The 200th episode ... and more!
TKC 200 and 201
It rains for two days. We plod on, making steady progress. At
night we huddle together for warmth, although there is not much of it. Another
day is spent in traversing a waterlogged landscape under an overcast sky. The wind
has a bite; everyone soon shivers in clothes that refuse to dry out.
Kay glances up periodically and I know what he is thinking. We
will not see the ships arrive if cloud hides the heavens from view. He does not
like it. I do not either.
We have not mentioned that threat to the Messengers, because
there may be Glonu among them. We have revealed the slavery system Arc operates
under to explain why going there is not the best plan.
On the fifth day the plains burst into riotous colour. Under
a blue sky, every seed and bulb waiting for the dryness to end erupts into
flower. What a display! I am awed and humbled … and grateful beyond measure for
this sign of incredible beauty. Life is definitely worth living. I am not alone
in this. The children laugh again and whenever we stop they clamber down to
create pretty posies, which they then clutch close as we travel onward. The adults
smile more.
The plateau grows in height to the east, a decided dark line
on the horizon ever higher. Now we are able to see where it begins to descend,
and Kay corrects our course slightly to aim for that point.
On the sixth day the cliffs, boulders, scree slopes, and
darkened holes of potential caves become obvious. We will be there by
mid-morning on the morrow.
On that same sixth day, however, something changes and it
has nothing to do with the landscape.
Kay has kept the Messengers close and therefore the sudden
and strange gyrations among them cannot be ignored, hidden or remain unnoticed.
Seven men and one woman stiffen in their saddles, stretching
upright as if their spines are being pulled into the atmosphere. Arms flail
upwards as well, and heads roll back with a neck-snapping sound. Their horses
begin to buck.
“Get back!” Kay shouts at those closest, and edges his mount
to the side as well. He turns to find me and gestures me closer.
“What is this?” I whisper as I join him.
“The ships are here,” he states. “They are reacting to the
Glonu call.”
By the stars! My mouth hangs open. Eyes wide, I watch them. Abruptly
their heads return to a normal position … and then they look at us.
“Go!” Kay screams, swirling his hand in the air in the
onward sign. “Head for the caves!”
A thunderous sound erupts as men and women urge their horses
into full gallop.
“Siri, go!” Kay shouts.
I go, but I do not like it. Kay is on his own with seven
Glonu now aware of their fate. A hundred paces removed, I halt my horse and
look back.
Kay has drawn his sword and holds it ahead of him, while
controlling his mounts with his other hand tight on the reins. He cannot do
this alone! I am about to race back to his side when two men gallop past me. One
is a Messenger – Hal, in fact – and the other is a young man I know as ‘Sleepy’.
The women are always ragging him about his need for sleep; I do not know his
real name.
They race to Kay’s side with weapons out.
It is ugly. Death in this manner is ugly. While the Glonu
are still stiffened in their saddles, our three move in and slaughter them. Bodies
topple to the wildflower earth, accusing in their stillness. Sleepy then rounds
up the horses, his face without expression.
Closing in, I hear Kay say, “We must bury them or they will
rise again.”
Hal slowly nods. “This is why you said nothing. They are
Glonu? Of course they are and you needed to know that first.” He turns to look
at me as I slide of my horse. “The ships have arrived?”
Standing amid death upon a field recently awakened to life,
Kay and I stare at the Messenger.
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