Free Motherstone by Maurice Gee Page A

join Osro.’
    ‘Will they really follow him?’
    ‘The Hotlands are theirs. They believe darkness lies outside. But Osro will lead them with his Weapon. Fire and light. They will follow.’
    ‘Will they stay here long – at the water-hole?’
    ‘The men are setting up targets for their spears. They will stay all morning. And Slarda comes behind. So …’ He shrugged.
    ‘What about water?’
    ‘A mouthful each.’ He looked at his flask. ‘We must reach the jungle by midday. Otherwise …’
    They backed down the slope and rounded the water-hole to the south. Soon they crossed the trail left by the Hotlanders and struck out into the dunes. Steen kept them in hollows and when he climbed at last the water-hole was gone and sand was all about like a sea. Susan looked ahead for the jungle but only pale sky showed on the horizon. Later it vanished in a pool of heat. Steen tore head-coverings from his blanket but heat burned through and clung to them, dry and sticky at once. The sand radiated heat, at the same time dragging their feet. Susan felt she was walking up to her knees, but floating too, horizontal, squeezed flat by the pressure from above and below.
    ‘Steen, I need some water.’
    ‘One sip.’ He pulled the flask away. ‘We’re not halfway there.’
    They went on. She had a time of clarity and fierceness. She followed Steen, stepping in his steps. If this was the worst then she would do it.
    ‘Steen?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘How close?’
    ‘An hour. The jungle. See.’
    Something was forming in the heat. It would not stay still.
    ‘It looks alive. It looks like a snake.’
    Steen gave her the flask. ‘Finish it now.’ It made a hollow rattle and was empty before her mouth was wet. Steen let the last drops fall on his palm. He licked them off and fastened the flask on his belt. ‘Water in the jungle. Can you get there?’
    ‘I think so.’
    Half an hour later she wasn’t sure. The dunes had a steep side and a flat side, and the steep always faced them and had to be climbed. Steen began hauling her up like a swimmer from a pool. Then he stood her and pulled her to the next climb. She heard him grunt and pant, and when she managed to look at him his eyes were blind from his exertions. She wondered why he made them go so fast.
    ‘Steen?’
    ‘We must keep moving.’ He was using himself up and she saw no need for it. The jungle was close. The glassy wall of heat was lifted away. She saw individual trees, and green round heads printed on the sky.
    ‘Steen?’
    ‘Slarda is coming.’
    ‘Where?’ She looked back. Nothing was there, only dune-tops, salty-white. Then a brown speck showed, and swelled from the surface into a questing four-legged shape. She thought it was a dog, but it stood, grew into a stick-limbed man or woman, treading quickly; and shrank again, sank into a hollow between dunes, and went from sight.
    ‘Is it her?’
    ‘Yes. She’s closing. I have watched her.’
    ‘Has she seen us?’
    ‘She follows our footmarks. That is her way. We can’t get to the jungle, there’s no time. Not both of us.’
    She stared at him with fear. He was going to leave her. But he shook his head, smiled in his flat-mouthed way. ‘I cannot save myself. I don’t know why. I must stay and fight. She has her crossbow, so I must hide and ambush her.’
    ‘If she sees you first …’
    ‘Then I am dead. It doesn’t trouble me. All things die. But I die as Steen, not Osro’s man. And not as priest. I thank you for that.’
    ‘Can’t we both – ’
    ‘No. While I fight with Slarda you must reach the jungle. Wait there, I will find you.’ He gave his smile again. ‘If it’s her – then I’m sorry. Quickly. Go.’
    She tried to say thank you but could not make her mouth work. Instead, she touched his hand. Then she turned and left him. She walked down the slope of the dune and reached the face of the next. When she looked back Steen was gone. She climbed the face, using hands and feet, and looked