Windrunner's Daughter (21 page)

Eventually he stopped fighting the currents and found his way, gaining height as he spun past the hut.

Shakily Wren released her breath. Genna had pushed to the front of the group and was watching her warily. Wren pulled her own goggles over her eyes, trying to banish the sound of hissing from her ears. She gave Genna a little wave, shook her arms and touched her toes, overcome with gratitude for the massage and rest that had loosened her muscles. Then, with a little hop, she started to run towards the slashes of colour.

Wren’s wings filled and lifted behind her. Their noise encouraged her onwards like whispers in her ears
“time to fly.”

She looked at her toes, which were barely brushing against the rock as she fairly flew along.

First she saw the blue line; grey in the shifting darkness. Then just one step later a stripe that seemed black: the red. If her take-off failed now, she would fall, a long drop with a short ending.

The hissing intensified as she came to te green stripe, threw her arms out to her sides, felt both wings click into place and leaped.

There was a flash beneath her and Wren’s eyes widened. Had she really seen a gaping saw-toothed maw surrounding a throat bigger than she was? She stared at the sand which was innocently sinking into a new depression. Whatever she had seen had vanished as swiftly as it had come.

Unearthly shrieks filled her ears, seeming to echo from the very walls of Vaikuntha. Briefly her arms vibrated as she withheld a turn. Her body wanted her to head home, away from the Creatures who lived so close here, the Runners who had been forced into a tiny hut, the dying Grounders and the situation that felt like the start of a war. But she overrode her impulse and veered.

Immediately the air around her warmed slightly. She was inside the thermal that had carried Raw and Orel away. She allowed herself to relax and turn her head, searching for them.

The darkness had grown and all she could see were flashes of Phobos’ light from silver as the two Runners circled a little way above, waiting for her to join them.

Her eyes flicked to Vaikuntha. Along the length of the wall searchlights blossomed, but as the edifice curved towards the uninhabited desert, the light spots scattered and it went almost black. Assuming Orel headed in that direction, how would she and Raw be able to see him? And how long would the cooling air hold them up?

A flash of colour to her left told her someone had dropped and was pacing her. She glanced across to check the smoothness of his flight and her lips pulled into a grin: it was Orel. She dropped her head, presenting as small a target for the wind as possible. Then she pointed her toes and bent her arms into a slight vee. The wind rushed faster over her face and whistled like an accolade. Orel started to fall behind and she chuckled.

Then something made her look up. Orel had caught a higher, faster current and was above her. She raised her torso, seeking the same height and Orel rolled. Starlight shimmered from the tops of his wings, The light of Phobos burned in his goggles. He looked almost inhuman.

She tipped her shoulder and rolled her wings back at him. The rushing wind tried to tumble her but she merely rolled back.

Then she caught sight of the wobbling figure dropping behind. They had almost lost Raw. Immediately she slowed until he had caught up.

When she turned again Orel had been swallowed by the darkness.

“Orel?” she panicked.

“I’m here.” His voice floated from her right.

“How do we know where to go if we can’t see you?”

There was silence for a moment and she glided directionless, hoping he was still on her wing. “Orel?”

“Runners fly in the sky.”

Wren frowned.

“Come on, both of you. Runners fly in the sky.”

Suddenly Raw’s voice dropped from above. “Creatures hunt …”

Words flowed across Wren’s tongue, burning with memories. “Boys lie,” she choked.

“Runners fly

In the sky

Creatures hunt

Boys lie”

Thunk, thunk.  The rope swung along its arc, whipping the ground with each downward blow and then scything up, as if into the clouds. The two girls on each end sang as they turned their arms in huge circles.

“Nitrogen, oxygen, argon rise

Carbon dioxide fill the skies

Three other girls jumped in and out of the cable, kicking up puffs of dust as they ran from one side to the other, clapping one another’s hands as they passed.

“Soy will grow when it gets warm

Hide us from the sand filled storm.

Creatures hunt,

Boys lie.”

Wren watched from behind a rock, her fists clenched. It looked fun.

“Runner’s fly free

In the sky.”

She’d never be allowed to join them.

“Nitrogen, oxygen, argon rise.” Orel’s voice was lower and further left, Wren dipped her shoulder. If they stuck close to the sound they’d be able to stay on his tail.

“Carbon dioxide fill the skies.” Raw’s voice blended with Orel’s, deeper and more melodious than she ever imagined it could be.

“Soy will grow when it gets warm,” she called.

“Hide us from the sand filled storm.” Orel’s voice was still moving away and curving to the left.

“Creatures hunt.” Raw’s voice was almost on top of her.

“Boy’s lie,” she murmured.

“Runners fly free in the sky.” Orel’s voice grew fainter. Suddenly light glimmered round the curve of the wall and an alien sound interrupted the whisper of the wind.

Nothing like the shrieks of the creatures, or their strange hissing, this was more like the whispering of the leaves when Wren had run among the Gingko trees. Yet it was louder, somehow more purposeful, a determined rushing from one place to another. She stared downwards. Something below her moved and glittered and a gust of wind brought a splash of cold onto her face.

“Water.” Wren’s heart jumped. They were over the course, close enough to hear it, touch it even. She inhaled. Her nostrils, even filled with the plastic tang of her halfie, still picked up a fresh perfume, clean, something that reminded her of the ferns that sucked up the ground water and spread green to the sun. She wanted to taste it.

She wished she could see better in the growing dark.

Raw flew beside her, his own fingers spread as if to catch the flying droplets on his palms.

“We’re here,” Orel called.

Wren squinted downwards. “I don’t understand. Where are we meant to land?”

Chapter sixteen

“Just follow me.” Wren’s heart jumped as Orel’s voice plummeted. He was heading downwards, but she couldn’t see much of anything, let alone a swathe of rock large enough to make a safe landing away from the Creatures.

She followed closely, the cold air even colder above the river and knew that if she got this landing wrong, she was in deep trouble. There was no way she could fly back to the rock before morning. In Phobos’ light, she saw Orel drop his legs. Wren frowned. All she could see was the dark ribbon of water that widened with each passing moment.

“What’s he doing?” Raw echoed her thoughts. “Is he landing?”

“Where?” Wren’s frustration made her loud.

Orel’s legs started to kick; he was well into his landing sequence. He must know about a rock or platform hidden beneath the wall but did he realise she and Raw could not see it?

She started to call out, but before her lips could open, there was a splash and Orel’s wings blinked out as if snuffed. Wren gaped. He had landed in
the river.

She tore into a circle in an attempt to arrest her own descent and scanned the rushing water frantically.

“Did you see that?” Raw’s voice stabbed into her ears.

Wren ignored him. There was no sign of Orel. Was it possible that he had landed in the river
on purpose
?

“Burn it.” Wren stared at the river, straining for a sign of the other Runner, but he had utterly disappeared. Curses stained her lips but she bit them off, who knew who might hear her.

The wind was growing colder and the air thinner. Wren risked a glance behind her. The night-weakened air threatened to drop her, but she wobbled in place and maintained her height, seeking a sign. Behind them the lightless wasteland stretched back around Vaikuntha. They had to follow Orel; he had known they would.

She recalled him telling them to follow him
exactly.

“What’re you doing?”

She ignored Raw’s shout and started into her own landing sequence.

Wren tensed as she dropped. Foam rushed her legs, soaking her boots and trousers. She gasped; it was freezing, a cold so bone deep that her heart stuttered. But she was coming in too fast to change her mind. Hoping to see Raw, she flicked her gaze behind her. He remained overhead, blotting out the stars. Not following, but not trying to leave either.

Wren started to kick; swimming in the air as a prelude to the real thing.

She began to inhale but before she’d planned it, her legs plunged into the river. Shock stole the breath that was meant to sustain her.  

Her trousers stuck to her thighs as the wind tugged at her one last time; then she was submerged up to her armpits.

The water dragged her, heavy. How could it be heavy? And it was so bitterly cold that it burned.

Frantically, Wren lifted her face forgetting for a moment that her O
₂
canister would keep her breathing even as the water dashed into her mouth and over her goggles. She tried to haul in a deep breath but the cold constricted her lungs and she couldn’t.

Her wings billowed once, pulling her arms back; then the wind fled as the water took over. The silver material caressed the air one last time then fluttered to the surface, bulging and swelling as it was swamped.  

Wren was buffeted along gasping and spluttering. Her wings only just kept her afloat and she had no sense of the river's bottom.

Panicking, she swallowed a lungful of icy water and flailed, sobbing for breath. In the depths of the river something touched her ankle. A Creature? Could they swim?

Her wings tangled round her like a cocoon. Suddenly she was rolling and kicking against her own wings.

Pain crackled through Wren’s shoulder as she bounced from a rock and spun back towards the centre of the watercourse. The shrinking rational part of her knew she had to calm down.

A wave washed over her head and plunged her underwater. Behind her goggles she closed her eyes and tried to shut her freezing ears to the river’s roar. Struggling madly, she felt the brush of air on her cheeks and opened her eyes again.

It was pitch dark.

Kicking and thrashing she tried to roll, her mind going blank with dread. Why couldn’t she see anything? Had the blow to her head blinded her?

Wren still felt the water carrying her forward, but the noise had changed, it was deeper, denser and more echoing. She was travelling under the wall.

Wren fought to free one of her arms from her tangled wings, and managed to tear her right one loose. Floundering madly she tried to keep her head out of the water, but she was tiring.

In a terrible counterpoint to the cold that seeped into her bones, Wren’s throat burned. Cramps gripped her muscles and tremors made her waving hand spasm.

Suddenly her eyes caught a flash. A light was bobbing but she was so disoriented and moving so fast that she couldn’t tell where it was.

“This way.” Her ears carried Orel’s voice and she tried to reply, but couldn’t open her mouth.
I can’t get to you
. She thought.
I can’t swim.

Abruptly her boot caught on something and she kicked feebly.

“It’s me. I’ve hooked you.” As Orel pulled, she tilted and grave-cold water rushed over her face.

She was being drawn against the current but it fought to keep her. Her ankle hurt where Orel held it, but it was a dim secondary pain compared to the cold.  

Suddenly her foot thudded on something and she swung round, thumping full length against a solid surface. Hands shoved into her wings and round her shoulders and she was wrestled out of the river, over a stinging boundary and onto a hard floor.

The world spun once more as her wings were untangled and pulled to her sides. She coughed, rolled and pushed herself up with flattened palms. Slowly her heart stopped hammering. She still panted, but now it was cold rather than terror that shortened her breath.

Sitting in front of the small heater at home, her feet in her mother’s lap and her head on Colm’s shoulder, she had not believed such a chill could exist. She tried to move her feet and found her legs completely numb. Her lips quivered in a weak sob.

She leaned her head against her frozen right arm and groaned. The violence of her clattering teeth made her jaw ache.   

“You all right?”

Wren wiped her tangled hair out of her face with unfeeling fingers. She could barely control her hands.

“Speak to me.” Panic rose in Orel’s voice.

She glared at him. “S-so, c-c-cold.”

Orel nodded. He was shivering almost as violently as she; his clothes clung to his skin and his wings hung limp at his sides. His goggles were tucked into his belt and his grey eyes were bloodshot. “Here, take this.” He held out the solar light, and Wren realised that the bulb was giving off a little warmth. She pulled off her goggles and wrapped her hands around it, willing the heat over her exposed skin.

“Your partner’s coming.”

Raw! Wren spun around. A furious shout echoed around them and immediately following the noise, a silver figure bundled from the tunnel mouth and into the slower water by her feet.

Now Raw stroked strongly against the current, jaw held high, solid as a rock and determined as ever. How did he know how to do that?

Orel held out his hand, but Raw ignored it, powered to the riverside and stopped with one hand on the edge. He ripped off his goggles and threw them to the floor; then he looked for Wren. Only when his eyes had settled on her shivering figure did he haul himself free of the river.

Wren watched him emerge, wings dragging behind him, shedding water as if it was oil. One of them hung at an awkward angle and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The water had finished the job the wind had started. Raw wasn’t flying from Vaikuntha after this.