by K S Nikakis
‘And did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps that is why Erath saved you. She repays in kind.’
‘It’s a pity more folds don’t work like that,’ muttered Viv.
Syatha helped Viv up and kept hold of her arm, even after she’d steadied. ‘Let us walk,’ she said, and shifted her grip to Viv’s hand.
It was odd to be led like a child but Viv was soon distracted by her surroundings. Erath was forested like Ezam, but its trees looked normal, despite their pinkish hues, and there was a lot more variety. Smooth trunks mixed with rough ones, and slender boles with bottle-shaped ones. Delicate trails of pink, white, and purple flowers tendrilled over the leaf-fall, and their lacy fronds flicked with tiny birds. The trees’ branches were alive with birds too.
‘Erath has healed your flesh, but your wounds are deeper than I suspected,’ said Syatha thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it is one of the reasons Erath allowed you entry. It will be some time, I believe, until your healing is complete, and then only if you allow it.’
‘How did I get here?’ asked Viv.
‘An exenda from Ezam brought you.’
‘Ash, probably,’ she murmured. ‘Was he blue?’
‘His skin was coloured as yours but his hair and wings were black.’
‘Thris!’ gasped Viv. He’d come back for her but her joy was tempered by knowing the risk he’d taken. ‘Did he say anything?’ Like he loved me and would wait for me?
‘His visit was brief. Erath is closed to exenda,’ said Syatha, and drew Viv on.
‘It let me in.’
‘Erath accepted you as Iahhel, which you mainly are.’
‘I’m daimon. My mother was human caste.’
‘She was not human caste.’
Viv gaped at her but Syatha’s attention was on the angels ahead. ‘She was human caste,’ insisted Viv, ‘and my father was Archae Kald of Ezam Fold.’
‘I am not disputing your male parentage.’
Viv stumbled as the wild idea came to her she was adopted, and Syatha stopped. ‘I am Sai, Viv, which means I have attained a certain level of harmony with Erath. I feel Erath’s thrum, not in its totality, but more fully than Non, like Essera. And all Iahhel are attuned to each other, regardless of their Oneness with Erath. There is discord within you, but the discord generated by exenda blood is too small for your female parent to have been human caste.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Syatha ran her fingers down Viv’s face. They were roughened by work, but gentle. ‘Do you resemble your mother?’
‘Yes,’ said Viv thickly.
‘And her mother?’
‘So I’m told.’
‘And her mother,’ pursued Syatha.
‘Are you saying they had angel blood?’
‘Yes, and for you to be as you are, they joined with angels.’
Viv brought a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘So what percentage angel am I?’
‘Percentage? That is an exenda word.’
‘Am I nearly all angel, or nine tenths, or eight tenths or seven tenths …’
‘Erath accepted you, which should answer your question. Come, it is time for you to see the erathi.’
Viv’s thoughts were in turmoil. If she were almost all angel, she might have a future with Thris after all and if not, her angel blood should allow her to transit home, if she chose to, or maybe make her home here, with the Iahhel, if they allowed it. There were likely to be other angel folds too, where she could live without fear.
Syatha came to a stop and Viv blinked. The trees grew at odd angles, and the undergrowth was so tall that in places, it all but obliterated them. The delicate creepers had climbed into the branches and their flowers had given way to thorns. Angels like Essera moved between the trees, stroking things as they passed and Viv watched in mystification.
‘This is the erathi,’ said Syatha, gesturing at the trees. ‘Stay close and try not to touch the things that grow.’
Easier said than done, concluded Viv, as thorns scratched her legs and snagged Syatha’s diaphanous robe. Viv peered about uneasily. The birdsong had fallen silent as if the birds had fled.
‘Is the forest sick?’ she asked.
‘There is no illness in Erath Fold.’
‘Then why is it so different here?’
Syatha came to a stop near a young angel. ‘Watch,’ she told Viv.
The angel looked like she practiced harmonising, her eyes shut and her breathing deep, but then her eyes opened and she caressed the yellowed leaves in front of her. Her breathing quickened until she panted and, astonishingly, the leaves suffused with green. The yellow hadn’t entirely disappeared, but the change was obvious and the young angel gasped and staggered sideways.
‘You have done well, Firah,’ said Syatha. ‘Rest now.’
Firah moved away, and Syatha turned to Viv. ‘The Erath bequeaths us the erathi to aid our journey to Oneness with Her.’
‘So, the fold has things you have to heal to transcend?’
‘Transcend?’
‘In Ezam, the angels have to complete tasks to move up the angel hierarchy, and transcend out to the Great Beyond. Thris, who brought me here, agreed to be my guide to help him transcend and my father appointed him as guide to help him transcend.’
‘We seek to become One with Erath, not leave Her.’
‘But how …’ began Viv, and stopped, as she wondered whether all the female angels who’d ever existed, were still here. Maybe the bent branches and razor-sharp thorns were the abode of the likes of Kald and Dejon.
‘We are the Iahhel,’ said Syatha, as if it were an explanation.
‘It must be nice to know exactly what you are,’ said Viv, rattled by her thoughts.
‘No one knows exactly what they are,’ said Syatha. ‘That is what we seek to discover.’
‘I thought you sought to be One with Erath,’ said Viv, irritated by Syatha’s certainty.
‘It is the same thing. Come, it is time you rested.’ Viv followed her out of the twisted trees. The sky had darkened to amethyst but the birds still sang. ‘You like birds, I see,’ said Syatha. ‘Why is that?’
‘They’re pretty,’ said Viv, ‘and they can fly.’ Shit! She sounded like a simpleton.
Syatha took her hand again and they walked in silence. Young angels smiled as they passed, and after a while, Viv forgot she was naked and they were too. Despite Erath’s strangeness, and Syatha’s, she felt safe.
‘Tell me of yourself,’ said Syatha.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ said Viv. ‘I grew up in a fold Ezam’s angels call Moonsun, and didn’t know I had angel blood until my angel father visited me at eighteen. I thought my mother had died when I was ten, but he told me she was living in another fold. He took me to Ezam and appointed Thris to guide me to her, but lots of things have gone wrong since we left Ezam. Being almost killed is the latest.’
‘You carry deeper wounds than those the knife inflicted. What caused them?’
‘The usual things of living in a human caste fold,’ said Viv uncomfortably.
Syatha laid her palm over Viv’s heart and Viv resisted the urge to step back. Syatha’s eyes had closed and she half expected Syatha to recoil, then march her to the nearest rift and hurl her in, but she looked at Viv thoughtfully instead. ‘You have a strong heart.’
Considering how many times she’d survived attempted murders, Viv guessed it was true, but she hoped Syatha meant she had a good heart. Foolin’ ya self again, are we, Vivi? Strong ain’t the same as honest.
A glow appeared ahead and Viv gaped as she saw that trees arced towards each other to form a living hall, and the light spilled from its entrance ‘This is where you live?’ asked Viv in amazement.
‘We live on Erath,’ said Syatha. ‘She provides all.’
It seemed to be Syatha’s stock answer and Viv bit back her questions as she followed Syatha in. The hall’s sides were partitioned into alcoves which beds, although the raised, leafy platf
orms looked more like nests. Angels curled in sleep, many of whom looked like children. It was strange given Ezam’s angels blinked into being fully grown. There was no reason for Erath to be like Ezam or like any other angel fold, she reminded herself, but she wondered how Erath’s angels were created.
The alcoves ended, to be replaced by a table that ran lengthwise up the hall. It was crowded with younger angels like Essera and Firah, who rose and bowed at their approach. They accorded Syatha respect but Viv hoped it wasn’t the mindless respect like that of Dane for Archae. Older angels sat further up the table, their faces as lined as Syatha’s, and they nodded as Viv and Syatha passed. Viv struggled with her expectations of angelic beauty. Her arsehole of a father had an ageless majesty, despite the corruption in his heart, whereas the Iahhel looked old.
Perhaps they were old, even in angelic terms, whereas Kald, for all his eons, was comparatively young.
Syatha continued to the head of the table where five angels sat, snowy-haired and bony-shouldered. They looked as frail as human caste in their flimsy robes but their eyes burned with purple fire. Syatha bowed to each in turn, and Viv awkwardly followed suit.
‘These are the Hoth who expended their strength in your healing,’ said Syatha.
‘Thank you,’ said Viv, and bowed again.
‘Erath has a gentle heart,’ said one, in a gravelly voice, as if it explained why they’d saved a stranger. Viv bowed her thanks a third time and was relieved when Syatha led her away.
Chapter 9
Syatha settled her with Essera and the younger angels, who all seemed to know her name. Viv soon lost track of theirs but nobody seemed to mind. They kept up a steady stream of questions, mostly about the angels in Ezam, and passed along platters of food and jugs of drink. There were nuts, all subtly different; a variety of berries, both dried and fresh; and a drink that tasted like cider. Viv ate only to be polite.
‘Our food is unpleasant to you?’ asked Essera.
‘It’s very nice,’ said Viv. ‘It’s just that in Ezam, angels rarely eat. They are in perfect balance and have no need. I had no need to eat there either, or since, unless I’m hurt.’
‘Which you were before you came here.’
‘Yes,’ said Viv, nonplussed that she wasn’t ravenous.
Essera’s hand closed over hers. ‘Things will be clearer after you sleep,’ she said.
‘I can’t do that either,’ said Viv apologetically.
‘Erath gifts us a time to dream. The birds roost and the trees slumber. Share my bower, Viv, and let my heart soothe yours.’
Essera’s smile was luminous but Viv didn’t know what the invitation meant. ‘Who do you usually share your bower with?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to cause upset.’
‘Orsia or Firah, but they know you are in need of comfort. All Iahhel know it. Erath tells us. Would you prefer to sleep with one of them?’
Viv wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep with anyone, but that didn’t seem to be an option. The younger angels drifted away from the table and when Essera led her back to the alcoves, she didn’t resist. She hoped Erath’s dark cycle was short and she didn’t have to lay quietly for hours so as not to disturb Essera or those who slept nearby.
The bed felt more like feathers than leaves and cradled her in a delicious softness. It smelled nice too, as if aromatic herbs had found their way in. Essera lay behind her, and brought her arms around her so that her hands rested over Viv’s heart, but Viv stiffened at the memories of other encounters.
‘The birds are going to their rest,’ said Essera softly. ‘The last will be the olin. You can hear their song now. The higher songs are those of uris and chiar, birds who are also late to their roosts. The Sai can hear the forest’s song too, and the Hoth the whole of Erath’s music.’ Essera sighed. ‘I long for the time when I can hear it all.’
‘What happens to the Hoth in the end?’
‘There is no end. Their song becomes Erath’s. Your coming enriched Erath’s symphony.’
Viv’s heart missed. ‘Do you mean Hoth died because of me?’
‘They joined Erath’s song to allow your music to continue. What is given, must be returned, or Erath would cease. All things would cease.’ There was a pause. ‘Be at peace, Viv. Let sleep come.’
Viv quieted but she was far from at peace. Some of the oldest angels had given their lives to save hers, and she was as sure as hell their lives were worth more. She’d have thought the Iahhel would resent her intrusion, and what it cost them, but she’d never felt more welcome in her life.
Nothing made sense, and every question seemed to be answered with a variation of Erath’s will. She’d have to demand some clearer answers from Syatha tomorrow. The Hoth’s lives might not be the only cost of her being in Erath, and if there was more to be paid, it was best she left.
‘Only the olins’ sing now,’ murmured Essera.
Essera was right. The birdsong had been reduced to a single low resonant note. Sometimes it sounded like the drawn-out cry of an owl, and other times like a flute. Viv was reminded of the Leferen and of the muted background chorus of Lefer. Neither The Wheel’s or Erath’s birdsong was like the magpies and currawongs of home, but there was birdsong, unlike Ezam. If she ended up with Thris, they wouldn’t be living there.
Essera’s breathing told Viv she slept and Viv was surprised to feel herself drift, and then she was dreaming. She was back in the old wooden house, with the gumtrees at the back, and the magpies were singing, and then she was inside, with her mother and Jimmy Wright. There was the familiar musty smell of the carpet, the smell of booze on Jimmy Wright’s breath, and the stench of fear. Viv knew she dreamed, and was desperate to wake before the violence started, but remained trapped amongst her mother’s screams.
And then her perspective shifted, and she was no longer in the house, but looking down on the scene as a violent drunk beat a helpless woman, and a petrified child cowered in the corner.
Viv jerked awake and Essera woke too, and stroked Viv’s hair. ‘Sleep, dear one,’ she murmured.
‘I don’t want to,’ said Viv shakily, and sat up.
‘Erath sends what you need to see.’
‘I’ve seen it dozens of times before. I don’t need to see it again!’
Essera sat too. ‘Do you want me to fetch Syatha?’
‘What bloody use will she be?’ Viv pushed her hand through her curls. ‘I’ve had to live with this shit every effing day of my life! I don’t want to dream about it too!’
‘Syatha is more skilled at soothing than I am,’ said Essera sadly. ‘I am failing you.’
‘You’re not responsible for me.’
‘Responsible?’
‘You don’t have to worry about me.’
‘But I do,’ said Essera, in confusion. ‘You are part of Erath.’
‘I’m an exenda, remember. I arrived here by chance. The rift Thris used could have taken me anywhere.’
‘Chance?’
Viv sighed. ‘Don’t fret about me, Essera. Just go back to sleep.’
‘You lie down too, Viv. At least you will get some rest that way.’
Viv lay down to appease Essera but she felt in no danger of sleeping again. The angels here believed everything stemmed from the ground under their feet, the mighty Erath, but if Erath was going to send Viv horrible dreams every night, she’d make her farewells sooner rather than later.
Viv’s eyelids drooped but she forced herself to stay awake. She hadn’t slept normally since leaving home and she wondered if there were a soporific herb in her bedding. The birdsong started again as the darkness faded, and if Viv hadn’t known better, she’d have believed it was an orchestra. She eased away from Essera and sat up. The lightest of cymbal-like chirps were followed by those that sounded like harps, pipes, and flutes, then the deeper woody notes of bassoons.
The music built to a crescendo, like it had in the Leferen, then dissipated, as if the birds had flown off in different directions and sang randomly from a di
stance. Viv wiped her eyes, hardly aware she’d cried, and the hard knot in her stomach dissolved.
‘It is good you love birds,’ said Essera, resting on her elbow. Viv presumed the reason had something to do with Erath. ‘I can show you more, if you wish. Or I can take you to other parts of Erath to help you better understand Her.’
‘Don’t you have to work?’
‘Work?’
‘Do whatever you were doing yesterday. Sort of make the leaves green again in the erathi.’
‘The Non seek to know Erath as the Sai do, and the Sai as the Hoth, but I can also learn of Her by learning of you. It would give me pleasure to show you things that give you pleasure.’
Viv had concluded Erath had a lot in common with her favorite places in other folds by the time day faded. Rocky valleys with rushing streams; shady clefts filled with dripping ferns; vales of dappled light strewn with fragrant flowers; and everywhere the call of birds, some thrilling, and others so sad Viv’s throat grew too tight to speak.
Not that Essera demanded much speech. She seemed content, like Viv, to walk in silence, but her love of the fold was clear in the way she touched caressed the things they passed. Erath was beautiful and despite the short time Viv had been there, she wondered whether she could make it her home.
The days merged into a dusky haze, if days they were, and Viv lost all track of time. She wandered Erath’s rosy landscape, ate with Essera and the other angels in the evening, and slept with Essera in the leaf-filled alcove, thankfully without dreams.
‘It would be easier to fly,’ said Viv, one morning, as they scrambled over rocks at the head of a steep valley.
‘Fly?’
‘Use our wings.’ Viv hadn’t seen Iahhel fly and wondered if there were a prohibition on flight.
‘To fly would be to lose connection with Erath’s music. We do not fly.’
‘But you have wings,’ said Viv, taken aback.
‘We do not have wings. To have wings would be to lose connection with Erath’s music.’
‘I have wings,’ said Viv, feeling obliged to confess, as if she carried some deadly disease.
