As soon as she was able to move they left the makeshift
shelter. The boy had insisted. Oztrakii were all over
the harbour, he said, and they'd be found for sure
if they stayed where they were. So although her body
and head still ached, and her heart wept, Gheera agreed
to go to the special hiding place that he had prepared.
Of course
he was right, she admitted as she fumbled her few
belongings together. It was far too dangerous where
they were. Even when the CroNullas had controlled
the harbour basin, the north side had always been
unruly. Now that the CroNullas were finished and hell
had been let loose, anything could happen.
Finished.
Such a final word. The CroNullas were finished. Gheera
found it almost impossible to believe. They'd seemed
so mighty, so all-powerful, and now they were nothing,
only a memory. Wiped out by the barbarian tribes.
The CroNullas had always ruled the harbour basin,
at least that's the way it seemed to young Gheera.
She knew the stories, the legends and myths. Who better?
Gheera the Scribe, that's who she'd been for years,
living within the walls of CBD, the famed CroNulla
capital. For years she'd written down the myths as
told to her by Yrec the Yarncarrier.
She knew
of the Silence, the time after Nuhklar's seering breath
kissed death into all that still dared live, when
people cringed in tunnels beneath the smouldering
city. She knew of how the first CroNullas had crawled
from those tunnels, led by Jarrah the White Eyed,
and built their tiny walled city of CBD from the ruins
of a once far bigger city now all but swallowed by
the fogs of time. She knew the names of every Sheboss,
every Yarncarrier, every General, every battle that
had been fought in the long struggle that had finally
led to Cronulla glory. All of it was in her head.
South to
the Bulli Pass, north towards Newcastle, and west
to the mountains that had once been blue, over this
area the CroNullas had ruled through a series of forts
and outposts. They'd established order in an unruly
land, keeping the dreaded Oztrakii at bay, and providing
a kind of peace that had not been known for a long
time. But now they were gone, their once great city
no more than smouldering ruins. Gheera could still
smell the smoke drifting across from the other side
of the harbour, although all had become silent there.
'Come.'
She felt
Boy kneal beside her. The young tunnel boy had become
her friend in the old city, read the diaries with
her, and in the end had saved her from certain death.
She felt him next to her. He didn't even have a name,
never needed one for he'd lived alone beneath the
city. She'd called him Boy once, and the name had
stuck. Gheera felt him lean across and take the small
case that contained the diaries. Instinctively she
clutched at his arm. They were special to her, the
diaries, very special. Look after them, she almost
whispered, but then felt his hand rest on hers and
realised she needn't worry. Of course he'd look after
them. They were special to him too.
'Come.
We must go.'
Gheera
rose, pain jabbing at her with every movement. She
turned her head, as though looking around, but saw
nothing of course, her eyes completely bandaged. Even
had they not been she still wouldn't have seen anything.
The soldiers had looked after that with their burning
stakes. The memory still snapping in her mind, Gheera
at once reached up to the bandages and began tugging
at them.
'No!' Boy
shouted.
'What's
the point?' she shouted back. 'I won't see again.'
'Leave
them.' The boy's voice was firm. He grabbed at Gheera,
and for a moment their hands and wills locked together.
'They're
useless!'
'Leave
them!' Boy held Gheera's hands tightly. He was much
stronger than her now, although it hadn't always been
the case. Even so, she fought to free herself, her
fingers straining to claw at the hated bandages and
the hated blindness that sneered beneath them.
'I'll never
see again,' she screamed at him and the blackness.
'We both know that.'
'Time!'
Boy gently insisted. 'Give it time.' Gheera heard
his voice and felt his face close to hers. She felt
his body too, and the strength that was now in it,
a strength that could be her's as well. 'Time.' His
grip did not loosen as he whispered the word. 'You
will see again.'
How often
he'd said that. Each day for the last week Boy had
carefully bathed Gheera's eyes and smeared them with
a special ointment he made from various ingedients,
before wrapping them once more in bandages. What exactly
was in the ointment, Gheera had no idea, only that
it stank to high heaven and stung her eyes whenever
he applied it. Useless muck, she felt certain, a waste
of time! But for some reason she allowed him to attend
to her each day. Blind hope.
'Gheera
will see again.' Every time he bathed her eyes he
repeated the claim, and although Gheera laughed at
him, he always sounded so sure that she found herself
believing too. At least wanting to believe. Blind
faith.
Gheera
sighed, and gradually allowed her arms to drift downwards,
away from her face. When they were at her side she
then slumped forward, sank her face onto his chest
and cried. Boy folded his arms around her, and slowly
the two of them rocked back and forth.
'Is it
morning yet?' Gheera tried to feel the time of day
with her face straining towards the sky.
'Not yet.
But soon the sun will pull itself from the sea,' Boy
answered. 'We must go now while the darkness is with
us and the fog still on the water.' Gheera allowed
herself to be led away.
A small
canoe nodded at the water's edge as the boy led the
girl across the rocks. They moved quickly, despite
her blindness, for she trusted him. Soon they were
in the boat, she in the front, the boy behind with
the paddle. He pushed quietly away from the rock ledge,
gently dipping his paddle into the water, first one
side, then the other. In this way they slid out of
sight.
*
* *
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