I turned my gaze down to my feet and thought back on Mother. The notion of losing her husband must have been what sparked her change. That was the first and last time I'd ever seen her cry with so much heart. I wondered if she would remember anything of her life, but I feared asking. It would likely be better to live on not knowing.
"At least," Soel said, drawing me from my thoughts, "she is not dead and she does not suffer. You can rest assured."
"It is still heart breaking, knowing that my mother, as I knew her, is gone. My father no longer has the wife he loves. Our lives will change. She was – " I wondered if I had to bother finishing that thought and when Soel offered his elbow once again, I knew I did not.
"Life changes for everyone, in different ways. You and your father will gain your strength and find a way. It is a sadness that you will both carry within for the years to come, but it is also a memory."
"I refused to believe the rumors that elves were so intelligent," I said with a sigh. "You are something, Soel. And I thank you. I cannot imagine where I would be now if you hadn't been with me."
The elf's response of a silent smile was enough for me as we walked on and with a deep breath and a fresh vision of the life before me, I took the quiet moments to meditate on my life and what would come of it. I wondered if my mother's gluttonous tendencies were something to be passed down through generations. I hoped and prayed against it.
~*~
Thirteen years have passed now. Soel moved on in his travels, though comes by to visit every year or so when his path crosses ours. My views on the elven kind have somewhat changed, thanks to him.
I still see the ogre that was once my mother, come by our home. Father and I keep our distance and pretend we do not see her, but I cannot play ignorant. I know that he still stands by the window in his bed chamber at night and watches for his beloved; his beloved who lost sight of what is important.
# # #
Thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body, as water is corrupted unless it moves.
—Ovid
VII. SLOTH
Claim Your Fate
by
Michelle Anderson Picarella
Huddled together in the freshly tunneled underground, with crumbled soil caked below foot and knee, the brethren waited, rapt. Echoes of music and laughter from above scarcely muddled the scavenging prayer of Mother Vicar as she addressed the army. In abeyance, the troops of the night knelt before the two of us. Yet, my eyes remained open as she blessed the mortal souls of our kind, as well of those who had condemned us to this life of lurking beneath them. Mumbling from the far end of the crowd drew my attention, and that of a few other of my fellow Dwerger.
"Lusk." My lips formed his name.
Fully believing that The Dreamers, my sweet Gods, created every being to fulfill a purpose, I had become certain that Lusk was created to test my patience and virtues. His cracked lips muttered his own blessings from The Dreamers, a blessing revolving more so around the needs of his own bloodline pod than the actual Dwerger risking their lives to supply each of us with much needed supplies.
While the brethren clinched their eyelids and concentrated on Mother Vicar's words, I allowed my lungs a great breath of air as I concentrated as well, ignoring the twitch forming behind my eye as Lusk continued his verbal splatter of blasphemy.
"With The Dreamers, be shielded." We closed the final words of the prayer in unison.
Mother Vicar vanished with the army, leaving mounds of soil behind as they crashed through the ground above. I remained inside of our tunneled existence. The depths of my fate as second-in-command required me to tend to those unable to scavenge the land. Some were healing from previous raids. Some carried the unborn. Then there were Lusk and his pod. Besides his male spawn, Mertio, not one from the Lusk pod dared to produce a viable asset toward our cause.
Each being among us carried the ability to master various amounts of skills kissed upon our souls by The Dreamers. Lusk, as well as his mate, Mopus, were masters of their nothingness. Their female spawn, Bosh, seemed to have also mastered their skill, as well as the craft of obsessive breeding. A large portion of the younger spawn belonged to her. She had already created enough to account for two pods and carried an unborn inside of her much experienced womb.
This was not convenient when our species had no choice but to dwell beneath the land. It never seemed to be a concern to them. I pulled the hood of my dusted cloak well over my head attempting to avoid any conversation with Lusk or Mopus and made my way past to tend to those needing assistance returning to their pods.
"Bless the Dreamers that this group should return with finer goods than those of the last raid." Lusk's oblong belly jiggled as he bounced into the middle of my path.
"Who be us to bless our own Gods?" My lips tensed, yet I hoped that the joking tone of my voice did not outweigh the truth of my words.
"Mopus needs the calming herbs for the pain in her head and I favor the taste of something sweet before my hunger should eat away at my flesh."
I looked below his exposed belly to observe the infected scabs along his legs and feet. The flesh around his toes had turned the color of coal since I last shared a two person supply of medicinal oils with him.
"Lusk, be it not the lack of sweets that should eat away at your flesh." My eyes fluttered along with the twitch. "The oils not cleared your scabs well enough, it seems."
He chuckled, showing the crackling lines of his lips in a guilty smile. "I rubbed the oils along my flesh for one day, Brother Harve."
"Why for only one day?"
"I was left with no choice but to trade the oils with another pod, Brother," he shrugged.
"No choice? There are always choices." I walked around Lusk, bothered by the lack of care he allowed himself. "What's more dire than keeping your legs connected to your body?"
Lusk followed behind me into the narrow halls of our subterranean village. Mopus joined beside him with several of Bosh's spawn lingering behind her. The little ones wreaked havoc while making their way past pods, knocking over containers of water and various belongings within their grasps. Dwerger before us guarded their items from the destruction of the young ones as they neared.
"For Bosh." Lusk's pause to think of a reply assured me that his was not a trade of dire need. He continued, "Bosh needed new linen to cover herself. She has tripled her normal nesting size with this unborn."
"What pod would dare ask for that amount of oil in exchange for simple linen to cover the flesh?" I found myself rather upset that one of my own pods would take advantage of even the likes of the Lusk pod. Well prepared to obtain the remaining oils from this pod, I demanded the calling of their name. "Tell me now."
"Well, Brother Harve," the direction of his voice behind me bounced off the floor. His head must have hanged lowly for that to occur. "It was a bit more than simple linen. A fine sort of smoothness was needed. Bosh deserved a bit of happiness and she has been so down lately. This unborn is draining her."
"I see." Beyond my reply, I found no words of kindness or understanding to impart. Assuming nothing should be spoken if not in kindness, I remained silent as I walked into the nesting pod.
Several females lay weak against the coolness of the damp dirt. Birthing below ground also allowed little room for sanitary nesting and births. Our females were kept close to the healers during the final stages of nesting. Many unborns and females did not survive this phase. In the left nook of the pod, Bosh stretched her silken covered body in comfortableness. I began my visit with a prayer before I visited each nesting female and provided them with what comforts I could spare.
Lusk and Mopus hovered around Bosh. I assumed she would waste no breath in telling me her wants and whimpers. With her attention wrapped around the two of them, I swiftly skirted out of the nesting pod and continued my rounds through the wounded and those requesting final blessings from sickness, injuries, and old bones. Mother Vicar would return with the green berries needed to allow our dire
to not suffer their endings long. Getting their final blessings out of the way would allow their last moments to be private with only their pod to witness.
~*~
Raid nights were the longest. Each moment ticked along with the beating of my heart as it seemed for most every Dwerger confined below. Silence dominated the short run of words that were said aloud. As I made my way back toward the return hub to wait for Mother Vicar and her army, a loud chuckling bounced through the halls near the nesting pod. Only one being contained such a cackle. Only one pod could find the time to relax during a raid. Lusk.
Mertio was above us in battle. Mertio spent each raid in battle, hoping to hold on to some dignity for the Lusk pod. He carried the weight alone, and below, his pod remained in good spirits of laughter as if his very life were not on the line. "With The Dreamers, may he be shielded," my eyes pointed toward the heavens above as I silently prayed for the youngster.
A team of healers stood by the opening Mother Vicar had created near the raiding village. Supplies of fresh water, healing herbs, and flesh-mending tools filled a temporary emergency pod for those who should return needing immediate attention. Their crimson robes seemed to carry such an elegant appeal next to mine, the color of tree bark. Their color choice had nothing to do with elegance, though. The crimson tint only hid the old saturated stains of blood from our fellow kind. The healers were a blessing to us each day, them serving as our personal hands of the Gods after a raid. I nodded to show my devoted gratitude as I took my place near them.
Dust coated my lashes as the raiders trampled through the hole toward us. I pulled the hood of my cloak a bit further over my eyes as they burned with dryness. I carefully noted each face as the swarm piled in, checking off one by one those who were fortunate enough to return. The severely injured were sought after by the healers. The army of Dwerger were honorable when it came to not putting oneself in front of another. The ones with less damaged flesh made their way down the gnarled halls of the village and waited for small medicinal repair in their pod.
The swarm thinned as time passed. Pauses with no one coming through the hole left me without breath until I saw another face. Because Mother Vicar was always the last to enter, I never considered a missing face as a claimed fatality until I saw her. Too much time had passed though, I thought of Mother Vicar and Mertio. The healers noticed the absence of them as well. Worried eyes pondered one another across the room. I avoided each one of them. My eyes could offer no comfort.
Most of the injured had been patched and returned to their pods. Those unable to return were sent to the healing pods near the nesting area. The healers kept close eyes on their patients. Only three healers remained near as I waited for Mother Vicar and Mertio. Silently, I prayed. Endlessly, I prayed. My attention broke from my devotional only for the sound of falling soil inside the hole. I pushed in front of the healers as they neared the opening.
"Mother Vicar?" I called out into the hallowness.
Only my voice echoed. The healers backed away with what appeared to be growing concern that what may be entering the hole could possibly be a foe that had discovered our colony. The healers were masters of their craft, but their dedication to medicine and herbs left them frail and feeble, not suited to battle, or even protecting themselves. A dragging sound neared through the hole. Frozen, I listened.
"Mother Vicar?" I called again.
"Come to us!" a voice called out. "I have her!"
It was not a taunting voice. The tone bellowed with exhaustion and pain. It was Mertio. Through the blanket of his agonizing tone, I could barely tell that it was him calling to us. The healers pushed by me, disappearing into the hole as I collected my thoughts and breathed a sigh of relief that the last two unaccounted for were safely home. Well, they were home at least, which was well beyond what my worst fears had assumed a moment before.
Two Crimson Robes made their way back into the dim light of our entry pod. Mother Vicar lay limply as one carried her shoulders, the other carried her feet. A line of blood fell from the side of her mouth as well as from the eye on the same side. The only sign of life she carried was the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. The healers' faces did not shed a somber tone. Their expressions always carried a grand insight on who could be saved and who could not. My heart allowed itself to beat.
Mertio hobbled in, dragging his left foot limply as the final Crimson Robe carried what weight of the young solid frame that his withered old bones could sustain. Judging by the gashes and bruises that covered his flesh, he had obviously taken a thicker lashing than the Holy Mother, but at least he was of conscious alert. Propping myself underneath his free arm, the Crimson Robe and I carried his battered bones into the treatment pod. My lips rambled a prayer to The Dreamers as we lay him across the makeshift resting frame next to Mother Vicar. Mertio's ear-shattering wail wafted loudly through our underground village as the healer stretched his leg flat across the frame.
Mertio returning injured was by no means a rare occurrence. He was one of our bravest scavengers and had thrived on unplanned risks. I often wondered if he would scavenge with hopes of dying, leaving Lusk and Mopus with no choice but to consider him a hero and an asset to their pod. I'd thought about taking him in as my own pod, though I knew it would be improper. I reached for his satchel.
"Leave it be." Mertio grabbed me and pressed my wrists firmly.
"I must remove it, Mer." I patted his firm grip. "Must have you bare to view your wounds."
His sable eyes tensed. I knew his crime. Once again the boy had sought after the cravings of Lusk above his given tasks; a crime he had been punished for on occasion. With a faint sigh, I released his precious satchel and leaned close to the lobe of his ear.
"Dreamers be the only hope of you should Mother Vicar suffer for your pursuit of sweet delicacies to line the bowels of Lusk." My back straightened above him.
"Well aware of what I face, Brother Harve." His cheeks dimpled beside his grin. "Not be it of your place to protest."
"Your crimes are not your own." I pushed his long golden strands away from his face. "You have no loot to show for yourself."
"To serve my pod," Mertio nodded, "be that my right and duty."
"Not at the price of another's well being," I reminded. "The entire clan comes before a single pod."
"Not in need of harsh words, Brother." His face rolled away from me. "I shall get plenty of lashing for my injuries and being unable to scavenge."
I knew what he meant. Mertio would become even more useless and unworthy in the eyes of his pod now that he would be out of commission for the next few raids. Lusk and Mopus would have no one to seek out their desires lingering above the soil. Understanding that Mertio was not thinking clearly, it still shocked me that his main fear of punishment was the belief that he would be shunned from his pod.
"Mer, you could be very well banished from the clan should Mother Vicar not fully recover from whatever ambush you created." My voice shivered through the firmness I tried to convey.
"Blame?" The Crimson Robe pushed his chest as Mertio attempted to raise from the frame. "No blame lay on my will!" I watched my reflection in the darkness of his eyes as they bulged from his sockets. "My deeds were finished when I heard her cries! I couldn't leave the Holy Mother!"
Solid and lost in thought, I froze as I pondered his claims. Mother Vicar was not only our spiritual leader, but a natural in battle. She was our Alpha. The Holy Mother knew not only to protect our clan, but herself as our chosen leader. She had scavenged the upper crust of Loci more times than I could count. What could have happened?
Instead of pressing Mertio any further, I edged my way over toward the frame where Mother Vicar remained silent. The Crimson Robes huddled tightly, excluding me from every direction. It was more important that they concentrate on the Holy Mother than my attempts to peek at her injuries. Should Mother not awaken to confirm his story, Mertio would very well face banishment by the clan, or worse yet, his demise. I crouched in
the corner against the red clay walls allowing the Crimson Robes their space with the patients. The lashes of my eyes weighed heavy until I could hold them open no longer.
~*~
My dreary eyes opened, focused only on the rouge toned burlap brushing against my knuckles. The Crimson Robe helped me onto my feet. The two others had been dismissed, as well as Mertio. I felt Mother Vicar gazing at me. I rushed to her side and dropped to my knees by her frame. Her jagged smile eased my worry.
"Mother Vicar," I pleaded, "must you always place the life of our sacred leader on the line in order to protect a single scavenger?"
Her wrinkled flesh stretched as she smiled. "It was but that single scavenger that saved the sacred leader." She rubbed the back of her hand against my cheek.
Dumbfounded, I lowered my brow to her. The Crimson Robe grumbled beneath his breath, forbidding my attempt to scold her. With a nod, my expression softened. Her solid raven eyes, still glazed with weakness, peered into mine. I could understand her without a word spoken. Yet, I still needed to know the story. I needed to justify Mertio as a hero and not a hazard. His pod owed him respect, as well did our entire clan.
Mother Vicar desired more rest, however. Her injuries were deep. The Crimson Robe refused further questioning for the time being. I had to seek out Mertio. He was not with his pod.
They remained in the nesting pod. Bosh had obviously given birth to her newest spawn as her sibling scavenged and saved our leader. Lusk and Mopus had not even searched for him when he did not return swiftly to them after the scavenge. I blessed the newborn and continued searching for Mertio. He was not in the nook that his pod occupied. The emptiness of the nook was overcome by the overabundance of pure filth.
Holding my breath, I made my way out of their nook. Sniffing myself as I walked down the winding halls of our village, I was comforted in knowing the stench had not seeped into my dressings. Further on, I could hear the screams and cries from within the nook where Bosh lived with her pod. I knocked, but remained unheard over the rowdy small ones inside. I allowed myself through the doorway, dodged and ducked objects as they were tossed around with disregard to anyone or anything that may be damaged. Mertio, bruised and battered, lay on the floor with several of Bosh's spawn jumping and pulling on him as if he were just another play thing for their amusement.
Seven Deadly Sins Page 18
