The Night of the Swarm

And now she had to let it out. Ramachni had told Pazel that they could not win otherwise. In fact Ramachni had believed that his mistress had already returned, after Thasha beheaded Arunis. But it was Thasha who had done that killing, not Erithusme. Arunis’ head had told the truth: Erithusme could not return. The wizardess might have dismantled her own wall, but the young girl had built another. No one knew how or why, least of all Thasha herself. She only knew that it had to be broken.

‘The current is swift,’ said Hercol. ‘Very soon we must face the darkness again.’

Thasha gazed ahead, where the vast trees arched out over the river, their thick leaves fusing together, shutting out all light. She felt Pazel’s hand on her own and gripped it fiercely, caught his eye and saw the love there, and marvelled. How he steadied her. The things he did without speaking a word.

‘Listen, now, for I have a solution of sorts,’ said Ramachni. ‘There is a light peculiar to this forest, produced by the plants and mushrooms themselves. Your eyes cannot perceive it, but mine can. I can share my vision — but with no more than two of you at a time. We must defend the raft, three at a time. Come here, Thasha and Neeps; you shall be the first.’

‘Why the boy?’ said Cayer Vispek. ‘He is brave-hearted, but new to the warrior’s arts.’

‘Trust his choices, Cayer,’ said Hercol.

Thasha and Neeps crept close to Ramachni. ‘Shut your eyes, and cover them as well,’ he said.

Thasha obeyed. A moment later Neeps gave a yelp of pain. ‘Keep your hands in place, Neeparvasi Undrabust!’ snapped Ramachni. ‘Do not move until I speak!’

Thasha was shocked; Ramachni had never snapped at anyone before. His paw touched her chin, lingered there a moment, withdrew. Thasha waited. ‘I don’t feel a thing,’ she said at last.

‘That is because you listen to your betters,’ said Ramachni. ‘Lunja, come closer. If this knave has not seared his eyes with daylight, you must lend him your sword.’

They were back in the forest: Thasha could feel its hot, moist breath on her skin. The noise of the river grew, as though it were echoing in a cave. ‘Keep your eyes covered,’ said Ramachni, ‘until we round the first bend, and the clearing is gone from sight. Not long now-’

Such heat! Already Thasha longed to splash water on her face. But when at last the mage told them to uncover their eyes she forgot everything but the message of her eyes.

A purple radiance, a kaleidoscope of melting images and hues, flooded her vision. She stretched out her arms and could not see them. She blinked, and the radiance moved. Slowly the kaleidoscope began to settle, the colours to sharpen and divide. There were her hands, two flickering lights. Here was the raft, a spinning pool of jade, and her friends like burning spirits upon it. And the forest, Aya Rin! Endless, vast pillars of tree trunks, supporting the distant roof of joined leaves, in which veins burned like hot wires, and eye-stabbing colours flashed like wormy lightning and were gone.

Along the banks, the riot of mushrooms overwhelmed her: they bled colour and form in such profusion that she simply had to look away. The river itself had become a thing of glass, revealing a second forest of water-weed and knobby coral-like growths beneath their feet. Some reached to within a few yards of the surface; in other places the lights flickered from startling depths. There were fish like tiny particles of fire, fish as large as sharks with glowing gills, fish that resembled arrows, hatchet-heads, stingrays, moths. And under everything ran veins of darkness, pulsing, impenetrable, but thinning like ink as they rose. Thasha shuddered: those were the depths she had sensed at the beginning, when they had almost sunk. Veins of shadow from the River of Shadows. The blood of another universe, leaking into their own.

‘Well, I’m not blind,’ said Neeps, ‘but Rin’s gizzard, Ramachni: wouldn’t it have been easier to light some magic lamp, if you can’t bring back the fireflies?’

‘Savant!’ said Ramachni. ‘Thank heaven we brought you along.’ Then, more gently, he added, ‘I considered it, lad. And of course I could produce such light at need. But a mage-lamp bright enough to pierce this River’s depths would make us visible for miles about. It would also take more from me than sharing my vision. I prefer to do as much as possible with as little as possible, for now.’

Thasha felt a nervous tightening of her limbs. He’s been drained. He gave all his strength fighting Arunis, keeping us alive.

But Ramachni, as if reading her thoughts, added, ‘My powers are far from spent — but we are far from our goal as well. And no rest in this world will allow me further magic than what I harbour within me now. Do you remember when I spoke of carrying water across the desert, Neeparvasi?’ He sighed. ‘There is a final desert before us. My powers must see us across it, to the place where our work is done at last.’

‘And then you’ll return to your own world, and recover,’ said Pazel. ‘Won’t you?’

The little mage did not answer. Thasha’s fear redoubled. He came back through this River, but he can’t go home without my clock. He’s trapped here, unless we somehow make it back to the ship.

Then she recalled the first time she had seen Ramachni drained of magic, in Simja, after their first great fight with Arunis. He had warned them that he had no choice but to leave. If I do not go while I have the strength to walk away, I shall still depart, by burning out like a candle.

He wasn’t risking exile by standing with them now. He was risking death.

The three of them took up positions at the edges of the raft. The others, perfectly blind, kept low and still. The hardest job was keeping the raft off the coral-like growths and fallen tree limbs. They loomed up suddenly, and Thasha and Neeps had to scramble to pole the raft left or right. ‘Faster!’ Ramachni chided them. ‘One scratch from below and our proud ship could sink! Above all, do not lose your balance! We have no means of stopping for you — or of knowing what lurks in these waters. Thasha — on your right!’

Over and over they lunged with the poles. The light was deceptive: what they took for coral proved a surface mirage; what looked like soft weeds would resolve into a branch. There were also dangers from above: vines that stuck to them like taffy, or burned at the touch — and the groping white tentacles of the trees themselves. Neeps and Thasha hacked at them, and lengths of the tentacles fell upon the raft, still writhing, among their blind companions.

The struggle went on and on. Thasha’s head hurt and her eyes were throbbing. Tentacles snatched at them; a spiny fish leaped onto the raft and flopped about like a living pincushion; a storm of bats swept around them in a cloud. The river curved and twisted and appeared to have no end.

When Hercol and Bolutu relieved them at last, Thasha dropped beside Pazel and pulled him close. He fumbled for her, bathed her face with a river-wet rag. She put her lips to his, forced his mouth open, kissed him in hunger and exhaustion. Before the kiss was over Ramachni’s magic left her and she was blind.

She lost track of the hours. Hercol and Bolutu’s shift ended; Pazel and Cayer Vispek took their places. Thasha found being blind and motionless every bit as awful as manning the poles. Every sound became a danger. Every tilt or shudder in the raft meant they were sinking at last. But somehow the vessel bore them on, mile after lightless mile.

There were spells of calm, in the deep centre of the river where no snags threatened them, no tentacles groped. During her second shift Thasha was paired with Pazel. She watched Ramachni’s mage-sight come over him: a gasp, disorientation, finally a grin as his eyes met hers. They shared a strange privacy for a time. Thasha waited until the mage looked elsewhere, then leaned close to Pazel and mouthed I want you, and laughed when he nearly dropped the pole. After their shift Pazel sat beside her, kissed her, slipped a hand beneath her ragged shirt. Thasha laughed again and pushed his hand away. Pitfire, he’d thought she was serious.

Later she must have dozed. A hand touched her again, but it was not Pazel. It was Big Skip, shaking her by the shoulder and whispering: ‘Lady Thasha, wake up. Something’s amiss.’

She bolted upright. The raft was not moving. ‘What happened? Did we wreck?’

‘Softly!’ came Hercol’s voice. ‘We are not wrecked but beached in the shallows, and we are all of us blind. Ramachni has cancelled the seeing-spell. There was a strange sound from behind us. Like thunder, or a monstrous drum.’

‘Where has Ramachni gone?’

‘Up a tree, with Ensyl,’ said Bolutu. ‘We couldn’t talk him out of it — or very well prevent his going. Hark!’

This time she heard it: a deep rumbling, far off but furious. An eruption, or the peal of some war drum of the Gods. The sound rolled past them like a storm front. When it ended the silence was profound.