Aethertide (Chapter 5)

In the pitch darkness of the jungle, with the psychedelic lights from the fungus and the crystal glow behind her, everything seemed nightmarish for Olivia as she picked out the details of the trio of strangers who threatened her at spearpoint. Dressed in loose smocks bound at the waist and shoulders with hide straps, they all had similar sun-bleached hair and tanned skin. Two of the three were scanning the treeline and back up the slope down which Olivia had slid. The one with his spear pointed at Olivia had a hardened, unblinking look that she recognised from alley dwelling thugs of Canning Town. It was made somehow even harsher by the swipe of blue paint across his eyes.

“The Ramoaz could just be hiding. Let’s get out of here, Morn,” one of the trio said. She turned back to the thuggish one known as Morn, who ignored her. “Morn!”

“She touched the crystal. You know what that means,” Morn snapped back over his shoulder without taking his eyes from Olivia.

“I know that if you don’t submit her to the Magi first, they’ll make you the example instead,” said the third, a man whose beard and hair merged in one mass of curls around his head.

Morn snorted and jabbed Olivia with the tip of his spear. She flinched but the thick leather of her suit protected her from the worst.

“Get up, you,” he said.

“Rude,” Olivia muttered, getting to her feet. Everything ached and pins and needles prickled parts that had gone numb from sitting on the ground.

Morn prodded her again, trying to guide her with the tip of his spear. “Get a move on. That way.”

Olivia obeyed. She eyed the other two strangers who seemed more intent on the jungle than on her. Clearly, she wasn’t dangerous enough to worry about, but something out there was.

“Is the Ramoaz what you call the large creature with scales and feathers?” she asked, her curiosity overriding her fear.

“Everyone knows the Ramoaz,” the curly bearded one said.

“She’s not from here, Hoss,” the woman said with a sigh. “Look at her clothes.”

“You think she’s an Allander, Noti?” Hoss asked.

“Shut up the both of you,” Morn said and he jabbed Olivia again. “You as well.”

Olivia’s lips tightened as she fought to not chastise him for his rudeness. Her teeth ground together as she walked on ahead.

Oliva walked through the night at spear point for what felt like forever. She considered trying to run away but thought better of it. With no clue of where she was or where to run to the natives would likely hunt her down with ease. If she was lucky maybe they would give her some clues. She pressed a hand to her stomach as it gave a guttural growl. If she was really lucky, maybe they would feed her.

The telltale flicker of firelight drew Olivia’s eye to the valley bottom where a village came into view. Thatched huts clumped together, some merging into small complexes, others sprouting upper floors as if the architects had taken inspiration for their designs from the fungus that filled the jungle around them. As they descended the valley’s bowl, they came across a well-worn track leading to a wooden arch through which Olivia was prodded. Villagers cast curious glances toward the group as they moved between the huts. But Olivia was used to that. A well-dressed black woman in London got used to being stared at very quickly.

The village presented another mystery for Olivia. Never had she heard of a people with the villager’s brown skin and sun-bleached hair from a place that she could only describe as equatorial in climate. And yet here they were. Hundreds of them. She scanned around for signs of colonisation, artefacts of European origin that might hint that the village was a lost missionary village or something of the sort. But there was nothing. These people had either been here for a very long time or they were completely cut off from outside influence.

Her pondering was cut short when she saw the source of the firelight that had made the village glow from a distance. A central open area of the village was surrounded by fiery torches. The villagers milled back and forth in the flickering glow, stacking wood around a thick upright pole. Olivia stopped sharp enough that Morn’s spear brought a stab of pain to her back. She had spotted a wooden lattice cage to one side of the growing pyre, a woman sat scowling inside and realised that the pole was charred black.