Читать книгу Elevation 3: The Fiery Spiral - Helen Brain - Страница 11

EBBA

He’s gone. My father is gone.

I should have told the old man I couldn’t stay. I should have grabbed Isi and run. My father was going to take me home. I had him for just a few minutes and then I messed it up.

I want to lie down and give up. I can hear Ma Goodson telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself because there are plenty of people worse off than me, but they’re not up here, right now. I wish they were.

Isi licks my hand, gazing at me with her soft amber eyes. She wants me to go on. She keeps turning towards the mountains and then looking back at me, but it’s so far. Maybe I can find my father’s portal. If I run, it might still be open.

But where is it? There are no paths, just sandy dunes and rocks, every way I look.

He told me it lay in the direction he came from. But which way was that? I can’t even see the old man’s white rocks. They’ve disappeared among the high dunes. I bite the inside of my cheek, my insides twirling with growing panic. I keep walking, but it feels like I’m moving in circles. I’m sure I’ve passed this jagged boulder before … Yes, there are my footprints in the sand. I’m going round and round. Whichever way I walk I come back to the same spot. What am I doing wrong? Or is it some kind of trick?

There’s a small outcrop of rocks nearby, so I climb it and peer out over the landscape, looking for any sign of my dad, anything that might show the way to his portal. There is … there is something, so far away that I have to squint to see it.

It’s a tree. A flat-crowned tree as tiny as my finger, but now I see it, I can’t stop staring at it. It’s the same shape as the birthmark on my hand.

It must be a sign. It’s the way home.

I set off at a run. But it’s no good. I can’t get past my own footprints. Whichever way I go, no matter how straight I try and go, I find myself back where I’ve been before.

Isi bounds up to me and stops dead, right in my path.

“What is it, girl?”

She’s not moving, stands as solid as rock, staring at the pocket of my robe.

Of course. The flask. As soon as I take it out and hold the small glass bulb in the palm of my hand she relaxes. She gives me a quick lick and sits down next to me.

What did Francis say? Something like, “If you quieten your heart and look into the stillness of this water it will show you the way forward.”

I try and quieten my heart but the thoughts are pounding and throbbing inside my head. My dad … I’ve felt him hug me and heard him say he’s proud of me, and that he’s going to come home with me and look after me. And I’ve lost him because I spent too much time listening to an old man. Meanwhile, back home there’s chaos and my sabenzis need me, and Micah and Samantha-Lee … For a while the thoughts do drum in my head, but then I become aware of Isi leaning against my shoulder, and her body is still. She’s staring at the water in the flask, and her ribs rise and fall as she breathes, and I begin to focus on her rhythm, and soon I begin to slow down the chaos in my head, and to fall into her pattern of breathing.

Slowly, a picture starts to form in the bowl, misty and vague at first, but then gradually clearing, until I see pictures moving across the surface.

I’m at Greenhaven, in the clearing next to the holy well. I used to think it was so special, but now it’s just a broken garden pond filled with mud and weeds. The necklace is gone from my neck. I’ve given it to my father, to thank him for bringing me home. He’s standing next to me. His birthmark is darker, spreading across half of his face, and his expression … it’s colder, almost sneering.

I’m home, and that’s what matters. We walk through the forest until we reach the ficus tree where Letti’s swing hangs broken. Ponto, the big black horse, is cropping grass in the meadow. He’s already saddled and bridled, and his stirrups fitted to the right length.

“Up you get,” my father says. “You go and tell them what you want. Go on, there’s my girl.”

He gives me a foothold, and I spring into the saddle and grab the reins. I gallop off at full speed along the road to the council offices. A soldier salutes me when I arrive. I dismount, put my chin up and climb the steps, ready to show them the new Ebba.

Major Zungu, Captain Atherton and Micah are having a meeting in the room where once the High Priest interviewed me.

I sweep into the room, and they jump to their feet.

“I demand that you arrest Samantha-Lee,” I announce. “She is the one who concealed weapons on my farm. She is leading the insurrection against the army. Thanks to me the general is dead, and you, Major Zungu, have everything you ever wanted. I’m willing to share the power, but first I want Samantha-Lee dealt with.”

Micah goes pale, but Zungu doesn’t flinch. He gestures to Captain Atherton who salutes me and leaves the room.

Micah takes my hand. Together we look at the view through the huge window over the sea to the mountains and the port of Bellville in the distance. “Soon that will all be ours,” I tell him. The look he gives me as he takes me in his arms is pure love. Pure admiration.

Time passes. A year, two, four. We rebuild Greenhaven with the help of the army. We’re married, children play around our feet. Micah is the ruler of Table Island. I’m there to support him while I raise the children and run the farm. It’s a perfect future, except …

Aunty Figgy is dead, and no one mentions the Goddess anymore.

Ten years pass. Our children are growing. We’re rich. Micah is ruler of the mainland too. But the forest around Greenhaven is gone. We’ve sold the wood, grown rich on the proceeds. People are fighting over food and water. We’re still together, but Micah has a paunch, and he looks shifty, always accusing people of trying to cheat or harm him. I’m older, and there’s a hardness around my face. Leonid and Jasmine rule the city of Bellville. They don’t talk to us anymore; not after the huge fight with Micah. They’re increasing the size of their army, and may be plotting to invade us. Letti and Fez are working in the offices, but they look unhappy and tired. We have everything we could want, except we don’t like ourselves or each other. The world is dry and barren, people are starving, and we don’t really care.

I go cold. Is this what we could turn into? Surely not. But I’ve seen enough this last year to know it’s all possible. More than possible.

Suddenly Isi growls. My father is standing behind me, looking over my shoulder.

“What have you got there?”

His face is nothing like the sneering cold face I saw in the flask, but the traces are there, under the beaming white smile. I shift away, but he leans forward, peering at the image in the flask. What if he sees the image of himself with such an ugly birthmark? I close my fingers around it so the pictures disappear.

“The old man in the rocks gave it to me. It shows you where to go.”

“Oh. That’s interesting, but I know where to go. I’ve got good news. I went off to check the portal and although it was almost closed, I have arranged for it to stay open a little longer. But we need to get going now.”

“Um, Francis told me to go to the mountains. He said the only portal is there.” My voice peters out. But he’s still smiling, reaching out for the flask.

“Did he give you this? May I hold it?”

I don’t want to, but I let him take it from my hand. He holds it up by the neck, and moves his wrist in a circle so the water starts to swirl. “Did he tell you to sit still and watch it? That’s a trick. It only shows you what scares you. It reads the dark fears in your mind and shows them to you. That’s why it wants you to quieten your thoughts, so it can read them. Let me show you what it is actually meant to do. Look, if I swirl it around, it will show you what’s really happening on Greenhaven, right now.”

I stare, fascinated as the rotating water forms into a picture, the focus sharpens, and hones in on Micah and Samantha-Lee sitting outside the ruins of my house.

They seem to be deep in discussion, and her hand is resting on his knee.

“I still think we need Atherton,” Micah says. “Now Zungu is in control, Atherton is at a loose end. We can turn him, I know.”

“We have the two thousand from the colony,” Samantha-Lee says. “Two thousand, plus the Boat People and the resistance from the mainland. That’s enough.”

“Against the whole army with all their weapons? We have to divide and conquer. If we get him to join us he’ll bring at least a quarter of the army and their weapons with him.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m going to speak to Atherton. He will be in the barracks.”

“Be careful. You don’t know for sure that he’ll turn. He could have you arrested.”

“He’ll turn. He’s hungry for power.”

“We are still in charge though,” she says firmly. “He can join us but you and I are still in charge.”

“Agreed,” he says, pushing his fringe back in that gesture I know so well.

Samantha-Lee looks deep into his eyes and says, “Good luck.” The kiss he gives her is as intense and passionate as the ones he gave me. His hands run down her body like they used to run down mine, and I want to get there and kill them both with my bare hands.

“Don’t you want to go back home?” my father asks, giving the flask back to me. “Let’s go right now. You can show her. She’ll be so shocked to see you. She thinks you’re dead. You know their plan now – to turn Atherton against Zungu. We can go straight to Zungu, and you can tell him what they’re planning. He’ll kill them for you.”

“Micah too?”

“Only if you want that.” He smiles at me indulgently. “Young love. Ah, I remember how it burns you up. If you like, we can deal with Samantha-Lee alone. She’s pure poison. You and Micah can be together.”

“But Francis said the only way home is over the mountains. That’s the only portal left open,” I say, carefully watching his face.

“I bet he said you are a bad person. Did he make you sit in that ridiculous prodding chair?”

“How did you know?” I stare, open-mouthed.

“He plays the same trick on everyone. He’s a real killjoy, trying to make you feel bad about yourself. We don’t need that kind of negativity. You need to focus on your strengths, not your weaknesses. Now come on, let’s go.”

He sets off down the path towards the flat-crowned tree, but I hesitate.

“Quickly now,” he calls. “The portal won’t stay open forever. You want to get back to Greenhaven as soon as possible, don’t you? It’s not like there’s much here for you.”

“Can you come back with me? Can you help me?” I’m daunted suddenly by the thought of facing Major Zungu and Micah on my own.

“You’re a big girl, Ebba. You don’t need me. I’ll take you to the end of the portal, until you’re safely back on Greenhaven, but then I have to come back here.”

“How? How will you get back?” The birthmark on my hand starts to tingle and glancing up, I see that his is darkening on his temple.

“You give me the necklace, and …”

Isi starts to growl, pressing her ribs against my legs. She pushes herself between me and my father, and the fur along her back is rising in a ridge. She’s shoving me back, and I falter and then gather all my courage. “I can’t give you the necklace. It’s for the Goddess. I need to give it to her alone.”

“The Goddess is gone, Ebba. Prospiroh is holding her on Proskubia.”

“That means I need to get the necklace to her even more urgently.”

“But you can’t, because you’re not really dead. You have to go back to Greenhaven and live out your life, and then come back here when you’ve died of old age. And meanwhile Theia will be trapped in Proskubia, suffering. Unless you give me the necklace and I take it to her.”

The vibrations of Isi’s growls rumble through my leg as she shoves me again. “Stop it, Isi,” I hiss. “I can’t concentrate.”

“That’s okay,” my father says, his voice gentle. “I understand. You don’t trust me. You’ve only just met me. And I bet Aunty Figgy told you bad things about me.”

Heat rushes over my face. “It’s not that,” I lie. “It’s just that … the old man said I have to make a journey. He said I have to cross Celestia until I reach the mountains, and I …” He’s glowering at me with his Leonid look, and I don’t know what to do.

Then I glance up and see a flash of desire in his eyes as he looks at the necklace, and my birthmark is burning. “I … I’m sorry, but I have to do it the right way–”

He interrupts me with a sneer. “You aren’t the heroine I thought you were. You’re a coward. Too scared to go back and finish the job off properly. Just give me the goddamned necklace.” His voice rises and anger radiates off him like steam until I want to shrivel up and do exactly what he says.

He strides towards me, hand outstretched, and Isi goes frantic, snarling and pulling against me as I clutch her collar to stop her attacking him.

“I … I can’t.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” And he turns on his heel and marches off towards the tree, the angry energy swirling like dust clouds around him.

“I’m sorry … Dad,” I call after him. The word “Dad” feels strange in my mouth. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“You’re not my daughter anymore,” he yells. “You’re a disgrace to the family.”

Isi has my robe in her mouth and she’s tugging me away towards the mountains.

I hesitate. What if he doesn’t come back? Should I run after him and apologise? He hasn’t looked back, not even once. It’s all Isi’s fault. She leans against me, looking up into my face, but I refuse to pat her, turning away instead. She sighs and lies down her head on my foot.

But as I stand there watching him go I remember what the old man said – that only people with the blood of the gods come to Celestia. Ordinary humans, when they die, go on to a different world. So why is my father here? I would understand if my mother was here. She has the blood of the Goddess in her too. But my father isn’t a descendant of the Goddess and he is not family of the High Priest. He shouldn’t be here.

Who is lying? Francis or my dad?

I can’t wait here, all alone. I need to start the journey the old man told me about, and I don’t know the way. I take the flask out of my pocket and hold it in the palm of my hand. “Just still yourself,” Francis said.

It’s such hard work trying to focus on the water. It’s harder than running for two hours on the colony treadmill after a full day transplanting seedlings. It’s harder than trying to control fifty rebellious colonists stirred up by Jaline. Everything distracts me. Inside my head it’s like a whirlwind of thoughts … Micah and Samantha-Lee, Letti and her baby, how my sabenzis are if Micah’s told them that I’m dead, or maybe they’ve not heard anything and are wondering why I haven’t come home. Was that my real father, or someone impersonating him, and how will I cross this huge desert with no food, water, or anywhere to sleep?

It takes forever to calm down. But gradually, once again, I become aware of Isi’s breathing, her ribs rising and falling against my ankles. I try to time my breathing so it matches hers and I slow myself down. Finally I begin to see shapes and images. Pictures form and then dissolve, and form again. I focus on her warm body pressing against mine, on our synchronised breathing, and a deep stillness permeates inside me. A stillness that links me to the centre of something deeper than myself.

Slowly a map forms in the water. It shows a path; long, winding, and crossing Celestia to the mountains. Behind them is a shining half-circle of light. The Fiery Spiral is written in ornate letters.

I can see myself on the map, drawn perfectly, my red hair, my robe, even the tiny dots of the necklace.

Behind me are the five egg-shaped rocks where Francis lives. I’m standing at a crossroad. A faint path leads to the left towards my father’s portal, and just past the flat-topped tree it peters out.

Ahead of me on the trail there’s a dragon next to a small cottage. Fez told me once that old maps often said “Here be dragons”, because people believed that imaginary monsters lived in the wild, unexplored places. There is a maze, a pond of water surrounded by forest, a black smudge marked Lake. The path leads across the flat plateau, until it reaches the foot of the mountains. It breaks into a zigzag climbing the height, and near the top is the dark opening of a cave.

Plants decorate the sides of the map. They’re dandelions, some just seedlings, low on the ground, growing close together. Others are taller, starting to bud. There’s a clump of yellow flowers balancing on supple stems, and then the puffballs of seeds that Aunty Figgy likes to pick, pretending she can tell the time by how many breaths it takes to blow them all off.

I sit quietly, watching the water shimmer, and think that perhaps the flowers are also a map of the journey I must make inside myself. Maybe I need to grow and flower like the dandelion, and I can only do that if I rise above the ground.

The map fades. I slip the flask back into my pocket, tighten the buckles of my sandals, and start walking.