Chapter 33

Never paused to look up at the wide stair that had been cut from one of the trunks.

The fallen tree was one of many that made up the support for the village-sized platform above, every trunk at least half again as tall as he. Between each one rested huge wedges to prevent movement, though the floor of the valley was level. The butts of the trunks had been worn down by wind, rain and forgotten saw marks; he rested a hand against the one that had the stair cut within. “Who made this place?”

“Supposedly the Divine Throne did,” Muka said. “A century ago at least, and now probably a decade since it was used. The performers stopped coming after a disastrous storm as they considered it an ill omen.”

Ayuni was already climbing the steps. Never hurried after her, Muka close behind.

Wind carried the scent of stagnant water across the vast platform, and with it, the dull sound of torn canvas snapping. Ayuni had paused at the nearest ring of steel posts, running her fingers across the chain link, where once rope must have stretched.

“I have definitely been here. There was laughter and light and music. I remember gasps of awe too... and darkness on our way. Or as we left?” Her expression softened. “I can almost see the performers and their costumes again. They seemed so glamorous; I wanted to be like them, to travel and see the land.”

“Then we are on the right track,” Never said.

“I’m sure of it.”

She led them across the boards, which barely creaked beneath their feet despite their faded colour. A circular tent of leeched blue, half in tatters, stood nearby, tall letters painted on its side. It seemed most were missing, but it was enough for Muka to identify the tent as that of a painter. “When I visited, the man within was painting a horse with wings... it slept within a field of golden grass.”

Ayuni pointed to the next decaying tent as they neared, this one much larger. Part of the roof sagged with standing water. “What of this one, Muka? I seem to remember one of the red tents had animals?”

“I think so, yes.”

Inside was only the skeletal remains of a pen, not even the hint of straw or even ancient droppings. The central column had been scratched but Never found the marks to be old when he bent to examine them.

The next pavilion had kept far more of its canvas; a bird exploded from the corner, feathers drifted from the nest. It clung to the edge of the roofing and looked down at them, beak snapping as it chirped.

“Forgive us,” Never said, sweeping a bow.

Similar scenes were repeated as they drew closer to the main pavilion, which had borne the brunt of time better than other tents. It concealed something of an arena, the ghosts of raised seating encircled a clear floor littered with debris now, but which must have once been the focus point. Of the chairs that remained, all were rotten or broken, some little more than kindling. Vandals or folks desperate for firewood in cold times?

Here, the central column helped support the roof. Birds still roosted high above, their... gifts clear in piles across the floor. Yet something shone in the light. “I see something,” he said, approaching the gleaming object.

It was long and thin... a silver cane. Something of such value would hardly have remained in plain sight for so long. He slowed as he neared it; the floor around was littered with writings. Some in faded paint, some that might have even been blood and yet other words had been scorched into the very wood. The writing was hard, jagged, writ large too.

He bent down, hand outstretched.

“Best not to touch it,” Muka said.

Never stopped. “Is it cursed then?”

“So say the words around it, yes,” he replied.

Ayuni’s eyes were a little wide as she read. “Is this the cane carried by the Master of the Vale? The man who betrayed the performers?”

“Yes.” Muka folded his arms as he spoke. “During a great storm that claimed the lives of many, it is said he ran forth – releasing pegs and lashings, driving animals free and calling the lightning down upon the Vale. Supposedly, he was rudama and could have eased the storm but instead, he fanned the flames. None know why.”

“No wonder it has not been touched.”

“They say his stomach was filled with stones and his body buried headfirst.”

Never shook his head. “Well, enough of that delightful history lesson perhaps. Ayuni, you said you had been here. Is it possible your village lies beyond the valley, higher in the mountains?”

“I believe so.”

“Then we’ll have to find a trail somewhere.”

“I remember darkness – but it didn’t seem to be night,” she said with a nod, gaze caught in a far-off place. “And before we reached this place the light was so sudden and so bright. It hurt my eyes... I think there was a cave or a tunnel.”

“Then let’s keep going,” Never said.

Outside, the abandonment continued until only a handful of tents remained between them and the edge of the giant platform. Beyond it in turn waited dense forest creeping across the empty space, animal trails visible at its edges but nothing that screamed ‘main road’ or ‘highway’.

“I suppose one is as good as any other,” he said. “So long as it’s near the next set of steps. They must be a little farther—”

“Wait,” Ayuni said. She was staring at one of the sagging tents – it might have once been a bright yellow, but it was a poor reflection of its former self now. Nothing about it seemed distinctive, compared to any other. It had a little less canvas perhaps.

Never rejoined her.

“This one is familiar.” She led them across the floorboards and inside, revealing a typical pile of debris, wood, steel and rotting ropes. Again, nothing to separate it from any other tent. She pointed to the mess in the corner. “Can we move that?”

“Of course.” Never set to work, joined by Muka and Ayuni, and in short order they had cleared the floor. It was grimy, slick with the rot, a darker shade than the rest of the flooring.

Ayuni was pacing, muttering to herself about a ‘trigger’. Finally, she stopped and moved to a spot beside the newly revealed floor. Once there, she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, as if in prayer. She took a single step to her left then, and stomped her foot down, hard.

Something clicked.

A trap door had popped open – it rested within the floor where space had been cleared.

Ayuni beamed over at them. “I knew it!”

“This leads to your village?” Never asked.

“I think so. Now that I’m here I’m remembering... the tunnel is below the Vale and we used it only when the travellers were here. I think it leads up into the mountain, to my village.”

“I hope it wasn’t the only way in or out,” Never said, “since it obviously hasn’t been used for a long time.”

She paused. “No, I believe there was another way... a river? I think Mother and I used to wait at the water’s edge for a raft. It’s hard to be sure, but I know we’ll find her there.”

Never exchanged a glance with Muka, whose expression was hardly a mirror of Ayuni’s hope and confidence.

“I saw that,” she told them. “And I have faith, so you have to as well.”

“We have faith in you, Ayuni,” Muka said.

Never nodded.

“Then let’s get moving,” she said, her smile just as bright as before.