Angel Arias (6 page)

‘They’ll find it, but it’ll take a while. And let’s make sure that when they do, they go the wrong way.’ She tugged at the cord around Naif’s waist. ‘Give me that.’

Naif quickly undid it and handed it over.

Mesree threw it so it landed on one of the downward stairs.

‘What’s down there?’ asked Markes.

‘Leads straight to the water. Last I knew, sharks liked resting there. The bottom steps are treacherous slippery. Let’s hope Rajka and his lot fall in.’

‘No!’ Naif protested.

Mesree clamped a heavy hand on Naif’s shoulder. ‘They came for you with knives. Don’t mistake their intentions. Now go.’

Naif led them upwards, followed by Markes, with Charlonge behind him, then Mesree. They leaned close to the rock wall the steps were cut from, for the other edge had no railing. A slip and they would fall back onto the landing.

As they climbed, Naif’s mind raced over the last few hours. Rajka’s attempt to abduct and ransom them wasn’t just the discontent of a few. Judging by the noises she’d heard, this was a revolution. Were Riss and Rajka fighting? Or had they joined forces?

Whichever, Sanctus was no longer safe for them. Nor would Grave be. Nor Ixion. Was there anywhere in this world she wouldn’t be threatened?

‘Stop. Rest,’ said Mesree after a while. The cook was panting heavily.

‘How much further is it?’ Naif asked her.

‘By rights this should take us to the mountain top. Haven’t been up here for years and my bones are fair older now. There’s a bit to go yet.’

‘What do we do then?’

‘Ruze knows where we’ll be waiting.’

The woman was so confident that Naif felt heartened. ‘The airship. She’ll come for us in that?’

‘She’ll come.’

‘What’s that terrible smell?’ asked Charlonge.

‘Sulphur,’ said Mesree. ‘Sanctus is an old volcano. Like Ixion. Some days the gases still flow up from deep below.’

As they climbed on, the smell worsened. Naif’s eyes watered. Behind her, Markes and Charlonge began to cough.

‘Keep – go – ing,’ Mesree rasped.

‘We should stop again and rest,’ Naif called down.

‘Can’t – breathe. Need – to – get – out. Gas – too – bad,’ Mesree gasped. ‘Close. Must – be.’

Naif peered upward and saw a crack of light. ‘Yes. I think we are.’

‘Must – go.’ The cook pushed past Charlonge, desperate to reach fresher air.

But the stairs weren’t wide enough for two and she slipped, grabbing at air before she fell off the side of the stairs and into the darkness below.

For a long disbelieving moment, Naif, Markes and Charlonge stood there, silent.

‘I’ll go back!’ gasped Naif finally. ‘I’ll look for her.’

‘No, wait!’ Markes choked out. ‘The gas – it’s worse. Ruzalia’s men will go down. They all have masks on the ship.’

The gas was making it hard for Naif to catch her breath now. If Mesree had survived her fall, Naif wouldn’t be able to lift her. Or help her. She could hardly breathe.

Turning back, she forced her legs to move upward again, labouring until she reached a narrow gap in the rock wall that was just large enough to crawl through.

She urged Markes and Charlonge through first, and as she dropped to her hands and knees to take her turn, she felt a welcome gust of cool, clean air.

It was trumped only by the sight of glittering stars.

R
uzalia paced the cabin of the airship as she waited for Plank to return. Naif, Markes and Charlonge watched her as they rested side by side in the armchairs.

The pirate had barely spoken since she’d picked them up from the mouth of the cave at dawn and heard their story.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Naif, unable to bear the silence any longer. ‘I should have gone down when she fell.’

Ruzalia looked up from staring down at the mouth of the cave. They floated, shifting in the wind just above it. ‘No. The boy was right. The gas would have killed you. Plank has a mask to protect him. And weapons.’ She said the last in a grim tone.

Naif leaned towards the window. She, Markes and Charlonge had spoken little since their explanation of events to Ruzalia, though Markes’s knee had brushed hers several times as they sat close.

Staring below, she saw a movement. ‘It’s Plank!’ she cried.

Ruzalia shifted closer to the window. Her crewman stood at the cave-mouth holding Mesree’s lifeless body in his arms.

A moan escaped Ruzalia’s lips. She beat her fist into her chest as if to crush it. ‘La, lower the ship and the gurney!’ she ordered into the speech-pipe that ran to the propeller room.

The airship dipped down quickly and the platform that had lifted them to safety on Ixion settled near Plank. He laid Mesree on the cot attached to it and then climbed alongside.

Those above waited in solemn silence as the platform retracted. Sadness and despair welled inside Naif. Mesree had surely saved all their lives last night.

Ruzalia disappeared to the second level of the ship and didn’t return for a long while. In her wake there seemed nothing to say.

Charlonge closed her eyes but Markes was pale and agitated. Naif leaned across to his chair and slipped her arm along his shoulder. Markes rested his head against her and she could see the trace of tears on his face.

‘We have to stop this. I’m going back with you. Grave has the answers,’ he said in the same grim tone Ruzalia had used.

‘Grave,’ agreed Naif.

Ruzalia had sent El Lobos back to scout the island and picked him up from the northern cove around mid-morning. The entire crew then sat together to eat a frugal meal of haloumi, bread and figs.

‘They’ve taken your rooms, Captain. Got a stock of clubs and knives. Must have been planning it for a while. Still, wouldn’t take more than a dozen men to get it back from them.’

‘What of those who aren’t involved?’

‘Hiding out in their rooms. A few have taken to the beach caves. Long-Li’s moved the boat to the reef, out of harm’s way.’

She nodded. ‘Well done, El. We’ll go down on dusk and bury Mesree. Did you tell him?’

La nodded. ‘Didn’t take it so good. I’d be fearing for those young ’uns.’

‘We can’t be killing those we’ve risked all to save.’ Ruzalia seemed to say it to herself, almost.

Naif forced herself to speak up. ‘They are dying. Some believe they would rather have that happen on Ixion than here. They want their freedom.’

‘No! Best thing is that I bring in some more men and clean the troublemakers out.’

‘Others may get hurt in the meantime,’ cried Charlonge.

Ruzalia’s face set in a stubborn expression. ‘How can I help that?’

‘Take me to Grave, as we planned. Maybe what I learn there will help you find a way to reverse the badges,’ Naif insisted.

‘And wait here for you to return?’ She waved her hand to indicate the airship. ‘Cast from my own home by
children
?’

‘We aren’t children,’ said Naif. ‘Your sister isn’t a child anymore.’

‘Don’t speak of my sister!’ she roared.

Silence fell around the table while Ruzalia stared moodily out the window.

None of them showed much appetite, knowing Mesree was lying dead in the cabin below.

‘Fross!’ Ruzalia got up and stalked the length of the floor. ‘I’ll give you two days. That is all . . .  Find me answers, or I’ll use my own methods to quell them.’

Naif nodded. ‘Markes is coming with me.’

‘If we succeed you will have your home back,’ Markes added quietly. ‘To yourself.’

Ruzalia cocked her head as if considering the possibility. ‘Very well . . . two days in Grave.’ She nodded across the table to El Lobos. ‘Take us down so we can bury our dead.’

The ceremony for Mesree was brief and heart-wrenching. La Lobos landed the airship on the most southern beach of the island, where the wind buffeted them so wildly they were forced to fill extra sand bags to tether it.

Long-Li was waiting for them on the sand, a lone figure against the dying sunlight and whipped waves.

Plank carried Mesree’s cloth-wrapped body along the beach and placed her gently on the sand at Long-Li’s feet. He then returned to the airship and they all waited while the small man said his farewells.

When Ruzalia judged the time right, they trudged to the line of stunted bushes above the dune where Long-Li had prepared a grave.

Plank, El and Long-Li lowered Mesree in, and the pirates all helped to cover her body with the white and silver sand.

‘Rest well, old friend. You’ll be missed.’ Ruzalia’s words came out tight, as if she was holding them back for fear of what they might do.

Alongside her, Plank’s shoulders slumped with weariness. He’d carried Mesree up those stairs from where she’d fallen, only to have to bring her here to rest.

Naif bit her lip. She’d hardly known this woman who’d saved their lives; she did not feel entitled to shed tears for her. That was the province of her loved ones.

Charlonge and Markes shifted closer to Naif as Long-Li knelt by the grave and rocked silently with grief. Naif slipped her arms around their waists, and they around hers. The sharing of the terrible moment eased the pain, and finally Ruzalia called them all away.

M
arkes woke Naif from dark, unhappy dreams. Demons and blood and Rajka holding Mesree’s carving knife.

She gripped his hand for a second while she oriented herself, and then let go, embarrassed.

‘We’re here,’ he said.

It was almost dawn. They’d been travelling all night and Naif had been lulled asleep by exhaustion and the airship’s sway and dip. Next to her Charlonge was still dreaming, her eyelids fluttering.

Naif blinked a few times and stared at Markes, suddenly remembering the first time they’d met. Even though it had been night-time then, the party lights had revealed his muscular silhouette. On that night, he’d held her in his arms to stop Ruzalia snatching her away. How different would things have been, had he not?

‘Nightmares hard to shake?’ he said, softly.

She sighed. ‘I was remembering when we met on the barge.’

He gave a brief smile. ‘It seemed simple then. Everything seemed . . . simple.’

‘Are you sure you want to come with me?’

He nodded. ‘I know someone who may be able to help.’

Naif couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. ‘You didn’t say that before.’

‘I was hesitant,’ he said. ‘It would come at a cost. But now I know that the cost of doing nothing is worse.’

‘Who is it?’

‘A friend whose father is an Elder.’ He didn’t seem to want to say any more. Naif held back her questions and told herself to trust him.

They sat quietly for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘You know, you’re not who I thought you were. Cal said you were – I mean, you
are
– a Seal. When we met I thought you were strange but sweet and kind . . . different from the girls I knew. But you’re more than that. You’re so strong. Outside Danksoi when the Night Creatures attacked, and then when Rajka –’

‘Charlonge’s the one who stopped the boy at the window.’

‘But the decisions. We trusted you. Followed what you said and you got us out. Back on Ixion, I thought Dark Eve was special, but . . . what I’m trying to say . . . You’re like Eve, Naif. A leader . . . only quieter,’ he said. ‘And you don’t own an axe.’

He added the last in such a matter-of-fact way that Naif wanted to smile. But she didn’t; his face and his intentions were too serious for that. Instead she let pleasure flood her veins and wash away any past disenchantments with him.

A loud, tired voice cut into their conversation. ‘We’re here!’

Ruzalia stalked through the cabin to the main window.

Markes and Naif left the armchairs to join her. Below them was the snaking coastline and cold-grey water of their home. Even from this height, Naif recognised the Old Harbour and the flat roofs of the Seal compound. The fence around it was a mere strip of silver but further north there were other thick, snaking lines dividing the city into more parts. To the east she could see the barley fields and the huge main ramparts that looped in a half-circle from the top of Grave to the bottom, ending at the water. Walls within walls.

Her hand automatically touched her thigh and the spot where her obedience strip had been. The Riper Brand had brutally cut it away from her skin, nearly killing her. Thanks to Lenoir she’d survived the ordeal with only a puckered scar as a reminder.

But the sight of Grave brought a phantom pain back. Every step she’d taken to run away had been filled with sharp, intense agony inflicted by the obedience strip. And now she was returning to this place by her own choice.

Markes rested his hand lightly on her shoulder as if sensing her fear.

She wanted to clasp his fingers but Ruzalia was watching them and she didn’t wish the pirate to see her need.

‘This way,’ said Ruzalia, and led them to the under-cabin where the platform awaited lowering.

‘We’ll drop you into the Old Harbour. Two days from now I’ll return. Be there with answers or I’ll find my own way to get my island back.’

Naif nodded.

The pirate handed her a folded piece of parchment. ‘This came up on the last Ixion run. Meant for you, I think.’

Naif opened it up. The writing was neat but the ink was smudged and the paper dirty. It was from Rollo.

The Ripers drove the Night Creatures back from Danksoi but Eve thinks it won’t last. Eve and Joel want to tell everyone what we saw in Danksoi but Lenoir said the Ripers will stop the food and clothes supply if they do. We need you to talk to him. You’re the only one who can convince him to stop. Help us.

Rollo.

P.S. Suki is still missing but I promise I will find her.

Markes, reading over her shoulder, made a sound in the back of his throat.

Suki
. Naif swallowed hard and looked at Ruzalia. ‘We’re ready. Lower us down.’

Charlonge hugged them both as they stepped onto the gantry. ‘Be careful.’

‘You too,’ said Naif.

‘Lower them now. Before the wind picks up again,’ said Ruzalia.

He grabbed hold of the ropes on the other side of the gantry and Plank sent them slowly descending towards the cold lapping water of the Old Harbour.

They stopped just above the stretch of grey sand near the long jetty where the barge came in. Markes jumped down first and waited for Naif to follow. She dropped more heavily than him and fell backwards.

He went to help her up but she shook him off. ‘Let’s get to the warehouses; out of sight.’

The sun was only a pale hint of light in the western sky as they crossed the cobblestone road and approached the dilapidated buildings which had once served as storage for the incoming trade.

The Old Harbour had closed when Naif was still small. Joel had talked about it, telling her stories of people visiting from faraway places. That was before the Elders had ceased sea trade.

Now all the supplies they could not grow themselves came overland and were stockpiled in Grave East, on the outskirts of the city. The Elders no longer wanted Grave people to have contact with outsiders. Joel told Retra that they feared the ideas the foreigners might bring. Merchants left their wares and were paid through a slot in the ramparts. When they left, gatherers went outside the wall to collect the produce.

‘Only one person talks to the outsiders now. He’s called the Assessor. He lives in a hut outside the walls and makes sure the merchants leave what they claim,’ Joel had told her.

‘Just one man?’ Naif had asked.

‘They say he’s worth ten men. That he’s strong and smart and unbeatable with a sword and stick. A giant.’

‘But there are no giants in Grave.’

Joel had gotten annoyed with her then and told her to bite her tongue.

The memory of that conversation followed her across the cobbles and along the outside of the crumbling warehouses. Had the closing of the Old Harbour and the change in trade been something to do with the Ripers and Ixion, she wondered. How long had Ripers been coming here, talking to the Elders?

The realisation that she was really home made her lungs constrict, as though returning had robbed her of all breath. She tried to calm herself but her chest would not release the air.

Markes took her arm, concerned. ‘Rest a moment before we go further.’

He helped her through one of the broken doorways and waited while she steadied herself. After a moment or two, the gloom revealed the outline of some rickety stairs and a loft.

Naif pointed upwards. ‘There – in – case.’

Markes took the lead up the stairs and into the deep shadows at the back of the loft, where they stopped. Naif sank to the dusty floor, gasping.

‘What is it?’ he asked as he knelt alongside her. ‘Are you sick? We shouldn’t be in here. This dust . . .’

‘It’s not the dust,’ Naif whispered.

‘Then what?’

‘Being home. I’m just . . .’

Markes reached for her hand and squeezed it.

They both sat quietly. In the distance the airship engine rumbled, but closer, sharper, was the clack of boots on cobblestones.

‘Wardens,’ he said.

‘They must have seen the airship,’ whispered Naif.

Markes’s hand became moist. Or maybe it was both their hands. ‘We can’t stay here; we have to get to my friend’s place in Grave North.’

‘If we move they’ll see us. And I don’t think I can run.’

‘Once they check the beach and find nothing they’ll think it’s gone.’ He tried to sound confident.

‘What if someone saw the gantry? Or our prints in the sand?’

‘Shhh!’

They both fell silent again as the footsteps came closer. It was hard to tell how many men were outside; maybe half a dozen.

‘The airship had a floating gantry. Someone landed here,’ called a voice outside.

Markes and Naif crawled forward and peered over the edge of the loft. Below, in the open doorway, the warden was illuminated by the lamp he held. He was dressed in knee-boots, a heavy greatcoat, and a three-cornered warden’s hat pulled low on his head.

‘Begin the search along the waterline and then these buildings. Put a watch along the paths to the city proper. Bring the hounds.’

Hounds.

Naif’s breathing tightened again. She’d seen them before, from a distance, pulling the wardens’ wheeled sleds, saliva flying from their huge mouths.

Joel had hated them. ‘They’re terrible and hideous,’ he’d said. ‘Trained to crave the taste of blood.’

She’d thought he was teasing her, until one day she’d accompanied her mother on an errand to the east side of the Seal Enclave and seen them chase down a young man. Her mother had covered her eyes from the spectacle and Naif hadn’t dared to ask what happened. Afterwards, though, her mother’s distress had haunted her.

Now the wardens’ footsteps faded in one direction, leaving the doorway empty.

‘Need help you,’ said a voice from behind them in the deep wall shadows.

Markes and Naif jumped.

‘Who are you?’ Markes demanded, fear making him sound angry.

‘Ask same,’ said the voice.

Naif began to feel around on the loft floor, searching for a piece of wood or anything she could use to defend herself. Her fingers connected with what felt like a rusty container; heavy enough still to be carrying its contents. ‘Come closer so we can see you.’

‘You come close me.’ The voice sounded mistrustful.

‘We can’t see where you are.’

‘Problem you. Not me.’

Markes shifted a little closer to the shadows.

‘There,’ he said. ‘Meet me halfway.’

The person in the shadows didn’t reply, nor did he move.

Markes shifted again until his legs disappeared into the darkness at the back of the loft. Naif wanted to pull him back to her.

‘Please come out,’ Markes said. ‘We are hiding. Like you.’

Another silence was followed by a slithering noise. A face appeared in the gloom, hollow-eyed. The boy was not much older than them, if at all.

‘What are you doing here? No one lives in the Old Harbour,’ said Naif.

‘You come from sky. Pirate bring,’ said the boy.

Naif’s hand tightened around the can. She leaned forward and touched Markes’s shoulder with her other hand. ‘The wardens will come soon with the hounds, Markes. We have to move on.’

‘Can’t hide from hounds,’ said the boy.

Markes didn’t answer Naif, concentrating on the boy. ‘I am Markes and this is Naif. What’s your name?’

The face retreated to the darkness.

‘Don’t leave yet. Are you hungry? Have some of these.’ Markes reached in his pocket and held out some of the bread that Ruzalia had given them.

Without warning, an arm flashed from the dark and something curled around the bread, whipping it back into the shadows as quickly as it appeared.

Naif started backwards from it, stopping only because her hand grazed the sharp edge of the loft.

‘Naif, give me your bread,’ said Markes. He didn’t turn, but stretched out his hand to receive it.