‘It’s beautiful,’ he told her, patting the beast’s long neck. She flicked her tongue to taste the air. In his mind Gilwyn tasted it with her, fresh and sweet. Behind him, he heard Ghost give an impressed whistle as he reached the hilltop.
‘Gods above, this must be it,’ he said. Behind his heavy wraps his eyes danced. ‘I’ll admit it — you’re a fine guide, Gilwyn Toms. This place is. . I don’t know what to say. It’s miraculous.’
Not since leaving the library had Gilwyn felt so much at home. There was peace here, and a kind of strange belonging. He could not stop himself — he was riding down the hillside instantly.
‘The kreels are by the river,’ he cried over his shoulder. ‘Meet me there!’
‘No, Gilwyn, wait for me. .’
But Gilwyn was already gone, letting the kreel abandon her psychic yoke and plunge down the hill, past the rocks and spreading trees, into the cooling shadows. They ran like children together, Emerald purring a strange, reptilian song, Gilwyn laughing and urging her on, deeper into the valley. Behind him he could hear Ghost on his drowa, cursing and struggling to keep up. But they were safe here; Gilwyn knew that certainly. There were no rass in this valley, no dangers at all, and so he let Emerald gallop freely toward the river. He saw kreels along the way, mostly alone, some in small packs, slumbering beneath the sun or huddled near rocks, wild lizards that had never felt a rider on their backs or the bit of a bridle in their powerful jaws. The enormity of the creatures stunned Gilwyn. They were ancient, countless years older than Emerald, breeding and populating their valley with young. Gilwyn stretched his mind to greet them. They replied with laconic curiosity.
To the river, he told Emerald.
He relaxed and let the kreel carry him away. How long had it been since he’d seen clouds? Only a year, but it seemed like forever. He gazed at them off to the east, a thick train of white rope travelling across the distant mountain-tops. Drawing closer, he could begin to hear the river, feel its urgent rush. They rounded a hillside and the bank came into view. Emerald slowed. Gilwyn craned to see it better. The river was wide here, panning out to its muddy sides. Long-legged birds dipped their bills into the water, fishing out food, while tiny creatures jumped through the trees, shaking down leaves. And everywhere were kreels. Gilwyn saw them each place he looked, prowling the riverbank or stopping to drink or mating in the shadows while others lingered nearby. The sun dappled their shining skin. Great, long tails stretched contentedly in the sandy earth. Emerald let her tongue taste them, wary of her distant cousins. Amazingly, the kreels took little notice of the foreign pair.
‘They’re not afraid of us,’ Gilwyn told his mount. ‘We’re friends, after all.’
Somehow, the kreels of the valley knew this and so made no moves against them. Gilwyn slid down from Emerald’s back and carefully walked toward the riverbank, toward a brood of young kreels who had come to drink. As he drew near, the creatures looked up from the water to study him. There were a dozen of them at least. Gilwyn felt their playful thoughts. He paused some ten yards away from them, then watched as they returned to their business. Around him the larger kreels took no notice at all.
‘This is amazing,’ he sighed. He breathed the valley air, smelling flowers in it. Without moving from his spot, he crossed his legs beneath him and sat in the moist sand.
An hour later, Ghost had finally caught up with him. The Inhuman’s cross face appeared around the bend, stubbornly dragging his drowa behind him. The arrival of the new invaders caused the kreels to stir. Ghost paused and stood like a statue, his eyes darting with worry.
‘Gilwyn,’ he whispered angrily, ‘what’s all this?’
‘Don’t be afraid, Ghost,’ said Gilwyn. ‘They won’t hurt you. Just move quietly and leave the drowa. If you come slowly you won’t alarm them.’
‘I have a better idea. Why don’t you just come out of there?’
Gilwyn shook his head. ‘No, you come,’ he said. ‘It’s safe, I promise.’
Warily, Ghost stepped closer, letting go of his drowa and approaching the riverbank. The kreels watching him lowered their heads and flicked their tongues, but made no move to threaten him. Eventually, Ghost gained his confidence and reached Gilwyn. He looked down at his companion, his grey eyes stormy.
‘Are you controlling them?’ he asked.
‘Not at all. I told you — they’re not afraid of us.’
‘Afraid of us?’ Ghost reached down a hand. ‘Come on, Gilwyn, we can’t stay here like this. We should fall back a little, make a plan to get them out of here.’
‘We’re staying,’ said Gilwyn flatly. ‘Right here, for the whole day. I want them to get to know me, so they’ll trust me.’
‘Can’t you do that from the top of a hill? Someplace safer?’
‘You can go if you want. I’m staying here.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ hissed Ghost. ‘I’m here to protect you.’
Gilwyn hushed him. ‘Not too loud. You see?’ He gestured toward the kreels surrounding them. ‘There’s nothing to protect me from, Ghost. They’re gentle. They won’t hurt us unless they feel threatened.’
‘Gilwyn, I’ve seen these things in battle. .’
‘Not these kreels,’ said Gilwyn. ‘They haven’t been trained. Now sit, will you? I have to concentrate.’
Ghost finally relented, sitting down next to Gilwyn and fighting to relax. After a few moments he asked, ‘What are you concentrating on?’
‘The young,’ replied Gilwyn. He smiled, because the young kreels were so open. ‘I’m telling them about us.’
Gilwyn and Ghost spent the rest of the day in the valley. By early afternoon, Ghost had tired of sitting by the river while Gilwyn communed with the kreels, and so set out to explore the surrounding area. Two hours later he returned with a satchel full of fruit, a prize that nearly tumbled from his arms when he saw Gilwyn in the water. Gilwyn noticed his friend at once, waving him closer. He had waded into the river to be nearer to the kreels, eventually touching them, then, at last, playing with them by splashing water over their scaly hides. The young kreels had responded in kind, using their tails to drench him. He was soaked by the time Ghost reappeared.
‘What do you say?’ Gilwyn called. ‘Want to go for a swim?’
Ghost lowered his satchel, his white face scandalised. ‘Great Fate Almighty. .’
‘You look hot, my friend!’ Gilwyn chided. ‘Come and get cool.’
A dozen more kreels had come to the river, summoned by Gilwyn’s mind call and fascinated by his foreignness. Many had come into the river to play, while others — with their mothers — simply watched from the bank. They formed a long line there, barring Ghost’s way. The Inhuman stopped cold, refusing to take another step.
‘Damn it, Gilwyn,’ he rumbled. ‘I’m not coming any closer. Get out of the water now!’
Before Gilwyn could reply he felt the surge of a kreel beneath him, its long neck squeezing between his legs and lifting him out of the water.
‘Whoa!’ he squealed, delighted as the beast tossed him into the air. Splashing back into the river, the same kreel was there to right him, nudging him gently to his feet. ‘You see, Ghost?’ he called, wiping water from his eyes. ‘They’re friendly!’
‘Oh yes, just like puppies,’ drawled Ghost. ‘They’re adorable. Now get out of there. . please!’
Gilwyn waded toward the muddy shore, delighted with what had happened. He was sure now the kreels would listen to him. They had already listened, in fact, and he had told them everything. Even these wild ones were remarkably open to his mind, eager to learn and please him.