The Oracle Page 5

  “What? Oh, my dad had ginger hair, so it’s his fault.” Jemma reached up and gently twisted a lock of hair. “I guess not many people have this colour here.”

  Betony giggled again and Jemma’s thoughts returned to the tent. “So, how old are you two?”

  “I’m seven already.” Kiya said proudly, holding her head high.

  Betony looked down at her hands, counting on her little fingers. She grinned and held up her right hand with three digits pointing up.

  “Three? Wow.” Jemma replied, finding her quite adorable.

  “No Betony, you’re four years old now.” Kiya corrected.

  “...how many times have I told you to stay away from those creatures?” Siarla’s exasperated voice grew louder as she returned to the tent, a boy in tow. She looked to Jemma apologetically, “And finally, this is my son, Russit.”

  Russit was a little older than his sisters and had the gangly look of someone that had just gone through a growth spurt. Apart from the surly expression, he looked so much like his father.

  “Hi, I’m Jemma.”

  Russit sighed, and fidgeted where he stood. “Fine, I’ve met her, can I go back outside now? Dylan says-”

  “You are not seeing Dylan again. Every time you go chasing after him, you end up outside the walls; or pestering the mallus.” Siarla snapped, “You will stay with your sisters for the rest of the day, or Minaeri help me, I will-”

  “Alright, alright.” Russit replied mardily, reading the warning signs in his mother he plonked down on the nearest bed.

  Siarla turned away from her son and tried to mask her annoyance. “Now, Miss Jemma, is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable? You look exhausted; a wash? Fresh clothes?”

  “That... that sounds really good,” Jemma replied, surprised by the honest hospitality.

  “Kiya, can you show Jemma to the bathing area? Betony, come help me pick out some clothes.” Siarla said to her daughters, before fixing on her son. “Russit, stay right where you are.”

  Before Jemma could feel too sorry for Russit, she felt a small hand slide into hers and pull her out of the tent. Carrying a towel, Kiya led with purpose towards an area set up with individual stalls, next to a well.

  “Pick one.” The young girl suggested, before sitting on the stone wall that surrounded the well.

  Jemma kicked off her trainers and sweaty socks, and stepped onto the reed matting. There was a wooden door that she pushed shut for privacy. A bucket of water sat in one corner of the stall, and there was a somewhat scratchy sponge with it. Oh well, better than nothing.

  Jemma stripped off, listening intently for trouble; but nobody approached her here. She sponged some of the cool water over her back, and gasped with the shock and how lovely it felt.

  “Why is your skin so red?” Kiya’s curious voice drifted in. “Is it supposed to match your hair?”

  Jemma paused, twisting her neck so she could see her shoulders. Damn, they were bright red; she dreaded to think what state her face was in. “Um, no. I was out in the sun for too long and burnt. Badly, it seems.”

  “Oh, but that’s normal, that happens to me.” Kiya said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I thought you were a red and orange person.”

  Jemma snorted. “No, I’m very normal, I just have ginger hair,” she replied quickly, out of habit, before realising that actually, she was very much an alien.

  Feeling very awkward, Jemma rushed her bath and pulled her dirty, sweaty clothes back on. When she opened the door she paused. The sun had dropped low to the horizon, filling the campsite with shadows. Every new angle she saw seemed more beautiful than the last.

  A fire was being built in an open area towards the middle, and people began to migrate that way. Kiya seemed keen to get back to her family, driven by the need for dinner; she practically dragged Jemma back to the tent.

  Upon returning, Siarla pushed a pile of clothes into her arms. “Here, you can borrow some of mine. Although you’ll need a belt – you’re nothing but skin and bones! Didn’t they feed you at home?”

  Jemma made a somewhat positive noise. She worked so hard to stay slim – it was difficult when her best friends were naturally so beautiful and skinny.

  “Everybody ready for dinner?” Saxton asked, ducking back into the tent. Kiya ran and grabbed his hand; Russit shuffled up behind his father.

  Outside, there was the pinkish glow of sunset to the west; elsewhere in the heavens stars were already pricking through a quickly darkening sky.

  The open area within Treefort was dotted with lamps, and a fire which the families gathered around. They all sat in casual groups, waiting for their neighbours to arrive before they started on the evening meal which was a shared labour and a shared occasion.

  In the crowd of strangers, Jemma recognised Angrud, who currently dithered about a group of men who sat apart from the families. Jemma found it amusing that, even at a distance, Angrud managed to look arrogant.

  Saxton’s family quickly sat down, along with the entire population of Treefort, some two hundred people or more. Nobody could pass without staring towards Jemma, some discreetly glancing sideways, others not bothering to hide their interest. Jemma found the attention unnerving; she might be dressed like an Enchenian now, in her borrowed clothes, but nothing would hide her flamboyant hair, made all the more noticeable by the red firelight.

  Gradually everyone settled down to the feast. There was a wide variety of fruits, vegetables and meats, most of which Jemma thought she recognised from home. There were many girls, a similar age to Jemma, that carried platters between the families, before returning to their own. These girls passed to and fro, and Jemma had a strange suspicion that they were lingering near the group of men she had noticed earlier. Jemma was amused by the obvious show, Enchenian girls weren’t that different to British girls. Jemma looked up again, and started to feel uncomfortable when she realised how many stares were aimed at her.

  Her attention was caught by a familiar flash of wings, and Jemma was less than surprised to see the small and colourful falcon hopping on the grass beside her knee. “Oh, you decided to come back, did you?”

  The bird tilted its head to look up at her, and squawked importantly.

  “Wow, he’s pretty!” Kiya exclaimed.

  “Is he yours?” Russit asked, as he inched closer to the bird.

  “Mine? No, he belongs to...” Jemma broke off. How could she begin to explain Danu and Gran to these children? “He belongs to a friend.”

  Suddenly Betony was crawling into Jemma’s lap, her chubby little hands digging into her leg, and her face lowered towards the bird. “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he has one.” Jemma confessed. “Why don’t you guys pick one?”

  “He should be called Betony.” The little girl stated, making her brother and sister laugh.

  “Betony’s a girl’s name, silly.” Kiya cooed. “How about Feathers?”

  Russit stuck his tongue out at the idea. “I think he should be called Bern.”

  “Bern?”

  “Yeah, after the famous Gardyn, Bern.” Russit answered.

  “I don’t think I know that one.” Jemma admitted.

  “Mum tells the best stories about Bern,” Russit said, not taking his eyes off the bird, “he lived in the old days and did loads for the Gardyn.”

  It was when most of the food had been picked off that Angrud came striding up importantly.

  “You and the girl have to report to Captain Rian immediately.” Angrud announced, not bothering to keep his voice down.

  Saxton merely nodded and stood up, “Come, Jemma.”

  Jemma scrambled to her feet, her nerves returning. Everyone spoke in awe of Captain Rian, and she was suddenly afraid to say the wrong thing. Or would they not listen, and throw her out to the wild woods?

  The small falcon flapped his wings and found a place to perch on her shoulder. His sharp claws dug through the rough material of her borrowe
d top, but his presence helped to calm her pulse. “You’re not a bloody parrot.” Jemma commented, out of habit.

  When he simply clacked his very sharp-looking beak, Jemma hurried to catch up with Saxton and Angrud, who were already striding towards the group of men.

  Saxton and Angrud bowed their heads in humble salute. Now that she was closer, Jemma scanned the faces of those in front of her, and understood the previous behaviour of the serving girls. The men were reasonably good-looking; but more importantly, they had an air of command about them. Even though they dressed like everyone else, and sat on the ground casually, they stood apart.

  One in particular drew Jemma’s attention. He looked a little younger than Saxton, his face was hard, and his brown eyes were sharp. His black hair was long and unruly, and... Jemma had never seen such an attractive man...

  The man caught Jemma’s analytical stare, and the girl dropped her eyes, missing the frown that crossed his handsome face.

  “So, this is the girl you found wandering the forest?” The man asked.

  “Yes, Captain Rian.” Saxton answered. “She was by Saviour’s Gate, sir.”

  “Yes, your patrol partner explained that to me,” Rian countered, with a pained expression, “in great detail.”

  Captain Rian looked back at Jemma, trying to take in the red hair and the... bird on her shoulder. “Angrud told me all about you, Miss Jemma, that you will only speak to Siabhor and that you have been putting on a very believable act of ignorance. I don’t suppose you can talk to me? Tell me where you’re from? Who sent you? Give us a reason to trust you?”

  Jemma shook her head, finding it somewhat difficult to put words in the right order around Rian. She was somewhat grateful for the sunburn on her cheeks that would hide the fact that she was blushing. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been told to tell no other but Lord Siabhor. But I am here to help the Gardyn, I promise. If it were otherwise, the trees wouldn’t have let me into Treefort.”

  “Lord Siabhor.” Rian sneered. “I’m afraid Siabhor is out with his pack, hunting. We expect him to return tomorrow. Saxton, can you and your family make room for this girl tonight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Rian nodded gently, and they were dismissed.

  Six

  That night, Jemma’s mind travelled far in her dreams. It started off innocently enough, as she dreamt of an endless forest, and Saxton and his family riding unicorns, always out of reach. But soon it morphed, the green disappearing into grey as Jemma came out at the foot of a great mountain. She felt that she was being watched, and searched until she found a glassy eye fixed on her. The eye blinked, and the bluish-grey rocks around it began to move, extending long limbs and clawing its way up.

  Jemma held her breath as the creature became entirely visible against the mountainside.

  Dragon.

  This blue monster was easily as large as the red one she had dreamt of before, and looking at its bared teeth and cruel eyes, Jemma guessed it was just as dangerous.

  She scrambled back to try and get to safety, but the dragon flicked her into the air with its wing. Jemma screamed as she fell, landing on the creature’s broad, scaly back.

  Without warning, it cracked its wings and leapt into the air. Jemma clung onto the icy-cold spines on its back for dear life, watching the ground get further and further away.

  All she wanted was to close her eyes, but they were frozen open, having to take in every detail of this traumatic flight. The dragon’s body jerked with each stroke of its wings, as it propelled forwards.

  The mountain soon fell behind, and new hills came into view. On top of the largest, Jemma could just make out a stone building, half in ruin.

  “Now.” A loud, rumbling voice came from the beast that carried her, the sound enough to deafen her. “Now.”

  The dragon banked sharply, and Jemma felt her flimsy hold slip. She scrabbled against the rock-hard scales, but slid across the creature’s back. Jemma felt her foot touch air, and soon she was falling, falling...

  Jemma jerked awake, feeling very disorientated. She opened her eyes to see a canvas wall, the unfamiliarity confused her, and her thoughts were slow to catch up.

  She heard the whimpering of a young girl, then a woman’s voice speaking quietly, fearfully, “Stay with me, my darlings, and he won’t hurt you.”

  Siarla. Jemma suddenly remembered all that had happened yesterday, and exhausted from her journey, she had fallen asleep as soon as she’d returned to the Marsh family tent last night.

  She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and heard a hissing sound behind her. Jemma rolled over and her eyes widened with fear as she was confronted with a monster that was terrifyingly familiar. The first thing she noticed were the slanted yellow eyes glaring out of a hairy face, and pincer teeth through which foul breath rasped.

  With thoughts of yesterday still painfully fresh, Jemma tried to scramble backwards, but fear froze her to the spot and robbed her of her voice.

  “Humans be waste of time.”

  Jemma shuddered as the living nightmare spoke in rough, grating tones. How had this thing gotten into camp?

  The creature shifted its long, spindly limbs to move back and sit down. “They says you want to speak to me.”

  Jemma didn’t reply as she tried to take everything in, from the murky brown coat that seemed tinged with green; the strong, skeletal frame that looked like a cross between man and wolf; the spindly limbs that ended in hand-like claws, with nails several inches long and covered with what Jemma feared was dried blood. Then the face, covered with grubby hair, its features flattened. She had already witnessed that these mallus were hunters, nightmare prowlers.

  “No.” She finally replied, shakily. “I need to talk to Lord Siabhor.”

  The monster gave a bark of dissatisfaction, “I be Siabhor.”

  “What!” Jemma’s surprise overtook her nerves. If this creature was important to the Gardyn, perhaps she was joining the wrong side. “I thought you’d be human.”

  “I am mallus.” Siabhor hissed, his chest puffing out with pride. “Now, what you be wanting to say?”

  Jemma lowered her gaze, no longer able to look at the terrifying creature. She was just a messenger, she could give her message, then work on getting home. “My name is Jemma, I am of Lady Samantha’s home. The time for her return has come.”

  The mallus’ expression softened, then he got up and loped out of the tent, looking rather ungainly with his spindly limbs.

  Betony quickly stopped crying once the mallus had left, and Siarla loosened her grip on her children. The woman looked over at Jemma, her usually friendly expression turning cold. “How could you bring that thing to our tent?”

  “I’m so sorry, Siarla. I had no idea-”

  Siarla stood up, grabbing Kiya’s and Betony’s hands. “After an announcement like that, I imagine you will be summoned to the council shortly. You had best stay in the tent, so they know where to find you.” Without another word, Siarla dragged her daughters out into the sunlight.

  A few paces back, Russit followed his mother, pausing to grin at Jemma. The strange redhead had found respect from one of them, at least.

  Feeling guilty about scaring Siarla and the girls, Jemma spent the next half hour alone in the tent, fretting and nervously tidying. It helped to distract her, folding the blankets and straightening the beds. She felt a shiver of amusement, what would her mum say if she found Jemma making other people’s beds when she never made an effort with her own? The humour was quickly replaced by a pang of homesickness. Was her mum back from her night shift? Did she even go to work when Jemma didn’t return home yesterday? Jemma hated to think of her mum stewing alone at home, with no idea where her daughter was.

  Jemma felt a lead weight sink into her gut. She’d never given her mum a second thought when she’d followed Gran’s instructions – perhaps because she still didn’t believe that she would end up in another world. Now the shock of being in Enchena was star
ting to wear off, Jemma realised that it might have been a mistake.

  The tent flap was flung open, a fresh breeze and bright light breaking through Jemma’s thoughts. Angrud stood in the doorway, his cold eyes finding Jemma’s.

  “I am to take you to the council immediately.” He said, his tone short, and evidently annoyed.

  Jemma could only guess what was irritating Angrud today. Surely it wasn’t her fault this time, she hadn’t had time to say or do anything foolish yet this morning. “Lead the way.”

  Jemma thought briefly about pulling on her trainers, but her blisters protested. Going barefoot seemed weird, but frankly, Jemma didn’t care if they considered her more weird than she was yesterday, with her funny hair and general sense of not-belonging-here. She jogged out to catch up with Angrud, who marched through the camp with no concern for Jemma’s shorter legs.

  Treefort was mainly for the Gardyn families, so the council was gathering beyond the camp, at the far end of the valley. There were seven men that Jemma recognised from the evening meal, including Captain Rian, who looked even more handsome in daylight. Crouching low to the ground, initially mistaken as a shadow, Jemma saw Siabhor. There was also a woman that Siarla had pointed out was the head of Treefort, and there to represent the families.

  “Ah, Miss Jemma,” one of the men greeted, “now that you are here, you can explain your message to Siabhor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, where did you get your information from? How did you know we were planning to retrieve the Lady Samantha?”

  “I think everyone in Enchena can guess at our desire to have Samantha back, Rinar.” Captain Rian interrupted, drily. He turned his attention back to the strange girl. “But why now? What do you know, that we don’t?”

  Jemma felt a blush spread across her sun-burnt cheeks and she stumbled over her words. “Um.”

  Beside her, Angrud chuckled, obviously amused by the effect Rian was having on her. Jemma’s embarrassment was replaced by annoyance, couldn’t he give her a break for five minutes?