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Part 4
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1
In the morning they all took their breakfast in the girls' room. Kaledria was able to sit up and eat a little, though she did not have much of an appetite and her head still ached. Nevertheless Hexiya was relieved that she seemed to be getting better. She also noticed Avassia's lingering looks towards her adopted daughter and could see how glad she was as well.
After their meal they commenced their search for Arak.
Leaving Ballak to watch over Kaledria, the other three made their way into Kohidra. All three were armed. Hexiya carried a long-bladed knife.
They stopped at the school first. Ravadin stayed outside with their weapons. Avassia and Hexiya went in to see the teachers.
Arak had not been seen for several days.
'Do you know where he lives?' Avassia asked of the tutor to the older children - a thin, ageing man with a sparse beard and a look of perpetual scorn upon his face.
Reluctantly he gave them the address of a house on the edge of the Beggars' Quarter.
They found the street without difficulty. The house turned out to be a ruin with broken walls and a collapsed roof. Ravadin gave the place a quick search.
'No one's lived here for years,' he said as he returned to Avassia and Hexiya. 'The boy's parents must have given the school a false address.'
'I wonder why,' said the sea-captain.
They tried the town guard next, at two different barracks. Neither Avassia's charm nor her forcefulness was able to draw the least cooperation from them. It was as if they saw their purpose as one of obstruction, not of help.
They returned home for a late lunch and to check on Kaledria and Ballak. Then they went down to the wharves. 'He often boasted of going there,' explained Hexiya. 'To meet with his brother, he said. His brother liked to drink with his friends and spend time with the prostitutes.'
They visited the taverns and walked the narrow streets. They explored the docks, that were busy with the loading and unloading of boats. Here the smells of smoke and fish, dust and the ocean were constant companions.
The suns set in the west, their red, purple and white fire muted by the haze over Kohidra. Dusk lingered, hot and red. The air became quite still. Stars began to come out in the east, glowing embers in the red sky. To the south, over wooded cliffs, a crimson radiance began to grow where one of the moons would soon rise.
Reaching yet another tavern, they checked within. It was a smoke-filled dive. Hexiya spotted Arak's brother as soon as they stepped inside. She grabbed Avassia's arm and they hastily backed out again.
Deciding to wait in the hope that Arak would show, they sat together on the sea wall further along the front. Hexiya perched between the two adults, partly concealed by them.
They did not have to wait long. She pointed when she saw Arak making his way along the wharves. He was stumbling and clutching at his right arm. She wondered what drove him on and wondered why he did not try to find a surgeon.
When he entered the tavern they continued to wait. They had agreed that it would be best to follow him rather than to confront him.
An hour later, Arak, his brother and two other young men emerged into the hot night. His brother was obviously drunk. They argued loudly about something. The three drinking companions departed. Arak, alone, turned away and walked along the front towards where Hexiya, Avassia and Ravadin were sitting.
He walked past them, oblivious to their presence, mumbling to himself and apparently on the edge of delirium. His blood-filmed eyes did not seem to be focused. His face was grey and misshapen and he was gasping rather than breathing, obviously in pain.
Slowly and with difficulty, he made his way to the north side of the harbour and beyond it towards the Ridge. Then he climbed down over some pilings to the pebble beach that swept towards the promontory. With a stumbling gait he set off across the shingle.
They watched him from the last of the loading jetties, thankful for the bright light of the red and yellow moons that were rising.
At the base of a low cliff he climbed over some boulders towards a small cavemouth. Hexiya thought that he might enter it. Instead he stopped before it, then clambered a few yards across the face of the cliff towards a rocky outcrop. Slipping behind it, he vanished from sight.
They waited for a while to see if he would reappear. After a few minutes Avassia said: 'Ravadin, go along the top of the cliff. Make your way down to that outcrop from above - you'll find the way easy I think. See what you can see, but try not to be seen. Hexiya and I will approach from the beach.'
He gave her a nod and set off up the track that ran along the low precipice. Hexiya was glad that he would look out for them. A soft-spoken man with a kind manner, he seemed loyal, capable and strong.
They made their way down over the pilings and across the pebbles, going slowly. It was hard to go quietly, but they hoped that if Arak saw them he would not recognise them in the dark but merely assume they were two strangers out for a walk.
When they reached the base of the cliff there was no sign of him. Above the jagged rockface, Ravadin waved down at them. He had descended some way and was perched on a ledge.
'All right, let's find him,' said Avassia. 'It wouldn't surprise me if he's collapsed, considering the state he's in.'
They climbed over rocks and boulders to the mouth of the cave. Within it Hexiya could just make out a large pool of water that covered most of the floor. Strong smells of seaweed, dankness and brine came from within.
A few more yards and they were at the outcrop that he had disappeared behind.
Avassia peered around a thick, vertical pile of rocks. Then she leaned back to Hexiya. 'He's there,' she whispered. 'Unconscious by the look of him. And there's something beside him.'
She gestured to Ravadin and he came down the last few yards to join them. Together, they clambered around the outcrop to where Arak lay.
He was a pitiful figure, slumped awkwardly in a shallow cleft between two boulders. His chest rose and fell erratically. His head, resting on stone, rocked from side to side with each breath. His face had become a horribly swollen mask. The smell of putrescence about him was strong. Yellow liquid had leaked from the corners of his closed eyes.
'What is that?' asked Ravadin, pointing with his chin to the right of the boy.
'That's what I was wondering,' said Avassia.
It was a stone slab - a perfect oval - four feet high and three across. It was leaning against the cliff wall. Though its colour was no different to that of the rocks around it, it's surface was completely flat and had been polished to an extraordinary sheen. It clearly reflected the dim red line of the horizon and the stars that hung above it.
Unafraid now of Arak, Hexiya stepped over to it. Standing beside it, she could see that the slab was no more than three inches thick.
'Why would anyone put this here?' asked Avassia.
'And why did Arak come here to lie down beside it?'
Even as they wondered, a grating noise reverberated across the cliff-face. The whole near-vertical slope vibrated, making the three of them look up in alarm.
When the noise came again, Avassia and Hexiya found themselves meeting each other's gaze.
'The stone man,' said Hexiya, quietly.
'Where's the noise coming from?' asked Ravadin.
'Let's get back,' said Avassia. 'Away from this rock wall before there's a slide.'
Before they had a chance to move, a third cracking, shuddering footstep made the ground and the precipice creak and shiver. An instant later, the surface of the stone mirror rippled, clouded and vanished.
Hexiya was closest to it. As she watched, her breath left her throat in a small cry. Where there had been solid rock, now there was nothing - just a hole into darkness. Not a tunnel. More like an open window. She could look through it at an angle and there was no wall, no passage, no room, nothing at all.
The noise of another footstep boomed about them. Louder this time. Closer. Coming, she realised, from the emptiness into which she stared.
She felt a terrifying sensation of inconceivable vastness. She perceived that she was gazing into a place of infinite desolation.
Then, slowly, she began to make out the faintest illumination. She was no longer looking into a black void. Now she could see, floating in that emptiness at an inconceivable distance - innumerable lightyears away, she thought, as far as one galaxy from the next - dark spheres, faint grey against the blackness.
A moment later she could feel them. They were pulling at her. Her arms swung forward from her sides and her hair was dragged almost horizontally before her. Gradually the sensation increased. It was some extraordinary gravity, she realised; and its effect was growing stronger.
Avassia grabbed her from behind, hauling her away. Even as she did so, the window seemed to contract, becoming more like the tunnel she had first expected. And walking up the tunnel towards them was the stone man. He was close now, just a few steps away; slow but unstoppable.
They backed up across the rocky outcrop behind them.
Soon he emerged through the hole, climbing through with clumsy difficulty. His hand struck a rock and crushed it to shards and dust.
Then, even as he stood upright, Avassia stepped forwards. In a single fluid motion she drew her sword from across her back. With all her strength, she smashed its metal pommel into his face.
The blow was well-aimed. It struck his remaining eye with an audible crunch.
The monstrous figure reeled. His arm swept out as he tried to steady himself. Avassia barely avoided it, lurching backwards. Then it slammed into a boulder to his left, breaking it into jagged splinters that collapsed down the slope. The shockwave shuddered through the ground.
The stone man pitched forwards. Rocks crashed down from the cliff-face. For a long moment he lay where he had fallen. Then he started to back away, as if accepting that he had been thwarted. On all fours he struggled to retreat, though his hands were embedded in the ground. On his elbows and knees he crawled, slowly and painstakingly, trying to return to where he had come from.
Hexiya watched as he manoeuvred himself. Gradually he climbed back into the hole in the stone. Soon only his head and arms jutted from it.
Then he looked up, his splinter-filled sockets searching blindly back and forth, until his head stopped its slow movement and he seemed to look directly at her - not with his eyes, but with something else: a tangible inner malevolence and lust for death that swept through her.
Then, he reached out and took hold of Arak. His enormous fingers closed about the youth's shoulder and arm. He drew him after him.
Hexiya did not see if Arak's flesh and bone were crushed by the grip. He barely even stirred. Only for an instant did his eyes flicker open - to look into her face with a mingled look of yearning and hate.
Then he and the stone man abruptly fell backwards into the hole as if they had dropped from a cliff-edge. Swiftly they accelerated, hurtling away through the darkness beyond the oval stone.
An instant later, Arak was crushed by enormous pressure. His limbs and torso abruptly became like thin, splintered sticks. His head became a small, distorted ball like a blackened apple on a twig-like neck.
Within seconds they faded from sight; and with a single tumbling twist, they were gone. Even at the last, the stone man had been holding onto the youth.
As Hexiya looked on, the window vanished and the oval reverted to what it had been - just a slab of rock, eerily reflective.
The companions said nothing for a while, but exchanged wondering glances.
'Smash the stone,' said Hexiya then. Her voice was soft but had a note of certainty to it.
Avassia and Ravadin did not hesitate, but stepped forwards. Together they hefted a rock from the ground, one large enough that they were barely able to lift it.
Taking a step sideways, they heaved it against the slab.
It shattered, just like ordinary stone. Shards collapsed to the ground.
Ravadin took up a smaller rock and commenced to break them into tiny fragments and dust.
2
They did not speak as they made their way back across the beach and between the pilings. It was only when they were walking past the wharves again that Ravadin said: 'I could do with a drink.'
A sideways smile touched Avassia's mouth. 'At my place, you're welcome. We need to check on Kaledria and Ballak.'
'What was that thing?' he asked.
'Something very alien,' said Hexiya, very softly, wondering herself. There seemed nothing else to say except: 'I hope that he won't come back. I hope he won't be able to make himself another doorway.'
They walked the rest of the way in silence, each quiet with their own thoughts.
3
Late that night, sleepless in her bed opposite where Kaledria lay, Hexiya's mind whirled with reflections and speculations. Her whole skull seemed to be spinning, unable to absorb what she had seen.
That glimpse she had had through the stone window. She had sensed such an immensity in front of her. Each time she considered it her mind would recoil in horror. What deeps had she been looking across? She had felt the kind of distances that she could not sense even when looking across the lightyears of a clear night sky. It had left terror in her heart. It was as if, just for an instant, she had gazed across a bleak and awful infinity. And she had somehow, impossibly, touched and understood that vastness.
As for the spheres she had seen, she wondered what they were. Recalling what she had read in books of astronomy, she wondered if they might be dead stars. Incredibly dense and immense, with appalling gravitational fields.
But no. There had been something shockingly alien about what she had seen. Nothing about it had been of the world she knew, nor of the stars and galaxies beyond it. The place had been elsewhere entirely. Its laws were different, its nature utterly dissimilar. A separate existence. A terrible existence.
Those spheres - her mind kept returning to them. They had been incomparably larger than any dense, dead stars could be. Lightyears across, if that meant anything in such a place. Each one with a gravitational pull so vast that it could wreck an entire galaxy of this universe.
Among such imaginings and convictions she drifted off to sleep. But her dreams were troubled. What she had sensed had touched a deep part of her, destroying any last sense of safety she might have felt about the world.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
1
The next day storm clouds built to the east, out over the ocean. Above and to the west they congealed out of the hazy air. The temperature, which had been difficult to tolerate, built even more as the pressure and humidity increased. The town of Kohidra was crushed under the building forces. A curious scent of heated dust and pollen drifted on the air. Lightning flashed in the distances. Though a storm seemed imminent, it held off all day.
Hexiya and Avassia spent time with Kaledria. Ballak took his leave. Ravadin chose to stay, despite Avassia's protestations that the danger had passed.
The storm held off all night as well. But finally, at dawn, the rain began to fall. It fell in torrents, as hard as any tropical downpour. At the same time the wind rose to a battering gale. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder cracked and boomed and rolled away through the hills and over the ocean.
Hexiya arose just as it started. In her nightdress she stood by the wide windows and looked out. The blue and mauve tiled patio; the lawn rolling away; the stream and pond to the right; the south wing where the library was located: all were greyed out by the water. As the deluge increased, the trees that surrounded the grounds were almost entirely concealed by the sheeting rain, while their branches were whipped back and forth by the wind, half-seen and spectral. Lower areas of the garden became awash. The floods falling from the sky became lit almost constantly by the green and violet lightning that forked from the gigantic black clouds above. The noise of thunder and wind combined with the hammering of the rain against the roof and the windows to make a tremendous din.
Standing barefoot on a rug, watching the elemental violence, she smiled. She could feel the pressure lightening, the temperature dropping. There was a great sense of relief in the air and in herself.
She looked round. Kaledria was awake, lying on her side, her eyes wide as she stared through the windows.
'How do you feel?' asked Hexiya. She had to raise her voice to be heard.
'A bit better,' replied the northern girl, though she did not raise her head.
After a while Avassia joined them, bringing with her a tray loaded with hot pastries, fresh fruit and a jug of steaming red tea.
'Fantastic, isn't it?' she said, having almost to shout to be heard. 'As along as the house stays intact, that is.'
They took their breakfast and watched for a long time, wondering at this awesome display of nature's power.
2
The rain eased a little in the afternoon but did not stop. Instead it became a steady downpour that went on for three more days. The tempest more than made up for the long months of drought. Flood damage was considerable throughout Kohidra.
Kaledria had to stay in bed throughout this time. Hexiya spent many hours sitting with her. They would talk if the northern girl was not too tired to do so. If she was, Hexiya would read to her from some of her favourite books. But the stories, beautiful as they were, seemed suddenly childish to her. She enjoyed them anyway, but the way they portrayed the world had been entirely disproven by the experiences of the past weeks. She found it hard to suspend her disbelief.
Sometimes she would just watch Kaledria as she slept. At these times her heart would go out to her. She wondered if she might paint her - capturing a likeness of her face and her long black hair upon canvas. But she doubted if she would ever be satisfied with even her most earnest attempt to do so.
Sometimes they just sat and listened to the rain and wind and thunder, and felt no need to say anything at all. There was a powerful sense of peace and comfort in this simple togetherness. Hexiya could remember feeling safer and more at ease during more innocent times of her life, but she could not remember ever experiencing such a profound sense of oneness and belonging, nor such an intensity of wonder as she was starting to feel in Kaledria's presence. Even the best times she had spent with her mother, she admitted ruefully to herself, did not really compare.
Avassia sat with them sometimes, and brought them food and drink. If Kaledria was asleep, she and Hexiya would talk softly together. She took a lot of interest in Hexiya's thoughts and her life and her past. She wanted to know about her, and Hexiya appreciated this. It contrasted so much with the way Serriss and Voitan had treated her. They had never taken any interest in her at all and had never asked her even simple questions, such as about what she had done at school - except to check up on her and to crush her spirit and to fill her with a sense of oppression.
In return Hexiya asked Avassia to tell her of her own adventures. The sea-captain seemed to have a never-ending supply of stories about dangers faced on the oceans and in the ports of distant lands. She told tales of places that seemed exotic beyond imagining. She related a number of myths and legends about the seas.
'I wonder if I will live as rich a life as you,' said Hexiya.
Avassia stroked her forehead, then withdrew her hand, perhaps startled by the affection she felt for the girl. 'I'm sure you will,' she said.
3
As the storm finally began to abate, Hexiya decided to visit her mother at the asylum. She wrapped a cloak about her shoulders, pulled its hood over her head and headed out into the last of the rain.
The streets were running with water, many of them like small rivers. The sky was lighter than it had been for the past few days now that the heaviest clouds were spent. The flashes of lightning and rolls of muffled thunder that came from over the forested hills to the west were infrequent and distant.
Very few people were about. The great market square of Indigo Hill was devoid of activity. Only a few shops were open. Many buildings had been damaged and their windows broken by the wind. Two trees and a temple-spire had been blackened by lightning strikes.
Hexiya relished the feel of the water upon her cloak and the dampness on her face. She did not mind that her feet became wet when she had to wade through streams much deeper than the height of her boots. For the first time in months, the weather was not uncomfortably hot. It made her feel wondrously alive. Though she had changed because of what she had seen and experienced, she was beginning to suspect that the smashing of the polished stone slab had put an end to all the strange occurrences she had been witness to. Somehow, the place from which the stone man had come had exerted a terrible influence over the town. But with the gateway broken and closed, that power, she suspected, had gone away. She thought that the lightening in the air that she could feel was not just as a result of the storm.
The asylum, built from heavy green stone that looked indestructible, seemed to have been quite unaffected by the tempest. Today its walls, wet from the rain, were almost black. In the muted grey light it was more menacing than usual.
She summoned her courage and walked up to the entrance. The guard on duty, a young man with a round face, recognised her.
'Hexiya,' he said. A smile touched his mouth, then vanished as if he seemed slightly embarrassed. 'The door to your mother's room is open,' he said softly.
She made her way through the building. It was as grim as ever. Its high, barred windows did not let much light in, and the darkness of the day increased the gloom still further. And yet the place was strangely quiet. She heard a soft whimpering from a cell in which an old woman had spent the last thirty years. She heard a bear-like man, sitting in the communal area, muttering to himself the same word again and again. But there were none of the usual cries and groans she had come to expect on her visits. It was as if even the insane had found a measure of peacefulness after the storm. Or perhaps, no longer disturbed by the baleful influence of the place from which the stone man had come, they had become a little less distressed and tormented.
Her mother was in her room. As usual she was sitting with her back to the door, apparently staring out into the rain-greyed atrium. One of the windows was open. Cool, damp air flowed in.
Hexiya stood where she was for a moment. She leaned against the stone doorpost and looked on, sadness welling up but mixing with acceptance now. She no longer expected nor even hoped Havena might make a recovery. The long, heavy chain that connected her wrist to the ring embedded in the wall seemed far less strong than the grip of her illness.
She stepped into the room. As she neared her mother she noticed that her long red hair was better brushed than usual. Perhaps one of the nurses had decided to take special care of her. Then, when she rounded the stone chair, the lady looked up at her. Clear grey eyes gazed at her. A calm smile widened her lips. Though her visage was still pale it was no longer the porcelain whiteness that it had been.
'Hello Hexiya,' she said. Her voice was rather weak and hoarse.
'Mother!' The word came out as a gasp. Falling to her knees, she took her in her arms and felt her embrace her in return. Havena's left hand ran through her hair - that familiar, unmistakeable touch that had been with her since she had been born, bringing with it powerful echoes of safety and peace.
After a long, sweet time they sat back from each other.
'Will they let you out of here?' asked Hexiya.
Her mother shrugged and raised an eyebrow. 'This is an asylum, not a prison. So if they refuse to let me out, I hope I won't have too much trouble escaping.'
'When?'
'Give me a week or two to get some strength back. My limbs have wasted terribly. I suppose I can't have moved in all the time I was here.'
Hexiya glanced then at the stump of her right wrist and the dressing that wrapped it. Havena followed the look. 'Well,' she said, very softly. 'Better to have lost a hand than to remain in the dark place I had fallen into. I wonder how it happened.'
Hexiya sat down on the floor before her. 'I know how it happened,' she said softly.
They talked for a long time, discussing all that had taken place.
4
Back at Avassia's place Hexiya told Kaledria and the sea-captain about her mother's recovery. They were both gladdened by the news. Avassia said she would like Havena to stay with them for a while if she wanted to - if she might only be released from the asylum. This led to much speculation about whether she would continue to be considered dangerous by the doctors who supervised her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
1
Late in the evening Hexiya sat on the edge of Kaledria's bed. Three candles burned on the bedside table.
'You're saddened by something,' she said, very quietly.
Kaledria's light blue eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and deep. Her face seemed rather pale. Her dark hair, a cascade across her pillow, shone with reddish glints in the flickering light.
'I am afraid,' the northern girl replied.
'Why now?' asked Hexiya, keeping her voice very soft. 'You, who always seemed so fearless to me.'
Kaledria looked away for a moment, then back at her, gazing at her for long moments. Tears brimmed in her limpid eyes. She said nothing but seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil.
Perhaps there was nothing to say, thought Hexiya. Perhaps Kaledria was filled with an emotion that she could not identify nor see the cause of.
'Don't ever forget me,' murmured the northern girl.
For a moment Hexiya thought she had misheard. Then her heart suddenly thumped in her chest. 'What's wrong?' she asked anxiously. 'Do you feel all right? Your injury . . .'
Kaledria shook her head a fraction. 'I am fine,' she said.
'And I will never forget you. You must know that. We are . . .' But she could not find the words to express what they were. Friends, soul-sisters . . . Nothing seemed adequate.
A smile touched the northern girl's face, one that was full of emotion. Hexiya felt as if something was shifting in the deeps of her heart and mind. A deep and profound well of feeling seemed to have opened between them.
'I know what we are,' said Kaledria.
They did not speak after that. Hexiya stroked her friend's forehead and she embraced her once. Then Kaledria's eyes closed and her breathing deepened in sleep.
2
Hexiya went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. When she returned to their bedroom she sat up in bed, thinking. She thought about Kaledria. She thought about her mother. Full of wonder, excitement and concern, she did not wish to rest.
At length she lay down and listened to the gentle pattering of the last of the rain upon the panes and sills and dripping from the roof. For a while, in the dimness, she gazed across at Kaledria, deep in slumber. She hoped she would soon be fully recovered.
Eventually, long after midnight, she slept.
Dreams came to her that night. Dreams of the kind she was learning to recognise the moment she entered them - vivid, intense, with a consistency and sense to them that belied them being dreams at all. They seemed, rather, to be memories.
She found herself standing on a dusty road where it crossed the brow of a crumbling hill. Two suns hung low over the horizon - one deep red, the other burnt orange. Closer, blocking out fully a quarter of the sky, was a great planet. A gas giant, she thought. Dull brown and ochre bands ringed it. Loose storm formations crossed its surface. A number of crescent moons hung at a distance from it, strung like a necklace across the vault. With a start she realised that she was standing on one of them.
Before and below her, filling a wide valley, was an ancient city. Fashioned from dark brown stone, its buildings were eroded and crumbling. They were nameless structures that could have been temples, palaces, factories, prisons, hives, apiaries or of other use entirely. Nothing human had ever lived here. Broad domes, close-packed towers and mazy streets surrounded a central area of immense geometric edifices. Closer to where she stood, rocky hillocks had been sculpted into disturbing shapes suggestive of alien biology.
Beyond the city was a desert. She could see that its sands were encroaching, slowly wearing away the city's stonework and burying its dissolving remains. More than a hundred thousand years had passed since any had lived in this place, though Hexiya could not have said how she knew this.
Suddenly a strong, familiar urge filled her. An obligation that could never be given up and which she did not want to surrender: the necessity of finding Kaledria, who had been separated from her many years ago.
She wondered if, here on this moon, she would finally find her. She had already been to so many places, each time hoping that she would locate her. So far her search had been fruitless, and she had visited more worlds than she cared to count. But she had not capitulated to the seeming impossibility of the task. Instead she had pushed on in her journey among the stars and between the spheres of existence. Looking for her and hoping.
How many centuries had passed since she had first set out to find her? A hundred? More? Yet the hollow in her heart remained. Still she yearned to fill its emptiness. Not until she found her would she have peace.
She became aware of someone standing behind her. Before she could even turn she sensed sudden movement. Then pain blazed through the back of her head as something sharp and heavy struck her a terrible blow.
Abruptly, she awoke. Her heart thudded hard in her chest and sweat was cold on her face and chest. Sitting up, she breathed quickly and deeply. It took her a long while to calm herself.
She told herself it had only been a dream, but could not quite believe it. It had not felt like one. It had been too real, too clear. Once again it had seemed more like a memory than just a fantastic creation of her mind.
At length she lay down again and stared up the ceiling. The thoughts she had had in the dream reverberated through her. How many centuries had she been searching? How many worlds? It was as if, just for a moment, she had glimpsed eternity.
For a long while she felt a deep fear and a profound sense of vertigo. But slowly, gradually, these sensations receded. At length sleep reclaimed her, deeper this time, and dreamless.
3
She awoke shortly after dawn. A pale violet glow flowed through the windows. The rain had finally stopped and a gentle wind whistled softly around the walls. The air in the room was cool and soft.
She felt depressed, which she told herself was absurd considering the fact that her mother had woken up and the stone man no longer seemed a threat. Still, something about the vision she had had during the night had left her feeling drained.
For a while she thought about Havena in an attempt to throw off her black mood. Failing, she looked across at Kaledria, whose face was calm in sleep.
But it was not sleep.
Not sleep. Her chest was not moving. Hexiya could not hear her breathing. There was an emptiness in the room.
Lurching with sudden terror, Hexiya's heart thudded heavily in her chest. Shock was like a terrible black serpent twisting through her body and mind. A small cry escaped her. She felt as if she was falling from a great height. The awfulness of the sensation was immeasurable.
She threw herself from under her blankets and scrambled across the floor to Kaledria's bedside. She looked down at her; touched her face and tried to wake her; hoped desperately that she was alive, that it had just been her imagination. Knowing all the time that it was not. Knowing that her death was a simple, appalling truth.
'No . . .' A long moan escaped her, trailing off, an animal wail of pain and grief. 'No no no. Please. Please. Come back. Please come back.' The words tumbled out of her, barely audible. Tears began to stream from her eyes and she felt her face screw up in anguish.
She cried. She cried from the deepest part of her. She felt and thought as if all life was over, spent, destroyed, wasted. That nothing was left. Rage and torment and bleakness mixed. Their intensity was such that she could not believe a single mind and body could endure such agony - that she must surely come apart before the maelstrom of dread emotions.
4
Avassia found her an hour later. She had barely moved, though her head now rested upon Kaledria's pillow - up against the pale face and dark hair. Sobs still racked her body.
The sea-captain took her in her arms and they held each other close. She did not cry but ran her fingers through Hexiya's hair and spoke to her soft words that she could not later remember.
Avassia's strength in the hours and days that followed was something extraordinary. In later years Hexiya would wonder at it - a courage and fortitude that was astonishing.
5
They buried her the next day. Together they walked around the grounds of the great house, searching for a place that she might have chosen herself. Eventually they settled upon a small clearing at the very end of the garden, in the middle of a pleasant grove of spice trees. Kaledria, they thought, would have approved. She had always liked spice trees and had remarked how much she enjoyed the taste of their fruit.
Ravadin and Ballak, summoned back to the house, dug the grave. Then, followed by Avassia and Hexiya, they carried Kaledria's body from her bedroom to its place of rest. The sea-captain had wrapped her in a cream-coloured sheet of cloth.
They lowered her into the ground and stood vigil for an hour. Wind made the trees shift overhead. Their leaves rustled and their branches sighed as if with sympathy. It was a good place.
At length Avassia took Hexiya's hand and they turned away. Ravadin and Ballak, remaining behind, commenced to heap the soil back into place.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
1
Havena made a quick recovery - at thirty-three years old she still had the strength and vigour of youth. Colour returned to her face. Her body filled out as she ate and exercised. Her hair, which had become lank, brittle and dull, returned to how it had been before her illness: a glossy, lustrous red cascade.
Hexiya visited her every day. They talked at great length. Havena felt deeply saddened when she heard about Kaledria's death. Though she had not known her she knew that the girls had been very close and she worried about the depth of grief she could see in her daughter's eyes. Though she gave her what comfort she could, she knew that only time would reveal whether Hexiya would grow to accept what had happened or remain scarred by it.
Once she felt strong enough she asked a nurse if she might be visited by the asylum's warden and head doctor.
They came to her the next morning, entering her room in a waft of pipesmoke and the smell of antiseptic. Though she knew what the outcome of the meeting would be, she told herself that there was no harm in trying. Outside her windows the light was muted and grey. The day seemed to be warning her that it held no promise.
'I would like to be set free,' she said to the two men. 'I was ill, but I am better now.'
'So you say,' said the warden. 'But what of your husband? You killed him. How are we to know you will not do such a terrible thing again?'
She regarded him as his narrow, glittering eyes made calculating glances and squints. His overalls were immaculately pressed but too tight for his lean frame. She saw that he was a man with no heart and too much rigidity.
'I concur,' said the doctor - a fat, red-faced man with jowls who wheezed all the time. This, she thought, was a man who had descended into sloth as he had grown older. His only priority, she suspected, was to avoid problems and protect himself against having to make an effort or take responsibility.
Havena did not argue. She nodded once in understanding and gave them a small smile.
2
Hexiya visited her the next morning. They talked for a while, discussing how they might effect her escape.
'When they take me to the showers, one of the nurses comes with a guard,' explained Havena. 'The guard is always the same - Batrow Gaal is his name. He's a big man with a shaved head. Nice enough but none too intelligent. He always unlocks my manacle and relocks it when I'm brought back. The key he uses has a number attached to it - number twenty-three.'
That evening Hexiya returned to the asylum with a bag tucked under her arm. As it was late in the day the place was quiet. The patients were settled down for the night and most of the physicians and orderlies had gone home.
When she entered her mother's room she saw that the red and orange moons were riding in the sky above the atrium, filling the windows with their glow. She felt that the light was propitious and boded well for their coming escape attempt. Then she berated herself for what she saw as her irrationality.
Havena gave her a warm smile as she set down the bag she had been carrying.
'Are you ready?' whispered Hexiya.
'I am. But please don't take any chances. I really don't want you to get into trouble.' She reached for her daughter and kissed her forehead. 'Good luck,' she said.
Hexiya made her way along the corridors of the asylum. She saw no guards or doctors about. None of the orderlies paid her any attention.
As she neared the guardroom she saw that its door was open. Without slowing, she continued along the hallway. As she passed by she glimpsed a single guard within.
Halting around the curve of the corridor, she looked back and watched the place and waited. She hoped that no one would remark on her presence. Before too long the guard she had seen emerged and headed down the hallway away from her. Quickly and lightly she ran after him, looked around, then darted into the room he had just vacated.
A quick search followed. Opening an unlocked cabinet she found rows of keys hung on hooks. Grabbing number twenty-three, she pocketed it, checked that no one was walking along the corridor, and walked calmly out.
Her heart slowed and she breathed more deeply. Relief flooded through her.
She passed the communal room on her way back to her mother's cell. The less troublesome patients were allowed to spend some of their time there - only a few after sundown. As she went by the wide, arched entrances to the chamber, a big, bearlike man she had seen before twisted around in his seat and looked straight at her. She doubted he could have heard her. Nor could he have seen her - he had had his back to her. It was almost as if he had been struck from behind and had lurched round to see what it was that had hit him. She wondered, rather fearfully, how she could have had such an effect on him.
For a long moment he stared at her with an eerie intensity. A frown touched his brow. Then, rubbing his bearded chin, he smiled, winked conspiratorially, and turned back to the newspaper he had been reading.
A minute later she was back in her mother's room. She set the key in the manacle and turned it, holding her breath. When it fell open, she sighed with relief.
Havena reached for the bag Hexiya had brought. Within were a pair of leggings, a top and some shoes, all supplied by Avassia. She swiftly put them on. 'We'll leave separately,' she said. 'I'll meet you in front of the Temple of the Orange Moon. As soon as I can get there.'
Hexiya took her leave and had difficulty forcing herself to walk at a normal pace down the hallways towards the exit. The guard on duty before the big doors merely smiled at her and nodded as she stepped out into the cool night air.
Down the front steps she went, and made her way along the streets. Now, though she knew that she should have been exulting to be away from the madhouse, she suddenly found that she was filled with a sense of foreboding.
A few minutes later she reached the Temple of the Orange Moon. Standing in the shadows beneath a stone overhang, she looked out across the plaza before it. A few people were still about, walking and meeting and talking in hushed tones as if each held within them some terrible secret that they wished to trade for another. The sky was clear and stars spangled the vault. The red and orange moons were high in the southern sky. The mauve moon was just rising from the sea in a splendour of glittering reflections.
'Hexiya,' whispered a voice. She whipped around, unsure where it had come from. Trying to pierce the gloom of the shadows, she wondered who had spoken. The voice had seemed familiar but distorted - soft, low and unclear.
No one was there. Alarm thrilled through her and a prickling sensation crawled down her back. A moment later a rush as of electricity flowed swiftly over her skin. Surprise filled her then, for the feeling was not at all unpleasant. Warmth and tenderness seemed to surround her, bathe her, permeate her.
After long seconds it vanished.
'Kaledria?' she whispered into the darkness.
Suddenly a dark shape emerged out of the shadows to her left. 'Hexiya?'
She started and found herself trembling. It was her mother. Even as they embraced and held each other tight, she wondered about the other voice she had heard.
'Let's be away from here,' said Havena softly.
Together they made their way through the streets, heading for Avassia's house.
3
That night, lying in her bed, Hexiya wondered how she might have fared if not for her mother's recovery and escape. Without these things for her to focus on, Kaledria's death might have overwhelmed her. As it was she still felt her loss as an awful emptiness within her. The deep ache of it seemed likely never to let her go.
In the small hours of the morning she had another dream - another vision that seemed too vivid, clear and real to be just the night-imaginings of her brain.
She found herself standing in the hall of a palace. Awe filled her as she looked around. Huge, thick pillars of red marble supported a high, ornate ceiling of carved turquoise stone. Friezes adorned the walls - astonishing pieces of artwork, exotic and wonderful and like nothing she had ever seen before. The floors were of many-coloured tiles set down in abstract patterns.
There was an almost tangible air of antiquity to the place. It was as if she had stepped back through time to some impossibly ancient epoch when primaeval creatures should still have stalked the lands and neither people nor their earliest ancestors yet existed.
How then, she wondered, could she be standing within a place that seemed to be the work of humans?
She turned towards the furthest end of the great space. There, on a dais under immense windows of pale blue glass, stood a throne of black wood. Carvings and sculptures adorned it and a huge ruby was set above its headrest.
A woman was sitting upon its cushioned seat. She was a beautiful woman - even at such a distance Hexiya felt as if some captivating, exquisite glow was radiating from her. From her shoulders flowed a cloak of rich red cloth that fell in shimmering waves about her. Beneath it she wore a low-cut shirt of finest satin, a broad belt studded with diamonds and rubies, a short red kilt and low, soft boots. Golden jewellery was set at her wrists and ears and throat. A circlet sat upon her head. She was resplendent in the golden sunlight that poured down over her.
The woman stood, walked down the steps beneath the throne and crossed the floor towards her. Even as she did so, Hexiya approached her in turn. Each of them passed from one pool of golden sunlight to the next.
Hexiya had recognised her as soon as she had set eyes on her. But now, as she saw her more clearly, she acknowledged the impossible truth.
They halted a few feet apart and regarded one another. A smile of happiness lit up the woman's face - she was obviously delighted to see her. She had a beautiful, sculpted face, with wide cheekbones, a lovely mouth, and her eyes, which were the colour of the blue ice of the north, danced with light. Her long black hair tumbled about her shoulders, contrasting with the glittering brilliance of the slim golden diadem she wore.'Kaledria,' breathed Hexiya, looking up at this tall, powerful and womanly form of the girl she had known. She felt tears of happiness run down her face.
4
She awoke feeling strangely calm. She did not analyse the dream nor consider whether it reflected any kind of truth. Rather, she lay still in the cool half-light of the dawn and tried only to hold onto the feeling of peace with which it had filled her, however momentarily. It was a serenity that, just last night, she had never hoped to recapture. Now she welcomed it with all her heart.
'Kaledria,' she whispered into the dawn. 'Kaledria.' And she spoke her dead friend's name again and again, like a mantra that warmed her with its special combination of consonants and vowels. 'Kaledria.'
Then she found herself smiling as a sudden suspicion took root within her.
In the face of the fact that she had buried her, she wondered if Kaledria might still be alive.
5
Over breakfast she tried to talk to Avassia about her dream and what it might mean. But Avassia, for once, dismissed what she said.
'Do not indulge in such thinking,' the sea-captain counselled. Her voice was desolate and there was hurt in her eyes. After a moment she grimaced and looked away.
Hexiya realised that what she had said had wounded her. What Avassia perceived as false hope had been like a dagger.
'I'm sorry,' she said. And she laid her hand on the sea-captain's.
The rugged, yellow-haired woman managed a smile. 'That's all right.'
Hexiya resolved not to mention her dreams or more wayward speculations again. She was concerned about Avassia, who had become the closest person to her after Kaledria and her mother. All the strength that she had shown during the first week or so after Kaledria's death seemed finally to have deserted her. Now she went through the motions of being lively, robust and positive. She exercised with her swords and crossbows. She forced herself to conduct business with merchants, traders and mariners. She looked after her house. She cared for Hexiya and was a good hostess to Havena. But within the activity, within the vigorous body, passion and love seemed to have been extinguished.
Hexiya did not like to imagine what might happen to her if something did not warm and fuel her cooling heart. Yet she did not know what she could do.
Later in the day she went to the library, where the sea-captain was still sorting her many books and scrolls, maps and charts, manuscripts and music scores.
Avassia turned as she entered the room. 'Hello Hexiya,' she said.
'I came to see if you might need any help,' said Hexiya.
The sea-captain smiled an unexpected smile. There was affection and fondness in her gaze. 'In fact you came to see if you could cheer me up,' she said. 'You do, just by being who you are - a very remarkable girl. But I will find my own way through this time. Please do not worry about me.'
Hexiya nodded. 'Would you like some help anyway?' she asked.
Avassia was amused. 'Sure. Why not? Could you go through this crate here? Stack the books on the table according to subject. And write a list of them all - author, title, date written. A few words about contents.'
It was pleasant, absorbing and calming work. The afternoon passed quickly and Hexiya was glad to be able to keep her company.
CHAPTER TWENTY
1
Havena prepared the evening meal - fiery soup, fried fish and fried, spiced vegetables, followed by cheeses, fresh bread and spiced tea.
They sat back eventually, replete. In silence they gazed through the west-facing windows as the suns set in a glorious blaze of crimson and purple light. The dining room was tinged with a deep maroon glow that gradually dimmed to velvety mauve.
Hexiya lit candles and Avassia fetched a jug of dark violet wine - an old stock from distant Cafasaraa. She had bought twenty barrels of this particular vintage on her last voyage. A few had been lost when her ship had run aground and she was yet to get around to finding a buyer for the rest. She had decided to break one open.
Retiring to the living room, they relaxed and talked. At first they only touched light subjects and discussed things of little import. All of them felt a need for peace and acceptance. There was an almost tangible tenderness between them.
Listening quietly as her mother and Avassia conversed and sipped wine, while she drank honeyed tea, Hexiya reflected upon the fact that they were forging a friendship in the aftermath of such unusual and difficult circumstances. They clearly liked each other. Indeed, when they had first met she had noticed an almost instantaneous mutual respect between them. Now, as they talked, they were always attentive to each other.
Avassia poured more wine. As she did so a slightly surprised and puzzled look crossed her face.
Havena did not miss it. 'What are you thinking?' she asked, her voice very soft.
'Just that you and Hexiya . . . Well, you're two of the most unusual people I've ever met. I hope that doesn't sound like an intrusive comment. When Kaledria met Hexiya, she said she was an outsider. "Not like others," she said. By "others" I thought she was describing the children at the school, but maybe she meant it more generally. As for you, Havena, the moment you arrived here I felt as if some kind of benevolent energy had entered the house and was filling the rooms with its glow. I know that sounds like an old mariner's superstitious talk, but that's what I felt.'
Havena was smiling - a gentle, unself-conscious smile. 'Hexiya's father said much the same thing to me,' she said. Then she looked down and a slight blush touched her cheeks.
They were silent for a while. Then Havena said: 'We have to leave here.' It was what they were all thinking. To Avassia she continued: 'Not because I am afraid of imposing on your hospitality. Rather, because I cannot go out into the streets. Though I do not know if the town guard would actually arrest me, I am sure the people would treat me as an outcast. I would be hated and vilified. The story of what I am supposed to have done to my husband will be remembered for a long time to come. Such a gruesome tale will not just be forgotten. The only solution is to leave.'
The sea-captain nodded, brooding and thoughtful. Then both she and Havena turned to Hexiya. They wanted to know what she thought.
All she said was: 'It will be a relief to leave here. So much has happened. There has been so much to fear. The threat may be gone, but I am not certain of it. My imaginings keep getting the better of me. I cannot sleep well. I keep thinking I am being watched. Sometimes I convince myself that I am being hunted.' She sighed. 'Moving to a different place . . . I would like that.'
'What of you, Avassia?' asked Havena.
'I will stay,' replied the sea-captain. 'I only moved here fairly recently. I do not feel much like leaving, neither my new home nor . . . I don't know. I feel as if I would be deserting Kaledria if I was to go away now. I know that's irrational, but . . .' She shrugged. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'
'Maybe,' said Havena. 'Do you know of any ships that are soon to sail south? Hexiya and I talked earlier and we thought we might head for Varanta.'
'I am sure something can be arranged. You may have to wait a few days though.'
'Thanks.'
The evening was not cold but Avassia set about lighting a fire - for its cheer as much as for its warmth. Soon they huddled close to it and gazed into the dancing flames.
Later, when Hexiya looked up, she realised that Avassia was regarding her with a curious intensity.
'What is it?' she asked.
'A strange thing,' the sea-captain said softly. 'Sometimes you don't act or speak as I would expect a child to. And sometimes I thought the same thing about Kaledria.'
Hexiya looked down. 'I think I grew up a bit in my dreams,' she murmured, only half-jokingly. 'Sometimes it's like I live two lives instead of one. Or maybe more.'
2
The next day, Hexiya walked through central Kohidra, rounded the Beggar's Quarter and climbed up over the Ridge. She wanted to see Malajik, the old fisherman, before she and her mother left for Varanta.
She was in luck. When she descended to the jetties she saw that he was working on his boat, replacing worn lines.
He grinned when he saw her. 'Come on board!' he said.
Soon they were sitting opposite one another - Malajik at the stern and Hexiya on the rowing bench. The craft rocked gently back and forth and water slapped softly upon its hull.
Hexiya looked around her. The suns were high in the southern sky and there were no clouds to be seen. Fishing boats were clustered beyond the tip of the Ridge. Some were riding at anchor and others were sailing the gentle westerly breeze. It was a beautiful day.
After summoning her thoughts, she told Malajik her tale. He did not interrupt even once while she related it.
'I knew something had changed,' he said after she had finished. 'The whole town seems different now to the way it was three or four weeks ago. It's as if something has been lifted from it.' He sighed. 'Kaledria though . . . So tragic, so awful.' Then, squinting at Hexiya inquiringly, he said: 'Do you think you understand what happened?'
'I understand some of it,' she replied. 'The stone man was from a very alien place. The mirror-surfaced slab was a gateway of some kind through which he could move from there to here. But he could not maintain his integrity in this world for long.
'As for the children that were killed outside their hideout . . . and the children from school who slew them . . . and some of the other strange things I witnessed . . . They were, I suspect, all caused by some kind of malign compulsion that flowed through the gateway.'
'And the fact that the children's bodies were transformed into the corpses of animals?' asked Malajik. 'And the forgetfulness that plagued people?'
Hexiya narrowed her eyes. 'I think it was in the nature of the compulsion to conceal the things it caused. Its hold on this world - like that of the stone man - was tenuous. So it hid itself and disguised what it did.'
'I think you may be right,' the old fisherman murmured. He nodded to himself and pondered for a while, seemingly immersed in some internal dialogue. At length he stirred himself and said: 'Why did the stone man want you ? You, rather than anyone else?'
Hexiya grimaced. 'That question, more than any other, plagues me. Perhaps he hunted me because I was the only person who could remember what had happened - so he saw me as a threat that he wanted to deal with. Or perhaps there was some other reason.'
'Like what?' asked Malajik. 'There was something about you that drew him to you? Something special and unique that he wanted?'
She looked at the old man and felt fear in her belly. 'Perhaps,' she said. 'Though I hope not. It terrifies me to think that I might not just have been hunted because I was unlucky, but because of something about me personally.' With a note of exasperation in her voice she continued: 'It's just that the idea is borne out by the fact that he seemed to have trouble finding me. While he could locate Arak or my guardians or my former home or my mother, he could not locate me. I've even wondered if I was partially invisible to his senses, or concealed from him somehow. It suggests I am different to other people in some way. Which is exactly what I've always felt. And it's not something I feel at all happy about.'
The old fisherman looked into her eyes. 'You certainly do stand apart,' he said with a slight smile. Then: 'Now, I've listened to your story and your thoughts, and I've refrained from saying very much because I wanted to know what you think without leading you on with my own ideas. But now I'll tell you about my discoveries. You remember you gave me that notebook you found in Yavek Irsala's bag at the hideout?'
Hexiya's eyes widened with surprise. 'You succeeded in translating some of it.'
Malajik looked proud for a moment. 'I translated all of it.'
'How?' She was amazed.
'It was written in an ancient language called Eltarian. Its symbology is very old and has no connection with the kind of scripts used nowadays. It's not even from the same tree of languages. Thus its alien nature to you. Nevertheless, the body of work left behind by the Eltarian civilisation was considerable, and dictionaries and grammars do exist to aid translations into modern tongues. I've always had a talent for languages, and with a bit of patience I was able to work my way through the entire notebook.' He shrugged self-deprecatingly. 'Well, I've always liked mysteries.'
'What did it say?'
'It was about a civilisation dwelling upon a world orbiting a star in the Crown constellation - a star that is just about visible from here through a telescope on a clear night. And it detailed how the whole planet had been riddled with gateways just like the one that you smashed. The children you saw - the slim, dark, wide-eyed ones - were refugees from there. But coming here turned out to be no solution for them. A gateway opened up here just days after their arrival. So they went into hiding. They were waiting for their parents to find yet another place.'
Hexiya bit her lip then said: 'It sounds almost as if their journey here caused the gateway to open.'
'Indeed. That's what they thought. The power of the other place knew them and wanted them dead. So it followed them.'
'And Yavek Irsala?'
'My guess would be that he was simply a friend of the alien children. When they felt threatened, he felt threatened too.'
'The lights in the sky and over the ocean, then,' said Hexiya. 'They were the vessels of this alien race?'
'I think so.'
She took this in and wondered about it. Absently she toyed with the end of a mooring rope. 'Something else still puzzles me though,' she said after a while. 'What did the stone man want? What does the place he came from stand for?' She frowned. 'Or does it not make sense to ask such questions? The stone man was not human. Perhaps he was unfathomable. Or perhaps he was merely elemental - a force for fear, destruction and death.'
At this the old fisherman looked very grave. His face suddenly showed his age. 'In the book I translated there was an answer to those questions. One I hope is mistaken but which I suspect is true.' He collected his thoughts and said: 'The stone man and the place he comes from . . . Their proximity causes suffering - the process of dissolution. What you called a "malign compulsion". Ultimately, their presence annihilates life.'
'They want this?'
'It is what they are, and no doubt they reap some reward for it.'
Hexiya looked up into the sky. Waves lapped gently against the hull. It was so warm and peaceful here. But there was terror in her heart.
Malajik sighed. 'It is not easy for you, what you know now and have experienced, Hexiya. It worries me that you will be pursued by this other place just as those alien children were pursued.'
She absorbed this and knew it had been hard for him to say. He did not want to worry her; but he wanted to warn her.
3
Four days later, Avassia accompanied Hexiya and Havena down to the harbour. She saw them on board a sleek, fast trader that had put in for a few days on its way south from the Orilaian Islands. Once their possessions were stowed she spoke for a while with the captain. He knew her and promised he would look out for his two new passengers.
It was hard for Hexiya when she said goodbye to the yellow-haired sea-captain. She felt as if she was betraying her. 'I will miss you,' she said. Tears stung her eyes and she sniffled.Avassia hugged her warmly. 'No guilt,' she said. 'Just remember me and know that I will always be here for you. I hope that, some day, we might meet each other again. In happier times, perhaps.' And then she stood up and made her way down the boarding ramp, to stand and watch while the crew cast off.
'Do you think she will be all right?' Hexiya asked her mother as they put out to sea and Avassia dwindled to a tiny figure, standing still upon the dock.
'I hope so,' replied Havena. 'She is a strong woman.'
**