Hanna sat suddenly in the dry dirt, still clutching the babies. "Everyone was gone. Everything was over. I only wanted to do some last good before the end, I only wanted to save her from having to make a dreadful choice, to sit and wait for death or to go and find it. I thought it would be easier if her babies were already gone." Hanna wept, but at last she leaned over and gently laid each child in Ganit's arms, their small legs lying across Brone's stomach. Ganit was as a still pond, a reflection of the wonder and amazement in his babies' faces. For a long time he was moveless and the babies quieted and all the sound Hanna could hear was the mingling of their breaths. At last Brone stretched and opened her eyes.
"What dream is this?" she smiled, staring at Ganit. The babies, hearing their mother's voice, began crying for her and Brone began to sit up.
"Don't wake up," said Ganit, and kissed her. And Brone knew she did not dream.
"What has happened?" asked Brone, "How have you come here?"
While Brone nursed the babies one after the other, Ganit told her about his long journey, about Keram, about the loss of Ganit's leg and the growing green fields that had been his path back to her. Hanna sat shrunken and forgotten as Ganit spoke of the mad music of Hadur, of his own blazing power and dread weakness at the Midnight Tree. Ganit asked Brone how the dark, frozen woman had grown inside the tree and Brone began to weep. "It is all the evil left in the world," she said, "And it was I who put it there. She was a mother, she only wanted to protect her children and she feared me." Brone held up on arm, twisting it so that the turgid vines that strangled her flesh gleamed and flashed. "How right she was. I am a monster."
"You killed her?" asked Hanna, horrified.
"I only wanted some company, to hear a friendly voice, but she thought I would try to rob them or hurt them and she attacked me. She was only protecting her children -"
"And you were only protecting ours." Ganit interrupted gently.
"Why?" asked Hanna, the word a dry, bitter peel flung into the air. Ganit just stared at her in shock. Brone looked sadly at the two infants sleeping in Ganit's arms.
"What were you protecting them for?" continued Hanna, "For this? This barren oven? No one is left. Here we sit between the flames that devour all and the dark frost that's left behind us."
"I think I was protecting them for what is past the fire. Whatever comes after the cold night. I wish I could have saved more than us, I wish I could have stopped to help. But there was nothing I could do. That was not my task."
"And what comes after?" Hanna waited, breathless and was startled when Ganit laughed and the light around them shivered and sparked, as if an early morning were flashing through young leaves.
"The spring comes after. The spring and the cool, green dawn," he said and smiled.
"How do you know?" asked Hanna, "How do you know and I don't?"
"I don't know, not really, but that is what I believe. Would you rather believe that there is nothing beyond that bridge?"
"No, I want to believe that all the people who crossed that bridge are somewhere living in peace, are waiting for us to join them. But how can I believe that?"
"Are you waiting for proof? Have you not seen miracles? Haven't you miracles before your own eyes now?" Brone held up her arm again, the vines like massive veins, her skin pulsing painfully red beneath. Hanna thought of the massive journey that had taken brought her here, the flames that burned on, long after any fuel had been consumed, the great and thunderous beast that had spoken to her with man's words. And she was silent.
"Sometimes," Brone said sadly, "We kiss the very face of God and don't know it or believe it. Belief will not descend upon you, will not call you by your name. It is always your choice, perhaps the only choice that is left to us now. It must come from you."
Exhausted and finally peaceful, the little family slept, the wall of briars thick and hardened in the slow heat of Enik's fires protecting them. Animals crept and fluttered, lowed and trilled in a wide circle around them, drawn by Ganit. Hanna watched them for a long time in silence. At last she rose, her knees crackling, swollen in the heat. She shuffled to the edge of the glass bridge. She peered for a long moment into the dark smoke, but nothing emerged. She glanced back, just once, but the little family slept on. Taking a deep breath of acrid air, Hanna stepped firmly onto the smooth black bridge.
Chapter 41
The great burning beast trotted halfway across the slim glass bridge carelessly and without pause. Enik thought his work was done. The old woman had made her choice and all the barren world lay before him now, silent and dark. But suddenly Enik heard the small sounds of animals breathing and rustling, stamping and calling each other and He lifted his great black head. He could see the herd of beasts, hundreds of them, predator and prey all crowding together, all waiting. But for what? Enik's nostrils flared and his ears sank to his skull. He could smell them. He could smell more humans. There was a light there beyond his own flames, as if the dead sun were risen again, as if the day were not banished from this barren place. Where were they? Why couldn't he see them? Did they think they could hide from him? From their own fate? Did they think to bring back the sun and the long, long day of man? Enik screamed in rage. The beasts started and fled backwards, howling and whimpering, great eyes rolling, wings fluttering, tails whipping. Enik thundered toward them across the bridge, each hoof striking a deep silver crack into the burned stone.
Ganit heard it first and woke in panic. A great thudding, like stone hurled against glass and a shriek that made his skin spark and sizzle with fear. Adya and Janak wailed but their tiny voices were a soft breeze against the terrible rending hoof beats. For a moment Ganit became confused, lost in his memory believing Hadur had returned, had followed him to claim them all. Brone woke and sprang up onto her feet, though she was still weak. She clung to the babies who wriggled and cried in fear. She breathed deep and realized how very dried out and tired she felt, a pressed leaf, a brittle seed pod. Then she gently laid the babies in Ganit's arms. He was yelling something to her, but the deep thrash of the dust at her feet moving with the weight of Enik's step overwhelmed his voice. Her own heart made an echo of Enik's racing hooves. She watched the beasts that Ganit had brought with him rear back, cower and turn toward the dark. But she could not see Enik for the great wall of briar that had tumbled from her own blood now towered too high and thick. She stepped around it. Enik was almost upon her, a dark wind, a twisting mass of cinder and ash made somehow solid. She suddenly knew herself to be utterly naked, the jade seed's twisting limbs the only barrier between her skin and the great horse's heavy hoof and crushing teeth. The pressure of the vines lessened, their edges loosened. Each tendril twisted itself away from her flesh, twirling and sharpening, hundreds of small green shoots hard and spiny, her whole length covered in small spears that flashed emerald against her dark skin. She shouted for the great horse to stop and saw it shy away, startled.
Enik saw the green woman bristle, her skin covered with living blades, blades that would sink into his hide and his sensitive hoof and nose. For the first time he was frightened and his legs carried him sideways without his even realizing it. He screamed again, this time in pain as his side hit the massive wall of briars. Thick and hard they were still brittle and broke off in his skin or caught in his mane and tail. He thrashed and pulled, but his massive weight had worked against him, embedding the great horse deep inside the thicket. He tried to kick and stamp the brambles down, but they pierced the tender underside of his feet. He sparked and blew fire and smoke from his great mouth, but the briars had been so long baking already that they had a charred shell around them and would not flame or crumble.
Brone did not wait for Enik to thrash himself free. She ran back to Ganit, her legs shaking as the vines slowly coiled back around her, a trail of smooth green lines like small waves fitting back onto her skin. Ganit curled over Adya and Janak, a living shield as the thorn wall shuddered and rustled as Enik struggled. Brone could feel the air get heavy and c
hoking as Ganit tried to hold his panic and the light in check. "It's okay," she said, "It's okay, I'll find a way to get us over the bridge." Ganit looked up, relieved at her voice.
"There is a cow," he said, "if you can catch it, it brought me here."
"It's okay," Brone said, and kissed him, her lips cool and gentle. She ran after the herd of beasts. They had retreated but lingered at the dry well, where the scent of water still clung to the rock. Even Brone could smell it, she could almost taste it and it made her throat swell with longing. The beasts panted too and seemed worn with travel. It wasn't difficult to catch the cow when she spotted it and its calf followed quickly. She looked back once and could see the animals moving toward her, toward the still screaming Enik. The great black horse was waning. His hide was streaked with sweat and blood, his breathing was a great ocean of flame that was caught in his chest. Brone held the babies as Ganit threw himself over the back of the exhausted cow. He reached his arms out for the babies. "Are you sure?" asked Brone, "You won't fall?"
Ganit smiled. "If you will lead the cow I won't fall. I wish I could carry you too, but I'll settle for our babies."
Brone gently laid Adya and Janak in his arms and held the cow's head between her hands. She tried to block its big eyes as they passed the great brown wall of thorns where Enik was panting and sagging, his great strength waning as he bled. His great eye rolled but he made no sound as Brone led the cow onto the last tiny path of her journey. The bridge was riven in places, cracks stretching over it like silver webs where Enik's hooves had hit. Sharp and jagged where it was broken, Brone did her best to pick a smooth way through with her bare feet. She looked up at Ganit a few times and saw him smiling at their daughter and son, a brighter star than even the flames around them were. The long line of beasts crossed the bridge behind her and she hurried along fearing the extra weight would make it collapse into a pile of black sand. A few moments more and they entered the dark fuming cloud of smoke. Ganit held the babies near his chest and tried to shield them. His light was so strong it shone through the cloud and into the hilly country beyond. They passed through the cloud and Brone felt immediately cooler. The bridge tumbled into a rocky shelf and up into a smooth rise. Below them was the spitting sea, dark even in Ganit's light and the rise was cut by a small stream. Brone's feet quickened on seeing the pale, cool water weaving its way down the hill. She stopped at the stream and helped Ganit down. The beasts came upon them drinking and washing in the cold water.
Within moments, the vines on Brone's skin budded and leafed, and green grass spread from beneath her toes and clothed the hillside. Ganit lay with the babies on the soft turf and the earth warmed. Brone laughed and slid down next to him. Around them the animals moved, drinking in the clear stream water, dozing in the warmth of Ganit's light. Berry bushes sprang up on the soft banks of the hill, budding and blossoming as Ganit watched and willow saplings spread their long roots around them. He looked at her, his chest heavy with the warm weight of his sleeping children, his face long unshorn and still creased with ash. She thought he was beautiful. "I missed you," he said.
"We missed you too." she said and touched his face with light fingers.
Chapter 42
Brone felt she had come to the end of her journey. Though nothing changed, the vines did not tighten or grow longer, no enemies appeared, nor signs in the sky or land, Brone knew in her heart she had reached the place the Messenger had spoken of so long ago. She and Ganit did not speak of it for a long while. Instead they played with Adya and Janak and built a home at the peak of the gentle hill. Brone often wandered, spreading the spring, the new green of the world, pine forests twisted from the empty ground and wildflowers popped their eyes open in the glow of Ganit's light. Birds nested nearby, and quick springing deer, and all the small quiet things that burrow. The night beasts and the hunters retreated to the dark, shady thickets but did not stray far. Ganit stayed close to the infants but his hands were not idle, building dry shelter, for the rain and breeze returned now, close to the ocean. He fished or trapped food but never went far from the green hill that was their home. So time passed, and the little family was happy and rested. Brone did not speak of the time before they came to the green island and she did not speak of what was still to come. She told stories instead, of the pretty growing things she saw, of the mad thrust of the sea against the rocks, of the young beasts that ran and jumped in the meadows. Ganit spoke of his plans for their home, of the children and how they would grow, of the things they would become. Brone would smile as he spoke, but she was always silent. They were quietly happy and comfortable for a long time. As Adya and Janak began to be able to crawl and to laugh and hold their arms out to be held, Brone spoke less and less. Once only, she spoke to Ganit of what was coming, as they lay together in the bright summer air while the babies slept. He traced the glowing green trail of vines that spread from the base of her throat where the seed still sat hollowed and dry. "Is it very ugly?" she asked and would not look at him.
"You'll never be ugly," he said, "Does it hurt?"
"No. But I don't think it will ever come off."
He looked closely at the small seed. "It will have to. It's dying, the seed is hollow, the vine has nothing left to eat. It has to be planted, so we'll have to figure out how to get it off."
She watched his face as he concentrated on the rattling pod sitting at her throat. "Yes Ganit. It has to be planted." She turned his face gently toward her own, "But it will never come off."
He waited for a moment, his bright halo glittering on the water nearby, on each strand of her hair. And he knew it was the truth even as he said, "There must be a way to remove it."
She just shook her head. "Then, if we cannot remove it, we'll just wait. It isn't harming anyone where it is. We'll just wait." and he curled his head tightly against her shoulder so that she wouldn't tell him he was wrong, so she wouldn't look sadly at him any longer. And for a long time, they did wait, and nothing happened. The vines stayed green, the seed rattled a little more but did not break or blow away, and she spoke of it no longer. But more and more often she watched him playing with Adya and Janak, watched as they walked to Ganit first and cried for him most often, and her heart was content.
So Ganit forgot for a time, the seed and the vines and Brone's sadness. And there was no warning in his heart when she wandered from the hill into the pine forest one day, because she had done it so many times before, returning with eggs or fruit or mushrooms for the babies and full of stories of the little goings on of the earth. Neither was there any sign for Brone. She did not linger near Ganit or her children or look back as she walked down the green hill. The day did not seem over bright or the little stream more musical or the pine forest more fragrant. It was just another happy morning. Brone walked to the far edge of the forest, ferns unfurling around her, toads chattering somewhere in the brush and Brone looked at the barren dust beyond. So much earth to replant, so much green to stretch over the bones of the new world. She had reached the edges of where she had yet been and even Ganit's light was somewhat less hear, the golden waning of deep afternoon sifting through the trees behind her. Ahead of her was almost dusk. But something darker broke the line of flat earth against the purple sky far away. A flashing shadow, red-gold and growing. Brone felt the deep thrum of Ethon's hooves beneath her feet long before her ears could hear them. The vines around her arms and legs tightened in a burst and exploded outward, spiraling from her skin into the soft earth around her, like new toes anchoring her in the dust. Brone cried out in fear and pain but she could not move. Caught and bound, Brone watched the copper horse springing toward her. It was thin, so thin it looked as if a thin sheet of metal were poured over bone, all of its angles poking through, like teeth in its back and hips. Ethon's chest heaved and shuddered though she came no great distance and Brone could see white foam falling from the beast's open mouth. And Brone's heart filled with pity as Ethon slowed and stumbled. Brone could hear deep whistles as the horse struggled fo
r breath, but still Ethon tried to speak. Her voice was barely a low rumble, the sound of far away surf, a wind speaking through an empty shell. "Long, long days I've waited for you, it took all that I had to reach this place first and then I waited for this day."
"Why must we be enemies? All this time, you have sought me, but I have not tried to harm you."
A cracking rattle came from Ethon's chest. It was all that remained of a bitter laugh. "You have not tried to harm me? But you killed them, you killed them all, all but the last and least. All my beautiful sons are no more because of you."
Brone tried to stand straighter, to become taller but the vines held her firmly in place. "I only ever helped you. I never harmed you or your sons. They destroyed themselves, each but the last. Their own rage took them."
Ethon stamped a hoof and the earth shook. "They would be alive except that they met you. This world should be theirs, not crawling with the illness of the old ways."
Brone sighed. "It is all gone, the old world is gone. I am all that is left. And as you can see," she gestured weakly with her fingertips, "that will not be for long. It's over, the world is new, it is yours if you want it."
"No!" shrieked Ethon, her large yellow teeth flashing as her lips peeled back, "Your children remain. Your mate and your children remain." The cracking rattle rose in Ethon's throat again and Brone shuddered, "But not for long. You've seen to mine, now I will see to yours."
"They were never of the old world, you know that. They belong to this world as much as you and I cannot. Even Ganit belongs in this place now. He was always the one who kept hoping. Even on his darkest day he did not doubt the world would renew itself, that it would be all right in the end, even if he were not here to see it. You cannot kill them."
The Jade Seed Page 21
