A Time of Ashes by Ru Pringle

Author:Ru Pringle [Pringle, Ru]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-20T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

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Tolls

THE CLIFFS looked as big as any he had seen rising from the seas of his own world.

As they drew closer, Murrin could see that much of their surface had been carved. There were titanic statues of men and beasts – some eroded and abstract, others crisp and detailed, obviously more recent. There were areas of utter smoothness, and extraordinary expanses of hieroglyphs or alphabetic writing, like texts made for gods

Buildings had also been hewn from the rock, giving the impression that an improbable wave had frozen as it broke, entombing them. Many boasted galleries of outsize glassless windows, and columns or colonnades of clashing styles. Murrin glimpsed minuscule figures watching from shadowy openings, singly or in groups. Guano-streaked and crumbling, some of the petrified cities looked as ancient as the cliffs themselves. Murrin wanted to quiz Tolin about them, but had neither the vocabulary nor the energy.

With each jolt, he could feel the tooth biting into his hand.

Night came on. As Murrin finally thought that he could stand the fatigue and the pain in his arse, back and legs no longer, their fur-hatted leader jabbed a finger off to the side of the road. The procession veered across the scrub, stopping at a clump of large boulders like eroded red bones. Encircled by small trees, the boulders proved to be crawling with furry animals, which two of the men stalked with arrows and unceremoniously shot.

Murrin and Tolin were dragged to the ground and their hands untied. Then both were re-tied, facing each other, spread-eagled between neighbouring trees so that they could sit – just – but neither lie down, stand properly, nor reach either hand with the other.

These men are far too competent for my liking, thought Murrin, still clutching his – so far useless – shark’s tooth, which by now had cut deeply into his palm. Plan B it is, then.

He was hopeful that plan B would occur to him soon.

Unfortunately, not content with tying them cleverly and securely, the men had put a guard on duty: a slab-faced brute with grey-tinged hair, who looked capable of watching the camp all night without blinking, let alone sleeping.

Before darkness the fire was already well underway. Smells of cooking meat tormented Murrin’s sinuses, making him salivate. He didn’t bother wondering whether he and Tolin would get any. The men were talking in low voices. Sometimes there was chuckling.

‘Who?’ he demanded of Tolin. The little old man sat serenely, eyes closed, legs crossed in the dust, arms stretched to his sides by the ropes as though he might fly. Behind him, an arm of the Wheel was rising, huge and silver-blue, above the silhouetted boulders. He opened his eyes, and Murrin nodded towards the camp fire.

‘Don’t know. From east. Beyond sand.’

‘Why …?’ he nodded his head between the two of them.

‘Why buy us?’ Thinking he had understood, Murrin nodded. ‘I hear them talk.’ Tolin cupped a hand towards his ear, emphasising the words. ‘They try …’ he said a word

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