Windrunner's Daughter (13 page)

Her thoughts turned to Raw. By forcing her to fly he had saved her life, but for how long and to what end? She thought again of her mother, dying alone in Avalon, and of her missing brothers. She had no right to be lying here on a rock, wasting all of their time.

With a moan she dragged herself to her hands and knees. Careful on the slippery stone she crawled to its highest point. Only then did she raise her head.

To her right and left there was nothing; only desert stretching out as far as the eye could see. A bump in the distance could be Elysium Mons, or not.

She turned to look behind her. She rubbed her eyes and then she rubbed them again, just to be certain.

Right before her the sun glittered from the distinctive shape of a solar panelled biosphere. It was difficult to judge distance in the delta, but it looked like half an hour’s hike through the dustbowl. Wren giggled at the ridiculousness of her situation.

Again her choices were limited. She could sit on the rock until she froze to death in the desert night and in sight of shelter, or she could set off across the sand, hoping that she could outrace the Creatures, most of which would have to come from the CFC factories to reach her.

She locked down the sob that threatened to constrict her chest and held her head up high. She’d come this far hadn’t she?

Wren stood up. She flung out her arms with a wince, heard the click as her wings locked; then she started to run.

The rock
was
smooth, she had gone barely three paces before her left foot slipped. Instead of allowing herself to slide, she pushed off as hard as she could with her right, turning the fall into a leap. The wind caught under her wings and lifted her.

It was a light wind. Wren had been hoping for a thermal, thinking that one might have developed above the warm rock, but she was carried almost straight forward and gained no height.

The desert raced below her feet. The longer she could remain in the sky, the better. She angled her body upwards, rolling slightly into the wind, trying for more elevation. The faster she moved, the higher she flew. She looked ahead, the sphere was getting closer.

With a whoop, Wren twisted towards another rock, once more hoping for a thermal, but again the wind remained low and steady and she was already dropping.

From this height she could see the different colours in the sand; reds, oranges, yellows, browns and small patches of burned looking green that were still iced with dust from the storm. It was strangely beautiful and far less colourless and uniform than she had imagined when looking down from Elysium.

Bug colonies swarmed in and out of giant cone shaped nests, fighting endless wars. Carapaces glimmered in the sun like the dust-polished stones that were piled in odd little cairns.

But now she was dropping again, her wings fluttering as the wind died inside them, curling up and away from her, ignoring her desperate lurches to catch it.

She looked ahead: the biosphere was closer, perhaps a ten minute walk. Not so frightening.

She dropped her legs. This time she would alight gently, less likely to waken a Creature from its sleep. As soon as Wren’s toes touched the sand, she began to run, the wind still giving her a little lift, sufficient to make her light. So instead of landing properly she continued to bound along, half running, half carried. It was almost fun. Each footstep took her twice the normal distance. She would be at the sphere in no time.

Then she saw the wake in the sand: at least one Creature had found her. And it would only take one.

Now it was a simple race, could she make it to the biosphere before the Creature reached her?

Chapter ten

Wren put down her head and ran, pumping her legs to make each jump count. She panted, her breath rasped in and out of her struggling mask and her heart pounded. She dared not look to her left, where the Creature arrowed towards her.

There was a thud so loud that even she felt it through her boots. Wren looked up, towards the biosphere. A figure stood at the edge of the ‘sphere, just outside an airlock. He had just hurled what looked like a stove into the sand.     

“Move it, Wren,” he yelled and he pointed towards another airlock that was cycled green and standing open for her.

When the Creature started to turn back her way, Raw threw something else. It landed and rolled within the shards of light that burst from its metallic casing.

The wake turned again, heading towards the noise Raw was making and Wren sprinted, as fast as she could.

She skidded into the airlock without closing her wings. They scraped against the wall with a hissing sound, like claws. Wren gasped, suddenly terrified that she had broken or bent the struts. She pulled in her arms, hearing the click as the wings unlocked and turned to slam her hand on the palm reader, closing the door behind her.

Then she sank into a crouch, shuddering as some
thing
slammed against the biosphere just outside, making it shake.

A slithering sound, a wail that spoke of hunger, frustration, perhaps even fury, and the Creature was gone.

Wren did not know how long she sat inside the airlock as her heart slowed to a steady beat. Eventually though, the door was opened from the other side and she fell backwards into the Dome.

She stared up at Raw, his scarred face upside down to her. His eyes were red and swollen, the skin around them bleeding. He had gone through the storm with no goggles. And he was no longer wearing the wings.

“Where are they?” She rolled and leaped up, fright bearing her in its updraft.

"They're safe." Raw rolled his shoulders. “I just wanted them off for a bit.”

“
Off for a bit
!” Wren shrieked. “You don’t even know where we are, anyone could take them. Runners never remove their wings unless they’re in a Runner station.” She hesitated then and looked around, realising what was missing. No-one had come to see who had entered the ‘sphere: no curious child, no Councilman seeking news. No-one. “Where is everybody?”

Raw didn’t answer.

“And how did you get here?” she hissed, and placed her hands on her hips, forgetting for a moment the absence of the colonists.

Raw pointed upwards. Wren followed his gaze. At the apex of the sphere there was a long jagged line through one of the solar panels. Her eyes widened.

Raw nodded at her understanding. “That’s where I landed.”

“Skies, you’ve cracked the sphere.”

“It’ll hold.” Raw did not meet her eyes.

“They’ll throw us to the Creatures.” Wren wrung her hands. She frowned. “If everyone’s in a meeting, we can look for the Runner station, wherever it is. We’ll hide out there until we can fly again. What did you do with your wings?”

Raw shuffled his feet. “The wings are fine and we don’t need to hide.”

“What do you
mean
we don’t need to hide? Do they already know – what did they say? Where are we?”

She strode towards the nearest buildings. They were arranged like those of Elysium, low to the ground, built in diagonals. But the colours were different. These colonists had favoured stone that shone and glowed and preferred decals of dazzling minerals. Each home was built from an array of gem laden rocks that gleamed in the afternoon light, like a treasure box recently opened. When the Dome was removed the colony would glow.

Abruptly Wren stopped. “I know where we are.” She turned, grinning. “I always wanted to see it - the twinkling colony - Tir Na Nog.” She turned and walked faster. “We should find the council building, my brothers said it’s
amazing
.” She sped ahead, her fear of punishment all but abandoned. Then she halted. “My mask is all clogged up, but …” she inhaled, her nose wrinkling. “I shouldn’t be smelling ...” slowly she lifted her mask from her nose. She was inside the biosphere and would be able to breathe, but she struggled to convince herself.

“
Don’t.
” Raw reached for her but she shook him off. Carefully she took a tiny breath, her eyes watered and she pressed her mask back against her face. She stared at Raw. He too was still wearing his mask.

“What is it? What’s the smell?”

Raw had tears in his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

Wren stepped up to him. “Tell me.”

Raw shook his head.

“Where are all the
people
?”

“Listen, this place is pretty, isn’t it? It’s safe from storms and Creatures. There’s plenty of food and water, we can rest here as long as we need to, then we’ll fly on. Just keep your mask on and don’t ask me that question again.” Wren’s toes were touching Raw’s, she curled her fists at her sides. The look on his face was almost pleading. “Let me make you something to eat. I can rub your aches.” He reached for her and she jumped out of his grasp.

“Why won’t you tell me? I’m not a child.”

Raw’s green eyes flicked towards the far side of the ‘sphere.  It was enough for Wren. She began to run.

“No!” Raw strode after her, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He grabbed her arm. “Why can’t you trust me? You don’t want to know.”

“I
have
to know.” A horrible premonition had wrapped Wren’s heart with icy fingers. Cold was spreading to her fingertips and down her spine.

She no longer saw the jewel-crusted houses and almost missed the giant council building that sloped into the earth, gold plated, engraved with pictures of earth fruits and flowers, fantasies of a long-dead home. She ran past it with barely a second look.

Raw followed a step behind, no longer trying to stop her. Whenever she looked back, his face screwed up to reveal his concern.

Then they were there.

Wren stopped, her heart shrinking in her chest as if it was hiding from the scene in front of her. Although she had nothing in her stomach, Wren vomited. She heaved until nothing came out but bile. Raw’s hand was warm on her back where he was making small circular movements beneath her wings.

“I tried to tell you,” he said.

She closed her eyes, but she could still see it. Most of the bodies had been burned, but not all. Not the last ones.

“They can’t all be …”

“I haven’t found anyone else,” Raw whispered. His hand stilled. “I tried to stop you.”

“I know.”

They had started with the proper rites; there were line after line of urns. Then they had given up. A giant pile of ash and bones told Wren where they had piled the bodies and burned them all at once, with no regard for the obligations. Then the last of them had - what? Dragged themselves to the fire pits to lie with the remains of their families?

The bone shards were grey with ash. Wren clutched her hands to her face. White pearls shone among the remains “Are they … teeth?”

Raw nodded.

Round skulls grinned at her, filthy rags of half burned material lay among the bones, clinging like fingers to scraps of flesh.

She gagged again and turned, only to come face to face with a bloated corpse, his yellow face dark with veins and rot.

She staggered and Raw caught her in both arms.    

“What happened?” she murmured.

“I don’t know.” Raw sounded as though he had been wounded. “Come away.”

Wren let him guide her back towards the council building but a memory made her squirm.

“I overheard the Councillors when I went to Elysium.” She muttered. “They said Tir Na Nog wasn’t answering hails. This must be why.” She whimpered then. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t they let anyone know? And where are the Runners?”

“Whatever it was it might have happened quickly.”

“The Creatures?” Wren froze.

Raw shook his head. “There wouldn’t be bodies.”

“The scientists here were looking at new ways of producing vast quantities of CFCs,” Wren tilted her head. “Could they have poisoned their own air somehow?”

“Perhaps.” Raw bowed his head. “It makes sense.”

They had passed the Council building and were heading back towards the airlocks.

“We should leave.” Wren looked up at the sky. “Right now.”

“Not yet.” Raw’s voice was strained and Wren looked at him properly for the first time. Apart from his abraded eyes, which she now realised were reddened with tears as well as dust, his shoulder was so badly swollen it looked as if he had a hunch and he walked with a limp. He must have been really hurt when he crashed into the sphere.

Wren bit her lip. “I know where we are and which way to go. We could be at Vaikuntha in a couple of hours.”

“A short rest then?” Raw swayed on his feet and Wren saw how tired he was, how tired they both were. “We can at least eat something.”

Immediately Wren curled her lip. “Not here.”  

“Perhaps not,” Raw sighed. “But I’m hungry, I’m tired and … I’m hurt. I don’t know how you’re still on your feet.” He stared at her.

Wren fidgeted awkwardly. “We’re both still alive. It seems impossible. I-I’m glad you made it.”

A small smile flashed beneath Raw’s mask and then vanished like a Creature into sand. “There’s an open house near the airlock. That’s where I stored my wings. We can rest there.”

Inside, the house was much like Avalon; the colonists had built to the same plans. Raw’s wings were lying on the bed, carefully arranged. Wren glanced at him and away before he could see her surprise at his attention to detail. Then he slumped into a chair.

“That’s it.” Wren marched up to him and grabbed his left arm. He tried to pull back, but she held on. His eyes were pools of surprise and pain.

“What’re you-”

Wren put her foot on his chest. His eyes widened.

“No, Wren!”

She twisted and yanked, ignoring his scream of pain, feeling for the click that would tell her that his shoulder had returned to its socket.

The pink patches of skin on his face lost all colour and the grey darkened. His eyes rolled back in his head.

Click. She rotated his arm a couple of times and then placed it carefully in his lap. He groaned.

“Better?”

He nodded, unable to meet her gaze.

Then she sat on the chair opposite him.

So far from the cemetery fires the smell was barely noticeable. Still, neither of them removed their masks.