Daygo's Fury (22 page)

As always, the chief greeted his arrival warmly, and they had a feast to celebrate. The priest led them through a small meditative dance once their food was digested. That night they offered each other stories, and the chief offered his own hut for the man to spend the night in.

On the following morning, the testing began. There were only ten children in the tribe of testing age, so the priest took them in two lots, as he had only two ferrets captured when he arrived in the village.

Niisa was in the second testing. They wandered into the woods, away from the village. The priest took a seat between them as they sat in half a circle around and in front of him. He placed the bound ferret in front of him. Niisa studied it; it seemed placid, almost tame.

“How come it does not struggle?” he asked the priest. The priest glanced at him and then back down to the ferret. He reached a hand and traced a thumb slowly across its stomach. The ferret hardly moved to its touch.

“I have kept it fed with ashwag berry since its capture. It is necessary to have it here, but undue suffering is never necessary, and is never our intention.” Niisa slowly nodded. He had never thought of sedating any of the animals that he had taken, except Chiko, who had sedated herself before his arrival.

Niisa sat cross-legged with his palms facing upwards in his lap while the rest fidgeted nervously. The priest looked at them all, one by one, frowning as he did, until his eyes came to rest on Niisa.

“Try to find calm,” he said to them all, while looking at Niisa. Niisa gave the barest of nods, and the priest echoed it.

It went as Niisa knew it would. He had performed the procedure enough during the preceding months to know what to expect and what to see. Even if he did not feel the change, he knew enough to be able to answer any of the priest’s questions.

When the priest asked each of them individually if they had sensed the change, he looked them deeply in the eyes as they answered, and watched them for some time before he asked the next one. The first two said ‘no’. Third in line, Niisa, said ‘yes’. The priest watched him only as long as the others. The remaining two said ‘no’. He seemed satisfied with all of their answers.

“You may return,” he said to the others, indicating to Niisa to stay.

For a half hour the priest questioned him. Niisa answered each question with as much detail as he could. For the most part the priest stayed expressionless, but on occasion he frowned and showed some indication of surprise.

When he was finished, he simply sat in silence, leaving Niisa to guess that the last question had been asked. They sat watching each other for some time.

“You have the sense,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“You knew this already?”

“Yes.”

“Have you done the test before?”

“Not with you.”

The priest smiled. “With whom, then?”

“Just on my own.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I want to be chosen. I belong with the Walolang de Kgotia.”

“That is an unusual adherence,” said the priest. “Why do you feel like that?”

Niisa frowned at him. “I … I can commune. I can sense life itself. Why would I not want to learn more about what I can do? More about Daygo. Do you not?”

“At your age, when I was chosen, no.” Niisa had nothing to say to that. “Will you not miss your family?”

Niisa paused before he answered, and then he decided not to answer at all. He could not trust this man, he did not know him. What if he chose not to take him, even after he had passed the test? “Whatever I have to do, to be chosen, I will do.”

The priest tilted his head as he looked at Niisa, and tapped the tips of his fingers on his knee as he did. Finally, he said, “Once I know that you can commune, it would be a crime against my creed not to select you, to accept you into our order. There is nothing more that you need to do. You will be coming back with me.”

Niisa heard the words, though he could hardly believe them. Three short months ago he was facing the possibility of living out the rest of his life amongst his tribe, amongst those he shared nothing with, ignorant of Daygo’s touch. As well to live with the monkeys, with no place to learn but from within. Now he would be among his own kind, fellow humans that knew the touch of Daygo. Three months ago, Niisa did not know what that was. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Emeka had come into his life.

They walked back into the village together. Many of the villagers stood around, waiting for their return. They walked straight to the chief, who stood at the edge of his cabin.

The priest nodded. “He can commune,” he said simply to the chief. The chief nodded slowly. He looked at Niisa for a long time. Niisa looked back. Without saying a word, he turned, his face flat, and addressed the rest of the tribe, who had begun to gather around them.

“He has been chosen,” said the Chief. “Niisa will travel with the priest and return to their temple.”

Dikeledi shook his head. He worked his mouth. Then his mouth firmed and he stepped forward.

“No!” Fumnaya screamed at him and slapped him across the chest. “No.” She hit him again. At the third strike, Dikeledi caught her wrist. He looked at her, his eyes pleading. She shook her head furiously but would not meet his eyes. He let go of her wrist and looked at Niisa. He looked desperate, lost. Tears were in his eyes, they looked deep into his, imploring him to do something or to say something, but Niisa did not know what it was. He said nothing. He watched his father.

“It is better that you leave straight away,” said the chief. His father seemed to collapse somehow, like his chest gave in while he stood watching helplessly, his mouth open and moving slightly, like the bare traces of words were struggling in there to get out, to be heard.

Niisa looked at the priest in time to see him glance quizzically at the chief, then at Niisa and then across the tribe and finally on his parents. He turned his head once more and looked down at Niisa for a long moment. Niisa held his gaze.

“Okay,” he said simply. He nodded towards the chief and then the tribe and then he turned to Niisa. “Gather your things.”

“I have nothing. Nothing that I need. I am ready to go.”

The priest nodded slowly. “Okay. Then we are ready.” With a final glance over the tribe, he strode away. “Follow me,” he mumbled as he passed by Niisa. Niisa took a final glance over his tribe. His father stepped forward, but his mother’s hand snaked out and grasped his arm. His father stopped as Niisa turned, looking as though he might fall to the ground as Niisa stepped forward to follow the priest, walking until his tribe, his parents, were out of his sight, out of his mind.

It was pitch black inside the door of the flat. Liam climbed the stairs slowly, his head muddled and sore, his body stiff. He heard Racquel stumble behind him and looked back.

“Watch the gaps,” he said too late, “there’re a few steps missing.” His head appeared over the floor and he looked about briefly, wondering what to say. Cid lay on the ground to the right, his brother Bradan sitting up beside him. The two girls sat in the far corner, chatting together.

Cool air breathed through the room from the half-shuttered windows. It was hard to see in the dark, everything was gloomy. Flickers of moonlight shone through the front windows as the clouds floated across the sky. The candle was out, only being used when they were all standing around playing a late night game, which was rare.

Liam directed Racquel to Calum’s bed. She lay down immediately, wrapping the blanket around herself and crunching up into a ball. Liam thought back to what he had been like when Calum had died. He watched her for a moment, pity in his heart.

He turned and walked across to Cid and Bradan. Cid barely moved from where he lay; he had been sick for the last two days and seemed to be getting worse. He gave a bare grunt after Liam told them that Racquel would be staying with them for a while. Bradan gave a nod. He looked scared, sitting vigil for his brother. Liam looked back to Cid. He didn’t know if it was due to the light or not but he looked deathly pale. He offered a silent prayer to Levitas for his recovery.

He walked over to the girls. They stopped their whispered chattering as he approached. He became aware once more of how dangerously thin they appeared and felt a familiar trace of guilt that he could do nothing for them.

“Racquel’s going to be stayin’ with us for a while,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rai asked quietly, looking over at Racquel. Liam followed her gaze, giving himself a moment.

“Her mother died and she’s tired.” Both girls looked at her for a while.

“She can play with us, if she wants,” whispered Aibreann.

“Okay,” said Liam and he walked away, sitting down beside Racquel. He looked across at her from time to time but couldn’t tell if she was sleeping. Darren returned first. He looked once at Racquel and then nodded to Liam, walking over to his pallet. Liam nodded in return, relieved that no words were necessary. A quiet scraping came from Darren’s position. He was working something with his knife, but Liam couldn’t see what.

A gust of wind blew from outside, rattling the wooden slates in the window and bringing more cool air into the room. There was an autumnal chill to it. Liam liked the autumn. It offered a little bit of everything. There was more balance to it.

The next gust brought with it the sound of a voice. Liam recognised it. He waited, his muscles tensing, his pulse quickening. The door below scraped open. Conversation wafted up to his ears. His eyes stared into the space where Deaglan’s head would appear. Instead, it was Ultan’s.

“ … tits hanging out.”

“ … got what was coming to her.”

“Lucky she didn’t get more!” the high-pitched whine of Deaglan’s laughter rang out.

“Maybe I’ll give her more the next time!”

“If we could get rid of that fucking farm boy!”

“Ya …” Ultan’s voice trailed off as he appeared above the stairs and saw Liam’s eyes staring back at him. He stopped in his tracks, then got a shove from behind and continued up.

“What ye waitin’ for?” said Deaglan, following him up the stairs. He took a few steps before he noticed Liam. Erinin followed. Liam stood up slowly, his arms by his sides. Deaglan frowned as the three walked up onto the landing, then he noticed the sleeping form at his feet. He stopped for a moment, looking down. A slow smile spread across his face. The sneer that Liam detested.

“Have a little friend here?” he asked, his voice quiet. Liam’s eyes never left Deaglan. The other two boys seemed to be waiting for Deaglan’s reaction, gauging their response on his. Faithful, stupid fucking dogs!

“She’ll be staying with us for a while.” His voice was stony. He contained his anger.

“Will she now?” Deaglan looked up, turning his gaze from Liam to the two boys at his sides.

“Who decided this?” Erinin grinned, turning to Liam.

Liam looked his way, his expression dead of emotion, his eyes unblinking. “I did.”

The grin left Erinin’s face. He took a step back.

“You can’t just—”

“I vouch for her,” said Liam. “Same as Cid did for Bradan. There’s a spare space. She’s stayin.”

Deaglan gave a half laugh and turned away.

“No problem here,” he said.

******

Liam couldn’t sleep. He didn’t know if Racquel slept either. She was turned from him, her breath quiet. Sometimes she started sobbing. Liam watched as her chest shook. She was rolled up tight in a ball.

His head throbbed and his mouth was dry with thirst. It tormented him all night. Twice he thought about going down to the well but he didn’t want to leave Racquel on her own. He spared a glance in Deaglan’s direction every now and again, sleeping beside the two faithful hounds. He seemed to be halfway between reality and dreams. He heard Racquel sobbing, then turned and looked over, only to see her still. He was drinking from a mug of water, more and more and more, but his thirst was never filled. He groaned and reached for it beside him, but it wasn’t there.

Deaglan was standing over him. He could feel him, hear him from behind. Should he turn his head? Should he get up? He was so tired. Deaglan leaned forward and stabbed him in the side. He shocked awake with a cry of panic and pain. He turned around quickly but there was no one there. He could have sworn … The pain had felt so real. He lay back down. Racquel was gone, she was there. Calum slept beside him …

He opened his eyes. The first light of dawn was creeping in the windows. He moaned and worked his jaw, unsticking his tongue. He needed to piss. He got up with a groan and walked over to the bucket, coughing on the way. When he was finished, he returned to his bedding and sat against the wall. Racquel hadn’t moved all night. She seemed to be sleeping now and he didn’t want to wake her. He dropped his head back against the wall, fighting the urge to go to the well.

After about twenty minutes, his thirst got the better of him. He reached over and grabbed Racquel’s shoulder to shake her awake. She jumped up with a scream, slapping his hand away. Her eyes were wide with terror as her head turned from one side to the other. She seemed to take a while to remember where she was before she straightened sharply, pulling her knees in tightly.

“Sorry,” said Liam. She stared straight ahead, at the dead space above the stairs. “Let’s go down to the well.” Racquel didn’t respond. “Racquel!” he repeated and she shook her head slightly and looked in his direction. “Let’s go down to the well.”

“Okay,” she replied in a whisper. Her voice seemed so meek. He picked up his knife from underneath his pillow and put it into his pocket. He noticed Deaglan roll over at the far side of the room and was glad to be leaving before he rose.

They walked down the stairs and out the door into the street beyond. Racquel stopped after a few paces.

“I … I … need to pee,” she said. Liam stopped and looked at her. He half-pointed to the side of the street. “I can’t do it there!”

“Why not?”

“It’s … everyone’s looking,” Liam looked around, feeling fairly certain that no one would be looking and so what if they did?

“I …” he shrugged. “Where do you want to go?” She looked at him and then at the ground. He could see the sheen of unshed tears gather at the bottom of her eyes as she looked about like a trapped animal.

“I … hold on, there’s an alleyway around the corner, there’ll be no one there, you can go there.” She nodded dumbly. He led her around the corner and into the alleyway off the next street. There was a bum at the end of it. He looked up as they walked in. Racquel stopped uncertainly again.

“Just go there,” Liam said irritably, pointing to the side of the alley, “it’s only a bum, I’ll … stand watch over here.” He turned his back to her and walked to the side of the street, fighting the urge to shake his head, confused at her behaviour.

She came back out to where he stood and they continued onwards to the well. There was a small queue. Liam noticed that Racquel still wore leather sandals. She was lucky to have gotten away with them.

They had to queue behind an old woman at the well. She wore a tunic tied at the waist like a man instead of a dress. Her chest was flat, her face leathery and worn, her feet bare like Liam’s. She was probably no more than thirty-five. She had a young girl with her, perhaps six or seven. She was filthy dirty, in a threadbare woollen dress. An old man was before them, his skin a dark brown, lumpy and folded up like the melted candle wax in the flat. He struggled to heave the bucket up with the pulley, his arms shaking as he turned it piece by piece.

Liam eventually tired of waiting and walked up to help him. Putting his hands over the man’s, he turned the pulley quickly until the bucket was over the edge. The man grabbed the bucket, lifting it clear without a word and put his toothless gums to its edge, tipping the contents into his mouth and over his lips, flowing down the front of his tunic, his head shaking as his hands were. Liam returned to Racquel and waited their turn.

He watched Racquel as they made their way up the queue. She seemed as though she was in a trance, so unlike herself. She was normally attentive, taking in her surroundings and sharp to pick up on things.
Was this what I was like after Calum?
She seemed so vulnerable.

She stopped suddenly as they reached the well and Liam moved to drop the bucket.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I don’t know if she’s dead! Maybe she isn’t. I … I … abandoned her,” she said, horrified, as she started to cry. She turned her back to the well wall and slid down against it. Liam looked down at her, paused in action, not knowing what to say.

“I …” he said and stopped helplessly. After a moment, she seemed to compose herself somewhat again.

“What will happen?” she asked, as though speaking to herself. “Will he be taken to court? Will he be punished at all? What will happen to the bakery?”

No, Liam wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Who would do anything? Who would care? Certainly not the king, or the gang. Her aunt had no real value to anyone, except Galo, and he had killed her. He let her questions float away emptily on the breeze. There was no good answer, so why answer at all? After a moment, he dropped the bucket and drew it back up again. Racquel stood up beside him.

“I need to go back there,” she said, reaching tentatively for his arm. Liam felt broken at her touch. He looked at her as he lifted the bucket onto the edge of the wall. His mouth ached for the water. He couldn’t resist, he lifted the bucket and tipped it, allowing the water to flow into his mouth as he drank, gulping it down until he could handle no more, loose tendrils crawling down from the sides of his mouth to the rim of the tunic around his torso.

He rested the bucket against the wall of the well, gasping for breath and offered it to Racquel. She had been looking at him, waiting for a response. She hesitated a moment, then took the bucket and drank more sparingly from it. There was no one behind them in the queue; they had some time with it.

“Okay,” he said when she was finished. Her eyes seemed wide despite the furrow of her brow.

“I … I just need to know … what happened. I need to know …” she trailed off and turned from the well. Her bunched fists came to her mouth. “I don’t know if she’s dead!” she said in a rush, her voice muffled between her hands. “Maybe … maybe … she’s okay?” She looked over at Liam. He shrugged helplessly. He was still unsure of what had happened. He only knew that her uncle had beaten up her aunt for some reason and Racquel thought she was dead and that he would kill her too.

“I don’t know, we can … we can go by the … your bakery and have a look, eh, see if anything is different or anything?”

Racquel was quiet for a moment. She nodded. Liam took another swig from the bucket before they left the well, walking towards Baker’s Corner.

It was still early when they turned the corner onto Baker’s Lane. The bakery was just visible at the other end. They both stopped instantly as the scene fed its way into their eyes. Racquel let out a near scream, falling to the ground, her hands reaching past her face to tear at her hair as she crunched into a ball.

Liam looked down at her helplessly. His head popped back up in a panic.
Could they hear her, could they see her?
He crouched down and slid his hands underneath her armpits. With a great heave, he pulled her up and away. She screamed even louder and struggled against him.

“You want to be back with him?” he whispered frantically in her ear. “If he sees you, he’ll send the men after you!” She stopped her struggles suddenly, almost falling limply against him. He brought her back around the wall and rested against it, holding her in his arms.

She straightened, and he let her go. She stepped aside and sank sorrowfully into the wall. Her sobs didn’t cease. Liam stood next to her silently, waiting for it to end. Eventually she quietened but showed no sign of movement. Noon came and went. He crouched down beside her gently.