Jungle Of Steel And Stone (19 page)

"It turned out to be a waste of time, nothing important. No sign of Toby, huh?"

"No."

"Why don't you sleep for a while, Reyna? I've got things covered now."

"I already took a nap." She reacted to Veil's look of surprise with a shrug. "If Toby can crawl and is determined to get past us, Veil, he will; he could make a shadow seem noisy, and we can't possibly cover everyplace down here he could slip through. We can only hope that he'll stay where he is and I'll find him, or that he'll react to my presence and come to me on his own. You sleep. I'll wake you if there's a need."

"Wake me in an hour. Tomorrow could be a long day. We'll take turns resting."

V
eil dreams.

He is Toby.

He leaves his shallow trench soon after moonrise. He is naked; his
clothes,
filthy from his sickness, have been buried. He has constructed a new carrying sling from relatively clean pieces of
clothes,
and in it he carries the Nal-toon and his new weapons.

He has gone only a short distance when he realizes, with pangs of frustration and despair, that he will not be able to travel much farther. Perspiration runs in thick streams off his flesh, draining him of strength, as well as precious fluids and salt. His legs feel ready to collapse under him at any moment. The left side of his head throbs, each drum-pulse sending a blinding stab of pain down through his left eye into his neck. His bowels are constantly churning. Even the air seems to be dragging him down, like the water in the
river,
and he senses that the
airplane
fields are still very, very far away. . . .

He needs more of the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk, Veil thinks.

The amount of the Nal-toon's gift that he sniffs this time is considerably larger than what he has used in the past. However, the effect is the same; his pain abruptly vanishes. A warm, liquid sensation creeps down through his body and into his limbs, accompanied by an almost overwhelming desire to sleep.

Veil staggers and falls. A heavy, shapeless weight with wings flaps inside his skull, threatening to club him into unconsciousness. He knows that he will be in deadly peril if he loses consciousness on open ground, and he somehow manages to will himself back onto his feet.

He stumbles onto a stone path and staggers forward on its hard surface until he comes to a large meadow. By squinting, he is able to focus the vision in his right eye sufficiently to see in the moonlight a field filled with the
Newyorkcities'
spirit-totems. His knees sag, and he falls again. He sucks in a series of deep breaths to focus his energy, then somehow manages to crawl on his hands and knees through the totem field, dragging his precious bundle after him.

After what seems an agonizing eternity of dizziness and nausea, Veil reaches the jungle beyond the totem field. He feels a slight depression under his hands and collapses on his side into it. He tries to pull some leaves and branches over his body but can't seem to grasp anything with his fingers. He shifts his weight until he can feel the hard, comforting shape of God against his belly, then releases his terrible burden of will and passes out.

* * *

When Veil, as Toby, awakens, the sun is already well over the horizon and climbing rapidly into the sky. The ground under him is damp, and he is shaking with cold. His entire body throbs with pain and sickness. He cannot travel now, Veil thinks; it is day in this jungle of the dead, and there is a spirit moving around.

A voice is calling him.

The voice is Reyna's. For a long time she calls to him repeatedly, then abruptly falls silent. Then her voice comes to him again, this time from a greater distance. She is singing a camp song of love, fire, and water. Tears spring to Veil's eyes, and he stifles a sob as loneliness and soul-pain blow through him with the sudden ferocity of a sandstorm.

Reyna sings songs of children, and Veil weeps. Reyna's voice drifts away, then comes closer again. In between songs she calls out, asking him to come to her.

Yes! Veil thinks. Enough pain, sickness, and—most terrible burden of all—loneliness. He can trust Reyna; she will care for him until he is well; she will help him return with the Nal-toon to his people. His suffering will be over. Surely he has proven himself as a warrior. . . .

A chill ripples through his body. Veil starts to roll out of the depression—then freezes.

What if he is wrong? What if his trial is not over and the voice of Reyna is really that of a
Newyorkcity
spirit calling him to doom? How can he know? Only the Nal-toon decides such things.

Deciding that he cannot risk failure simply because of personal suffering, Veil settles back into the depression and finally manages to pull some leaves over his body. He closes his eyes and reminds himself that no personal suffering is beyond endurance as long as God is with him, and God is; the Nal-toon has repeatedly provided him with sanctuary and has even given him His precious blood to ease his suffering.

Veil shifts his position slightly until he can see out through a space in his covering of leaves. He tenses when he sees blurred movement on a knoll just beyond the field of spirit-totems. He squints and is finally able to make out the figure of Reyna. She stands very still for a long time, and Veil begins to fear that she has picked up his spoor and is about to descend on him. She slowly turns in a full circle, then drops to her hands and knees and begins to crawl along the edge of the field.

Veil's stomach knots with anxiety. If the figure is Reyna, or a spirit with Reyna's skills, she will certainly find his spoor. Perhaps.

She has found it, Veil thinks as adrenaline flows into his system, sharpening his senses and reflexes. He watches with growing tension as the Reyna-figure crawls slowly through the spirit-totems, following his spoor of wet, crushed grass and leaves. Surely she will find him now.

He must quickly decide what to do.

Should he kill the Reyna-figure?

Or does the Nal-toon mean for Reyna to find him, since he has not gone to her? Has the Nal-toon sent Reyna to end his suffering and take him home?

"Help me, Nal-toon," Veil whispers. "Help me to decide."

As if in immediate response to his prayer, the Reyna-figure abruptly crawls off in the wrong direction. She stops, looks around, then shakes her head in frustration. Veil begins to relax but then tenses again as the Reyna-figure stands, puts her hands on her hips, and appears to stare directly at his hiding place.

She has found him, Veil thinks.

He will attack if she comes for him, he thinks. He will let the Nal-toon guide his muscles and reflexes, will let the Nal-toon decide whether this Reyna-figure lives or dies and whether or not he must now prepare for his final battle with the
Newyorkcities.

Then the Reyna-figure turns and stares off in another direction. And another. Then she shakes her head again and walks quickly back the way she came, disappearing over the knoll.

It certainly was a spirit, Veil thinks with satisfaction, but he was not tricked by it. He held firm, and the Nal-toon sent the spirit away.

His loneliness dissipates as Veil begins to feel a comforting sense of oneness with God. His heart fills with joy and thanksgiving as he sniffs a small portion of the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

At nightfall Veil-in-Toby rises and moves on through the jungle of the dead. He abruptly stops and drops to the ground when he again hears Reyna's voice calling to him from somewhere in the darkness ahead of him.

He sniffs some blood-shilluk to focus his senses, then creeps soundlessly forward until he comes to the edge of a stand of trees. Before him, thirty running-steps away across an open expanse, Reyna and a man whose features are hidden by the night sit on a stone barrier. Between them is some kind of magic box that makes the sound of Reyna's voice. The box repeats the same message over and over, but Veil no longer even bothers to listen. It is silly magic, he thinks, and now that he knows it is magic, it has lost its stranglehold on his heart.

Veil moves laterally, inside the shrouding darkness of the line of trees. He fears the Reyna-figure most; if she does possess Reyna's skills, she might well see or hear him, no matter how stealthily he moves. But he goes on, moving silently past the position of the man-in-night until the sounds from the magic box can no longer be heard.

He waits, crouched behind the stone wall and peering over its edge until the
street
beyond is momentarily clear of
cars.
Then, gripping his carrying sling against his chest, he sluggishly climbs over the wall and runs as straight and fast as he can across the
street.
Fueled by anxiety, he makes it safely across the
street
and into the shadows cast by a
building.

The effort is exhausting, and now he doubles over as his stomach muscles knot with pain. He waits for the spasms to pass, then turns and moves south along the face of the
building,
darting from moon shadow to moon shadow.

Suddenly he sees before him a great
street
that is even wider than the one he had to cross to get to the
river.
There are a great many fast-moving
cars
on this great
street,
their light-eyes cutting sharp, moving swaths in the darkness. Veil waits, but the great
street
never seems to be entirely empty of
cars.

He could wait here forever for the
street
to empty, Veil thinks. Despite the
cars,
he must go on.

Veil eases the carrying sling to the ground, lifts the Nal-toon, and allows some of the blood-shilluk to flow into his palm. He sniffs it, but this time the pain does not immediately vanish, as it usually does. He waits for the familiar, warm rush that will wash away his terrible hurt, but it does not come. There is some easing of the pain, but Veil still feels crippled. Recognizing the danger but feeling that he has no choice, he sniffs still more of the blood-shilluk. Finally the rush comes and the pain vanishes. He replaces the Nal-toon in his sling, lifts up the bundle, then walks forward a few steps and crouches down at the very edge of the great
street.

A cluster of
cars
speed by, leaving in their wake a relatively long stretch of darkness. There are more light-eyes in the distance, bearing down on him, but Veil feels that he must move now, for there might not be another moment of darkness as long.

He straightens up and runs as fast as he can halfway across the great
street
to a stone barrier that separates the
cars
on his side from those on the other, which move in the opposite direction. His lungs ache and his chest heaves as he gasps for air; sweat pours off his naked body and his vision blurs badly, but he knows that he cannot stop to rest. It is too easy for the
Newyorkcities
to see him in the light-eyes of their
cars.

Everything seems to be spinning around him, but Veil somehow manages to climb over the stone wall. He stumbles into the
street,
staggers and falls. Despite the fact that he is totally disoriented, he struggles to his feet. He sways, then sits down hard with a jolt that shoots up his spine and sends shock waves of pain through his head.

Suddenly he sees the light-eyes of a
car
bearing down on him very fast. Veil wills himself to his knees, then up on his feet as the
car
emits a wave of screeching, blaring sounds like those he heard when he crossed the
street
by
Centralpark.
The light-eyes shoot toward him, then suddenly begin to veer wildly back and forth as the screeching sounds build to a deafening, almost physical thing that batters at his ears. He smells something burning. Then the sound abruptly stops as the light-eyes stop, and Veil feels the cool touch of metal against his stomach.