The Gods and their Machines (12 page)

Chamus leaned back on his elbows and looked at the land that was visible between the trees in the failing light. A
hundred
and twenty-five miles. They might find help before that, but he had to prepare for the worst. A hundred and twenty-five miles across unknown territory, with only an aging horse and a girl no older than himself guiding him and a gang of insane terrorists hunting them all the way. He shook his head and put the map away. Next time he’d keep a closer eye on the weather.

Nine

R
iadni woke suddenly and was taken aback by the glowing white material that hung over her. It took a few moments to remember the events of the day before and then she recalled how the boy, Chamus, had pulled this massive, round sheet from his pack and made a tent out of it by hanging it from the branch of a tree. It was made of silk and must have been worth a lot of money. He had said it was for people who jumped out of aeroplanes. She had taken that to mean it was a burial shroud, but he assured her it was for slowing a person’s fall, not for
wrapping
them up afterwards.

She ran the back of her hand down the light, slinky folds, admiring the feel of it. Outside, she could hear Chamus moving around. She found herself wondering where Benyan was, and what it would be like to be on the run with him, instead of this irritating Altiman. Riadni smiled to herself. That would be worth getting in trouble for.

She and Chamus had taken turns to keep watch during the night, wishing they could light a fire, but not daring to in case it attracted attention. Taking a small mirror from her 
bag, she took some time to paint her face. Then, she put on her wig, ducked under the edge of the parachute and looked out. He was reading a small booklet. She wondered if it was a scripture for the false god that the Altimans worshipped. She stood up and stretched, then strolled over to where the boy was sitting and bent over to look at the front cover. It read, ‘Guidelines for a Survival Situation’.

‘What’s a survival situation?’ she asked.

‘This is,’ said Chamus, holding out his hands. ‘What we’re in now. This is a survival situation.’

She looked around, trying to see what there was to
survive
. Failing to see any imminent danger, she shrugged and walked over to the tree near the stream, where Rumbler was tied. She held the sides of his head and kissed him on the nose.

‘Morning, beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘How’s my hero, you feeling better?’

Chamus looked at her quizzically, then turned back to his reading.

‘If you two would like some time alone, I’ll wait in the tent,’ he quipped. ‘Otherwise, I think we need to get going.’

Riadni made a rude gesture behind his back, but then went to saddle the horse. Chamus pulled down the
makeshift
tent and carefully folded the parachute back into its pack. Opening out a map, he called Riadni over.

‘What route do you think we should take?’

She studied the sheet of lines and symbols. There were names and numbers written all over it, with rivers marked in blue and roads in solid black. It was nothing like the
hand-drawn
maps she had seen before. There were things on it
that she did not understand, but it looked scientific and exact. It must be easier to make maps, she thought to herself, when you can look down at the land from above. She found the main road out of Kemsemet, and followed it north-west with her finger to the town of Naranthium.

‘We need to go this way, but they will have put the word out and there will be people looking for us. We can cut through the fields a lot, and stay in the hills as much as
possible
, but there are going to be times when we’ll have to take the road. It will take us all of today and part of tomorrow to get to here, Naranthium, but I have cousins there who will hide us for the night and give us food.’

They packed up the last of their things and Chamus watched as Riadni covered up the signs of their stay as best she could. He could not help but be impressed by her. She was smart and capable, even if she was a bit of a tomboy. He thought about the girls in his class, a few of whom he
fancied
. They were clever and educated and knew they were starting to get sexy, and he wondered how Riadni acted when she was with other girls. Probably giggled and
chattered
with the best of them, he thought. He looked up at her as she waited impatiently for him to get up on the horse. No, he thought again, probably not. He climbed into the saddle with slightly more dignity than the day before, but not much more, and shifted around as he tried to get his backside comfortable on the hard edge of the cantle.

‘When we get to where people might see us, you’ll have to get off,’ she said, tightly. ‘A boy riding in the same saddle as a girl would attract a lot of attention. And it could get you put in the stocks.’

‘That’s where they throw rotten vegetables at you, right?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she replied, ‘for touching a girl who is not your wife, they throw stones. Big ones.’

‘Right. Well, let me know when it’s time to walk then.’

They rode in silence for a while, Chamus’s backside bouncing against the saddle as Rumbler made his way downhill. It was wearing on Riadni’s nerves and she
fantasised
again of being on the run with Benyan, the two of them braving the world together. Rumbler trotted down a steep incline and Chamus was tipped forwards suddenly, his weight falling against Riadni. She gritted her teeth and elbowed him back.

‘For the love of Shanna, will you get off me! And stop bouncing around. You’re riding like a block of wood!’

‘It’s not my fault!’ he protested. ‘I can’t help it if I never learned to ride. I didn’t have to. We have cars where I come from …’

‘Don’t you start with me again!’

‘Alright, alright. Look, I’m having to learn this as I go. Give me a chance, okay?’

Riadni closed her eyes for a moment and willed herself to calm down.

‘Try and move with him,’ she told him. ‘Grip with your knees and follow his rhythm. That way it’s more comfortable for both of you – and me.’

‘I’m trying,’ he said. ‘It’s not easy.’

Then, wanting to change the subject, he asked, ‘So, how well do you know the terrorists then?’

‘What terrorists?’

‘The Hadram Cassal. The murdering scum we’re running from.
Those
terrorists.’

Riadni’s lip curled.

‘They’re freedom fighters,’ she snapped.

‘They’re terrorising us,’ he put in. ‘That is why we’re
running
across the country on a horse, isn’t it? Because they’re going to kill us both?’

‘I betrayed them … and you’re the enemy.’

‘Oh, well that’s alright then. As long as they have a good reason. Bunch of murdering cowards if you ask me. I
suppose
the innocent people they kill are fair game, yeah? Our soldiers have to act like soldiers, but it’s alright for your lot to sneak into our cities and murder people, right?’

Incensed once more, she stopped the horse and turned to look in his face.

‘Innocent? Since when did you care about that? You’ve been killing our people for centuries, but when we do it back to you, we’re animals. What, are you blind? Don’t you even know what happens out here? And as for “sneaking” into your cities, what else can we do? Get together in an army, out in the open, so we can get slaughtered by your machines? The Hadram Cassal are fighting the only way they can. And you think they’re cowards? Tell me, what takes more courage, to walk into the heart of your enemy’s
country
, knowing you’re going to die, or to drop bombs on people’s heads from thousands of feet in the air?’

Chamus was struck by the ferocity of her expression and realised that she was not the friend he thought she was. She was still a Fringelander after all. What hope was there of explaining the difference to her? They were all fanatics.

‘And stop jolting the saddle!’ she added. ‘Move with the horse, or you’re walking from here on.’

‘For God’s sake! I’m trying, alright?’

The two said very little to each other after that.

Two hours’ ride brought them to the outskirts of a small
village
called Veron. Chamus got down and walked alongside the horse. Riadni knew people from this village, but she was worried that there were a lot of Hadram Cassal supporters here. Veron was set back in the hills and had few visitors. Not many people were attracted to an area laid waste by strip mining. They didn’t like outsiders and Altima was about as outside as you could get. It was Altiman businessmen who had come, promising to make the villagers rich and had left, taking their money with them and leaving nothing but a ravaged landscape and the livelihood of the village’s
trappers
and gold prospectors in ruins, along with the
storekeepers
who depended on their trade. Chamus listened to the story of Veron and wished he looked more like a Bartokhrian. Walking along a trail that bypassed the village, he was painfully conscious of his city-style clothes and pale skin. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

‘I need to change my clothes,’ he muttered to Riadni.

‘Yeah,’ she grunted, ‘that way you can look like an Altiman disguising himself as a local. You’re as pale as a plucked chicken and you have yellow hair. It’s going to take more than a change of clothes to hide who you are.’

The track took them along the edge of some woods, avoiding the main streets in the village. People peered from their windows at them, and some even came out to stare. Riadni felt embarrassed, both for being with this Altiman, but
also for him. She knew that no matter how self-conscious she was feeling, it must be ten times worse for him.

Suddenly, a horseman appeared out of the trees and blocked their path. He was dressed in trapper’s clothes of fur and skin, his face was burnt a deep brown and he was
missing
most of his teeth. He held a belasto in one hand and a machete in the other. Riadni went to turn Rumbler around, but then saw what Chamus had already seen, another man on foot behind them, similarly armed.

‘Stand away, girl,’ the first one said. ‘That boy’s worth money to us.’

‘Get on,’ Riadni hissed quietly.

Chamus glanced back at the man in front of them and knew he was only going to get one chance at this. And he just wasn’t that good at getting on a horse. He bolted for a low stone wall instead and Riadni kicked Rumbler into action, racing ahead. Chamus leapt onto the wall, ran along it and jumped from the end onto the horse’s back as Riadni slowed to catch him. A belasto caught him around the ankle as his foot left the wall, but missed his other leg. Riadni steered Rumbler down into the village along a laneway walled in by ramshackle adobe buildings on either side. Chamus shook the weapon loose from his leg and let it drop to the ground.

‘Keep your head low!’ she called, as they charged down the narrow lane. ‘Don’t let them get the belastoes round your neck!’

They burst out the other end into the main street and as Riadni leaned to take a hard left, Chamus had to resist the urge to lean the other way and right himself. Galloping on a
horse was hard work and his backside was taking a
battering
. He risked a glance behind them and saw that the mounted trapper was close behind, swinging another belasto. He could not see the second man. But then ahead of them, somebody on horseback swept in from their left; the man had a horse after all.

‘Come on, boy!’ Riadni shouted and ran Rumbler right at the other horse.

The horse shied away from the charge and the man was nearly thrown, but held on. Rumbler galloped past and on down the street. The two trappers were right on their heels. Riadni urged her steed on even faster, and then broke right and down another lane, turning so fast that Chamus almost fell off. The lane dropped down a steep hill and there were wooden-walled clay steps near the bottom that caused Rumbler to slow suddenly, his long strides pulled short by the narrow footing. The end of the lane was half blocked by a large barrow and Rumbler leapt straight over it.

This time Chamus did fall, tumbling back out of the saddle and landing in the front of the barrow, thrusting the handles upwards. He cried out as his ribs and hip hit the wood, then curled into a ball as the first horseman jumped over him. But the handles caught one of the horse’s forelegs and it landed badly, throwing its rider. The second was coming down the steps slower and reined in his horse in time to stop before the upturned barrow. Chamus got to his feet, jumped out of the barrow and delivered a sound kick at the fallen trapper’s head, before grabbing his belasto and machete and running to catch up with Riadni. The second rider pushed the barrow out of the way with his foot and charged after them. They
were in a lane that ran down the backs of the buildings, and Chamus darted into a narrow gateway as he saw the trapper swing his belasto again. The weapon slapped off the wall where Chamus had been an instant earlier. He popped his head around again in time to see Riadni’s belasto wrap itself around the man’s neck. He was caught off-guard, but stayed on his horse. Her belasto only had wooden weights and he managed to quickly loosen it enough to breathe.

But it gave Chamus enough time to get back on behind Riadni and they raced up to the other end of the village again. Rumbler’s hooves drummed a track up along a
laneway
strewn with clotheslines, where Riadni knew the
belastoes
would be harder to use. Thinking of the pistol in her bag, she cursed herself for not having it ready. Glancing back, she saw both trappers coming after them again.
Ducking
under one row after another of hanging clothes, Chamus clung to Riadni’s waist as she urged her horse onwards. The first trapper was almost on top of them, when Chamus swung the machete out and cut one of the lines, dropping it right onto the man behind them. The trapper was forced to slow to rid himself of the entanglement.