They had the same face, that was sure, but she had a scar on hers, a tiny imperfection that ran across one cheek.
Apparently reading Vervain's stare, the stranger ran her hand over it as if finding it for the first time. "I fell, when I was a child, down the temple stairs. It bled a lot."
She did not dare whisper the word 'sister' as Gentian had. Instead, Vervain licked her lips and replied, "I broke my arm as a girl in the forest. It healed without a scar." She jerked her head down to towards her feet. "But I got these when I was very young, I don't remember how."
The woman bent down and examined the half dozen scars on Vervain's legs, she glanced up, a hesitant half smile on her lips. She obviously knew what it was; a small attempt to build a bridge, find something in common between them.
She stood up slowly, and they stared at each other for a long time. Vervain saw the other's eyes flickering over her, searching for differences between them. She reached out in another, more tangible way. "My name is Vervain."
Finally, the other must have decided that Vervain had passed some kind of test, because she spoke. "Mine is Rowan. Gentian, Stonekeeper of Serey, is my mother."
A grim smile danced over Vervain's lips. "I am pretty sure she is not." She jerked her hands in their restraints so the other could see the dried blood on her arms. "She says all this is to help you."
Rowan's eyes glazed over with unshed tears, and she actually took a step back.
What sort of life had the child of the Stonekeeper lived? Vervain guessed it was an easier one than hers, and now Rowan faced uncomfortable truths. In Vervain's training in the Higher Knowledge she once spent an entire year studying her own faults and weaknesses, analyzing everything she ever said or did to another human being, as well as her place in the world. It was one of the most difficult things she ever did... at least until that point. Hanging by her wrists in the dungeon of Serey, being slowly bled for conquest...that was slightly more difficult. Slightly.
"Look out there," she said, moving her head to indicate the place where preparations for the attack were well underway. "Every one of those progeny will be fed with my blood, and after that, who knows?"
Rowan's face closed up, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if she could hold herself together and the world at bay at the same time. "This...this is for the good of Serey," she whispered, but her voice didn't have the fervor of a true fanatic, or even the conviction of a true convert.
Vervain had the sudden hope perhaps she could be reached. Zoekers like herself had not been born to the Knowledge. Many of their number were once theists.
"Is it for the good of Serey children will have their mothers killed before them? When fathers are beaten or emasculated to make them convert to your goddess, that is also her will? How does that please her, and even if it does, how can you worship such a goddess?"
Rowan did not look at her, and Vervain knew she hung onto what she had been taught her whole life—however Vervain couldn't wait any longer. She had to get out of there now, so she twisted in her chains. The clanking caused Rowan to spin about so their eyes met again.
"Please," Vervain pleaded, and the exhaustion in her voice was completely genuine, "get me down from here. You and I have a connection, you feel it as much as I do, so don't let me bleed to death like this." Again she avoided the word 'sister'.
That last bit was also a carefully concealed piece of the truth; Rowan could not know all the blood in the jars was hers.
Rowan hesitated for a moment, her hands knitting together as she glanced over her shoulder. It was apparent she was a woman used to taking orders from others. Vervain managed to keep her frustration in check because everything hung on this woman—this possible sister—helping her.
Vervain didn't believe in gods, but she did believe in chance, and if chance brought Rowan to her then she would make the most of the opportunity.
"Look at me," Vervain whispered. "Something is going on between us, and you must want to know what it means just as much as I do. If you have half a brain, you must!"
The woman jerked her head as if slapped, but then nodded slowly. Something seemed to snap in her with that gesture, and she scampered to the anchor point of the chain holding Vervain aloft. When she unwrapped it, the metallic line made a thin rattle. Vervain winced, worried someone would hear.
Rowan caught her as she hit the ground and nearly toppled over. Vervain swayed on the balls of her feet. The rest of the world seemed as insubstantial as mist, but the woman with her face was a rock in the middle of it. The blood jars rattled as if somehow sensing their contact.
"What are we?" Rowan asked, her eyes wide with fear. Vervain knew she was feeling it too, but she had no answers. Not yet.
"So very disappointing," Gentian's voice snapped them both out of their contemplation. She stood by the door with two butchers at her back. Vervain jerked her head, but the other way was also blocked by another two men wielding long knives.
"Mother." Rowan acknowledged the Stonekeeper's presence, but didn't leave Vervain's side. She opened her mouth to say more, but Vervain knew immediately what stopped her...what was there to say?
The two of them were the same, twins most likely, and Rowan's choice to come find her spoke volumes, as did the Stonekeeper's draining of Vervain. Despite their outward similarities, one thing Vervain never had was a mother. Now, standing there, shivering in the pit of butchers and stitchers, she was glad of it.
The look in Rowan's eyes was full of genuine pain. Vervain could only imagine how she would have felt if Setna betrayed her in the same way.
Gentian Stonekeeper looked as flinty as her name suggested, and she stared at Rowan like she had never seen her before. "I was never your mother. I took you in because I thought you were special, but you never showed anything. Until now." She glanced between the two women.
"Something happened when you found each other." The Stonekeeper began to move around them, circling them as if they were prey. Her gaze darted between them. "Something...awakened..."
Vervain tried to hold her head upright, but weakness washed over her. Still, it seemed like she might need to be involved in this discussion.
"This is your daughter," she gasped out, since Rowan seemed frozen into horrified silence. "You've raised her. You can't..."
"Serey takes care of us. She gives us what we require in the hour of our need." Gentian smiled softly. "My daughter is blessed that her role is to make the goddess' will manifest."
Vervain wanted to scream at her twin to move, to resist, to do anything. To save herself, at the very least. None of that happened. Rowan stayed limp and quiet while the butchers grabbed both of them. Even when they dragged her over, and hung her next to Vervain, she said nothing.
When the knives came out, she began to scream in earnest and as fully as Vervain. However, her howls were different; they were full of the despair of a betrayed daughter.
Chapter Ten
New Friends, Fresh Trouble
Ohian drove the cart through the night; her hands firm on the reins, her strange mirror-like eyes fixed on the horizon. Amaranth tried to stay awake, but two days of stress, panic, and every other emotion she had not let herself feel in the pits eventually overwhelmed her.
She tucked herself against the side of the cart—since she was not ready to cuddle up with their presumed savior. Fleabane curled into her, resting her head against the place where Amaranth once had an arm. The younger girl was almost immediately asleep, while Amaranth managed to stave off sleep a moment longer. Ohian did not look at her, so the younger woman was able to study her for the last few moments as she drifted off. She let her gaze linger on the fine line of stitches connecting the animated hair to the rest of her skull. It was skillful work, but despite everything, Amaranth never considered stitching anything to herself.
As her eyes drifted close, possibilities began to dance in her imagination even as unconsciousness claimed her. The howl of a far off beast wound itself into her head, and she dream
ed strange and beautiful dreams. She was a monster composed of the world, stitched together by herself alone. Every cleverness of life was hers, and death held no fear. With so many senses, the air was a perfume, she heard music everywhere, and colors filled her mind with delight. It was the kind of dream she had in the pit and never wanted to leave.
"Amaranth? Amaranth?" Fleabane's voice was soft, so it only niggled at the edges of her awareness. Amaranth tried to burrow deeper, back to her pleasant dream, but her companion shook her. It was gentle, but Amaranth sat up with a frown on her forehead and rubbing her sore eyes.
"We're here," Fleabane said, and she spoke the words in such a flat tone she might as well have said they were back at the pits. Ceelut and Cedejo sat next to the horse, eyes firmly fixed on the horizon, and it was impossible to work out their thoughts on the matter.
Amaranth's thoughts were so fuddled, that for a moment she only yawned before asking, "Where is here exactly?" She looked around, and realized a new day pulled itself over the horizon. The rocky slope the cart stopped on looked beautiful in the light of dawn; soft red stones set against a sapphire blue sky.
"The hot springs," Ohian said, appearing from the rear of the cart. She waved some folded material in their direction. "I have some wonderful cotton I picked up from the priests of Heresphone, and then these too. Hold out your hands."
The girls shared a glance, but did as asked. Ohian dropped an oval of a solid, sweet-smelling substance into each of their palms. When both of them peered at it suspiciously, the older woman let out a gentle laugh. "It's soap...for cleaning yourself."
Amaranth cleared her throat. "We're sorry, but you see in the pit, there wasn't really much cleaning...we don't really know how."
She felt strangely embarrassed about it. Ohian tilted her head, the tentacles, sliding out from under her hood and brushing her shoulders. "Then let me show you the first ritual of civilization."
Their rescuer beckoned them to follow, and she led them over the slight rise, behind a line of rocks. Amaranth stopped in place, words dying on her lips. It was nothing as great as an ocean, just a collection of pools but it was the variety that grabbed her attention: greens, blues and even a few purples. Some were bubbling aggressively, while others seemed almost lazy.
Ohian got in the middle of Amaranth and Fleabane and led them down the slope. "I usually break my trip to Damnation here. These pools are wonderful for old bones." When both of them stared at her as if they expected to find bleached skeletons in the pool, she let out another laugh. "I mean my bones...in my body. The pools have minerals that ease aches and pains. One day when you are old you will see what I mean."
Amaranth did not see how Ohian could complain about being old; their rescuer didn't look like she had many more years than they did. Still she nodded and smiled in agreement.
"Now don't just go jumping into any pool," Ohian warned, stripping off her pants and leather tunic without any sign of embarrassment. "Some of these would boil your flesh right off. This green one here though is plenty safe."
From the corner of her eye, Amaranth observed more carefully stitched portions on Ohian’s body, though there was nothing as dramatic as her hair. The traveler had a long, lean body, well-muscled, with small breasts. It was the form of one made for strength and endurance.
After a life in the pits Amaranth had a good eye for bodies and their capabilities. She was also completely immune to any modesty about her own. She readily stripped off the remainder of her clothes and dropped them to the ground. She would rather go naked than put those blood and shit coated coverings back on. They were the trappings of her oppressors.
However, there were things she wouldn't do without. Time for her creations to abandon their past too. She sent her beetle-scorpions scampering from her hair, to wait in the shadow of a nearby rock while she bathed. The prickle at the back of her neck told her the two dog-progeny followed from the cart, and sat at the edge watching her. Carefully, Amaranth took the hard won needle and thread from behind her ear, and placed it on a flat rock by the beetle-scorpions, who huddled around the items to protect them.
Ohian was already lowering herself into the green pool, her face stretched in pleasure. Fleabane stood to one side, her face blank. Her eyes darted to the pool and back, so perhaps it was only modesty that kept her from entering. Modesty, Amaranth wondered, how on earth is she still modest after being in the pit?
She realized now was not the time to dig into Fleabane's past, but she filed the information away for later.
"We're safe," Amaranth said, walking over to her, "but look at what they have made of me." She was determined to show Fleabane modesty was not something either of them could afford. She held out her arm and turned around. The empty scar left in place of her stolen arm was only one of many marks on her body. Amaranth knew her body was a wreck, but at least it was now hers.
Distracting the other girl with her own broken form allowed Fleabane to relax a little. With a strange little twist of her lips, she stripped off her own equally foul clothing. Like Amaranth, she had scars but they were strange.
The older girl did not say anything, but the square scars on her back, legs and upper arms were like nothing she'd ever seen in the pits. It was hard to imagine what they could have been doing cutting her back like that. Usually skin from there was valuable and easily harvested.
Amaranth and Fleabane entered the water cautiously and together. It was warm, deliciously warm, and as she let herself slide into it, a little sigh escaped her.
Ohian was at the far side, sunk up to her neck, steam rising about her face, while her tentacle hair wriggled in the green water, seemingly just as happy. She didn't say anything to them, giving them no instruction on how to enjoy this experience.
Amaranth decided words were not needed. She paddled over to her own corner and began to use the soap Ohian gave her. It smelled sweet, and some part of her memory said that was flowers. An image of pink and spring leapt into her mind. Just thinking about it made her smile...even if she wasn't sure where it came from.
With her hand, Amaranth cleaned her body, exploring the ridges and scars, planes and muscles of it. Then she dunked her head, and worked the soap through the crust of years. It took some time, but no one seemed ready to leave. Ohian rested her head against the stone edge of the pool, perhaps those tentacles made it comfortable. Her eyes were completely closed, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.
Fleabane experimented with floating; not far off she was on the surface of the water, eyes blissfully shut, and her body cleaned with Ohian’s gift too. That such a moment came hard on the heels of so much pain and panic made Amaranth worry for a moment she was imagining it all. They succeeded.
"They'll be after you soon," Ohian’s voice broke the younger woman's feeling of victory.
Amaranth cracked open her eyes, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. "Who?"
The tentacle hair flashed bright blue for a moment. "The Pit Masters." When Amaranth went to open her mouth to deny it, Ohian waved a finger at her. "Don't pretend. I know what Damnation supplies, and I know none of her drivers look like you two—not with all those scars and missing an arm."
Amaranth swallowed hard, realizing she threw her lot in with someone she didn't know. At her back Ceelut and Cedejo got to their feet, growling, and baring their scimitar teeth. All it would take was a thought.
Ohian glanced over, but did not look impressed or worried. "Don't worry, I am no friend to Damnation, merely a traveler like you."
Despite her assurances, she awakened awareness in Amaranth. The drivers might rely on the wild animals and deadly landscape to prevent escape, but that didn't mean they wouldn't try to find them. She glanced at Fleabane. She had her foot on the slope, ready to climb out of the pool and start running.
Ohian tilted her head. "Perhaps ‘merely’ is not the right word. I have my ways of not being followed." Her hair clenched on the rock of the pool, flickering with a matching green shade.
"What are you?" Amaranth finally blurted. The strange memories that flashed in her head told her nothing of the woman, and she needed to know something of her.
"I suppose a story for a story is a fair exchange," Ohian said after a moment. "A pit baby like you has probably never seen a chimera before."
The word elicited no response from Amaranth's memories, but it did from Fleabane. Her fellow escapee paddled over and leaning in, whispered hotly into her ear. "We need to leave, Amaranth. With Ceelut and Cedejo we can just take her cart and get out of here." The panic in her voice was hard not to catch.
Pulling her arms out of the water, and leaning against the rim of the pool, Ohian looked relaxed, but it didn't go unnoticed by Amaranth that her hair was flickering between blue and white now, as it had the previous night. She made sure to keep her distance from the traveler in the pool.
"Your friend must have heard of my kind." Ohian’s face was still, her voice calm, but it was obvious from her hair this was far from the reality. "But not all chimeras are willingly made." Her fingers brushed her hairline. "A chimera is usually someone who has taken it on themselves to improve their lot by adding creatures to their body. Some can be quite...extreme. However, unlike that kind, I did not choose this path." Her voice broke, and she looked away.
Amaranth thought of her needle and thread and contemplated if she could do what she did with her progeny to herself. Then she looked down at the place where her missing arm should have been. Part of her was already a chimera somewhere. The idea of finding a replacement arm was appealing, but that would mean taking it from someone else.
It was a contemplation for another day.
Instead, Amaranth cleared her throat even as she felt Fleabane's hand tighten on hers below the water. "And these additions give you magic?" She could think of no other word for what they witnessed the traveler doing the night before.
Ohian gave a small nod, as if it were a simple, expected thing. Her odd colored eyes fixed on the girls as she raised her hand to her hair. The tentacles softened into the long waving strands. "This was a very rare creature of the deep ocean; my creators were very pleased with it. I have learned to live with it, and use its gifts."
Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1) Page 11
