JULIEN

II

Chapter 40

Stranded

He knew where he was. The desperation that had enabled him to summon the Gift which had been consistently avoiding his control had sent him here, to exactly the same place as last time. The smell of the wet meadow confirmed it, and he knew that if he crouched down he'd be able to feel the grass for himself.

He was deeply shocked. Not only had Xarax failed to jump with him, but Aïn was certainly dead.

The light rain was making his hair wet and starting to trickle down his back. He raised the hood of his abba. He wasn't yet cold, although this place was considerably less balmy than the tropical island he had just left. His eyes were slowly adapting to the dark. There was a feeble light filtering through the clouds, but without a flashlight walking wouldn't be easy. He had no idea what time it was, and so he didn't know how long the darkness would last. He had to find some sort of shelter as soon as possible. His abba offered good insulation and it was waterproof, but it had no built-in heating. Still, at least he hadn't left the trankenn wearing no more than a laï!

But... Aïn was dead! He had actually seen his head explode! Slowly the horror was starting to take hold of him again. Someone had killed the Guide in cold blood, almost certainly to prevent him, Julien, from escaping from those who wanted to abduct him – because obviously if they had wanted to kill him, they'd have shot him instead of Aïn.

He started to walk carefully in what he thought was the direction of the woods. It might not be dry there, but at least the trees could offer some shelter from the wind and the rain.

But... why wasn't Xarax with him?

This time he was truly lost, stranded in a world which was no longer his. As he walked across the uneven ground he realised that nobody was going to come and rescue him this time: in losing Aïn, he had lost not only a true friend, but also the only Guide who knew how to find the path to Earth.

He started to cry, heavy, uncontrollable sobs. The shock had caught up with him, submerging his mind beneath a mixture of sorrow for Aïn, retrospective terror and self-pity.

oo0oo

He soon reached the edge of the wood and, after a few minutes during which he managed to calm down a little, he finally found the start of the path he had seen during his previous visit. It did indeed offer some shelter from the worst of the weather, and although it was darker under the trees his night vision was now fully active and he could at least make out the path without too much difficulty. He decided to keep walking. He had nothing with him that he could use to light a fire, and he figured that if if he didn't keep moving he would, to quote his mother, 'catch his death of cold'.

Fortunately his sandals were of the highest quality, and although they were open to the wind they were perfectly adapted to long journeys on foot. By now the path was climbing quite steeply and frequently looped back on itself. There were gaps in the vegetation which would have afforded him views of the surrounding landscape on a clearer night, but as it was they only exposed him more to an unpleasantly chilly breeze.

As he walked along, trying to avoid stones and puddles, he considered his predicament. He didn't want to wander too far from the place where he had arrived, at least for now, because it would be there that anyone launching a rescue attempt would be likely to start looking for him. Although Aïn wouldn't be able to make the journey, he was sure that any number of other Guides would make the attempt. And if they could reach Earth Xarax would then be able to tell them which direction they had to take to find him – provided, of course, that Xarax hadn't been killed too, in which case he'd be left to his own resources, which were, he thought, pretty meagre. He supposed that eventually, if nobody came to find him, he would have to try jumping again. But he didn't know if he would be able to do that at all, and even if he could there was no guarantee that he wouldn't end up somewhere a lot worse than this.

Inn the meantime he would have to take steps to prevent himself from dying of hunger or exposure. He would also have to make sure that he dodged the police, because he was sure he wouldn't be able to offer them any sort of explanation as to who he was and where he had come from.

First he would have to steal some clothes. His bronze-green abba was certainly an elegant garment, but it was distinctly exotic, and hardly the thing he needed if he was to pass unnoticed. He would need to find an unwatched clothes-line, but there would be no chance of any housewife hanging out her laundry unless it stopped raining. He'd also need to steal some food, and he thought that would be even more difficult. He had no idea what might be growing in vegetable gardens at that time of year, but unless he found some lettuce or radishes he had no idea of what might be edible. Perhaps the first cherries might be ripe, but he didn't think he could live on hypothetical cherries for very long. And the idea of killing any chicken that was stupid enough to let him get close was a complete non-starter: he certainly didn't fancy eating it raw, and he had no means of cooking it. He'd tried the usual stone-age methods of making fire while he was in the Scouts and the results had simply been pathetic. And then there was the question of his Marks, which he would certainly have to lose, because even if he could get hold of a pair of shorts and a checked shirt...

He finally reached level ground. Large boulders lay scattered across the landscape and the trees had given way to low scrub, gorse and bramble which provided almost no protection from the wind. Fortunately by now the rain had eased, and so now it was only the wind tormenting him by sneaking through every little opening in his clothing.

The path became smoother, eventually opening out into two parallel whitish tracks which indicated that vehicles came this way quite regularly. Eventually this led to a narrow tarmac road. Having nothing to indicate which way went where he chose to go right, hoping that eventually it would lead him to a village, and preferably before too long. After all, this was France, not the middle of the Gobi Desert...

All the same he had been walking for almost an hour before he reached the entrance to a little lane, next to which was a sign informing him that the road was private and that it lead to the M... Holiday Centre which was run by the Council of works of the L... Group. He hesitated only for a few seconds before deciding to try his luck down the lane.

As he had hoped, the buildings of the holiday centre were deserted. Shutters covered every opening and the doors were locked. However, he found not only a large covered playground which offered shelter from the wind, but also an unlocked shed. There was a light switch inside the door of the shed but it didn't work: obviously the power had been turned off when the centre had been closed up. However, in the dim light filtering through the door and a cobweb-covered window he could see that the room was completely empty, which explained why it had been left unlocked. He looked around in vain for a sack, a piece of cardboard or some discarded plywood, and in the end he had to sit on the bare concrete floor. He was in shelter, but it looked as if it was going to be a long night.

oo0oo

Julien hardly slept at all. Cold concrete doesn't make the best bed in the world, or the best chair either, although in his exhaustion he did manage to doze for a couple of hours sitting in a corner of the room.

He got up as soon as dawn started to lighten the sky. He was cold and his bottom was sore, and he felt worse than he had for a very long time. His morale was extremely low. He was terribly aware of the mess he was in, and the death of Aïn was weighing heavily on his heart: this was the first time death had ever taken someone really close to him.

He was hungry, too, and thirsty, and he really felt the need to get something hot inside him. Outside the shed he found that it wasn't raining, but the overcast weather gave him little hope of an early appearance from the sun. He decided that the best thing to do would be to conduct a full exploration of the site in the hope of being able to find a way into the main building.

The place wasn't exactly fortified: there were several shutters worn enough to allow his hand to slip past if he cut the weakened wood a bit. He thanked Tannder's insistence that he should carry his nagtri at all times, and in fact he doubted whether even a brand new shutter could have withstood the bite of its blade for very long. He cursed himself for not having thought of it before settling into his bleak night in the shed.

Five minutes and a broken pane of glass later he was inside a large dining-hall whose long lines of tables were covered in upside-down chairs, as is usually the way with this sort of place. In the semi-darkness he could make out, not only a serving-hatch, but also a door which could only lead into the kitchen. The door was unlocked, and although it got darker as he went further into the interior of the building, he was still able to make out, beyond the gas range in the centre of the room, the door of a storage room which proved to contain, not only an open and empty refrigerator, but also a veritable treasure-house of large catering-sized cans and an impressive array of non-perishable food items.

Now he knew there was food available he went looking for the main electrical fuse box, which he found in a wide corridor. Back in the kitchen he found the valve that connected the gas cookers to the storage cylinder outside, and after a certain amount of fumbling around he finally managed to light one of the gas burners.

Never had tinned ravioli tasted better, and the apricots in syrup were almost as good. Once he was full he decided that he could probably treat himself to some proper sleep, and so he cleaned the saucepan and the plate he had used thoroughly and then started looking for somewhere to sleep.

oo0oo

Chapter 41

Loss

Dillik was just about to climb the impressive series of ladders which led to the top of the steepest and most terrifying of the five slides when he heard a kind of hoarse whistle that he recognised immediately. Xarax was calling to him, and he was somewhere among the flowering bushes a dozen paces away. But Xarax never called except to startle him when they were playing and Dillik was the hunter and Xarax the prey. As he walked towards the bushes he thought that this was very strange, but if Xarax needed to speak to him it was logical that he would prefer not to be seen out in the open if it could be avoided.

As he got closer he heard the call again, even quieter, and with a weird resonance to its tone. He checked that nobody was watching him and then ducked into the bushes.

Xarax was lying on the ground with his torn wings partially extended and a great tear in his abdomen. Dillik froze for a moment in horror but then dropped to his knees and put his hand on his friend's head. Xarax's voice, together with a chaos of confused images, entered his head.

Dillik, I'm dying, said Xarax. Aïn is dead. Julien is safe but he had to jump. I don't know where he went. Tell Tannder.

A picture stabilised itself in Dillik's mind: he was just above Julien and Aïn, and then the Guide's head exploded. Then he was on Julien's shoulder, urging him to jump. And then he was brutally hurled away, unable to hold on. He collided with something and fell to the ground.

Xarax! cried Dillik. Stay with me!

I can't.

Yes, you can!

I must go.

Xarax! Don't leave me! I...

Xarax's presence vanished from Dillik's mind like a flame leaving an extinguished candle, and the boy felt himself slip irresistibly into absolute darkness.

oo0oo

He came to with a terrible sense of urgency. He had fallen to the ground, his head a few centimetres from the martyred body of his friend. But he couldn't stay there – it wasn't yet time to take care of his friend’s remains. He had to do what Xarax had told him to first. He got up and ran to find Tannder, who had established his temporary headquarters in the nearest refreshment stall.

As soon as he saw Dillik rushing towards him the Warrior knew at once that something was seriously wrong. Without waiting for explanations he took hold of the boy and led him away, only allowing him to deliver his message when they were in an area of relative isolation.

“It's Xarax,” gasped Dillik. “He's dead!”

Dillik flung himself against Tannder's chest and burst into tears, but he struggled to control himself long enough to go on.

“Aïn is dead too. Julien jumped, but Xarax didn't know where he went. He told me to tell you. But now he's dead...”

“Where is he?”

“Over there, near the slides.”

“Take me to him.”

Tannder spoke quietly to one of his men who were waiting for his orders, telling him to get everyone together and to head back to the trankenn.

Xarax's body was still where Dillik had left it. Tannder crouched down and examined it carefully.

“He's not dead,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”

“What?!”

Dillik didn't dare to believe it. He couldn't allow himself to hope, knowing that it would probably only lead to another heartbreak.

“It's not easy to kill a haptir,” said Tannder.

He took a small shiny metal tube from a pocket and set it to his lips, emitting a very high-pitched whistle. Then he carefully wrapped Xarax in the wide sash of his abba. He was just finishing the job when a Guide appeared at his side, panting.

“Honourable Wallai, please take Xarax directly to the main Health Centre of Bakhtar Tower. We'll join you shortly.”

Wordlessly, and before Dillik could utter a word of protest, the Guide and the haptir disappeared.

“I know you want to be with him,” said Tannder. “But we're not finished here yet. Do you know where Aïn is?”

“No, I don... wait – yes, I do. Xarax showed me. It's on a pink path.”

Tannder had of course committed the map of the entire island to memory before leaving the ship, and so he was able to take Dillik straight to the path, emerging very close to where the attack had taken place. They found the Guide's headless body lying a few metres from where he had died, barely hidden in the bushes.

“Hardik!” called Tannder.

A man appeared suddenly from the wood – he had clearly been following them.

“I'm taking this boy to Nüngen,” Tannder told him. “Do what has to be done for the Guide's body and then join us. Have the park surrounded and searched first. I don't suppose it'll do any good, but we probably ought to try.”

oo0oo