Torchwood: Exodus Code

into a madness that it had taken her months to recover from, and her sensitivity to the world was increasing the further she crossed into womanhood.
    Instead, the Priestess sent two girls scurrying to call the rest of the Cuari from the mountain above the village. The pair dashed up into the mountainside. The women set down their tools, hitched up their llamas and all of them processed down the lush green slopes, their chatter like birdsong in the wind.
    The Cuari gathered quickly and quietly in front of the Priestess. Propped at the old woman’s feet was a lavishly embroidered pouch, concealing something that was the shape and size of a head.
    ‘
Mujeres de la montaña
,’ said the Priestess, raising her arms to the sky, speaking in the language of their Cuari ancestors. ‘As the oracle has foretold, the deity has made his escape from the heavens. We must prepare him for his return to Uku Pacha so that time may be free.’
    The Cuari glanced at each other, excitement in their eyes. A few whispered among themselves, one or two nodded and looked to the heavens in silent prayer. No one chanted or shouted or praised the heavens aloud. They were far too close to the temple and to Gaia for any vocal demonstrations of their faith.
    ‘Gaia will lead you to him,’ said the Priestess, addressing four of the strongest Cuari kneeling before. They were dressed in colourful tunics, with the tribal symbol, three interlocking circles, raised to a point tattooed on the backs of their necks. Their feet were bare, their hair neatly braided, their brown faces mapped with sun and suffering. ‘Remember that if he is indeed the one from the stars, he must be returned here before nightfall, before the heavens discover that he has gone.’
    The Priestess lifted the heavy screen from the temple entrance and Gaia stepped out into the sunlight, her cowl protecting her eyes from the dazzling light. The entire village prostrated themselves in front of Gaia and the Priestess. A few of the younger women who had been children when Gaia had first gone into the temple had never seen her before, and they gasped at her ethereal beauty, their voices tickling Gaia’s toes. She looked across to the younger women and smiled broadly at them.
    The Priestess motioned Gaia to step forward and hold out her wrapped hands. She anointed each of Gaia’s fingertips with balsam oil in a blessing to the mountain for Gaia’s safe passage before handing her the head-shaped pouch, which Gaia accepted with a curt bow. Then, with the help of another Cuari, Gaia slipped the pack over her shoulders with great care, balancing its weight against the tilt of the sword in the sash across her chest. As a guide, Gaia knew she and the Priestess were the only living beings who could have any direct contact with the deity from the heavens. With all her heart, Gaia prayed he was the one – his presence among them, his return to them, would allow her to bring an end to her suffering without bringing dishonour to the Cuari from the gods.
    Before Gaia and the elders began their ascent to the mountain’s flat top, one of the village women passed Gaia a pouch filled with water, two warm tortillas and a lump of goat’s cheese. Knowing they would not be stopping until they reached their destination, Gaia tore into the sparse meal as she led the procession up into the canyon towards the billowing smoke.
    For anyone else the climb would have been a difficult one, but the Cuari had spent their lives on this mountain and they were as agile in their movements and as skilled in their climbing as any mountain lion, especially Gaia. She kept a safe distance ahead of the elders so that their odours and the low hum of their conversation caused her as little discomfort as possible.
    When the narrow pass began to flatten out towards the plateau and a field of ice was visible like glass on the horizon, the temperature dropped drastically. The cold chimed in Gaia’s ears like distant goat bells. Despite the wax plugs, Gaia could hear a long low moan of anguish in an outcropping of rocks directly up ahead. Gaia tasted saltwater and her fingers tingled. She knew they were close to him.
    Gaia raised her hands and stopped the elders, pointing up ahead to the sagebrush and the rocks where the man’s mangled legs and twisted feet were visible, twitching against the ground.
    The Cuari stopped, not shocked at the sight of the shattered body and broken limbs caught between the rocks – they had