Authors: Kathryn Lance
Zach fought to keep his eyes from closing, but his eyelids flickered, and once again he slept.
When Zach next awoke the machine body’s interior was lit by the reflected sun, revealing strangely shaped, twisted bits of rotten wire and metal embedded in the walls. After a moment he remembered all that had happened. Painfully he turned his head and saw that the little cave was empty. For a moment he felt a stab of fear that Evvy had left him, that he would die here alone and in thirst. Perhaps, he thought, he could drag himself to the stream to drink, and then back. But he knew he didn’t have the strength to gather more wood, and in any case, if Evvy was gone, so were his mount, his weapons, and his provisions.
He heard a scraping noise outside and imagined that fox-cats had scented him and come to finish him. Better that, he thought, than a slow, lingering death of paralysis and thirst.
Evvy’s face appeared above him.
“You’re awake,” she said. “I went to sleep right after you did. I think it’s about midday. I’ve been gathering wood for tonight. Your mount is all right, I’ve seen her eating grass by the stream, but she won’t let me get near her.”
Zach tried to explain how Evvy could approach the skittish mount, but all that came out was the strange moan of last night.
“I wanted to bring water,” said Evvy, “but your horn is still on the mount.”
Zach felt tears of despair start to his eyes. His thirst had become a torment, and he knew he would die if he could not drink. Perhaps the girl could help him get to the stream.
“When children get the fever it usually lasts just a day or two,” Evvy was saying. “I hope it’s the same for you. I know you have to have water, the fever bums it all off!” She took a deep breath, then said, “I’ll be right back.”
Zach watched her go and tried to rise and follow her, but fell back weakly. After a few minutes she reappeared, an odd expression on her face. She knelt, brought her face close to his. And then Zach felt her soft lips upon his. Her mouth parted and he felt water trickle against his own, and he understood what she was doing. He opened his mouth and let the water drip in. Painfully he swallowed. When Evvy’s own mouth was empty she returned to the stream and repeated the process again and again until he nodded that he had had enough.
“I’ll bring more water in the afternoon,” said Evvy. “Do you feel better?”
Zach tried to convey in his expression how grateful he was, but the paralysis of his tongue and throat seemed to have spread to his face.
For the rest of the day and into the long night Zach lay helpless. Twice more Evvy came and gave him water, though he was still tortured by thirst most of the time. In the few minutes that he was able to think clearly, he wondered how and what she was eating and what would happen to her if he died. She did not know this area; she could not ride his mount. He must stay alive now for her sake.
As suddenly as Zach had fallen ill, he began to recover. When he awoke the next morning, he had little trouble focusing on the walls of the machine-cave, and he realized that the throbbing in his head was gone. He stirred and almost immediately Evvy knelt over him. Before she could speak, he moved his lips and muttered weakly but intelligibly, “Feel better . . .”
Evvy’s face relaxed with relief. “Then it is like with the children,” she said. “You’ll be all right.” She went on gravely, almost like a parent lecturing, “You probably won’t feel quite right for a few more days.”
Zach took a deep breath and felt stronger still. After a moment he spoke again. “Evvy, I owe you my life.”
“I couldn’t have left you to die,” she said.
“I think,” he went on, slowly but distinctly, “that if you had not taken care of me both of us would have been lost. I thank you and – I swear – I will pay you back.”
By late that afternoon Zach was so much better that he was able to make his way to the stream and drink his fill. With some embarrassment he cleaned himself and his clothing, then approached the mount and took from her his sword, the remaining food, and his drinking horn. Exhausted, he lay against the wall of the cave and watched while Evvy prepared a fire and food for both of them.
The following morning, Zach felt almost himself again, and though he was still weak, he thought they could travel a few miles. When he suggested moving on, Evvy began to protest that he was not yet well, but he persuaded her that they were better off finding a larger, natural cave; they had been here enough days to have attracted attention from human or animal predators, if such were about.
Besides, he needed to feel action, to stir his brain. For things had changed, irrevocably, and he had to think.
They did not travel far. Zach was much weaker than he had expected, and the exertion of getting on his mount was enough to leave him trembling. Evvy was solicitous, glancing at him from time to time and doing what she could to aid in guiding the mount. In any case, there was little difficult riding to do, as they were soon in the foothills, where the paths were slow and winding, leading down toward the river plain.
At midday, Evvy insisted that they break for lunch. Then she suggested that perhaps they should make their camp here for the night. Zach made only a token protest. They had come upon a large, empty natural cave. It would be easy to protect from bats, and Zach could have a long night’s rest to heal his still-weak body. While Zach sat at the mouth of the cave and dug a small pit for the fire, Evvy brought in wood. They worked in silence, companionably, as if they had been traveling together for years.
They ate the last of the food Evvy’s mother had given them for dinner. Zach would have to hunt tomorrow, which would slow their journey, but it would also give him more time to think. They were not far from the river, and a decision would have to be made soon.
The food made Zach very sleepy, and he lay down near the back of the cave, his cloak half covering him. Evvy was wide-awake and wanting to chatter, but Zach was too tired to respond in more than grunts. Finally she asked him, “Could I try to play your lyre?”
“Of course.”
Gingerly, she pulled the leather case from Zach’s large pouch and slipped out the lyre, which she held in both hands before the fire, looking at the polished wooden frame and the delicate but strong strings, each of which ended in what seemed to be hundreds of iridescent fronds. She plucked one string and almost dropped the instrument as it responded with a melancholy, lingering note.
She sighed aloud and plucked another string, then three together. On her next attempt, one of the strings broke with a whining snap. “Oh, Zach!” her voice was filled with distress.
Zach smiled. “Don’t worry, Evvy. It happens all the time. Bring it to me.” He reached into the bottom of his pouch, where he always kept one or two feathers coiled for such emergencies. While she watched, he removed the damaged string and replaced it with a whole feather, first scraping the scales from the flexible shaft with his fingernail. While he tightened the bone peg holding the new string, testing its tone as he did, she held the broken one up to the firelight, causing its fronds to move delicately with her breath.
“May I keep this?” she asked.
Zach laughed. “Of course. In fact, let me show you a trick I learned as a boy.” Setting the lyre aside, he took the feather and deftly braided its many fronds in and upon themselves, then twisted the whole into a circle, weaving the ends into the braids. “There you are,” he said. “A feather bracelet.”
Evvy slipped it on her slender wrist, then held out her hand and admired the way the bracelet’s many shiny colors gleamed in the light.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” said Evvy. “Thank you!”
Zach smiled to himself. He picked up the lyre again and, after a final adjustment, played a chord. “As good as new,” he said. He replaced the instrument in its case and yawned.
“When you feel better will you play more songs for me?” Evvy asked.
“I’ll write one for you,” he said. “Would you like that?”
She nodded, her pupils so wide that her eyes appeared black. The sounds of the lyre seemed still to fill the cave. She ran her fingers over the soft surface of the bracelet, then moved to the side of the cave opposite him and lay down on the blanket, beneath her cloak.
“Good night, Zach,” she said.
“Good night, Evvy.”
Zach was pulled awake what seemed the next minute.
“Zach,” said Evvy, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. There’s something in here with us.”
Still groggy, he sat up. “What are you talking about?”
Silently, she pointed upward and to the right. Zach followed the direction of her finger and saw a point of light. He refocused and realized that it was a star, that the top of the cave opened into the air above. The opening was far from the protective fire.
He whispered, “Why do you think something is in here?”
“Because I heard – there it is again!”
Now Zach too heard the whirring of wings above them and the high-pitched squeal of a hunting bat.
“Evvy,” he whispered urgently, “Get under my cloak. Cover yourself completely. Now!” he added as she hesitated.
Evvy burrowed under his cloak while Zach moved toward the mouth of the cave. Why had he decided to sleep so far from the fire?
As he moved, trying not to make a sound, he remembered that his sword still lay with his blanket and bundles. Small matter; the only weapon really useful against a bat was light. He had nearly reached the small pile of unburned wood when the bat sensed him and dived at him. He rolled toward the fire quickly, knowing the beast could not follow, and put his hand on the first piece of wood it came to. He cried out – his hand had closed on a burning ember.
“Zach!” It was Evvy, frightened by his cry.
“I’m all right!” he shouted. “Stay covered!”
He heard the enraged bat whirring just beyond the circle of light. Two long branches were burning just at their ends. He took them one in each hand and crouched, steadied himself, then began to move toward the bat. The animal screamed in pain as the glow of the fire reached it, and pounded its wings furiously, trying to get away. Zach beat at it with the branches. In its panic, the bat veered into the wall and then began flying wildly in circles, reaching out with its long talons. Zach tried to herd it toward the hole at the top of the cave, but the animal was quicker than he, and he retreated toward the fire to give it a chance to calm down.
The bat, however, was in a frenzy, and suddenly it flew directly toward Evvy, still huddled under Zach’s cloak.
“Don’t move!” he called. “No matter what happens, no matter what you feel, don’t move!” Then the bat, in its crazed flight, brushed the edge of the cloak, catching it in its talons. Evvy screamed as she felt the cloak being pulled from her, and the bat thrashed desperately in its struggle to get free.
Instantly Zach crossed the cave and pulled the cloak completely away from the girl. The coarse wool had wrapped itself round the bat’s claws. Zach heard a ripping noise as the bat continued to struggle. He laid down the burning branches and picked up a large limb which lay in a corner and began to beat at the trapped animal. The bat made its eerie sound for a moment more, then fell silent, unmoving. To make certain, Zach approached it with a burning branch, holding the fire near the now-staring eyes. There was no reaction.
“It’s dead,” he said, his voice sounding strange and hollow. “Evvy, did it hurt you?”
The girl threw her arms around him, trembling with sobs.
“It’s all right,” he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder with his burnt hand. “It’s over now. Everything’s all right.”
He continued to comfort her for a moment. When her sobs had subsided, he gently held her away. “Let’s go back to sleep,” he said.
“What about the bats?”
“There won’t be any more,” he said, hoping it was the truth. “This fellow just wandered in by mistake. But to be sure we’re safe, I’ll put more wood on the fire and we’ll sleep next to it.”
“What about your cloak?” asked Evvy.
Zach eyed the rough woolen garment and considered. It was torn and bloody, with the dead bat lying twisted in its folds. He didn’t want to risk a scratch from the still-poisonous talons.
“I’ll clean it tomorrow,” he said.
“You can sleep with me under my cloak,” said Evvy.
“Thank you. I have my blanket and I’ll be warm enough by the fire.”
“Please,” she added. “I’m so frightened.”
Evvy’s little cloak was scarcely large enough to cover her, but Zach lay beside her, spreading the wool over both of them. The girl shivered and wriggled closer to him.
“Am I hurting your arm?” she asked.
“It’s pinched just a little,” said Zach. He moved it and found that it was best to let his arm fall over her, in a protecting but far more intimate position than he had intended. Well, he thought, let it be. I will hold her as I would hold my own daughter.
Evvy soon fell asleep, breathing deeply, but Zach found that despite his exhaustion he could not relax. He told himself that it was because of the need to stay alert, in case another bat should wander into the cave.
His body told him that it was more; and at last he began to understand why the Principal had risked so much to send him on this mission.
O
N EACH SUCCEEDING DAY
Z
ACH
felt stronger, and each day they traveled farther than the last, though still more slowly than necessary. They were well out of bat country now, approaching the river crossing, and Zach would have to make a decision soon.
Evvy often chattered as they rode, commenting on the scenery, questioning Zach about his life. Although Zach was accustomed to traveling alone, he found that he enjoyed her company.
“Tell me about the Capital,” she asked one day.
“Where shall I begin?”
“What is it like to live there?”
Zach mused. There was no way he could possibly convey to Evvy the confusion and bustle that were the Capital, the sense of continuity with the pre-Change past provided by the many old buildings and monuments still standing. To many, as it once had to Zach, the Capital represented a dream of what had been in the past and what was still possible. Lining the broad, decaying pre-Change avenues were shops, taverns, and houses of women or boys for hire; there were literacy centers, encouraged by the Principal, and theaters for entertainments of all sorts. Still standing were many old museums from the past, some holding books; others, repositories of ancient weapons, used now by the Principal’s army. Living in and around the vast mall were merchants, technicians, and craftsmen, trying to relearn the simple technologies of the past, as well as poets, dreamers, and scoundrels, of every variety. Here too congregated soldiers, farmers, and simple folks like Evvy’s family, families with two or more husbands and a wife and children. For those in the Principal’s service, the Capital provided a life of such comfort as was still possible, in exchange for loyalty and obedience, and the willingness to share the Principal’s own dreams and risk one’s life for them.