The Harvest Tide Project (25 page)

‘She’s rising! The esh is rising! Forget the Karthars! We’ve got to get to high ground, now!’

Everyone finally recognised what this was, and the cries of alarm were going up along the line of troops. One by one at first, then in dozens at a time, the would-be warriors dropped their weapons, turned and ran inland. Murris grabbed the man beside him and pushed him towards the town.

‘We’ve got to get above this! he said. ‘The Noranians have brought the Harvest Tide down upon us!’

‘But how?’ The man’s voice was shaky with panic.

‘What does it matter? Move!’ They threw their weapons away and bolted inland. Emos gave the Karthar ships one last look, and then turned to pick up his tools. They had been moved, and were nowhere to be seen. There was no time to look for them now; the esh was up to his knees. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned and followed the Braskhiams.

The tops of the tallest buildings were already filling up with those trying to escape, so they ran on through the roads full of panicking people towards the higher land further in. The sessium was gaining on them, almost to their waists, and some of the men and women grabbed children who were running with them to lift them clear of the gas. The land in this area was flat, and what hills there were lay well in from
the coast. The crowds ran for these, frantic to get above the esh before it smothered them. Murris looked desperately around for his wife and daughter, but could not see them. Emos could see the anguish on his friend’s face and prayed they were already safe. The gas was up to his stomach now, and people were tripping and falling all around him, unable to see the ground at their feet. His shin struck something beneath him and he stumbled, but Murris caught him and kept him on his feet. Struggling on, they had to rely on their memory of the small town to find their way through the half-concealed streets.

The buildings around them were crowded with people taking refuge, but with all the extra bodies from the army that had formed, there was no room in the upper floors. Some people had managed to find gas masks and were
helping
others find their way to safety. Emos thought of the farms out on the plains. They would have no warning. Most of them had houses of one floor and no means of escaping the esh if it bore down on them. The land was higher just
outside
the town and the gas was still creeping up his chest. If this was a Harvest Tide, then it was going to be one of the biggest he had ever seen.

The esh made a sound like a soft wind, though there was hardly a breeze to be felt. Behind them, Emos could hear a rushing sound and feared the worst was yet to come.
Harvest
Tide could last for days, and the first onslaught was not always the heaviest. Looking back, he saw a churning cloud tumbling inland towards them. If it made it this far, it would cover them.

‘Run!’ he called out. ‘Run like the gods themselves are coming after you!’

The ground rose ahead of them, and the crowd staggered to a halt at the crest of the hill. Emos and the others kept going until they had reached as high up as they could get in the crush of bodies.

‘Pa! Pa! Over here!’ A child’s voice cried out.

There on the hill, off to one side of them, was Berra, with their daughter Bekeli in her arms. He was torn between the joy of seeing them and the fear that they were still in danger. Emos followed as Murris pushed his way around to his family; the Braskhiam kissed his wife and hoisted Bekeli onto his shoulders. Berra took Emos’s hand and squeezed it, and he saw the fear in her eyes. He nodded, wishing he could offer more comfort, wishing he could have warned them sooner. The knowledge of his failure was like a weight in his stomach, as a smothering death flooded towards them.

The gas was getting as high as the adults’ waists, even here. Peering beyond, they could see that the ground dipped after this hill. To reach a higher point would mean going beneath the esh. This hill would have to be enough. Facing the oncoming wave, the crowd waited with a
mounting
dread. Murris clutched his daughter’s waist. If the esh went over his head, he would try to hold Bekeli above it for as long as he possibly could. Berra, standing behind her
husband
, put her arms around him and leaned her chin on his shoulder.

The wave broke as it flowed through the town, and by the time it reached the hill, there was little more than a swell, but there were more to come. Even as they watched, a second, larger crest rose over the harbour. The crowd was so absorbed by the sight, it took some time to notice the sound of marching feet. Some turned to look behind them for the
source of the sound, but all they could see was a flood of esh over the land. Then, like wraiths, soldiers appeared out of the gas and strode up the hill. They were wearing masks, the kind used for exploring the shallows of the esh. A person could breathe beneath the surface with one of those masks. The crowd eyed them greedily. Those masks could save their lives, but these were soldiers from the Bonescrapers, the Noranian crack fighting force, hardened by years of war and prepared for battle.

‘You there,’ an officer called to Murris. ‘Which way to the Karthars?’

‘They’ve retreated, sir,’ Murris replied. ‘They turned about before the esh rose.’

‘Retreated, eh?’ the Whipholder sneered. ‘We’ll see about that. Move on, Bonescrapers. The enemy is out there
somewhere
.’

Without another word, the troops followed their
commander
back into the esh, bound for the town. The crowd watched them go, and as the last one disappeared, they all gradually came to the same realisation. The Bonescrapers had come prepared for fighting in the gas. They had known that it would rise. Murris turned to Emos, who merely nodded. The Noranians could have condemned to death hundreds, perhaps thousands living in Braskhia. But the Karthars had had time to turn back; their ships had not been caught by the tide, and now the Prime Ministrate would not have his victory, even if he flooded Braskhia. Murris regarded the closing wave with a feeling of disgust. Their own allies were killing them.

The wave broke over them, and this time it went over their heads. Bekeli and the other children who were being held
up were the only ones to escape. Some of the children were crying now. The surge passed and the crowd could breathe again. But another wave was already on its way. Perched on her father’s shoulders, Bekeli gazed out across the sea of gas, squinting against the glow of the sun off its surface. She pointed at something.

‘Ma, Pa. There’s boats coming. Look.’

They followed the direction of her pointing finger, and saw Karthar esh-boats charging in.

‘
Now
they attack,’ Murris muttered under his breath. ‘They’re coming to finish us off.’

What Braskhiam boats there had been still out at esh gave chase, but they were too few and too far behind to save the people inland. Murris scowled bitterly, and Emos realised that most of the Braskhiams had abandoned their weapons at the docks. But as the crowd watched, the Karthar ships split up and made for different hilltops and buildings in the distance. Landing craft were lowered, and began taking people aboard. The enemy had sailed in across the land, not to destroy them but to save them. An esh-boat approached and its landing craft, with their cluster of small float pods, were lowered to cross the shallows under bellows power.

One drew up near Emos, and Murris and his family, and a Karthar soldier beckoned to them. With his goat-like face, grey-brown fur, and hands with their two thumbs, he was a strange sight, but a welcome one.

‘We can take some of you on board, and more ships are on their way. I can take eight in this boat. Hurry, before the wave hits!’

Women and children were pushed forward, crying and calling to their fathers, husbands and brothers. When all
were aboard, the landing craft pushed off and sailed back to the ship. The wave rushed over the men who remained, but they braced themselves and stayed on their feet, and the esh subsided enough for them to keep their heads clear. Emos grabbed the sides of his head and forced it upwards,
stretching
his neck so that his head was raised above the gas. Shorter men were lifted up by those around them.

All the men knew that the next one would be the end of them. They watched in anticipation as another Karthar ship dropped anchor nearby, and its smaller boats were lowered. A wall of esh rose up behind the town and surged across it. The men started shouting and screaming for the boats. There was no swimming in the esh; the boats had to come to them. The landing craft came close enough to reach by wading, and Emos and Murris joined the rush to meet them. Men clambered aboard; those who could not get in hung to the sides to keep their heads above the gas. Emos tumbled over the side of one and reached behind to hold onto Murris’s arms. The wave lifted the esh-boats and the men clinging to them. They washed further inland, over lower ground, but the Karthar boats kept them out of the gas. Karthars and Braskhiams held each other as they rocked around in the strong currents. Murris closed his eyes and trembled with rage at what had been done to them.

By evening, the esh had started to recede, and the
esh-boats
, overloaded, settled to the ground before they could get back out to the harbour. The gas drew back and left a landscape littered with ships and their landing craft, Karthar and Braskhiam alike, stranded with their hulls resting on solid earth. One by one, people began climbing down and wandering around. The esh was receding as fast as it had
come in, and out from its depths came the Bonescrapers. They made for the Karthar ships, but found their way barred by mobs of enraged men and women armed with the
weapons
abandoned on the docks, standing between them and the enemy. They would not be killing Karthars today. Faced by overwhelming odds, the Noranian elite backed off and beat a hasty retreat.

Murris watched them march away, and Emos could see that something had hardened inside him.

‘The Noranians did this to us!’ he yelled. ‘Somehow, they did this and I want some answers. I say we go to Noran. I say we give Rak Ek Namen a closer look at this war! Who is with me?’

All around him, an angry clamour rose up. There was a reckoning to be had.

19 H
OW THE
S
KACK
G
RUBS
E
AT

Groach woke up in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was his fourth day back at the Harvest Tide Project, and he had spent most of the time discreetly searching for ways to escape again. He had found none so far. He had been
questioned
along with all the other scientists by Mungret and various officers, who suspected that there was a Karthar spy among them. On top of that, some crumble cones had made it through to Braskhia, and he had lain awake until late in the night before, worrying that he had not done enough to stop it. He threw the covers off and sat up, shrugging out of his nightshirt and reaching for his tunic. He was back in the work clothes of the project – the long tunic that extended to his knees, belted at the waist, and a pair of simple sandals for his feet. His beard was starting to grow back and he decided he would shave it again; it took so long to grow, and was itchy all the time while it did.

He went to the door and lifted the latch, but the door did not budge. He pulled on it again, just to be sure, but there was no getting away from it. The door was bolted from the outside. They had locked it while he was asleep. Groach sat
down on his bed again. His was a basement room, with a small barred window at street level. The bars were iron and set firmly into the frame. He had already looked at possible ways of levering them out. The door was solid oak; the walls were made of stone. He put his head in his hands and chewed his lip. They were on to him.

Some time later, there came the sound of the bolt being shot, and the door swung open. Rak Ek Namen walked in, followed by a guard carrying a chair. The soldier set the chair on the floor and left, closing the door after him. The Prime Ministrate sat down on the chair and crossed his legs, placing his hands in his lap. He gazed at the botanist without a word, a tired look on his face. Groach started to say
something
to break the silence, but the Noranian leader raised his finger and Groach went quiet again.

‘I had a dream, Shessil,’ Namen said, in what was almost a whisper. ‘I dreamed that the Kartharic Peaks would belong to Noran. That we would rule the Karthars and make their country our own. With the Peaks, I could have built an empire greater than the world has ever known. I’ve been planning this for years. Years of building my armies, years of developing weapons; I’ve given my life to this. I needed the Braskhiams to build me a fleet of esh-boats to equal the
Karthars
’, but they would not, so I developed a plan that would wipe out the entire Karthar army in one fell swoop, without the need for a battle on the esh. A huge, but ultimately simple scheme. I had to make them invade Braskhia, and then I had to smother them in the esh.’

He went quiet again, and Groach shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He had never seen the Prime Ministrate like this. Gone was the charming, charismatic leader he had known
before. The man who sat before him now was hard and cold, and his eyes were empty of emotion.

‘You were part of that plan, Shessil. A vital part, as it turned out. You cracked the problem, made it possible to cause the Harvest Tide, and I’m grateful to you for that. But you see, yesterday, the Karthar fleet lay off the coast of Braskhia, preparing to attack. Their ships were carrying every warrior they had and I had them right where I wanted them. As it turned out, they did not land, but that should not have mattered. Because the crumble cones had been dropped over the esh-bound bubule and the Harvest Tide was coming. There should have been a tidal wave that blocked out the sky; every soldier should have been
smothered
, every ship swallowed up, and Braskhia should have been so crippled its people would have welcomed the chance to join our empire. I had battalions of my best troops, wearing gas masks, of course, stationed to deal with any
survivors
. I had drawn the Karthars right into my trap.

‘But it didn’t happen. Oh, the esh rose all right, but not nearly enough. No Karthar ships capsized; hardly anyone was killed as far as we can make out. Now, the Karthars have joined forces with the traitors from Braskhia, and they are on their way to Noran. They are on their way here to us. To me.’

Namen stood up and walked to the window, watching the feet pass by on the street outside.

‘Our new Groundsmaster tells me there are two vials
missing
from one of the laboratories. They contained spores of a fungus that spreads like wildfire and eats crumble cones, among other things. It was a lab that you were working in. It is thought that the spores of the fungus were spread around the barges by Myunans. There were two young Myunans in
the group that “kidnapped” you. Very few people knew what the crumble cones were for; you were one of them. I have been forced to come to the conclusion that you have betrayed me, Shessil. And at the worst possible time.’

The Prime Ministrate turned from the window to glare at Groach.

‘That treachery will cost you dear, Shessil Groach. I will hunt your friends down. The two Myunan children, the scentonomist and the Parsinor – I will have them executed, and their heads will be hung from the city gates. But not yours. You will be fed to the skack grubs. You know, the children of the skacks. They have no teeth, so they dissolve you with acid and drink you, bit by bit. It will take you many painful days to die. My only regret is that there will be no head to hang alongside those of your friends.’

Namen called to the guard, who opened the door and removed the chair. As the Prime Ministrate was leaving, he stopped, standing before Groach.

‘You will be fed to the skack grubs tomorrow. Do try to enjoy the rest of your day.’

Hiding was not something that came easily to Draegar. It rankled at him that he should shy away from combat, but even he was no match for the battlegroup of soldiers who were even now carrying out a house-to-house search down the street. Backed up by an engined crossbow, the foot
soldiers
were kicking in doors and ransacking one house after another. Draegar’s hands wandered to the handles of his weapons, but he held himself in check. Beside him, beneath the floor of a cooper’s workshop, Hilspeth listened to the
sounds of the boots on cobbles, and the shouts of the men and women who were hunting them.

The soldiers were sure to peer into the shadows between the stone supports where the four fugitives were hiding, but if they did, there was a chance they might not see them. Lorkrin and Taya had camouflaged Hilspeth and the
Parsinor
by spreading themselves over them like blankets and changing their appearance to make the huddled group look like a pile of stones.

A face suddenly leaned in to survey the space beneath the building’s floor. It turned one way, then the other and then disappeared. Taya breathed a quiet sigh of relief. But then the face appeared again with another beside it.

‘Better check behind those stones,’ said a voice.

Draegar gripped the handle of his sword. Hilspeth
fumbled
for a bottle in her waistcoat, and the two Myunans held their breaths. From out on the road came the sound of a scuffle and then shouts of alarm:

‘A skack! There’s a skack loose!’

Somebody screamed, and the four fugitives heard doors and windows slamming shut. The catapult’s engine roared, but then there came a couple of loud thumps and the noise coughed and stalled. There were some more shouts, and then a hushed silence.

The next face to lean in and stare at them was that of a skack. It hissed. Taya eyed it for a moment, and then cried out in relief:

‘Uncle Emos!’

The others looked closer and saw the triangular tattoo on its face.

‘A skack!’ gaped Lorkrin. ‘That’s brilliant …’

‘Quiet.’ Emos’s voice silenced his nephew immediately. ‘I am taking you home. I have a potato field in need of
weeding
, and any more trouble from the pair of you and I might have a barn to paint as well.’

The soldiers stayed hidden away in the buildings and the catapult’s cab until the skack had left with the two Myunans, the woman and the Parsinor. There was a possibility that the skack itself was a Myunan, but no one seemed willing to go and find out. Once the coast was clear, the driver who had tried to run the beast down got out of his cab to see what had brought his vehicle to such a sudden halt. It did not take long to find out … the iron rear wheels of the vehicle had sagged into folded lumps, as if they were made of butter. The man stared at them, feeling slightly dizzy. Then he got back in his cab and stayed there for some time.

Lorkrin and Taya were squatting either side of their uncle, all of them listening to Draegar.

‘He is an annoying little man, absorbed in his learning,’ the Parsinor was saying. ‘And he has caused a lot of what has happened. But he is a good man, I think, and he has done what he could to make up for things. The Noranians will punish him for what he has done, when they realise. I think the punishment will be quite brutal. I think we should help him escape.’

‘We
have
to get him out,’ Hilspeth insisted, desperately. ‘They’ll kill him if we don’t!’

Taya, Lorkrin, Hilspeth and Draegar had spent the last few days evading the soldiers who hunted them, had seen
Parsinors
and Myunans being rounded up, and were now hiding
in an empty water tank on the roof of a disused bathhouse. The soldiers had left the streets and were crowding onto the city walls. The Braskhiams were coming and they were bringing the Karthars with them. They had crossed the Braskhiam Gulf in an array of different vessels, the Karthars’ might combined with the Braskhiams’ technology. Emos, as soon as he had found his tools, had hitched a ride on
Murris’s
boat until he was rested enough to fly again. Then he had raced ahead to Noran. He now weighed up the chances of successfully breaking Groach out.

‘The children must not be involved,’ he said, finally. ‘But I agree. No one deserves the treatment that those animals can dish out. We must find him and help him.’

Taya peered around her uncle’s chest at Lorkrin, who pulled a face. They did not like the sound of this. Shessil was their friend, and whatever trouble he was in, they were determined to help him out of it. They did not like being treated like helpless infants, not that you could expect
anything
else from grown-oldies. The moment that the other three were gone, they would be off on a rescue mission of their own.

‘I know what you two are planning … and I’m not having any of it,’ Emos warned.

‘We weren’t planning anything,’ Taya retorted.

‘That’ll be the day,’ their uncle grunted. ‘I’m sorry to have to resort to this. I hope your ma and pa will understand, but I can’t have you running into any more danger. Hilspeth, Draegar and I will handle this. You will be staying here.’

In one swift motion, he twisted and grabbed their arms, holding them in one hand, while with the other he ran his fingers across their feet, muttering some words. Suddenly,
their legs started to soften and their thighs sank into their knees, their knees into their shins, their shins into their ankles and their ankles into their feet. Their feet spread out across the damp floor of the water tank, almost filling it. Lorkrin tried to walk, but it was like having a rug for legs.