by Jon Jacks
‘Surely it’s not happening again!’ Degrat wailed worriedly.
*
Chapter 19
The ground was moving.
Solid stone, no longer so solid.
It was rising up in mounds everywhere around them. It was this movement that was disturbing the smaller stones, sending them cascading down the incline.
The moving sections of stone continued to rise, what had been mounds shaking off their covering of dust and powdered stone. Each mound didn’t rise uniformly but, rather, bent in half, one side originally rising more rapidly than the other, until that also bent halfway down to rise up like a small hill.
They rose like rapidly growing plants, shooting up from the ground as if they were huge trees.
But they weren’t trees; as more and more of the powdered stone and earth fell away from them in great cascades, they were revealed to be shaped like men, giants made of rock.
If the iron horse had been made of flesh and blood rather than iron, it might have reared in fright, thrown off his heavy, cumbersome load. But it continued on its path through the rising giants of rock unconcernedly.
Tesetra briefly considered whirling the horse around; she decided instead that it was best to continue on their way, hoping they would clear this birthing ground of stone giants before they were spotted. The giants, after all, were still covered in dust, dust that must be clouding their vision. Moreover, the already disturbed dust had created a swirling cloud, which should veil their passing from clear view.
Within the dust, Degrat formed his Smoking Mirror.
He looked into their hearts, the hearts of the stone giants.
He was surprised, naturally, that they had hearts; that he could read hearts of stone.
And he was more surprised than ever to see kindness within those hearts.
‘They don’t mean us any harm,’ he cried out. ‘We don’t have to run from them!’
*
The stone giants were indeed kind.
They fed on berries, on vegetable roots, all of which were in short supply this high in the mountains, of course. It was a relief, however, to find that such otherwise fearsome giants didn’t feed on flesh, as could be expected of their gruesome nature.
The giants were as much surprised by the way Tesetra, Degrat and Fandran looked as the three of them were shocked by these men of living stone. When they had gone to sleep it was when the world was being destroyed, their closest friends either crumbling, turning into a dark earth, or transforming into strange beasts the like they had never seen before – ‘Many taking on a skin,’ one added, indicating Degrat’s jaguar tattoo, ‘like yours.’
‘The first people!’ Degrat breathed excitedly. ‘The ones who were turned into the first jaguars, the other fearsome creatures of the jungle; when their world was destroyed!’
‘We lived long ago, it seems,’ another one of the giants murmured sagely after Degrat had explained the legends of the Four Suns as quickly as he could.
‘Then what has awoken us?’ One of the giants looked about himself, seeking clues that might lead to an answer to his question.
‘The world has been destroyed again,’ Tesetra explained. ‘The serpents sang; and the Earth moved!’
‘Hah, I see,’ a giant nodded as he munched on one of the few pieces of root the stone men’s scrummaging had managed to turn up. ‘This, too, happened in our time. One of the Serpent gods; he appeared, and transformed the Serpent who had become the Sun into one of these patterned beasts.’
‘Ah, so the Jaguar god didn’t become a jaguar through choice, it seems,’ Degrat said with a rare smile. ‘This was the way the Serpent god overthrew him!’
‘Serpent gods?’
Of course, Tesetra reasoned, the giant might have spoken of gods simply because he meant the two Serpent gods. Yet the way he’d said it seemed to imply to her that he was referring to even more than two.
‘All the gods were serpents. They could just take on other forms, of course, when they so chose.’
As he said this, the giant who had replied eyed Fandran’s skin curiously, even a little nervously.
Tesetra couldn’t miss the giant’s anxious stare. It was strange, she thought, that something so large and powerful would find anything to worry about, let alone a boy simply because his skin had an odd pattern.
Did Fandran differ in other ways to her? she found herself wondering. Was his blood also red like a serpent’s? Surely it far more likely to be silver, like that of her own people?
His eyes weren’t serpent-like, after all. They were similar to hers, if with a slightly amber or yellow tint to them. They went well with his brightly glowing hair, both complementing each other.
In fact, apart from the slight sheen to his skin, the only thing serpent-like about him was the powerfully undulating muscles that moved so smoothly, so seductively, beneath that skin. She felt herself wanting to reach out, to feel that movement beneath her hands.
To kiss that glorious skin.
Those delicately curling lips.
Either out of the corner of her eyes, or simply because she had originally sensed it – Tesetra couldn’t be sure which it was – she noticed that Degrat was angrily glaring at her, his eyes seemingly greener than ever.
The ground tremored slightly, such that Tesetra briefly worried that the chaos was about to begin all over again. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that some of the giants were approaching, depositing the food they had gathered far down by what was now the seashore.
They had waded into the water, they reported, harvesting trees and bushes from the jungle, finding more than enough food to keep them all alive. Around the shores, many of the jungle’s animals had survived, though the more ferocious amongst them were taking advantage of the situation to hunt down and kill the weaker ones.
The vanishing of the jungle, the giants told them, was something that they actually appreciated.
When they had ruled the earth, they had believed there was nothing for them to fear in the jungle, their size being that of all but the very tallest trees. Yet they had succumbed to something so small it had been all but invisible to them: the tiny spores of moss and fungus that would settle within the smallest crack and, being a harbour for the water that would freeze in colder times, gradually split them asunder.
Tesetra shuddered at the thought of these massive creatures suffering the attack of parasites. It made her wonder why the first god had chosen stone for the creation of his people: it was such an odd substance after all, being lifeless until receiving the god’s own breath of life.
And yet the Serpent god had in his turn created the living, breathing jaguars and the ferocious beasts from these creatures of rock.
Had he been a far more accomplished god that the Jaguar god?
*
Chapter 20
Just how powerful was the Serpent god?
It was a question that Fandran might know the answer to, Tesetra reasoned, if he could be somehow persuaded to remember more of his own past life.
The Stone People had persuaded the three of them to stay the night. There was no point them travelling on in the darkness; in fact, so high up in the mountains, it was undoubtedly foolhardy and dangerous.
They had been given an area for them to settle down in, beneath a crude structure of large branches and leaves that the giants had quickly put together. Large ferns similarly rescued from the new sea served as bed and coverings, more than enough to make sure they were comfortable and warm.
Their horse seemed to require no shelter. Since they had dismounted it, it had remained placidly still, requiring no attention whatsoever. Tesetra wondered if they were supposed to feed it, yet she had no idea what food it would require. Berries, roots and grasses had been placed before it, yet all these remained untouched by the horse.
Perhaps it didn’t require feeding. It wasn’t a real creature, one of flesh and blood.
Tesetra had studied the animal for a while, wonder
ing if the iron plates were elaborate sheets of armour cloaking a living beast beneath. Yet the plates were securely fitted together; nothing came loose.
It was indeed an Iron Horse.
As the three of them settled down in the shelter provided for them by the Stone People, Tesetra asked Fandran if he had been able to remember anything more about the Snake People. Could he at least, she asked, recalling the way she had seen him shrug off the guise of the old man, remember how he himself had come into being?
Fandran shook his head.
‘Is it possible,’ he himself asked, ‘for anyone to remember how they came to be?’
‘Of course we can remember how we came into existence!’ Degrat snapped aggressively. Once again, he was angered by the closeness he detected growing between Tesetra and Fandran. ‘We’re a reflection of the Water Goddess herself! She formed us from the quicksilver produced by the Moon, shining across her own Waters!’
Tesetra was impressed that Fandran, despite Degrat’s rudeness, was calm in his reply.
‘I meant the way an individual comes to life, not a people. Besides, it seems your goddess was obviously dissatisfied with her own creation.’
‘Weren’t your own Snake People wiped out?’ Degrat retorted furiously. ‘Do you hold your own Serpent god responsible for that?’
Fandran shrugged.
‘I can’t remember anything about my own people, as I’ve already explained.’
‘Then it’s a pity your mirror can’t show you our own legends, rather than those of a people of a future age! If you did, you’d know the people of the Serpent god – patron of the Winds! – were punished with a hurricane!’
Fandran shrugged nonchalantly once again.
‘Then obviously we angered our own god–’
‘Don’t you see what I’m getting at, you fool? The Serpent god himself was brought down by this untameable hurricane. A hurricane containing the rain of the Rain god! Then he himself was usurped by the uncontrollable rain of the Water goddess.’
‘Then again, everything you’ve described could simply be that particular god’s punishment–’
‘Didn’t we just hear how the Jaguar god was beaten by being unwillingly transformed into a jaguar? Each rival god usurped his – or her – predecessor by throwing something of their own nature back at them; yet in a form beyond their own control!’
‘So, you’re saying the Water goddess isn’t responsible for the flood?’ Tesetra ask, intrigued by Degrat’s reasoning. ‘Yet we saw ourselves that the waters came from the Tears of the Moon.’
‘But if you’re right, if all this destruction is down to some other god,’ Fandran said thoughtfully, ‘then who could this other god be?’
Now it was Degrat’s turn to shrug, but this time because he had no idea what the answer to the question could be.
‘The Rain god?’ he said eventually, if unsurely. ‘Enacting his revenge, perhaps?’
‘The Rain god we’re trying to find?’ Tesetra said, adding an ironic hint to her tone.
‘Whoever it was,’ Degrat pointed out, ‘it’s obvious that the god was angry with the Water goddess: not us!’
‘Whoever he was angry with, it’s still resulted in the wiping out of your people,’ Fandran pointed out in his turn.
‘There are two of us left!’ Degrat said assuredly, reaching out for Tesetra’s hand, grabbing it tightly. ‘We can create our people anew!’
*
Tesetra liked Degrat – as a friend.
He was a talented sculptor, respected throughout the city for his skills and his knowledge. Despite this, he hadn’t looked down on Tesetra, as so many other people – including her own sisters – had.
He had been a close friend to her, when most other people avoided her. They had feared that simply being in her presence might taint them in some way.
He deserved better from her.
He deserved her love.
And yet…she didn’t quite know why, but she couldn’t think in that way about him.
Not love.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive; indeed, he was handsome, in a sharply featured way. Physically, his body was also muscular, his constant heavy work on the stone having granted him a strong if wiry appearance.
But…it wasn’t there, that final piece of attraction that would make her want to lie with him.
Even so, wasn’t he right?
Didn’t the survival of their people depend upon them lying together?
*
Chapter 21
That night, she tensed as she felt the warmth of the body drawing closer towards her in the darkness.
Then she relaxed, realising this was inevitable, necessary.
It had to be!
Their coming together was essential.
His body was warm, comforting.
The pressure of his body against hers seemed right, meant to be; his curves somehow ideally slotting into hers, his rises flowing into her hollows, her rises into his.
They were formed to be together in this way (as many a woman and man are pleasantly surprised to discover).
His skin was as the softest rose petals to her touch. It tasted like the sweetest fruit.
In parts he was soft. In parts hard.
In parts she was soft. In parts hard.
Other parts hardened to the touch.
Parts that were sensitive.
Tingling.
Each touch sent a rippling of unbelievable pleasure throughout her body.
She gasped. She moaned, groaned.
Closed her eyes.
In delight.
In ecstasy.
Her mouth was hot. Wet.
It wrapped around him wherever it could.
She wanted to devour him.
He was devouring her.
Her lips opened, warm, embracing.
This is what they were meant to do. Meant for.
Arms curled around backs.
Legs curled around waists.
Their sweat – at any other time so obnoxious, so unwanted – oiled the free movement of their bodies against each other.
It was a sheen of their love, their need, their want, for each other.
She sighed.
She bit hard into his shoulder, to hold back all other cries.
She was no longer confined within her skin.
She was as one with him.
As one with the universe.
*
The body that had held Tesetra so tightly afterwards had had powerfully undulating muscles.
The body that slipped away from her in the morning had hair of gold.
She was worried.
If she had a child…? What would such a child be like?
Was such a union permissible?
Would it be fruitful?
And, if it were, what type of fruit would result from it?
As they ate the breakfast prepared for them by the Stone people, these questions flowed endlessly, uncontrollably, through Tesetra.
‘Do the legends tell us,’ she asked Degrat, trying to appear nonchalant, uncaring, ‘how the Snake People came about.’
Degrat eyed her a touch suspiciously. Even so, he answered.
‘No one can be sure, it was so long ago. If the legends are correct, then they came into existence through the snaking winds, solidifying, taking form.’
‘And I might be the last of my people,’ Fandran said, crunching into a roasted root. ‘Perhaps I’ve simply woken up, the same way these Stone People have been woken by the Earth’s movement.’
And perhaps he has ensured he won’t be the last of his people, Tesetra thought. Was that the only reason why we lay together last night?
She went off to prepare the Iron Horse for the next day’s travel. Yet there was no movement whatsoever within the poor beast.
It remained perfectly still, as if simply waiting to be mounted.
‘If only we’d known what to feed him!’ Tesetra sighed bitterly, angry with herself
for letting such a faithful creature die.
Fortunately, one of the stone giants offered to carry them a little farther, if not the whole way towards the realm of the Rain god.
‘The dampness creates the perfect environment for the mosses that taint our lives,’ he explained apologetically.
*
Chapter 22
The giant moved swiftly.
He effortlessly carried the three of them, strapped to his back in a construct of branches and shredded leaves wound into rope.
All around them, the creatures who had fled the now sunken jungle were spreading over what remained of the Earth.
Tesetra and Degrat’s people, who had of course become fish, where naturally nowhere to be seen. They now lived in the great sea, their skins as silvery as the Moon’s sheen had been upon the Waters.
‘Why do the gods seek to destroy whatever they have created?’ Degrat wondered aloud as he looked around at this sad remainder of what had existed only the previous day.
‘Perhaps they feel they need to remind us how much we owe them for our own life,’ the Stone man replied sadly, perhaps believing the question had been directed at him.
‘How could taking away our lives be a reminder of how much we owe them?’ Tesetra asked.
They felt the great stone giant shrug beneath them.
‘You are thinking of life only from the point of you own people,’ he said morosely. ‘To a god, your people are just part of a fragment of time; not an entity within themselves.’
‘That’s a pessimistic view of life, surely?’ Fandran chuckled.
‘If they only wanted to punish us for a misdemeanour, they would let us survive wouldn’t they?’ the giant pointed out. ‘And this, indeed, is how it used to be, when the Wind would give us warning of the gods’ intentions.’
‘The Wind would warn of the coming destruction?’
Tesetra was suddenly very interested in this conversation.
Wasn’t the Serpent god patron of the Wind?
‘Long, long ago,’ the Stone man replied. ‘When the Wind had many faces.’
*
Chapter 23
The Many Faces of the Wind
