Cloudstalker: Book 5 of the Lunation series

By J.J. Gadd

Book 5 in the compelling Lunation Series, where readers can choose their own path through the story.

The Boy and his companions consult the mythical Cloud Collectors for advice, only to discover they must now confront a greater evil that has lain dormant under their noses the whole time. Marama's servants are an unwitting cover for an ancient curse that has been secretly devouring the people of their land. It must be stopped!

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Oct 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781460702970

J.J. Gadd

JJ Gadd is an Australian writer based in regional Victoria. She likes green and growing things, cooking, and history - particularly antiquities. The call to writing came young, and she worked as a journalist and editor for more than 15 years, garnering the life experience she thought she’d need in order to do justice to the story she’s wanted to write since she was a girl. Now that she’s a grown-up she’s realised that life experience is something that keeps happening - but she wrote the story anyway.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

None slept on the island where even pirates feared to dock. Outside, the island women sang of death, a requiem that rolled down the hillsides to meet the waves, carrying the news that on Vania, terror prevailed again. Inside, the five companions — Branguin, Anselt, Eave, Arla, and Perry —were corralled together in a small room designed for just two; traditionally the sacrificial victim and the attendant. This time there were two attendants — the Eldest of the island women, Jehane, and her assistant, Chrysandra. The two women did for their five guests what was usually done for one: a ritual cleansing consisting of a bath in pure island spring water; a meal of herbed honey cakes; and a long Darcon prayer taught to them by the only man to have escaped going in to the chamber — the man who had thrown himself from a cliff rather than face what was in there a second time.

They did not speak. Arla, Perry and Anselt were the most distressed, each having been warned in separate ways against going into the chamber.

Perry ran through the story the Mer People had told him, and tried to fathom his role in the long-lost history of a great war so far distant that it seemed meaningless. He thought the Mers would be angry that the companions had disobeyed them and wondered if the sahers, Branguin and Eave, had a plan for how they might proceed once they went in. He also wondered if Jehane would be in trouble with the Mers for letting them go. Not that she had a choice. Branguin had been so definite about it and his tone had brooked no argument.

Was Jehane one of the Fish People, the Maahi, too, if she could speak to the Mers? And what about Arla? She had seen them from the ship. They had said ‘most’ others could not see them. What did it mean to be one of the Maahi? Was he the odd one out, or were many of the other people from his isolated hometown, Amore, Maahi too? He had been too shy to tell his companions that the Mers had said he was one of them. It seemed too strange, and he did not want to draw attention to himself.

Even thinking about it made him uncomfortable, and he shifted his thoughts to safer ground — Habsem. What had happened to the professor, and why had he gone to Amore? This was odd indeed. Why not get on another ship bound for Quira, and find Queen Marama, to aid her in her fight against the Plains Lord? Or stay on the ship to Worthing, where he could have helped Arla’s family with the resistance there? But no matter how much he thought it over, Perry found no answers.

Arla’s first thoughts were of guilt: would they now be preparing to enter the chamber if she had spoken out and told her full tale? But beating herself up about it was a waste of time — somehow, she thought they still would be. It was not like Branguin to stand by and let an injustice occur when he could do something about it. He could be so old-fashioned like that — though deep down, she knew she would have made the same decision as Branguin, no matter what Keir had said about certain death. How dramatic Keir was! Would she get to see him again? At least she would know where he was — stranded on either the ship or the island, for now. She thought that Yanek and the sailors would be happy to stay on the island for a little while, at least. But as to where she would be, well … that remained to be seen.

Her newly altered skin itched and hurt where it had come into contact with the salt water earlier; thankfully, the spring water she was now being washed with brought relief. She thought about her strange encounter with Keir earlier that night. Except for the stinging of her skin, she could hardly believe it had been real. But it had, and it appeared her body had changed irrevocably as a result. Keir had not warned her about that, curse him! She hoped that she would experience some beneficial side-effects, too. It was frustrating to know that she would now need to take great care of her skin and limit what touched it. Even her friends would not touch her now — the sensation of her sticky skin was so unpleasant for them.

But perhaps she would discover new skills with fire and freshwater, like that trick Branguin had done with the lights in the dining room just now. However had he managed it? She focused her attention on one of the candles nearby, and imagined it bending. To her surprise, it did! She blinked, unsure whether she could believe what she saw, and tried again. The flame bent and flickered. She tried again, this time with several candles at once. This was harder, but with great concentration, she managed it. She looked up and saw Eave looking first at the candles, and then at her. The old saher didn’t miss a trick! Eave had been watching Arla’s expression of great concentration, and noted the candle flames bending. At first he glanced to Branguin, thinking his descendant was developing the new skill he had exhibited in the dining room earlier in the night. But Branguin’s eyes were closed; his face white and still. However, Arla’s face … now there was the expression of a young person practising a spell. He knew it well, having just spent so much time teaching Branguin. But where had she learned it, and what skills had she developed? She was clearly not Geolwe, so what else could she be? He reflected on Perry’s story about his experience with the Mers. Why had they chosen the rope-maker to relate their story to? Had it been pure chance that Perry had wandered close enough to the sea, or had they selected him deliberately, and if so, why? And why tell him about the wars of the Crocodile Tribe and the Fish Tribe … could it really be altruistic? It made him wonder: could their descendants really still exist, just as he and Branguin were descendants of the Geolwe, the Dragon Tribe? Was Perry a descendant of the Fish Tribe, and Arla a descendant of another ancient race? Surely not the Crocodile Tribe? Her skin had gone rather strange. Something had happened with her this night, he knew it. He didn’t like his chances of getting her to talk about it, though. There was more of her powerfully independent grandmother, Guina, in her than he thought Arla would care to admit.

Anselt was wracked with guilt. He should have properly communicated what the turtle had told him. But it had just seemed so fortuitous that Perry had received the same message from the Mers — Branguin and the others had heard what the turtle wanted, even if from a different source. Would it have made a difference if he had also heard that Anselt had received the message?

Maybe. The guilt grew. Should he say something now? He did not want to interrupt the ceremony, but soon they would be irrevocably committed to the path he had promised the turtle he would do his utmost to stop them taking.

Anselt took a deep breath, and forced his mind to stillness. Naturally, as soon as there was a gap in his thoughts, Elodea slid in and filled it. He still felt cheated of news about her. Branguin and Eave had been so careful in what they told about their experience helping Marama repel the attack on Quira. It could be partly modesty: perhaps they did not wish to talk themselves up or speak too much about the role they had played. It could be that the nature of the deeds they had had to perform was not fit for sharing with too many people. Anselt had not seen war, but he had done his share of killing animals, and he knew it would be a dreadful thing to have to kill a man. He would not want to talk about that if he had been forced to do it. But it still didn’t quite add up. Why not mention that Elodea had helped them, too? She was as skilled a saher as her relatives, and surely would have helped them fight the Plainsmen.

Unless she wasn’t there. The thought hit him like a blow.

But no, that couldn’t be right — Branguin had said she was with Marama. But he had not said whether she was alive. Now it took all of Anselt’s willpower not to interrupt the ceremony and question his ward. He felt sure he had not been told the full story — not that he knew what he could do about it. He was committed to going into the chamber to face this nameless fear, maybe to meet the fearsome god Kral, and he was a long way from Elodea now, with no means to get to her.

Branguin felt Anselt’s thoughts trained his way, but did not open his eyes. He felt dreadful for misleading his guardian and friend and wished the situation were different. But what could he do? If Marama, the greatest queen that ever lived, the saviour of her people and the land of Kerria, had chosen to use the body of her descendant Elodea as her vessel on earth, who was he to gainsay her? What’s more, she seemed to regard her other kin — himself and Eave — as pawns available for her to use as needed in the fight to save the land. He did not dare disagree about that, either. Her plan to eliminate the army outside Quira had certainly been ruthlessly effective: he could never have thought of it himself. He did think she had been hurt though, by his and Eave’s decision to come and find their companions rather than stay with her and help her go on to fight the rest of the Plainsmen army in Worthing. To his mind, her reaction— what were the lives of their companions, when potentially compared to the lives of a whole city? — had been harsh. Try as he might, Branguin could not see it that way. His tie to his companions was too strong. Even if his choice did mean that perhaps his grandparents would suffer, or die. The thought of losing his cousin Arla, and Anselt, or even Perry, was worse. Bad enough that they had unwittingly lost Elodea.

Jehane and Chrysandra seemed to have come to the end of their prayer. They now drew a symbol on each of the companion’s heads, marking them as sacrificial victims, the islander’s annual tribute to the god Kral. Looking at the others, Branguin saw the mark looked like a fang, the tooth of a predator. He steeled himself, plumbing the very depths of his being to summon whatever courage he could muster. No matter what lay on the other side of the door to the chamber, he would meet it with bravery. At the very least, he felt sure they would find answers.

‘Dawn approaches,’ Jehane spoke. ‘The time to enter the chamber draws near. We thank you for your sacrifice for the women of Vania, and may the blessing of all that is holy go with you.’

He noted that she did not say ‘the blessings of Kral’ (he was her god, after all). Though the comment was probably not worthy of remark, it stuck with him. I hope she is right! I welcome the blessing of all that is holy, may it guide us safely in — and out — of this sinister chamber. But he did not give voice to the thought. Instead he bowed to the two women, and said:

‘I hope that we may resolve the mystery of this tribute, so that none must ever follow us through these doors.’

The two women bowed again, and Branguin stood before the entrance, his companions assembling by his side. Taking a deep breath, he watched the doors swing open to another room. It was also small, and quite featureless. There was a geometric pattern marked out on the floor: looking closely, Branguin saw its main feature was a star within a circle. It almost filled the whole room; which was also circular. Once they had all walked through, the doors swung shut with a resounding bang. For a moment, Branguin stared at his companions as they looked about them, not speaking. And then something odd began to happen. Branguin saw that they were becoming translucent. Looking down at his own hand, he saw that it was translucent too. The air wavered before him, like heat radiating off a hot surface, and the aspect changed.

He stood in the same position, they all did, but the surroundings were completely different. They were in a very large, windowless underground room. But it was nothing like the natural rocky cavern he had seen in the Eyolfi Mountains with Eave and Marama. Here the walls were straight and smooth, and covered in a silvery, almost transparent material that he did not recognise. It reminded him of the unprocessed rolls of wool he had seen at the markets around Quira, and he wondered if it was some form of soundproofing. The silvery wall material was uplit in a couple of places by red light emanating from an unknown source, creating a lurid effect. The lights were positioned at one end of the room, beside one of the room’s major features — the most enormous Kralstone he had ever seen. In the red light, the monster relief carved in the stone’s side looked eerie and baleful, and he thought fearfully of the Mers’ prediction.

Before them was the other main feature — a large pool of water, as rectangular as the room itself, and very, very deep. It was enormous — Branguin guessed it would take a good while to swim to the other end, which was so distant it was hard to make out. There did appear to be a tunnel entry or doorway of some sort on the other side of the water — which thankfully, they would not need to swim to, as there was a small ledge running all the way around the water. He did not fancy going into the black pool — it had an unhealthy air, and he suspected it was the source of the faint rotting smell he could detect.

‘Translocation!’ Eave exclaimed. ‘I knew it was possible. But how? It’s some kind of portal. I felt I almost saw how it worked, but not quite.’

Branguin smiled at his grandsire. Even here, Eave was thinking about learning something new — and fair enough, for it was the saher’s greatest desire to crack this spell, which he had not known until now was truly possible. But they had to remain focused.

‘Should we see what’s at the other end?’ Branguin asked, and received a few nods. Apart from the Kralstone, there was nothing around them worthy of note: bare stone floors, strange silver-coated walls.

But before they could move, something stirred in the water.

‘Look!’ Arla pointed. ‘There are rocks in the water. Where they there before? I don’t recall.’

‘No, they were not,’ Eave replied, his tone strained. ‘I noted particularly how calm the surface of the water was.’

‘They’re getting bigger,’ Anselt observed, and Branguin noted he instinctively reached for his bow— which he did not have. They had left all of their possessions with the islanders, and even their clothes were not their own — they had been garbed in the black and white island shift that Anselt seemed to have become used to, but was still strange to the others.

The bumps grew, until they were the size of small islands, and then, as they continued to rise, began to join up. A shape began to emerge: an animal shape. A very large animal shape.

‘Crocodile!’ Perry exclaimed. ‘Run!’

He did not wait for the others, but dashed toward the narrow ledge at the end of the pool. But the creature anticipated this, and its head rose all of the way out of the water and swung towards the ledge Perry ran for, blocking it off. Perry stopped, and backed up, to re-join the others. They had not moved — firstly they were trying to recall what a crocodile was, and secondly, it had happened so quickly there had been little time to react. The giant beast fixed them with a rheumy red eye, and gave a sort of animal grin, displaying its teeth to excellent effect — though they had been effectively visible already: a great row of them, sharp and inward pointing.

‘There will be no escape for any of you; it is useless to try.’ Branguin wasn’t sure how it spoke, but its mouth did move a little. Its voice was deep and rasping, and sent a chill down his spine.

‘Why should we try to escape?’ Branguin asked, ignoring Perry’s attempted flight. ‘We have come at the request of the god Kral, to offer our companionship, as he requested so long ago.’

The creature made a grating sound; they realised it was laughing.

‘Companionship? That’s right! Well, bless you. I am Kral, and your presence is most welcome. I do not get much news from the outside world; or at least, I did not until recently. It seems events are moving apace: Marama has returned from her exile, and my servants with her. I will not be alone for much longer, now that they can minister to me again. You will do, until they arrive. But then, it’s not like the ladies of Vania to send me more than one at a time! Their generosity grows! Or are you miscreants; that they wished to be rid of? That has been done before.’

‘Not miscreants: rather, we thought it best we came as their representatives, to negotiate the annual tribute. Must it be human? Can they not give you food, or wine, instead? Or some other item which you find valuable? It is a sore trial for the women to lose their sons and husbands, and more recently, as you know, themselves. Surely the previous sacrificial victims have told you of the suffering this causes.’

‘Strangely enough, they have not,’ Kral replied. ‘Actually, they usually need a bit of convincing to talk. But your news is no surprise to me; I intended it would have that effect. It brings me great pleasure every year when the victim arrives: knowing the torture the sacrifice must have caused the other islanders. Such misery and hate it must inspire, choosing who must go! Perfectly delicious.’

‘You’re repulsive,’ Arla said, causing Kral to laugh even more.

Branguin did not respond. He was trying to think of a way to manage the monster. Certainly, they could create walls of air around the water’s periphery, but then what? Escape and leave it here to continue to wreak its misery and horror on continuing generations? He exchanged a glance with Eave. What was the older saher thinking? His face was a study of concentration. Was he preparing a spell?

‘I think I’ll eat you first,’ the monster was saying to Arla. ‘But maybe I should save you till last, just to make sure you’re as repulsed as you possibly can be before you go. Now before any of you think of doing anything foolish, listen up! The human heart is an organ with which I am most familiar: I can stop it at will. So think twice before you try anything: it could be your last action.’

Taking no notice of this; Branguin built a shield of air between them and the crocodile, in case it decided to pick one of them off unexpectedly. To his shock, it did not work. Something blocked his magic. Kral grated again.

‘It’s no use trying Dragon magic here, Yellow-Eyes! I have warded against it. I can’t have Kerria rise up against me in protest now, can I? Ohhh, it has been such a long time since I have feasted on Geolwe, and I can’t tell you how excited I am about the prospect. Your flesh gives my powers the greatest boost of all human types.’

Belatedly, Branguin realised that the Mers’ warning had been true — they would be lucky to escape with their lives, let alone destroy the monster. How foolish he had been, and blindly valiant! It had never occurred to him that his newly acquired skills in magic could be disabled. But escape they must! For their own sakes; and to convince Marama of the evil that took place under her own unwitting patronage. How many people had Kral devoured, and many more would he go on to do so, if they did not escape? At least Kral had let one thing slip — they were on Kerria. That was a good start. He remembered Eave’s words, spoken weeks ago on the ship, that Kerria would not suffer the Geolwe, the indigenous yellow-eyed People of the Dragon, to be harmed. He hoped that this was true, and the wards would not stop the land from learning of