The Harvest Tide Project (18 page)

‘Get off!’ he wheezed from under them, pushing them away. He shoved them aside, but was too late to get the Noranians’ attention. They had spread out and started into the woods in search of more tracks. The rain had obliterated all those that were not sheltered by the trees. Groach
staggered
out into the storm, calling out to them.

‘Come back! I’m a friend of the Prime Ministrate’s! Hello?
Hey! The Prime Ministrate is looking for me! Over here!’

‘Shessil, please!’ Taya begged. ‘We’re trying to help.’

‘I don’t want your kind of help!’ He turned on her. ‘Go home!’

Taya stopped behind him as he continued to chase after the search party. She was upset and confused. Lorkrin came up, and scowled after Groach.

‘That’s it. We tried to help him. Whatever it is they want him for, they can have him. He deserves them. Let’s get out of here.’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Taya, come on.’

‘I still think he’s in real trouble, Lorkrin.’

‘Then he’s in it on his own. We tried. Come on.’

As they turned to walk in the other direction, an armoured figure appeared out of the lashing rain ahead of them. She stopped when she saw them and raised a loaded crossbow.

‘Run!’ screamed Taya. They both sprinted in different directions, but the soldier stayed where she was. Picking her target, she aimed and pulled the trigger. Taya felt an impact in her right calf and her leg jerked clumsily. She fell, catching herself on her elbows and getting quickly to her feet. But her right leg had gone stiff, and when she looked down, she saw a crossbow bolt protruding from the back of her calf. She moaned as a searing pain spread up through her leg.
Limping
on, she heard the soldier behind her shouting and saw figures coming through the trees in front of her. She
collapsed
again, and before she could stand up, a hand grasped her hair and lifted her onto her feet. Taya squealed and tried to open the fingers that were holding her hair, but they held firm. A voice nearby called:

‘We have the man. We don’t want the others. You know your orders.’

A knife blade appeared in front of Taya’s face.

Lorkrin did not know that his sister had been caught. He was belting along the cliff edge, trying to see through the
torrent
of rain to the bushes ahead of him. If he could make it to undergrowth, he could hide, become invisible among the ground cover. He became aware of thumping footsteps behind him, and glanced back to see a soldier gaining on him. But Lorkrin was a fast runner. He increased his speed, and with it, the distance between himself and his pursuer. He would make the bushes in time.

A crossbow bolt left a burning track across the side of his head and he yelped in pain. The man had given up trying to catch him. Another bolt struck the ground ahead of him and he jumped over it and ran on. He was almost to the bushes now… suddenly a soldier rose out of the foliage in front of him, and Lorkrin narrowly missed being caught, darting to one side and ducking under the man’s clutching arms. He turned, stumbled, lost his footing and found himself sliding down a gravelly slope towards the edge of the cliff. Lorkrin jammed his heels in and scrabbled for a grip on the stony surface, but he failed to catch onto anything. His slide
quickened
until he lost control of his speed altogether, and bumped and flailed down the slope, stones scraping into his legs, bottom and back. With a scream, he went over the edge.

Groach was walking out into the clearing, with a soldier on each side. He stopped in horror when he saw another soldier, this one a woman, with a knife at Taya’s throat.

‘What are you doing? What’s going on?’ The woman
hesitated
, looking at her officer, who stood behind the botanist. There was a moment of stillness as the full realisation of the
situation settled on Groach before he heard a scattering of stones, and turned in time to see Lorkrin slide out of sight towards the cliff edge. He heard the boy scream. Groach stood poised in indecision as he swivelled back towards Taya again. Then he broke into a run for the precipice. A
soldier
raised his crossbow, but had it knocked down by the Forward-Batterer leading the group.

The man who had made a grab for Lorkrin did not see Groach until the botanist rammed headlong into him and barged him aside. Groach’s momentum carried him on and he lunged into a slide down the same slope that had borne Lorkrin down towards the esh. His rucksack dangling wildly behind him, he slipped over the edge and fell, landing hard on a steep incline that dropped straight down to the esh. Trying to slow himself as much he could with his arms and legs, Groach bounced down the stony hill and into the sea of gas.

The Forward-Batterer ran across the clearing, but the
soldier
at the edge shaking his head told him all he needed to know. He peered over into the esh and watched the wind toss the gas into strands that threw themselves against the cliff. The two watched for a while, but nothing came out.

‘He’s not coming out of there,’ the officer said at last. ‘The Prime Ministrate will have to be told. He’s not going to be a happy man.’

He did not relish the idea of breaking the news to his leader. Jamming his sword back into its sheath with some force, he gritted his teeth and strode back towards their remaining captive. They would at least get half this job done.

‘Where are Wells and Farne?’ he called.

‘Still in the forest somewhere,’ another soldier replied. ‘I
haven’t seen them. Katsch is missing too.’

‘Find them; we’re done here,’ he told him. ‘And finish the girl. Kill her and let’s get out of this damned rain.’

The woman with the knife pressed it to Taya’s throat. But just as she did, Taya felt a thump against her back. The woman fell to her knees and keeled over, a crossbow bolt embedded in her head. Taya gasped, and looked up as a huge shape charged out of the driving rain, swept past her and swung a battleaxe over and down, cleaving the
Forward-Batterer
from shoulder to hip. The officer crumpled, but the Parsinor was already wading into the other soldiers,
bellowing
a furious battle cry. Someone crouched down by Taya and helped her to her feet.

‘We have to get you out of here,’ Hilspeth said in her ear.

‘Lorkrin …’

‘We can’t help him now. We’ll come back, but I have to get you to safety first.’

Draegar fought with the axe in his left hand and his sword in his right. The remaining soldiers surrounded him, but found themselves fighting for their lives. The Parsinor had seen Lorkrin fall, and was in a blind fury. He struck down four men and two women before the others turned and fled. Sheathing his weapons, he hurried to the precipice,
dropping
to his knees to look over, but could not see anything but the thrashing gas. Pulling a rope from his bag, he lashed one end around a nearby tree, and began to lower himself over, knowing that if the soldiers came back, they would save themselves a fight by cutting it and sending him to the bottom of the esh.

Hilspeth led Taya into the shadows of the trees,
supporting
her as she half limped, half hopped to keep up. A soldier
appeared out of nowhere and raised his halberd, but
Hilspeth
had drawn her tinderbox. Striking a spark, she tossed a burning bottle on the ground at his toes, and flames leapt up his trousers. Shrieking in panic, he dashed out into the rain.

‘A little something I keep on me for cold nights,’ Hilspeth murmured, and led Taya on into the darkness.

Groach held his breath as he scrambled to a halt in the soupy gas. He could not see more than his arm’s length in any direction, and Lorkrin was hidden in the thick mist. The sharp, tangy smell of the esh invaded his nostrils while he dug into his satchel, removing an oiled leather mask with glass goggle lenses and three bulky valves. He let some breath out to take some of the pressure off his lungs as he strapped on the mask, then blew out hard several times to clear it. He took one tentative breath in to check it was
working
, then breathed normally. The gas mask was a vital part of his botany equipment; one could not study the esh-bound bubule if one could not see it in its natural environment.

There was gloomy yellow-grey darkness down here, and Groach could feel a strong current moving around him. Every now and then, there was the dull glow from the
lightning
, though the sounds from the world above were muffled by the gas. He could still feel the haze of the rain as it settled over him so he knew he was not very deep, and the lack of pressure on his ears confirmed it. But he was deep enough, and the esh was not a place to be in a lightning storm. He walked over to his right, using the slope to keep track of where the shore was. Lorkrin could not have fallen far from
where he had come in, so he kept around the same depth that he had landed in. Finding nothing, he started back to the left. He could hear the sounds of the esh-floaters disturbed by the storm, a high-pitched clicking and the whoosh of shoals of the creatures on the move. He clambered over some rocks and nearly tripped over something lying on the ground on the other side.

His first sight of Lorkrin shocked him. The boy’s nose and mouth had disappeared, leaving a flat patch of skin where they had been. His eyes were closed. He seemed unconscious, but not dead. Confused by the Myunan’s appearance, Groach stood staring at him for a moment, then came to his senses and gathered the boy in his arms.

13 G
ROACH'S
N
OTES

Draegar hauled himself back to the surface to catch his breath. He had to cling to the rope to hold himself above the gusts of gas that blew around him. He could close off his nostrils, a useful adaptation to the sandstorms of his desert home, but he still needed air. This was his third attempt. Despite his efforts, he was nearly blind in the heavy gas and was beginning to lose hope. He was about to go down again for another try, when a strange form emerged from the
swirling
esh. Climbing unsteadily up the loose surface of the incline was a creature with round flat eyes and short stalks where his nose and mouth should be. He was carrying Lorkrin. As he came closer, Draegar could see that it was the gardener, wearing some kind of mask. He did not waste time with curiosity. Abseiling down, he scooped both of them up in one big arm and began his climb to the top.

Groach held his charge in a tight hold, trusting the
Parsinor
's strength as they were lifted steadily to safety. Crawling up the last bit of slope, Draegar let go of Groach and helped him lie the boy on flat ground. Groach stripped off his mask.

‘His face …' he began, but Draegar nodded.

‘It's a reflex. His body changed to protect him. Watch.'

Lorkrin's nose and mouth grew back on his face and his lips parted. With a jerk, he let out a blast of breath and coughed, gasping for air. After a few laboured pants, he relaxed and lay flat, his chest rising and falling softly as if he were asleep.

‘He'll be fine, but he'll need a good rest.' Draegar said. ‘It was close; he wouldn't have lasted much longer.'

Groach noticed that the Parsinor was trembling, and
realised
the mighty creature had been extremely frightened for the boy. He wondered what connection he had with the Myunans.

‘We can't stay here,' Draegar growled. ‘The soldiers will come back in greater numbers.'

He picked up Lorkrin, holding him close, and asked Groach to bring the rope that he had tied to the tree. They walked to the tree line, where Draegar quickly found
Hilspeth
's and Taya's trail, and led Groach to their hiding place, a shallow ditch under some bushes. Hilspeth was tending the girl's wound.

‘You can take the bolt out. It won't bleed,' Taya was saying.

‘I think we should leave it in,' Hilspeth insisted. ‘I can cut it down.'

‘Take it out,' Draegar told her. ‘She's a Myunan, remember?'

‘Right, hold on to something,' Hilspeth warned grimly. Then, against her better judgement, she grasped the bolt and drew it out of Taya's leg. Taya wailed, and bit her lip,
burying
her face in her arm. Hilspeth watched with interest as the wound, free of blood, closed up almost entirely. A small hole remained, which she wiped with some water and
bandaged
with a strip of cloth from her skirt.

‘We heal up fast,' Taya whimpered. ‘But it still hurts.'

‘We need to move on,' Draegar urged them. ‘You two help Taya. I've got Lorkrin. Let's go.'

Bearing its casualties, the odd group made its way through the dark, dripping woods and on towards the hills, where they stood a better chance of avoiding their hunters. Above them, the storm raged on, tearing the sky and drenching the ground. Evening was falling, and what little light there was began to fade.

The Prime Ministrate's convoy roared onwards, ploughing through the growing pools of water and mud that covered the roads. Rak Ek Namen was insisting that they reach the city-state before morning, and with their commander's body in a box in the back of a wagon, the soldiers were eager to get this journey over with. They were forced to slow down when darkness fell; the night was pitch black, pierced only by the lightning. In the curtain of rain, their lamps lit the road for no more than twenty strides ahead of them, and it was
dangerous
to drive faster than their light could clear the gloom.

The line of snarling, smoking, spluttering wagons
carried
on, upwards into the range of hills that marked the border of the city-state. Passing the regular sentry towers, where the soldiers on the tops waved their greetings, they sped up on the cobbled roads. From the tops of the hills, the lights of the city could be seen, spread thinly across the plain beneath them, gathering in more concentrated groups the closer they got to the centre and the eb-towers at the heart of the Noranian Empire.

The lights of the factories were still burning. Looking at them through the window, Namen knew they would burn
for some time yet. Everyone worked hard in Noran. All day, every day, that was what he demanded. The empire kept them well fed and healthy, all they had to do was work. Those who did not work in the factories, worked on the roads, or on any number of other projects that the Prime Ministrate had conceived. Everyone working toward the same goal – that was how their leader liked it.

Still outside the main part of the city, they passed one
factory
after another, each one putting the latest science to work in the form of machines, weapons, new chemicals, and scores of other operations. Namen loved all these schemes, but his favourite was the Harvest Tide Project. If it
succeeded
, it would make his the greatest empire the world had ever seen. But the loss of Groach was infuriating. He seethed at the thought of how the botanist had been literally snatched from his grasp. And by children at that. He made a note to himself to have some Myunan tribes hunted down. Shape-changers' flesh must be useful for something. He wondered idly how well it burned.

The vehicles swept down into the shallow valley of the river, through streets of houses, shops, then warehouses and military buildings. They rumbled along the road by the wharf until they reached the base of the tallest eb-tower, turning in through the gate into the protective embrace of the walls around the massive eb-tree's base. Mungret was waiting for them. As Rak Ek Namen climbed out of his coach, the clerk ran up to him and waved a satchel.

‘We lost Groach. I want him found at all costs,' Namen snapped.

‘I know, Prime Ministrate. I know, sir … but I have here something almost as good.'

‘And what is that, Mungret?'

‘I have his notes, Prime Ministrate. It's all here. Everything we needed. We know how to make the esh-bound bubule bloom, Prime Ministrate,' Mungret panted.

Rak Ek Namen stood stock still for a few moments, then gave one of his winning smiles.

In the ruined walls of an old mill on a river high in the hills, Hilspeth made a soft bed of moss and leaves under the remaining piece of roof, and Taya unpacked her cloak and spread it across the makeshift mattress. Draegar laid Lorkrin down on it and pulled the boy's cloak around him.

‘We need to light a fire. He has to be kept warm – he's still not well,' said the scentonomist.

‘We can't do that,' Draegar replied. ‘The light could give us away. He will not get any better if the Noranians find us.'

‘I'm cold too,' Taya said, shivering.

‘They need a fire.' Hilspeth repeated firmly, hands on her hips.

‘Not as much as we need to go without.' The Parsinor stared down at her. ‘I am more concerned than you are for him, but we cannot take the chance.'

Groach, who had said very little since the fight with the soldiers, had been taking in the area around them as they had been walking. He took Hilspeth's arm:

‘I know how to warm this place up. Can you give me a hand?'

With another hard look at the Parsinor, Hilspeth followed Groach over the broken walls and out to the bushy hillside. The rain was still falling, but it had eased a little. Groach bent
down and picked up what looked like a pine cone, but heavier and with a thin, brittle skin. He took out a small
penknife
and pushed the blade into it. Then he tossed it to
Hilspeth
. She cupped it in her hands.

‘Hey, it's warming up,' she smiled.

‘It's rotting,' Groach told her. ‘It's a crumble cone, from these nocha trees around us. Pierce the skin and it rots at a terrific rate. That one will be a small piece of slime before morning. If we gather enough of these, we can get as much heat as you would from a small stove. And they don't give off any light.'

‘That's fantastic …' she held it up and sniffed it, then
wrinkled
her nose. ‘Ugh, that's a strong smell it's got. Like a cross between rotting meat and … pine needles.'

‘Yes, that is a bit of a problem, but they are warm.'

‘Well … I suppose it's all we've got. Let's gather some crumble cones then.' She looked at him and gave him a coy smile. ‘It's nice to see you again. I'm glad you're not so keen to go back to Noran.'

He gave her a shy grin and squatted down to pick up another cone. He stayed crouching, his face pensive as he stared at it. Haller Joculeb had shown him the trick with the crumble cones when they were young, only starting out on the project. Haller, who had died out at esh during a soil survey only a few weeks before, his body lost to the depths of the gas. Haller, who had been asking insistent questions about what the Noranians wanted to do with the Harvest Tide.

After seeing Lorkrin lying there in the sessium, he had begun to wonder if Haller's death had been an accident after all.

Biting his lip, he shook his head and started to work his way across the undergrowth, picking up cones as he went. They worked together, Hilspeth using the folds of her skirt as a basket to hold what they found. Groach appeared deep in thought.

‘What's up?' she asked.

‘Nothing … just worried about the boy,' he answered.

She was sure there was more to it than that, but decided not to press him. Instead, she asked him about the project, his home for so many years. He was happy to talk about it.

‘I'm from Braskhia originally. I was the youngest of eight children, and when I was about six, I was sent to a
monastery
in Sestina because my family were too poor to feed all of us. I suppose I was upset at the time. I don't remember it much. The monks were part of a religion that believed that all the plant life of the world made up a god.'

‘Everness, I've heard of him,' Hilspeth said. ‘I use a lot of different leaves and moss and roots for my scentonomy.'

‘Yes, Everness. The plants worked together to keep things running smoothly and all people had to do to please
Everness
was to learn about him through the trees and flowers and things, and to use them wisely. The monastery was a centre of learning for botany.

‘I was put to work in the gardens, and I turned out to be quite good at it. I enjoyed it even though it was hard going. I was a bit of an experimenter though and I caused a few
accidents
along the way. The monks were tough old boys, but they were kind too. You get to be very patient when you spend your life watching things grow, I suppose. They made me an apprentice botanist, taught me a lot of stuff, how to read and write … there was a lot of that. They made me work
hard, and eventually I became a monk myself. I was a bit lax when it came to worship. I wasn't all that interested, but I had a knack for the botany.