Fleabane grinned. "Let's eat something while I tell you what I am allowed to." She ducked into the cart and beyond the shelves found Ohian’s supplies. Returning with a few apples and some bread—which unlike that in the pits was not hard enough to squash a bug with.
The two of them sat close to the cart and ate. Or rather Amaranth did while Fleabane recounted her story.
"My mother was an initiate of Quccha, my father was too...I think...I never really knew him." She took a bite from the apple and in between chews continued. "It doesn't really matter because my mother left the clergy after her first visit to Penance." Her eyes clouded over, and Amaranth sensed she was dancing around the subject she somehow felt she couldn't talk about. As she continued, her words came faster and faster. "I wasn't born in the temple, well not the kind that anyone in this world would recognize."
Amaranth didn't look her in the eyes, she was slightly afraid what she would find if she did, but she thought of all she gathered about the world beyond the pits. In her mind's eye, temples were gleaming piles of white stone peopled by priests and priestesses who wielded their power from on high. Yet for all her airy thoughts of them, they were the ones ultimately responsible for what she lost, since the pits would not exist without the trade in flesh.
The desire burned in her to ask Fleabane hundreds of questions, but Amaranth did not want to lose the younger girl to madness, and she seemed awfully close to it. She still had a knife after all, and she was closer than the dogs. Instead, Amaranth asked a question to keep her talking. "Who did you grow up with then? Do you have brothers or sisters?" The concept of siblings had always sounded so wonderful to a trapped pit baby.
Fleabane shook her head, as if surprised by the thought. "No, Mother raised me all by herself, and she raised me to be a weapon."
"A weapon?" Amaranth paused, and shot her companion a look. She could not help the comment that popped out of her mouth after that, "She did a wonderful job of it."
Fleabane didn't seem to get the verbal jab. "Thank you," she said instead with a bright smile. "Mother found people to teach me; blades, how to hide in the shadows, poisons, all sorts of useful things."
"You were wealthy then," Amaranth pressed boldly on, "to be able to afford such teachers?"
With a slight shrug, Fleabane admitted, "No, Mother was beautiful, she traded her body and services for what we needed."
Amaranth saw the sense in that; from what she witnessed the only real value in the world was flesh. At least they hadn't hacked it off Fleabane's mother, and she traded it willingly.
"And where is your mother now?" she pressed, without really thinking.
"Waiting for us." Fleabane got to her feet. "She has gone ahead to Penance."
So many questions crowded Amaranth's head that her mouth stumbled over the first one to escape. "What is this Penance you keep talking about?"
With a sigh Fleabane brushed the crumbs off her lap. "It seems strange to have to explain it to you of all people, but Penance is a city on the edge of the God Void. It is a gathering place of all the clergy. Once every three years they meet there to make all their decisions and count how many gods have been killed."
"That sounds like the worse place for me to go to," Amaranth gestured with her one remaining arm to the wreck of her body. "They've already taken so much from me that—"
Fleabane's hand locked around hers, while the other pressed against her lips, stilling any further comments. "And you shall have it all back. I promise." She had the eyes of a believer, steady, uncompromising, but also free of lies.
"Do you trust me?" Fleabane asked quietly.
Amaranth looked around, taking in Ohian’s spread body and the blood soaking into the earth around it. She saw the girl slay a woman nearly twice her size, and though Fleabane helped her from the pit, that couldn't be a good thing. Despite all that, some part of Amaranth knew her pit mate was true.
Amaranth finally glanced across at Ceelut and Cedejo. The cobbled together dogs sat calmly enough not far away, their ears pricked. They were observant, but made no move when Fleabane killed Ohian. They hadn't even growled.
Even though she barely understood the situation, Amaranth still had to have belief in her own creations. Swallowing back the taste of bile, she nodded. "I do trust you."
Fleabane clapped her hands together, making her former pit mate jump just a little. "Then it is settled."
She clambered into the back of the cart and began tossing out the contents. Amaranth had to leap back or risk being hit by flying limbs and other fleshy pieces. The trays smashed on the ground, spilling their contents on the hard earth. Ohian had obviously been making quite a living transporting flesh to people unable to travel to Damnation.
It was enough to make Amaranth question all of her decisions, but somehow Fleabane and her cheerful ejection of the pieces helped her keep her calm.
"I mean, part of me thinks we should sell these." Fleabane stopped what she was doing and smiled at Amaranth. "Get it...'part' of me." She swung around and sent a tray of liquid and what must have been human skin flying. Ceelut and Cedejo leapt to their paws and trotted over to examine what to them must have seemed like a banquet.
"We shall never profit from this terrible trade," Amaranth said firmly, wrapping her arm around her torso. Strange pains tugged the empty socket where her other arm once hung, making her blood surge with anger once again. Phantom pain she was used to, but these were sharp and definitely demanding. As she spun around watching Fleabane at her work, they grew stronger and then less somehow. Amaranth turned around again, feeling the effect. Frowning she turned back in the opposite direction this time. The pain grew stronger again. Turn to the left, it lessened until it was almost gone, turn to the right, and it grew stronger enough to make her lock her jaw on a scream.
Fleabane took so much joy out of what she was doing she didn't seem to take notice of Amaranth, moving backwards and forwards. The older girl measured the extent of the changes, working out that the pain was greatest in a straight line, the least moving in the opposite direction. It was very odd.
Finally, Fleabane stood at the entrance to the cart and put her hands on her hips. "There, I think that's done it. No more stolen flesh in here, just supplies and," —she held up a small purse—"even a little gold to be going on with." She tossed it in her hand and then stared at Amaranth. "What's the matter?"
Amaranth pointed towards the direction of least pain. "What is in that direction?" she asked.
When Fleabane's eyes widened, she didn't really need to hear the rest. "That is the road to Penance," she said, hopping down from the cart and staring into Amaranth's eyes. "But how did you...how could you possibly..."
"My wound hurts greatest in that direction." Amaranth supposed she should have been frightened to head that way. "Pain has always been my companion, Fleabane, don't worry about it. It probably means nothing.
It was interesting how Fleabane's eyes clouded over, and her face went very still. "Yes, you’re right. It's been a trying few days." She went around the front of the cart and began busying herself with preparing the horse. Ohian’s mare seemed to be making a fuss, but as strange as Fleabane was, she was better prepared to deal with such things.
Amaranth went over to Ohian’s body. She didn't look dangerous now, sprawled on the dirt, her mouth pulled back in a scream that would never be given breath.
"Chimera," Amaranth whispered, giving name to the thing that frightened Fleabane into doing this murder. The previous night they used the woman to escape the town, but she planned something else entirely. It could have been both of them in those trays, portions for Ohian to earn money.
Rage still bubbled under the surface. Amaranth killed the drivers so they could escape, but Fleabane killed the woman… Why? To protect them, she said, but was it true? As Amaranth contemplated the fact they were both murderers now, her companion appeared near the front of the cart.
"Chimera are mad," she repeated her earlier statement, "but they are al
so very rare. Most of them go crazy and get themselves killed. This one was the most sane I've seen."
"You've seen more than this one?" Amaranth suddenly understood Fleabane's life in the outside world must have been more significant than she thought. How old was she? She always assumed Fleabane was younger, but if she wasn't, what sort of life had she led where she met more than one chimera in her time.
Fleabane shrugged, looking like she didn't want to talk about it. It must pass too close to whatever she didn't want Amaranth to know about. After seeing what she was capable of, Amaranth decided even with Ceelut and Cedejo at her side she didn't want to push it.
The two women shut up the back of the cart and took their places at the front. Fleabane, whose training obviously included driving a cart, picked up the reins and flicked them.
Ohian’s mare tossed her head, prancing in place, as if she was not going to obey mere creatures like them, so Fleabane gave another slap of the leather, and let out a loud "Yah!"
The cart lurched forward with a clatter, while Amaranth clutched onto the side of the seat and tried to calm her racing heart. The familiar sensation of her breath jamming in her throat brought on a moment of panic.
"What about the progeny?" she said after a moment of following the very slight path down the side of the hills, away from the hot springs. "Won't it come after us now that Ohian is dead?"
Fleabane's hands tightened on the reins. "Where we are going they dare not follow, but don't worry there are plenty of dangers."
Chapter Fourteen
A Village of Faith
Wisdom Nicht, Zoeker of the Higher Knowledge and warrior of the truth, was currently buried under a mountain of giggling children. The village of Jaarhalt had become a second home to him over the last few months, and its youngsters had long gotten over their initial shyness around the warlocks and witches. They tangled their fingers in his hair, and tried to poke him in the armpits to see how ticklish he was. It was strange a grown man of nearly thirty was somehow still vulnerable to such attacks.
So few free villagers remained on the once-isolated peninsula that even as Wisdom laughed, endured tickles, and cried out for mercy from the children, the dark thought lingered—how much longer could they guarantee their safety? Vervain would have loved the place with its lush jungles full of vividly colored insects and wild animals. She would have fought hard to keep them alive...if she'd been alive herself, that was.
Wisdom was not that enamored of the biting midges natural to the low lying marshes the villagers of Jaarhalt fished from, but the people more than made up for that.
"Are you in need of assistance?" Setna's deep voice reached through the tumult of childish laughter.
"No, I can manage." Wisdom lifted one grinning toddler off his chest and set him on the ground despite his complaints.
However, like morning mist burning off the marshes, the children disappeared in the presence of the Prime Zoeker of Higher Knowledge. His long, grey dreadlocks and piercing blue eyes set in a wrinkled face, brown and serious, did not make children laugh; it instilled a calm that denied the possibility of play.
The children would find another place to play far from the reach of his gaze. It was fortunate they did not know how far that gaze actually extended; it was much beyond that of an untrained man.
Wisdom placed one hand on his chest directly over his heart, giving a small bow of his head and shoulders. It was right to show respect to one of higher Knowledge than yourself, but all of the Zoekers made sure never to show the deference the theists required for their temple leaders. "How may I assist, teacher?"
Setna gestured forward and together they walked through the cluster of ramshackle buildings on stilts towards the edge of the low-lying island the village sat on.
"I am heading into the jungle this morning," Setna said in a low voice, careful no others overheard them. "I need to find the akasha within me, to see beyond this village, and even this peninsula." He turned his eyes on Wisdom's face, examining it deeply. "Have you felt a change in its flow in the last few days?"
Wisdom frowned as he considered, but eventually shook his head. The atmosphere around the village was always full of life, and as beautiful as that was, he also knew it could muffle the underlying pulse of the akasha. For someone as sensitive as his teacher, it must be most distressing, but Wisdom reveled in it. He hadn't been so relaxed in a long time—not since Vervain's death.
When seeking Higher Knowledge there was a lot of loneliness to be conquered and even more than that, it required an examination of self that bordered on painful. Wisdom knew he did not have the requirements to be Prime Zoeker, and the one who showed the most ability in that direction was sadly lost to them. Wisdom clenched his jaw hard, trying to pull his mind away from thoughts of her. It had only been a month, but it was not as though they never lost Zoekers before—it was, in fact, an all too common occurrence.
He almost jumped when Setna's hand wrapped around his shoulder. "It is alright to miss Vervain, you know that?" For once his face was softened slightly, and Wisdom realized he was not the only one who felt her absence keenly.
"It is a weakness though," he replied, not meeting his teacher's eyes, looking out instead over the swirling mists rising through the reeds, "and we cannot afford weakness—especially now."
"It is the cracks, the imperfections in ourselves, that make us more than mere vessels of akasha." Setna's voice grew gruff. "Vervain taught me that. She overcame a great deal to become as powerful as she was."
"Still not enough to save herself," Wisdom said, and he knew his grief tinged every word.
The two men were silent for a moment, but then Wisdom ventured to ask what he had not dared up until that moment. It seemed to him Setna opened the door just a fraction to his actual thoughts.
"How long do you think Jaarhalt can hold out?" Wisdom looked around to make sure none of the villagers were within earshot.
Setna let out a long sigh, his shoulders actually slumping a little. "It is obvious we cannot keep turning the progeny from this place much longer. The theists may have already worked out why their creations are failing, and we all know they have ways to shut us out of manipulation."
The akasha the temples used to construct their progeny and homunculi was a powerful one, powered not only by the akashanic ocean of essence that flowed invisible to most all around them, but also the strength of belief and faith. As much as the Zoekers of the Higher Knowledge understood the world around them, they could never muster the kind of blind faith of the theist believers. It was the cruel irony of their dire situation.
Vervain thought there was a way to stem the tide of progeny creation by altering the brains of the animals they used. She showed her fellow Zoekers a way to stimulate the memories of the beasts, and though she was lost, her method prevented the destruction of places like Jaarhalt. At least for a time there was hope, but they knew the theists would find a way past it eventually.
Setna must have read despair on Wisdom's face, for he clenched his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I will meditate on the answers this morning, send my mind over the land between here and home. Maybe we can evacuate the village before that happens."
The two of them shared a glance, and it was not a happy one. They both knew Jaarhalt's position on the peninsula, surrounded by theist encampments and temples that encroached further and further with each season, it made it impossible for the Zoekers to lead the whole village to safety. Apparently Setna could still find it in himself to lie. It was almost a relief to Wisdom to know he wasn't perfect.
If Vervain stood next to him, Wisdom would have made a joke about ordering a miracle from the theists. She would have laughed at that. He loved her laugh—like he loved everything about her. The horrible truth though was, Vervain was not there, and Setna was not a man to share those same things with. Instead, Wisdom merely nodded, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and let his teacher go do what he must.
As Wisdom watched him walk out of the
village, he noticed the crook in his back, and how much slower he had gotten since last winter. It was unbearable to contemplate losing both Vervain and Setna in such quick succession.
He stuffed away his dark mood, when he caught sight of Groa emerging from one of the houses. She clambered down a ladder and smiled a goodbye to the residents waving her off. However, when she turned away, where they could not see her, that smile quickly faded from her long, care-worn face.
Honesty was the first rule of Higher Knowledge, but kindness was the second. It would not be kind to remind the residents of Jaarhalt that not only were the summer diseases coming to claim them and their children, but also that they simply could not be taken to the healing houses like last year.
Each of the Higher Knowledge circles were self-contained. Only the prime of each circle knew the way to the House of the Flame, and it had to be kept that way because it was the last bastion of sane thought and reason. The theists greatest wish would be to destroy the home of the Zoekers. With their latest advances, the passage to the House was closed to them.
The people of Jaarhalt would have to be healed in their village as best as the circle could manage, but the grim look on Groa's face reminded Wisdom it would not be easy. It was as if the imminent threat from the progeny was not enough, but he knew it was not a vengeful god making this happen, just random, unfortunate circumstances.
Wisdom sighed and wrapped his hand about the foci that hung from his neck for a little taste of comfort. The tiny piece of amber was infused with akasha and aligned to his mind alone. His own particular gifts did not lie in healing, and his role was not to care for the sick, but he knew it was the only way to keep the villages free. If the residents of Jaarhalt started bowing down to gods there would be no more free thinkers of any kind on the whole peninsula, and the battle Zoekers fought for generations would be nearly lost. The House of Flame would be the last isolated bastion of free thought, and even if it remained hidden, it would eventually fizzle into entropy.
Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1) Page 15
