Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (30 page)

Faevin was looking wildly from Nessa to Leyra. “I will,” he whispered, now wringing his hands. “I will do it. I will.”

“You won’t,” Nessa argued.

“I will!”

Nessa merely shook her head.

“Nessa!” Leyra repeated softly. “Stop it!”

But Nessa would do no more. She looked at Faevin, and knew that it was done – all done for now. It seemed that he was sobbing now, and pulling still upon his hair and his hands, so that he seemed fairly and truly to have lost his mind. And so Nessa looked again to Leyra, in an effort to reassure her; but she was full surprised, when Faevin leapt towards them both.

Leyra screamed his name, and tried to duck to the left, but was not quick enough. He laid hold of her, seeming for the moment to have no thought for Nessa. But Nessa had enough for him, and she tried to pry him away from Leyra. But his strength was too much – more than she had ever known him to possess.

“Let her go, Faevin!” she yelled. “Let her go!”

But Leyra lay already upon the floor, with Faevin’s legs straddling her on either side, and his powerful hands wrapped round her throat. So Nessa went after Faevin, and made every endeavour to pull him away. But he was shaking Leyra’s head, as he held her by the throat, so that the back of her skull pounded again and again against the floor. Nessa saw her eyes begin to bulge, and then to roll back; and then to slide shut.

Forever shut.

After the last of the life went out of her, Faevin rolled away, and crawled into a space of dark shadow beside the sofa. He drew up his knees, and rocked a little back and forth, with his face hid in his hands. Nessa could hear him crying.

She sprang to Leyra’s side, and looked down into her face. Deathly white. She put two fingers to the side of her throat, and felt for a pulse. Deathly silent.

She stared for a moment in disbelief. There was only that grey gloom, pervading everything; and the sound of Faevin’s sobs, as he rocked himself like a baby. But from Leyra there was no sound, no movement. Never again would there be.

Nessa bent down, and laid a soft kiss upon her forehead. Unexpected tears streamed from her eyes, and fell down onto Leyra’s face.

“I did love you, Leyra,” Nessa whispered. “You were my friend – and I hate you nothing at all. Why, if you had not done what you did – I never would have had the chance to love Cassie. You hated her, I know, if only for that. But I thank you for it, and I shall never forget.”

She kissed her once more, but then leant back on her heels, and wiped at her cheeks. “I must go now, Leyra,” she said. “I must go. But I promise to come back for you.”

She rose quickly, and hurried from the room. She went then from the house; but Faevin did not follow her. She heard, halfway across the lawn, the sound of fierce growls, and a strain of howling, from inside the house. Qiello had awakened, and was fighting against Faevin, it seemed.

Nessa cared nothing, now, for hiding. She would take the quickest route there was to be taken, without a thought of being seen. And so, as she passed the wild garden, she removed her Turin, changed her shape, and dropped down to the ground. The shadows in the yard were as thick as those in the parlour, and she slipped through them as neither a sight nor a sound, running doubtless as she had never run before.

She ran on and on, on through the chilly night, making farther each moment towards her destination. As she moved nearer, there came far away upon the air that scent of stinking, rotting air; and she knew that she headed right. It crossed her mind not for the first time, to look first into Cassie’s bedroom (though we know well enough, that she could no more have seen her there, anyway), and then into the diner, to see whether she truly were taken. But she felt that this would cost time she did not have. So she ran on, and on and on, and the stink grew stronger and stronger, till finally she knew that she could not be so far from Cassie at all.

Chapter XXXVIII:

F
og

C
assie was locked into a secure little hut near to the quarters of Qiello’s own sons. Even as Nessa ran towards her (and little did Cassie either hope for or suspect it), she had been there for nearly two weeks; and was brought only scant amounts of food and water each day. But it was tainted with the horrible odour of the marsh, and doubtless was obtained from those shadowed nooks and corners where water collects and disgusting creatures hide, so that it was scarcely edible. When Cassie’s hunger grew too sharp, and needed be sated somehow, her efforts were almost ever wasted, as the thick water and slimy victuals were nearly always expelled immediately.

Ever she could hear the sounds of rough speech around the hut, as the wolves moved around it. The hours of sunlight (or at least, whatever sunlight was capable of penetrating the thick dark canopy overhead) were nearly silent, but there began much movement at dusk, which persisted all through the black hours. She sometimes heard scraps of words concerning the expectant deaths of others, or even of herself; but there was nothing that made her so anxious as the sound of Nessa’s name, spoken in conjunction with such a fate. And hear it often she did.

She lay on the ground for long hours in this hut, most always weary from the lack of food and drink. Some of the days were more mild; but the nights were so cold, that sometimes she was forced to attempt to gain her feet, so as only to distance herself a little from the chill earth. But very soon she would fall back down, and drop her head in the mud.

She noticed, as the days passed by, that her thoughts grew farther and farther disconnected from one another, till she was at times forgetting even where she was, and why she was there. Hours passed by hours, and days passed by days, all rolling together as time unknown and uncounted. Most times she lay, but sometimes she stood; there came each night a horrid supper through the door of the hut; and those coarse and angry voices persisted all around. She knew nothing of the measurement of two weeks, as Nessa raced towards her through the night. She knew nothing of the racing; but only of the night.

~

As Cassie lay with one eye shut fast, and the other rolling about (it seemed that neither could rest while the other one dozed; and she took her repose, then, rather in the way of the dolphin, who must ever give himself the order to breathe, and whose mind can ever only sleep by halves, while the other keeps watch upon the safety of the whole; it was in this way that Cassie slept), Nessa charged headlong into the trees of the great, reeking swamp, entirely alone, and without aid.

Knowing now what she sought, she barrelled with neither thought nor doubt across the sodden floor of the waterlogged forest, searching again for what scent she had caught for the first time, on the night of her and Cassie’s visit to Samuel Clocker. She had smelt it, then, upon the air, but had dismissed it for lack of cause. Now, though, she knew its true meaning; and so pursued it relentlessly.

They had watched her that night – had watched her, and she had not known. But never again would they accomplish such a feat.

As she crashed through the foul rot, it was as if there came a stink even worse than all the rest, emanating from a singular and central location. It wafted like a toxic cloud across the night, and invaded Nessa’s nostrils harshly, so that she could not but wish to turn away from it. Yet she hurtled onwards.

Ever and anon, her feet splashed through an exceptionally deep puddle, and she found herself sunk nearly to the knees in shivering muck. As the ground grew softer, the sight of fallen trees became more frequent; and in her fervour, she several times tripped across those which lay in her path, and landed full on her face in the mire. It seemed, here amidst the towering trees and steaming slop (though of course Cassie would not have agreed with her), that the brunt of winter’s blows could not be felt. There was a warm stickiness pushing down upon her, that felt almost as clammy hands pressing heavily, and attempting to impede her progress.

But she only pressed back, as the silver moon shone down through the breaks in the canopy, and lighted her way as best as could be hoped for. The greens and browns of the forest scene were snatched away, and replaced in that hour with a soft and ghostly light, which fell down to fill the entire scene with a blue glow, and set the place whispering with a voice both quiet and admonishing. What did she do here? What cause had she to interrupt the sleep of this nether-realm, where there were stowed in the very remotest and darkest corners the spirits that dwell in such places?

But she only pressed on, and begged silently the leave of those spirits; for she assured them that she would not so far as even dream of taking such unwelcome steps, if those steps were not so terribly important. She waited for a return of the whisper, either to scold or to assure her of its support. But there came neither.

Finally she slowed her step, and cocked an ear. Not a whisper, surely, but there were scuffling footsteps, all around her.

It seemed there were more than sleeping spirits aware of her arrival.

She quickly changed her shape, and shot up in the mud on two feet. “I am Nessa,” she called, “of the house of Dahro. I have come by order of Qiello. He is not with me; but I assure you that I have done him no harm. Come out to me now, and guide me to your dwelling place.”

The heavy footsteps stilled, but there came upon the air a series of low voices, conversing seriously with one another.

“Come out to me,” Nessa cried. “Your terms were related to me. I have accepted them.”

Little did she know that there surrounded her, then, a band of wolves fifty strong. Onelen and Tilego (the latter much improved now since the injury imposed upon him by the gun of Samuel Clocker) headed them, for their brother remained behind to keep watch over Cassie’s hut.

“Have you come alone?” called Onelen, from behind a nearby tree.

“You see that I have,” answered Nessa.

“Ah!” laughed Onelen. “My family knows better than to trust your kind. You have done us irreparable injustice, and none have forgotten.”

“I have done you no wrong,” Nessa corrected. “How could I have, when I knew nothing of you? I still don’t know who you are. I know only that you are of the Voranu –
and that there is one of you who is called Qiello. He came this night to the house of Dahro, and informed me of your intentions. But I have done him no harm. He is presently occupied with a son of Arol.”

Onelen came, then, from behind the tree, and strode swiftly towards Nessa on his two legs. He moved through the thick blue gloom, over which there hung a sort of perfectly white fog, enveloping his head like a halo. But certainly he did not deserve one.

“It is imperative that you speak only truth to us, Endalin,” he said. “Surely you know – and surely it is why you have come – that we possess a great treasure of yours. Should you step wrong, you will lose all hope of its recovery. Do you understand?”

“Completely.”

“Come, then,” said Onelen, turning away from her. “We shall lead you on your way.”

But Qiello’s sons had been left explicit orders, you see, earlier that night, by their father himself. It was said that if the Endalin came to the marsh without him, then foul play was to be assumed, and the Endalin led on into a trap.

Even as Onelen guided Nessa into the deep marsh, with Tilego now by his side, scouts had gone ahead already to deliver word to Niono. Niono stood waiting by the hut, holding converse with a half-circle of wolves standing round him, when the first scout arrived. He looked with fierce anger and indignation upon the scout, understanding of course the purpose of his coming; and he struck out with a massive paw against the wall of the hut, a sound which did not wholly register with its single inhabitant, but which worked only to pry open a little more the one eye that lay open, while the other slept on.

With a low growl, Niono dismissed the scout, and sent the small circle loping away. He then positioned himself before the door of the hut, so that none might fly past and catch him unaware. There was, then, nothing but to wait for his brothers; and so he leant back against the hut, with his powerful arms straining at his sides.

Nessa kept warily behind Onelen and Tilego, with the sound of eight-and-forty pairs of feet echoing around her. They went at such a pace that it did not take long at all to reach the dwelling place of the clan. What with the luminescent haze settled down all over it, Nessa could not but gasp as she looked upon it – for, truly, it was now a mighty stronghold. Makeshift shelters were strewn all about, consisting of rickety huts that were not very pleasing to the eye, but so great in number that they were certainly impressive.

Even more impressively, as Nessa trotted slowly into their midst, she saw that the occupants of each structure were standing guard outside its door, watching her approach.

All stood exactly as did Niono, outside the door of Cassie’s hut; though of course none of the others had anything of worth to guard. Yet their hulking presence made Nessa uneasy, so great did it seem there in the softly shining blueness of the land. Water gurgled quietly through the place, slinking past in a narrow body that could not rightly be called even a stream – for its contents moved so very slowly, that they did not ever reach some other place than this one; but merely seeped eventually into the more solid land to the East. Yet it shifted still round the bends of the trees, over slippery rocks with a sound that was almost pleasant, but only with the most foul of aromas, that was ultimately quite ruinous to whatever musical quality it manufactured. The very ground, here, seemed to smoke pale white into the blue; and Nessa needed squint her eyes, to make out better the shapes of those who awaited her.

Finally, her guides came to the Western-most boundary of the ramshackle complex. The Ziruk stepped aside to let them pass, but growled at Nessa as she crossed their earthen porches. She felt for the first time the folly of her coming alone. Eager as she was to retrieve Cassie from their clutches, she was only just beginning to realise how difficult a task that would be, should she herself end up dead.

But none, for the moment, made any move whatever even to approach her. The wolves at the rear of the small brigade which trailed her began to branch to the North and the South, abandoning the party to observe alongside the others. But Onelen and Tilego led her on, and on, till finally they came to the hut outside which stood their brother. Xersha stood several feet away, a silent watcher.

“Niono,” said Onelen, as they drew up before him. “We have brought you the Endalin.”

“Thank you, brother,” said Niono, stepping forth to take a look at Nessa. As he moved away from the door, his brothers took their places in front of it.

“Hello, Nessa,” said Niono. His voice was gruff as always, in that way that he certainly had no power to alter it; but it was evident that he was attempting to make it quite as pleasant as he could. “I am so glad that you have come!”

Nessa changed her shape, to draw herself up before Niono. She wished for clothes; but did not allow her countenance to evince her discomfort, as she said, “Qiello came to me, and told me of she you have captured. I wish to take her back from you – with the intention, of course, of complying with each of your demands.”

“Oh, of course!” said Niono. “Surely you are trustworthy! But there is a single problem, you see – only the one, but rather a large one at that.”

“I told the others,” said Nessa, with an unconscious tensing of her muscles. “I did Qiello no harm. It is another who holds his attention.”

“And who would that be?”

“Aramort, son of Arol.”

In that moment, a great majority of the wolfen faces were stricken with astonishment; and a short gasp could be heard to issue from the mouth of Xersha. Even Niono could not keep some measure of surprise from his stolid countenance.

“How do you know of Aramort?” he demanded.

“He revealed himself to me. This very night.”

“He would do no such thing,” argued Niono. “He would not, till the time when his father bid him. And that time cannot yet have come.”

“How could you know that?”

“Because you are still alive,” Niono said plainly.

Nessa made no response.

“But you see,” Niono continued, shaking his head, “even if you speak the truth – there is no way for me to know what has become of my father. Until I hear certainty of his condition, spoken by one whom I trust –” (he shrugged, and turned his great paws into the air) “– I am afraid I shall have to confine you.”

Nessa took a step back. “You have no cause to do that. I have promised already to do what you wish – and I will only stand here amongst you, until your father returns. I will make no move against you.”

“Of course you won’t!” exclaimed Niono, with a great booming laugh. (It was echoed all around, by nearly all of his audience.) “What could you do, against so many?”

“Nothing,” said Nessa. “I could do nothing. So why must you confine me?”

“Because I do not trust you. For all I know, you have killed my father! Should you have done that, I wish to cause you to suffer, in quite as many ways as I can.”

“I have done him no harm!” Nessa repeated. “I swear to you, I have not. At least take me to Cassie, and allow me to await his return – for surely Aramort is no match for him. I ask you only this.”