Episode 53

The journey back was a nightmare in slow motion. They remembered very little of the road, and every moment of Sweet Mary’s St Vitus’ dance. Every agonizing jerk and twitch tore at them as if it was happening to them, but none were allowed near her, no one was able to give her any succour, even their kind words and exhortations to be brave fell on deaf ears and only caused the Rider to go into paroxysms of laughter and mirth.

Soon the familiar sight of the stockade came into view and, even though it was getting late, there was a huge crowd of Ahram waiting for them. In the most regal manner, the Rider brought his craft to a halt and gave Sweet Mary a final little jig to do for the crowd. No one else thought it was funny. Many in the crowd gasped in horror. He was obviously not a popular guy.

“So Garm…what a surprise to see you here,” said the Rider. “Come to save the humans have you? Sorry. It seems I spoiled your plans; and you, Counsellor,” he said, switching to Urghanese, “who’s been a naughty boy then? The Seesh is not going to be pleased with you, not looking after his prisoners properly and letting them escape. But I am sure you have a good excuse lined up, and what’s more, I am going to offer you the chance of telling it to the Seesh in person, as you will be joining us for the journey back to the Cantave.”

The Counsellor groaned at the thought of the Seesh, and more immanently, the fifty mile bounce he would have to endure at the hands of his bearers who could barely contain their smiles of anticipation at the torture they would be able to inflict on him.

Noot was also there, hunched over in the background hoping he wouldn’t be noticed.

“And Crouch, my little friend. Thou knowest I have a soft spot for thee…but thou must be more careful when choosing thy friends.”  He gave him a meaningful look which made Noot squirm and then turned to a bunch of tough looking Ahram standing in military formation in front of him.

“Tie them up and put them in a cage,” he said, indicating the humans. “I don’t want them sneaking off in the night. But just in case…” he said and gave Sweet Mary another little shake that set her dancing a ghoulish jig, her legs going up and down like a fiddlers elbow.

“Right, Counsellor,” said the Rider. “I hope you have a feast laid on for tonight? I’m ravenous.”

 

 

 

For the humans the night had passed very slowly. Even though they snuggled up together and tried to get as comfortable as possible, the cage was too small for any of them to get any real sleep. Angelo held Rose in his arms and luxuriated in the feel of her skin against his, but no one spoke. Everyone was in a state of shock over the tribulations of Sweet Mary. Dutch, of course, more so than the others. She had sat for a long time thinking that this was yet another night she was spending incarcerated. It seemed like she was doomed to spend the rest of her life in jails and cages and stockades. This time there wasn’t even the compensation of having Sweet Mary with her. Not that it would have helped much.  Thanks to her bitchiness, Sweet Mary was growing daily more distant and more independent. Things had been said and done and there was no taking them back. Even she didn’t like herself anymore and that wasn’t a good thing. To tell the truth she had never really liked herself much anyway. She had the personality of a five pound hammer. No one else had liked her other than Sweet Mary and she had just gone and pissed all over that one. ‘Ugly bitch’ she thought and hugged herself against the cold night air. Eventually she too fell asleep and woke with the sun streaming in the bars.

 

The sun was up and getting hotter by the minute, and the humans were all stark naked with no protection against sunburn. They were quiet and watchful, their discomfort as nothing compared to what Sweet Mary must be suffering. Their first thoughts were for her and how she fared in the night, and whether she was still alive.

It was now that Angelo had time to pay more attention to Rose who had been unnaturally quiet since she’d found those toys and the flute under the honey tree. Something was definitely not right with her, but he couldn’t say what. All this time she had been going along with the crowd so obediently that no-one had given her a second thought. He moved a little closer to her.

“Rose,” he asked. “You okay?”

“You okay. Auntie May. Who can say? Want to play?” She said in a little girly voice and then proceeded to hum a little tune to herself. Angelo’s blood ran cold in his overheated veins and prickles rose up on his scalp.

“Rose? Are you alright?”

“Alright. Hold on tight. Nighty night.”

Angelo put his hand on her shoulder and she looked up into his eyes.

“Hello, my name is Rosemary. How do you do?” Her eyes were blank and unresponsive.

By now Dutch had also realized that something was up.

“What’s wrong with her,” she asked.

Angelo just shrugged his shoulders, not trusting himself to speak, lest his voice betray his overwhelming emotions. He put his arms around Rose and hugged her as if that would set her to rights. Rose meekly submitted to his embrace and waited for him to finish.

“Please come back to me,” he whispered in her ear, “I can’t do this without you.”

“Just give her time,” said Dutch, laying a consoling hand upon his arm.

But there was no more time. The crowd had begun to gather; a lot of dozy-eyed Ahram shuffled around, coughing and snooting and getting into position. Not long after that the Rider and his ever-blazing crozier appeared with Sweet Mary dangling in front of him like a limp doll and - most amazingly – with Rags clinging to her midriff. The flying rodent had somehow found her again and had wrapped himself tightly around her body. More amazingly, the Rider didn’t seem to mind about this and let him be. And furthermore he didn’t seem so intent on jerking Sweet Mary about. Perhaps he had taken pity on her.

He hadn’t taken any pity on the Counsellor though, for there he was, dressed up in his Sunday best and mounted on his weapon of torture with his bearers groaning under the weight of his bulk, the poles straining to breaking point. Garm was also there, with Noot by his side, both of them trying to stay out of harm’s way.

“Alright, let them out the cage and tether them together. A rope around the neck from one to another should do it.”

The soldiers wasted no time in dragging the humans out of the cage and tying them up together.

“Are we all ready? Good.”

The Rider’s flying platform turned and glided effortlessly off down the road and the long journey towards the Cantave had begun.

 

Like slaves in a row they trudged after the Rider in the boiling hot sun, the dust from the road wafting up into their mouths and noses and eyes. Dutch was in the lead, then Rose, Angelo and Righteous. After six hours of marching in the sun they were burning with thirst and heat exhaustion, but the Rider kept on going and didn’t allow them a moment of rest. Sweet Mary’s flaccid form hung limp and lifeless in front, but it was more than the humans could bear so they kept their eyes downcast. Except for Dutch, whose eyes never left Sweet Mary. In her frustration she kept imagining rescue scenarios in her mind, and kept running up against a brick wall – there was no way she could help her.

Every now and then one of the humans would trip and fall, often dragging the others with them, skinning their hands and knees until all was raw and livid with pain. Angelo did his best to help Rose, always at the ready to catch her if she stumbled. Their parched mouths soon ceased to operate and speech became impossible. It took all their energy just to hang on and survive the journey. Motes of dust spun dizzily in the baking sunshine and not a breath of air stirred to ease the dreadful heat. Even the Ahram guard, spread out on either side and covering the rear, swishing their tails in unison as they marched – left, right, left, right - were hypnotised by the dreary droning sameness of the procession and seemed to drift off into worlds of their own, walking on and on and on and on.

The Counsellor fared little better than the walkers. Even though he had an awning to shade him from the sun, there was no escaping the dust and the humidity. On top of that the bumping and buffeting he was being subjected to by his carriers was causing him to vent forth a flurry of expletives and curses. Threats to ‘fire the whole damn lot of them’ had no effect at all. Not only did he vent forth verbally, but every time they bounced him in his cradle it caused him to fart involuntarily and rather loudly. Once it was so loud and long that even the Rider turned around to smile at him.

“Pardon, sorry,” he said to the Rider. “Fools – I’ll have your gizzards removed for this,” and off they went again, bumping and farting.

Garm and Noot kept discretely to the rear, not daring to interfere in any way lest the Rider take too keen an interest in them. There was no way of offering the poor humans any water or sustenance, so they bided their time and hoped for the best. Righteous stalked along in the rear of the human train, his thoughts floating around in front of his eyes like fish in a fishbowl – evil thoughts that excited him, humble thoughts that made him sick, but every raging passion that bloomed in him served only to immobilize him further. The more he strove with violence to break……….the more the vines of lethargy twined round him and swaddled him like a baby in a blanket. And all the time he could hear the laughter: laughter at his impotence, laughter at his humiliation, laughter at the rope around his neck; and the harder he struggled the harder he laughed. Dutch turned around at the sound and wondered if Righteous had finally lost his mind. Like some mad old lunatic he was laughing aloud at the empty air. Noot, daring the wrath of the Rider, could stand his friend’s agony no more and sidled up next to him. He put his hand upon Righteous’ arm soothingly and began speaking softly in his ear. For a long time he made no difference, but then slowly, Righteous began to calm down and soon he was walking along quietly behind the others. Noot stayed by his side, unable to communicate with his friend, but at least able to offer him some succour. When they had finally gone far beyond what they thought they could endure, the Rider called a halt.

“Alright Garm,” said the Rider. “You can feed and water your friends now. But slowly, and only a little at a time or else they’ll die. You can take them under the tree there. We’ll rest up for an hour or so.”

Astonishingly, the Rider let Sweet Mary down and placed her quite gently on the ground in front of them.

“Take her too. She will need caring for,” he said, then floated his flying disc some distance off and parked beneath a distant tree.

 

Sweet Mary was in a terrible state. She was breathing but that was about all. Dutch burned with black hatred for the Rider and swore to rip his guts out at the first available opportunity. Her fingers jerked and twitched as she pried Sweet Mary’s lips apart and dripped a few drops of water into her mouth. Then she washed and cleaned her as tenderly as she could, cradling her head in her lap all the time.

It was a good half hour before Sweet Mary groaned and tried to open her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” asked Dutch anxiously.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to sit up. “Just a little dizzy. What happened? Where are we?”

“Relax, don’t move for a while,” said Dutch, trying to prolong the moment.

“I’m alright,” said Sweet Mary, and forced herself up onto one elbow. “What happened?”

Dutch didn’t really want to go into the particulars so she just said, “We’ve been taken captive I’m afraid,” her eyes indicating the Rider resting under a tree.

Sweet Mary sat up and took a good look at him.

“What’s he standing on?”

“A flying saucer, I think,” said Dutch.

Sweet Mary turned to look at her. “That makes sense. Where are we going?”

“To the city-thing over there I presume.”

Sweet Mary stood up unsteadily and turned to look at the Spire. Rags in the meantime had flown off and now returned with some fruit. Sweet Mary sat down again, crossed her legs and began eating like a prize fighter. She wolfed it down, and whatever else was offered to her.

“Take it easy, you might get sick.”

“I’m fine,” she smiled at Dutch. “But thank you for being so concerned.”

When she had finished she stood up and yawned and stretched herself as if she’d been asleep forever. Rags, displaced for a moment, greeped and gorkled and flattened himself against Sweet Mary again, fitting around her like a second skin.

“Hello Sweetie. Thank you too for looking after me. By the way, how is Righteous?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Still catatonic. He did try and rescue you at some point…but he’s quiet again.”

“Did I need rescuing?”

“I’m afraid so. Glad you’re okay now. You are okay aren’t you?”

“I’m fine. Really.” She smiled at Dutch again. “Never felt better.”

Dutch and Angelo stared at her half in disbelief, and half relieved that she had recovered so well.

“I take it I have been unconscious for a while?”

“Something like that,” said Dutch.

Sweet Mary turned and noticed that Rose was sitting very quietly, hands folded in her lap, watching her with an angelic smile on her face.

“Hello Rose, how are you?”

“Hello. I am fine. Thank you for asking,” and then giggled like a little girl embarrassed at being spoken to by an adult. Sweet Mary’s puzzlement was plain to see on her face.

Angelo felt it his duty to jump in here and explain.

“She’s been a bit…different. Ever since the honey tree. It’s like….it’s like she’s become a child again. She doesn’t know us anymore.” He held his hands up signifying that he could say no more that would enlighten them. Sweet Mary moved next to her and took her hand. Rose’s other hand still clutched the bone flute.

“Hello Rose. Do you remember me?”

“You’re my friend. I remember.”

“Do you remember my name?”

Rose thought for a while and then her face fell and tears began to form in the corner of her eyes. The corners of her lips also turned down.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. My name is Sweet Mary.”

Sniff. “How do you do? My name is…My name is…” Once again her face fell and she started to cry.

“Rose,” said Angelo. “Your name is Rose.”

“Rose. That’s a nice name,” she said brightening up, “Rose…” and then lapsed into silence again.

Sweet Mary stared at her for a long time and then patted her hand.

“We’ll just have to wait and see I suppose,” said Angelo, devastated by the turn of events. So as not to have to sit and stare at his pain, Sweet Mary looked around her again, taking in their immediate surroundings. They were on a well-worn path…obviously a busy highway of sorts because, as they rested by the wayside, several Ahram plodded past with great packs of food and supplies on their backs, all headed for the big white building in the distance. She wondered just how far away it was. But it was hard to tell. Once again it was like the giant trees, the thing was so big that it looked nearer than it actually was.

“I wonder what in hell it is anyway?” said Angelo, following her gaze.

“It is….a spaceship,” said Garm, struggling over the unfamiliar words.

They all turned to stare in amazement.

“Are you also translating through the crozier?” asked Angelo.

“No,” he said, contorting his snout in trying to enunciate the unfamiliar language. “I speak…a little English,” he answered, keeping his voice low and one eye on the Rider.

“Where did you learn?”

“The women….in the caves, they speak….well. Teach me.”

“You mean the ones that attacked us in the mountain passage?” said Sweet Mary.

“No attack….you. Attack…..men.”

“Why?”

Garm thought for a while and then said, “Long story.”

“Alright, but you said that…thing over there is a spaceship?”

“Indeed. Warship. Under construction. Nearly finish. Not good”

“Warship?” said Angelo, all sorts of alarm bells going off in his head.

“It must have massive engines to lift something of that size off the planet,” mused Dutch. “Who are you going to war with?”

There was a long pause.

“You.” Garm sat quietly after delivering this last missive as if it explained everything.

“Why? How?” asked Angelo.

“Because planet….here…..die. Bones die. Heat gone. Ice comes back to the valley. No life. Soon, all dead. Spaceship is to take us to a new planet.” As he spoke some of Garm’s English lessons started to come back to him and he found it easier to communicate what he wanted to say. “Your planet….Earth.”

“The wormhole,” said Dutch as the penny dropped. “They can get to us through the wormhole. How soon?” she asked Garm.

Garm just shrugged his shoulders. “Soon,” he said enigmatically.

They all turned and looked at the construction again. This time it took on a new and terrible meaning. It wasn’t so beautiful anymore. Dutch looked across at the Rider and his crozier. With that kind of weaponry, a clash of cultures could only have one outcome, even though the Ahram were relatively few. And if they could launch something this big….?

The building was vast. It was as broad at the base as several human city blocks and tapered up to a needle point so high in the sky that it disappeared into the blue.

“I presume it is made from bone?” asked Angelo.

“It is bonecraft….yes.”

“If that ship has anything like the weaponry that this guy with his stick is wielding,” said Dutch, “then we’re in for big trouble. Well, the Federation is,” she corrected herself. “That’s some serious firepower he’s got there. But how do they power the ship. What kind of engines does it have?”

“No engines. The bones fly,” he said. “It is powered from the song of the sleepers.”

But before they could question him any further they were being roused up onto their feet again. Two of the Guards shuffled over to Sweet Mary with the intention of roping her to the others.

“Leave her be,” said the Rider, hovering nearby, and by way of explanation he gave a rueful smile and said, “We’re not animals you know.” Then half to himself he said, “not all of us anyway.” With which he glided off down the long dusty road and everyone jerked into action.

THE STAKES HAVE JUST BEEN UPPED. IS THERE ANYTHING THE HUMANS CAN DO ABOUT IT? AND WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ROSE. DON'T MISS NEXT WEEKS EXCITING INSTALLMENT.