the edges of his hearing.  The blind man who had lost his sense of smell would be the one to save those who could see and smell but were handicapped by their hearts.

 

 

He found Bormanus sitting on the bank of a black stream that ran down the middle of the meadow.  He had drawn his rapier for the first time since leaving Cessair and placed the blade across his wrist where he planned to make the first of a series of incisions that would take his life.  Rama knelt down beside him and pulled the blade away from Bormanus’ exposed flesh.

         ‘Mean you to kill yourself Bormanus?’ Rama inquired gently, fearful that strong words would tip the Cephalonian over the edge of whatever precipice he sat upon.

          ‘I’ve lost my way,’ Bormanus’ thin, faint voice replied.  He spoke as if caught up in a dream.  Rama was not even sure Bormanus was aware of his presence.

          ‘I’m here to lead you to safety,’ Rama said as he tore the bandage from his face.

          ‘No, you don’t understand.’

          Rama pushed the bloody cloth towards the Cephalonian but Bormanus would have none of it.  He lifted his small hands and pushed Rama’s hand away.

          ‘I have wronged you all.’

          Rama shook his head and pushed the cloth back towards Bormanus.  ‘Listen to me Bormanus.  The meadow is corrupting your heart.  If you wear this cloth over your nose, you won’t be –’

          ‘Get that cloth away from me,’ Bormanus snapped.  His hand whipped up his rapier.

          ‘Will you kill me Bormanus?’ Rama said calmly.  ‘Is that what you intend?’

          Bormanus’ eyes framed the despair in his heart.  ‘Yes.’

          Rama had no choice but to act.  He could not reason with Bormanus whilst he was under Sad El’s influence.  He had to break the hold the meadow had on him.  ‘If you won’t smell my blood, you can smell your own.’

          Rama threw a punch that sent Bormanus from the bank and into the shallows of the black stream.  Blood poured from his broken nose covering his mouth and chin in a crimson flood.

          Bormanus gulped at the air if breathing for the first time.  ‘What happened?’ he said as he gazed upon Rama, surprised to find his companion standing over him with blood upon his fist.

          ‘You were lost to the sadness.’

          ‘So you hit me?’ he said confused and a little annoyed.

          ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Rama said with a look of embarrassment.  ‘It was an act of desperation.  I think you were about to kill me.’

          ‘I see,’ Bormanus said as he pulled himself out of the black stream and gazed around the bleak landscape.  Everything was dull.  The oppressive clouds above pushed in and a cold wind blew across the meadow.

          ‘Can you see anyone?’ Rama asked.  ‘I can hear sobbing and murmuring voices.’

          A long pause preceded Bormanus’ answer.  ‘I cannot see anyone.’

          ‘How can that be?’ Rama exclaimed.  The grass of the meadow wasn’t so long that it would hide the others from sight, nor was he aware of undulations in the landscape that would obstruct Bormanus’ view.  ‘Bormanus.  I know they are near. I can hear…?  Bormanus?’

          The doleful wind carried on it the pitiful mussitations of his companions but Bormanus had fallen silent.  Although unsettled by this, Rama decided he could not spend any more time on the Cephalonian.  Should the other members of the squad be similarly suicidal, he had to get to them before they did something desperate.  

          Suddenly a scream rang out across the meadow.  It was Sela.  Her declaration of despair was so clear and loud that Rama had no trouble finding her.  She was huddled in a ball not far from the river.  Her masked face was buried so deeply in her arms that Rama struggled to make her aware of his presence.  He forcibly lifted her head so that she could look upon him.  Although he couldn’t see her expression, Rama could feel her confusion.  She spoke to him as if she were addressing a stranger.  ‘The shakku have returned!’

          He knew it was pointless to indulge her.  Bormanus had spoken nonsense as well.  He shoved his blood-soaked bandage under her mask and felt her body stiffen as the caustic smell of his blood overcame the saddening scent of the meadow.  ‘Rama?’ she said as if waking from a heavy sleep.

          ‘Yes, it’s me,’ he reassured her.  ‘Here.  Tie this around your face.’  She took the makeshift bandage and fixed it so it would keep Sad El at bay.  

          The wind blew across Rama’s bare face.  A stinging, burning sensation erupted inside his nostrils.  The bleeding had not stopped but he didn’t care.  The pain gave him focus and that was what was needed in the hopelessness of Sad El.  ‘Tell me what you see,’ he said to Sela as he drew her to her feet.

          She scanned the low-lying clouds first of all – her fear of Katkochila had not dissipated with her sadness.  Amidst the grey, swirling shadows of the clouds, a deeper, darker shadow moved.  ‘Katkochila is near.  It’s circling in the clouds above.’  She moved closer to Rama.  He could hear her spines quivering anxiously across her back. ‘Why doesn’t it attack Rama?  We’re more vulnerable now than ever.’

          ‘Perhaps the smell of Sad El keeps it at bay.  I don’t know.’  He twisted his head around, trying to catch the sound of the others on the meadow.  ‘Sela, where are the others?’ he said somewhat anxiously, gently turning her head from the clouds so that she could concentrate on the meadow around them.

          ‘They are close!’ she said with a joyous note in her voice. ‘'Lilith is nearby and Jehenna is down the slope a little.’

          ‘And Bormanus?’

          She swivelled around and quickly surveyed the area surrounding them.  ‘I can’t see him.’

          Rama grumbled something to himself that Sela couldn’t hear.  He then knelt down and tore off two strips of cloth from his breeches and wiped them across his face.  Sela was shocked to see him bleeding so much and wondered how much more blood he could lose before collapsing to the ground.

          He took one of the bloody strips and handed it to her.  ‘Go to Jehenna whilst I attend to Lilith.  Go quickly and call to me when you are done.’

 

 

Sela sprinted across the grass with bloody rag in hand.  Jehenna was curled up in a foetal position on the grass.  Her eyes were open but they looked at nothing.  She just stared blankly in front of her.  One side of her face was pressed against the grass.  The other side – the scarred side – faced the sky.  Sela could see where tears had pooled before spilling over the bridge of her nose.

          ‘Jehenna?’ Sela said tentatively.  ‘Are you alright?’

          ‘No,’ she said disconsolately.  ‘I picked the wrong man.’

          Sela was perplexed.  It was not the reaction she was expecting.  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said softly.

          ‘Neither did I,’ Jehenna said in a voice so distant it could have been coming from the other side of the world.  ‘Neither did I.’

          Sela grabbed Jehenna tenderly by the forearm and rolled her onto her back so that the Acoran could see her.  ‘Jehenna, it’s me.  It’s Sela.’

          Jehenna absentmindedly lifted a hand towards Sela.  It shook in the air, fumbling, like someone reaching for something in the dark.  When her slender fingers touched Sela’s mask, her hand recoiled quickly.  She turned away and her gaze returned to a vacuous stare as her lips mouthed the dismal thoughts that floated through her head.

          ‘Jehenna!  It’s Sela.  Please look at me.’  Unnerved by the pathetic state her leader was in, Sela’s voice rose in pitch and volume.  ‘Please don’t be scared – it is only a mask!  I’m wearing a mask!’

          Jehenna continued to stare out across the grass as she mumbled, ‘Maeldune wears a mask.  I wear a mask.  We all wear masks.’

          ‘Sela!’ hollered Rama as he marched towards the pair.  He was supporting the wan figure of Lilith Cortese who was struggling to match his stride.  She looked so small and withered beside the tall Ankaran.

          ‘She won’t respond to me!’ Sela yelled back.

          Rama knelt down beside her and fumbled about Jehenna’s face.  Sela had forgotten to use the bloody rag to overpower the hold Sad El’s pheromones had upon Jehenna.  Rama quickly wiped one of his hands in the blood leaking from his thin nostrils and shoved it under Jehenna’s nose, smearing her skin, staining it red.  At first, she didn’t react and Rama feared that her depression was so deep she could not be pulled out of it.  Suddenly, she sat upright and swallowed deeply.  She closed her eyes as the air filled her lungs and she regained control of her heart and mind.

          She turned to Sela and said with great urgency, ‘What have I said? Just now, what was I saying?’

          Sela shrugged.  ‘It made no sense.’

          Jehenna grasped her forearms and drew her closer.  ‘Did I mention anyone?’

          'No,’ Sela lied.

          Jehenna cast a fleeting glance at her companions.  ‘I see Bormanus has vanished,’ she said coldly.  She did not sound surprised.

          ‘I found him earlier but I lost him just as quickly,’ Rama said shamefully, as if he were responsible for the disappearance.

          Jehenna's sharp gaze scanned the meadow around them.  ‘He must have fled.’

          ‘But where?’

          On the far side of the meadow, perhaps a league away, Jehenna could see stone structures carved into a steep mountainside.  The building and the mountains cradling them were bathed in brilliant pink light.  It was almost sunset and the colours that were splashed across the mountain contrasted dramatically with the colourless field they stood upon.  ‘Rama, I see buildings to the north.’

          ‘It must be Johannan.’  It was not Rama who spoke but Lilith.  Her voice was weak.  ‘Long ago, the Morgai built a great city in the south.  Few outsiders knew of it, but among the Morgai it was said to be a golden palace full of song and laughter.’  She wanted to say more but the mere act of speech was exhausting.  She had drained herself of all her strength in her defence against Katkochila.  She smiled apologetically and looked away.

          Sela pointed up at the black shadow circling in the clouds above them.  ‘Perhaps we could take refuge from Katkochila there.’

          ‘Maybe Bormanus is there too,’ added Rama.

          Jehenna nodded.  ‘Let us go to the edge of Sad El.  I imagine Katkochila will be upon us as soon as we clear the meadow.  If we move quickly we might just survive this day.’

          It was the most optimistic comment that could be said on the miserable meadow.  Rama strapped his staff to his back, scooped Lilith up into his arms and marched off with Jehenna and Sela by his side.

 

 

It was not long before they reached the edge of Sad El.  They stopped momentarily upon the field’s fringe to look upon the lost city of Johannan.

          Whilst the painted facades had faded, and the finer details of its ornate reliefs had been lost to the ravages of time, the great metropolis was still an impressive sight.  Tall columns lined broad plazas where intricately carved fountains once sprayed water high into the air.  The magisterial statues of long-forgotten Morgai stood as tall as trees on podiums in the middle of the city’s open spaces.  Wide, broken stairways lined with iron lanterns curved up around the thick curved walls of municipal buildings.  An amphitheatre lay in ruins in the shadow of an outcrop of rock that stretched out from the steep mountainside into which the city had been delved.  Beside it ran a long straight avenue that led up to a cluster of stolid-looking buildings which lay in thick shadow of the mountains.  High above the meadow, the crumbling remains of twisting towers reached up into the pink sky like severed limbs.

          ‘Ready? asked Jehenna.

          ‘I think so,’ replied Sela nervously.  She looked up into the clouds behind her for Katkochila’s shadow.  There was no sign of it.

          Jehenna stepped forward and pointed into the heart of Johannan.  ‘There’s a large entryway in the centre of the large building to the right of the amphitheatre.  Do you all see it?’

          ‘Yes,’ came the reply.

          ‘That is what we are making for.  Do not stop for anything.  All you need to do is run.  Don’t think.  Just run.’

          She made it sound so simple.  Just run.  They all knew that their lives depended upon how quickly they could cover the distance between the meadow and the shelter of the city.  Somewhere above them, Katkochila was waiting for them to break from cover.  That knowledge fuelled their adrenalin, gave them strength despite the desperate odds against their survival.

          Rama held Lilith tightly to his chest.  She weighed very little – she would hardly slow him down.  He was more concerned about tripping up over obstacles he could not see.  ‘Lilith, be my eyes,’ he whispered to the old woman.  Lilith lifted her head from his chest and prepared to navigate their passage over the flagstone before the city of her forebears.

          Jehenna scanned the clouds one last time and seeing no indication that Katkochila was near gave the command to go.

 

 

Jehenna sprinted out in front, followed by Rama and Lilith.  Sela made up the rear but did well to keep close to her much taller companions.  Barely ten yards separated the group as they vaulted rocks, jumped up stairs and leapt over elegantly shaped balustrades.  By the time they had reached a wide avenue lined with the shattered remains of decorative urns, Jehenna dared entertain the thought that they might actually make it.

         It was at that point that Katkochila sliced silently through the clouds.  The creature had assumed a wide, flat shape, hoping to keep its prey unaware of its approach.

         Fortunately, Jehenna’s instincts alerted her to the monster’s presence.  She spun around and saw its dark form drawing closer, like a blanket being pulled across the sky.  Sela momentarily stopped when she saw Jehenna pause which resulted in a fierce rebuke from the Acoran.  ‘I thought I said not to stop!’ Jehenna screamed.  Sela said nothing but doubled her efforts to reach the entryway in front of her.

         To Jehenna’s right lay the amphitheatre she had noticed earlier.  Much of it lay in ruins.  The steps were in a state of decay as was the old wooden stage in the centre of the flat performance area at the base of the bowl.  As Sela raced past her, Jehenna jumped the small wall lining the avenue and sprinted towards the amphitheatre.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Katkochila change shape as it twisted around in mid-air to follow her. 

         Jehenna smiled.  It was what she had intended all along.  She had realised that they would never make it as a group and had never purposed to stay with them when Katkochila appeared.  The only doubt she had in her plan was whether Katkochila would follow her.  A broad defiant smile spread across her scarred face when she saw the beast had taken the bait. 

          Jehenna bolted for the wooden stage in the middle of the amphitheatre.  She jumped up onto the broken timbers of the stage, took her place in the centre of it and awaited Katkochila.

          She did not have to wait long.  It barrelled through the air like hundreds of iron balls fired from a line of cannons.  As it drew closer, it drew its body into a solid mass, intending to squash the Acoran into the timbers on which she stood, seemingly defenceless and trapped.

          But Jehenna was not without options.  She had pinned her entire strategy on a small hope.  As a child, her mother and father had often taken her to performances at the Elidor Opera House.  She had watched transfixed as dancers dressed as ghosts and angels would appear and disappear on the stage during performances.  Years later, her father revealed the secret of such feats of magick.  She hoped to use the same technique to vanish from sight.  

          As Katkochila swept in over the stage, Jehenna flicked up a trapdoor that lay in the centre of the stage.  A split-second before the beast reached her, she dropped down into the hole and disappeared just like the costumed dancers of her youth.  The sound of Katkochila’s impact with the stage above was deafening.

          She quickly clambered out from under the boards and exited out the back of the stage.  As she did so she risked a quick glance back into the amphitheatre and was met with a most unexpected sight.  Thousands of black spheres rolled around the rows that fanned out from the stage.  Jehenna watched for a moment, transfixed by the sight of the black balls gradually rolling together to reform.  Katkochila was in pieces but it was far from out of the fight.

 

 

‘Get ready to shut the door!’ Jehenna screamed as she approached the great entryway where her companions stood waiting.

It had not taken Katkochila long to reform.  It was in the air behind her, flapping its wide wings manically in an attempt to get to Jehenna before she disappeared into the city.  It was fast, but not fast enough.  

          Jehenna slipped through the small space between the thick oakaen doors Rama was keeping open for her.  As she shot past him, he shouldered the doors shut.  Sela was just as quick to bar the door with an iron latch that was almost as big as she was.

Seconds later the sound of Katkochila slamming into the braced doors thundered across the large foyer they found themselves in.           ‘We can’t stay here,’ panted Jehenna.  ‘Let’s move further into the city.’

          A number of shatterbugs had gathered in the foyer and they supplied enough light to illuminate the immediate vicinity.  Jehenna looked about until she found the very thing she had been expecting to find in the deserted city of Johannan – the pale, thin figure of Bormanus Cole skulking in the shadows.

          ‘Bormanus,’ she stated plainly, all warmth and tenderness stripped from her voice.  ‘I see you’ve decided to join us.’

          He nodded but said nothing.

          ‘What happened to you Bormanus?’  It was not a question to quench her concern.  Jehenna’s tone was one of suspicion.

          ‘I… I’m not sure really,’ he answered clumsily.  ‘The sight of my own blood has always made me queasy.  I think I fainted.’

          Rama turned to Jehenna and assisted Bormanus.  ‘I broke his nose.’

          ‘I don’t remember how I got here.  All I can remember is running.  I arrived only minutes before you all did.’

          ‘I see,’ Jehenna said dispassionately.

          Bormanus clutched at his nose.  Though it had been broken, there was no sign of swelling.  The bleeding had stopped.  He seemed to be blessed with a remarkable gift for recovery.  Noticing Jehenna’s lingering gaze upon his nose, he said, ‘It still hurts a great deal.  Rama hit me hard.’

          If Bormanus was seeking sympathy, he was looking in the wrong place.  Jehenna sneered at him and raised her eyebrows.            ‘You owe Rama your life Bormanus,’ Jehenna scolded.  ‘We all do.  We’re lucky to be here.’

          ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Lilith sardonically.  

          At first Jehenna didn’t take Lilith’s meaning.  She followed the old woman’s gaze up the stairs at the far end of the foyer.  On the landing at the top of the stairs stood a group of skeletal warriors with pale skin and hollow eyes.

          ‘Oh gods!’ exclaimed Sela.  ‘Not the Ghul!’