The Gods and their Machines Read online

  At the next fork in the trail, she turned right instead of left, careful to look certain about where she was going. Quelnas stopped, looking down the left-hand fork.

  ‘You said north-west,’ he called. ‘That path goes north.’

  ‘It’s down this way,’ she called. ‘That turns west further down. This path bears to the left.’

  She kept her face turned away as she said it, not wanting to face his harsh stare. After a few seconds, she heard the other horses follow her. Lifting her head, she surveyed the terrain ahead of her. The path would bear right and not left as she’d said, and not long after they would realise she was misleading them. She needed to break away from them, and soon. Their horses were fresh and in better shape than Rumbler. She could not outrun them. But she knew the terrain and the thinning fog would help too. When she came to where the track started to climb gently, she knew this would be her only chance. Goading Rumbler into a gallop, she took off at breakneck speed up the trail. Quelnas shouted after her and she heard all the horses break into a sprint behind her. She would need to time this just right.

  The track crested the hill not far ahead and she drove Rumbler frantically for the top. He was already tired from the day’s ride and did not have much steam left, but she had to get far enough ahead to disappear from sight over the crest. At the top there was a copse of trees to her right and a high bank to her left and she hauled back on the reins just as she passed it, bringing Rumbler almost to a halt and pulling him hard to the right just in time to make a hairpin turn that cornered over a steep, scree-covered slope. It was hidden from sight of the others and she waited behind the trees as the men careered over the crest in the track and failed to slow down in time to make the bend.

  Quelnas was the first, and when he saw the edge, he did not attempt the turn, slowing his horse down as best he could and letting it jump off the edge and scramble straight down the loosely covered slope into the fog that hid the bottom. The two that followed him saw him disappear and tried to make the turn in the track, but their horses were going too fast. One slid onto its side, pinning its owner under it; the other skidded over the edge and threw its rider. It used its momentum to pick itself up and clambered down after the man who tumbled ahead of it. The remaining two were right behind their comrades and galloping at full tilt. With the high bank on one side and the fallen horse blocking their path on the other, there was nowhere for them to go but over the edge. Leaning right back as the horses dropped over the lip of the edge, they managed to stay in their saddles, but their momentum carried them scrambling to the bottom. The fallen horse got up from the road and nuzzled its fallen rider, who groaned, but made no attempt to get up.

  Riadni watched, her heart in her throat with excitement. She spared the men on the slope a quick look, knowing they would not be able to stop until they reached the wide stream at the bottom and that there was no way up for the horses for a couple of miles in either direction. She felt a bit sorry for the horses, but not the men. Giving a nervous giggle, she patted Rumbler’s neck.

  ‘Attaboy, you showed ’em. Who’s the best horse, eh? You are. Yes you are!’

  Rumbler was panting hard, but she eased him into a trot and headed back down the way she had come. They would find their way out eventually and when they did, they would come looking for her … and for the pilot. Even as she rode down the hill, the seriousness of what she had done settled in on her. She had betrayed the Hadram Cassal. Pushing the newly awakened fear to the back of her mind, she set off towards the aeroplane and its grounded pilot.

  Chamus tried hard to ignore the whispering that wheedled its way into his thoughts. His teeth clenched as he tensed against the cords that bound him. The knots were good. No matter what he tried, he could not loosen them. The sun was high in the sky. He guessed it was after four o’clock. The fog was lifting and the wing over his right shoulder no longer offered any shade. The sun’s diffused glow kept his eyes levelled at the ground most of the time. He was uncomfortable, hungry and very thirsty. His feelings swung from fear of the terrorists he knew were on their way, to rage at the girl who had attacked him, to shame that he had been beaten in a fight by a girl without even getting in any decent hits. Just as well for her, he thought. All in all, the day had not turned out well and he fully expected it to get worse. And he could really do without those aggravating bloody voices. The frustration boiled over and he let it out with a roar. It was sucked up by the diminishing fog, so he let rip with another one. It felt good to get it out of his system.

  But the silence won back the air. He was surprised that there were few sounds of nature – no grasshoppers or birds – and he wondered if it was an effect of the fog. Just as he was about to let out another bellow, he heard the beat of hooves and fear set his heart racing. A horse and rider materialised out of the mist and he recognised the girl. What was her name again? Riadni. She seemed to be on her own. There was no one with her. No Hadram Cassal. He scowled. He’d been had. She probably just went home for lunch to let him stew in his own imagination. Chamus swore viciously, but then calmed himself down. She would let him loose now; her game was over. But if she thought he was angry, she might take off again and leave him.

  Riadni swung down off her horse and strode over to him.

  ‘We don’t have a lot of time,’ she said. ‘So just shut up and listen. The Hadram Cassal are on their way …’

  ‘Oh, right,’ he said, nodding, the disdain evident on his face. ‘Good mates of yours, are they?’

  This was not the reaction Riadni had expected. He didn’t believe her and that meant she was going to have to spend precious time arguing with him.

  ‘Do you want to be untied, or wait and see if I’m joking?’ she asked, eyebrows raised and fists on hips. ‘I can leave right now. You can’t.’

  He was about to say something else, but stopped.

  ‘I was going to hand you in,’ she continued. ‘I told them you’re here, but I found out they were going to kill you …’

  ‘Fancy that …’

  ‘… and I’m not about to give them a hand to murder a helpless boy. So, I’m going to let you loose and then get out of here. I suggest you don’t make a big thing of this, forget getting even with me, or anything like that. Just go, okay?’

  She could see the muscles of his jaw tense up, contempt written all over his face, but then he relaxed and nodded. Putting her knife back in its scabbard, she crouched down by him and untied his bonds. He rubbed his wrists and ankles to get the circulation back into them and then stood up stiffly. Honour demanded that he now flatten her in true schoolyard fashion, but there were three problems: a) she was a girl, b) she was pretty tough for a girl, in fact she was pretty tough for a boy, and c) there was a chance that she wasn’t lying about the Hadram Cassal.

  She caught the look on his face. Walking away from him, she jumped up into the saddle.

  ‘I lost them back out to the east, but they’ll find you soon enough,’ she warned. ‘You should get going. They’ll be looking for you, and they’re going to be after me too now. So don’t waste time starting anything, alright? Just go.’

  ‘What do you mean, just go?’ he demanded. ‘You’re going to take off on your horse and leave me here, after telling them where I am? You can make room up there for me. I’m coming with you.’

  He ran to the cockpit and grabbed his things.

  ‘What?’ Riadni’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘They’re on horses, right? So what chance have I got of outrunning them? Let me up. I’m coming with you!’

  ‘Rumbler doesn’t let strangers ride him.’

  ‘Oh … sorry. I didn’t know the horse was in charge. Should I be talking to him?’

  ‘Look, he’s old and we’ve been riding all day. He can’t take the extra weight,’ Riadni protested, but she could see the desperation on the boy’s face. ‘Men don’t ride with women! It’s forbidden!’

  ‘If they catch me, I’m dead,’ Chamus pleaded. ‘I know what they’re l
ike. I’ve seen them do it before. I can’t outrun a horse and I have nowhere to go. Please. Let me go with you.’

  She looked away. Rumbler was going to be slow enough as it was. He was worn out and thirsty and he was too old to be carrying two riders.

  ‘Alright,’ she sighed. ‘Get on.’

  Taking her foot out of the stirrup, she turned it out for him and held Rumbler still, so that Chamus could climb up, but he found it more difficult than it looked. He had been on pony treks twice before, but had never done any real riding, and having somebody already in the saddle didn’t help. He grabbed the pommel with his left hand, put his left foot in the stirrup and went to heave himself on, but the stirrup turned and his swinging leg missed the back of the horse. He fell back and dropped his foot to the ground again, but the other one stayed caught in the stirrup and he nearly lost his balance. He tried again, managing to get his foot onto the back of the saddle, but lunged so hard doing it that Rumbler stepped sideways and Chamus was forced to drop back again.

  ‘Stop, stop,’ Riadni held up her hand. ‘Give me your bag, okay? Right, now, on the count of three, you swing up. One … two … three …’

  He managed to get his right foot onto the back of the saddle. Riadni grabbed his right sleeve and dragged him up behind her, giggling despite herself. Chamus found that the saddle was too small for both of them and he was now sitting on the hard cantle at the back. He bore the discomfort and said nothing. She took the stirrup back off him.

  ‘Keep your hands off,’ she warned solemnly. ‘I know about you Altimans.’

  Rumbler whinnied in protest at the extra weight, but set off at a brisk walk at her touch. Riadni knew he was on his last legs, but they had to reach a well-travelled road and lose their tracks as soon as they could. She didn’t know where to go. She could not go home. They would look for her there, and her betrayal would cause enough problems for her family as it was. Rumbler needed rest, grass and water and they would need shelter for the night. The boy behind her was uncomfortably close, and did not know how to ride a horse. She wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible. Turning south, she aimed for the jagged hills, dropping down into a shallow stream to keep below the horizon and help hide their tracks. Rumbler battled wearily forward with his new burden as his mistress tried to work out how to stay ahead of the Hadram Cassal.

  Benyan felt as if a horde of ghosts had passed through his head, but these new ones were different. He could make out individuals; there were personalities who were making themselves felt, eager to share their grief with him. The more time that passed, the less control he had over his body and mind, and he mourned the loss. He closed his eyes wearily and succumbed once more to the force of the spirits’ memories.

  He was a group of three men and two women, brothers and sisters of the Lentton family, his soul sharing five bodies at once. He did not question how it was possible. There was no need; it simply was. They lived in the town of Exurieth, which lay in the shadow of the plateau city of Mauraine. It was a Bartokhrian town in Altiman territory and it had been the scene of protests for years. The waste from factories in Mauraine was contaminating the farmland around Exurieth, poisoning its crops, killing livestock and spreading sickness through the town’s water supply. In court, the lawyers acting for the factory owners had proved, in theory, that this could not be true. But the crops and the animals still died.

  The Lenttons responded by going out one night and filling some of the pipes that spilled the waste with bags of cement. Benyan enjoyed taking part in the sabotage, dressed in fisherman’s waders, waterproofs and heavy gloves to protect his skin from the toxic slurry. They worked quickly to stack up the heavy paper bags of cement while the flow had slacked off. The flow would start again slowly enough to soak into the cement and create a serious blockage. When he was done, he congratulated each other and slapped each other on the backs. They were proud of himself. His town was not going to let themselves be pushed around by the faceless men in suits. The contaminated waste in the blocked pipes backed up and four factories in Mauraine had to be evacuated the following day because of the poisonous fumes that filled the buildings.

  A few nights later, the five of him got together again and set out to block the remaining pipes that were contaminating their land. One of him kept watch while the others unloaded the bags of cement. The fumes in the first pipe they came to were different from the others; they smelled of petrol and other chemicals. His torches waved around the dark opening in the wall of a ditch, taking in the slow trickle of the chemical slurry from the gaping mouth of the corrugated pipe. All five of him covered their mouths with wet neckerchiefs to help against the fumes as they stacked the heavy sacks.

  They were halfway through when a bright spotlight suddenly lit the area. He was surrounded. Men armed with guns stood on the walls of the ditch, hidden in the shadows behind the lights. He shielded his faces from the glare, trying to identify the silhouettes who shouted down to them. They ordered all of him to finish blocking the pipe. Frightened and confused, he did as they were told, shoving handfuls of loose cement into the gaps that remained between the bags. The five Lenttons turned to face the men behind the light, wanting to get out of that ditch and get back to his homes. Then someone lit a flare and he realised with sudden terror that they were standing knee-deep in a pool of the petrochemical slurry. The flare was tossed into the ditch and Benyan died five burning deaths.

  He was screaming when the top of the box opened and three pairs of strong hands pulled him up into a light that scorched his eyes.

  ‘Turn off some of the lights,’ a voice said. ‘By Shanna, this one’s far gone.’

  He fell to the floor and thrashed around, still suffering from the flames that had disappeared with the vision. Soon, he was able to feel the cool floor and his eyes adjusted to the dim light. But Benyan Akhna no longer looked out from those eyes. Between him and his senses, the Lenttons had taken up residence. Five vengeful spirits looked up from the floor of the dark freight depot, hungry for others to share their fate. The last and strongest images from Benyan’s consciousness came to the fore, a picture of two men and a fourteen-year-old boy.

  Evening was falling and Chamus and Riadni walked the last two miles to take the strain off Rumbler, who was close to collapse. Chamus shouldered the heavy saddlebags, while Riadni carried his knapsack and parachute rig, leading the horse by its reins. The trail she had chosen led into the foothills of the heavily forested Enkantra Mountains, towards a well concealed spring where they could rest. The fog had lifted and the day was fresh and clear as it approached twilight. They both kept looking back to search the hillside and landscape beneath them for signs of their pursuers, but they could see nothing.

  ‘We can stop here,’ Riadni said finally, leading Rumbler to the stream that ran from the base of a small waterfall, where he greedily lapped up gulps of the fresh water.

  Chamus dropped the saddlebags immediately and rolled his tired shoulders. He swivelled slowly to take in their surroundings. They were in an oblong clearing encircled by trees, with the spring at one end, sending a stream flowing along its length and down the slope at the other. Walking to the downhill end, he could see for miles. There were signs of movement at several points in the distance, but nothing appeared to be coming their way.

  ‘How many of them are there?’ he asked.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The Hadram Cassal, how many of them are there?’

  Riadni sat on the bank downstream from where the horse was drinking, and pulled off her boots and socks, sinking her bare feet into the soothing water.

  ‘There’s maybe forty or fifty at the camp. But they’re all over the country, even in Altima and other places. Altogether there’s hundreds, maybe even thousands of them.’

  ‘How many do you think will come after us?’

  Riadni shrugged, kicking her feet gently back and forth. How did he expect her to know? She wondered how long he intended to stay around, hoping he would just take some wate
r and go his own way. She had some food, but not a lot, and she was dying to take off her wig, her head was itching with the heat and sweat. He sat down nearby and sprawled out on the grass.

  ‘Where are you going to go from here?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t even know where “here” is,’ he replied. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘The northern end of the Enkantra range,’ she told him. ‘Mount Harna.’

  ‘That means nothing to me whatsoever,’ he grunted, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun shining over the edge of the treeline.

  Riadni sighed quietly. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon. Chamus got up and rooted around in his knapsack. He took out his maps, and the second of the sandwiches his mother had made him. He tore the sandwich in two.

  ‘Want some?’ he asked her.

  Riadni hesitated.

  ‘What’s in it?’ she asked.

  ‘Bacon, lettuce and tomato,’ he said. ‘It won’t kill you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ It was rude to refuse a gift of food, so she took it and nibbled on it, feeling embarrassed that she had not offered any of her own supplies. Opening one of the saddlebags, she took out a small loaf of bread, some hummus and some apples. She held the food up. ‘Help yourself.’