Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1)

by Philippa Ballantine

  His eyes, green and reflecting the light of the rising moon, locked with hers. Slowly he withdrew the spines back within himself.

  Rowan swallowed hard and determined from that point on she would make her own decisions, judge things for herself. She gestured to the rock beside her, and he sat next to her. He had kind eyes, and she felt as though she was starting to understand the man behind the monster. Still she had to have answers.

  "So," she said, choosing her words as carefully as she could, "you are a chimera. Am I one too?"

  He tilted his head, and then reaching forward swept back her hair from her neck. He examined her skin, at least the skin he could see, with care. She found herself blushing, but held still as he ran his eyes across her. Once or twice he even brushed against her with his fingertips, especially on the crusted over wounds where her mother had blood drawn.

  Finally, he turned over her hand, palm up, and examined her forearms. She had the feeling he was grinning at her but trying and failing at hiding it.

  "No," he finally concluded, "you are most definitely not a chimera. Not even the hint of a stitch on your skin."

  It was strange that a rush of disappointment filled her belly. Perhaps it would not have been the best label to have attached to her, but at least it would have been one. Without the title of cleric to hang onto, she wondered how she was going to be anything in the world.

  "Then what I am I to do with all...this?"

  He touched her hand. "That I cannot tell you. You must find the answers yourself for them to be worth anything."

  It was a very unsatisfactory reply, so Rowan couldn't help the words that exploded from her mouth. "Really? That is going to be your answer after all this?" It was apparently very easy for her to go from embarrassment to rage.

  He looked her up and down, his eyes roaming over her as if assessing something deeper than skin. She shifted uncomfortably. She saw that look on her mother's face before, and seeing it on her rescuer did not help.

  He leaned forward and smiled at her. "It is said I shouldn't tell you."

  "Who is 'it'?" she asked, sitting a little straighter and tilting her chin up. It was her best attempt at mimicking her mother's stance on the wall before the progeny. "After this night, I think there is nothing I cannot face."

  In the clearing where they sat, the shadows seemed to grow a little longer. She didn't want to hear their demands right now.

  Leaning forward, he took her hand in his, placing the back of it in his palm, and stroking the lines across it with his other finger. "You don't believe you are a god come from the Void?"

  Rowan stopped, taking in his serious expression, and a twist of an odd emotion in her stomach. It had nothing to do with him; it was truth and awareness.

  Reality closed in on Rowan, and she felt like the night would swallow her up too. The powers, the fear and lust in her mother's eyes; they all made sense now.

  The Pierced Man told her a great truth, and the second time he said it, she knew it for what it was. Suddenly her mortal life was a great yawning pit in which she had been wasting her time. All those moments of fear and uncertainty stacked up around her amounted to exactly nothing. His eyes never left her face, and his finger continued to swirl around her palm.

  “They blocked your memories of that day—the first thing the priests stole from you.”

  She nodded, not wanting to share the little bits that were starting to reveal themselves to her. The feeling of a hand on her head. A tall dark man pushing through the crowd.

  "This wasn't what I thought a god would be though," she said, her voice shaking with laughter and fear. "I am...weak. Able to be hurt…"

  "And killed," he interrupted, and wrapped his fingers tightly around her hand. "Your sister who went over the waterfall, Vervain...she was only saved by the sacrifice of the priestess who went with her."

  "And the other?" Rowan felt her second sister's hand in hers as clearly as she could feel his.

  "Lost to the pits." He said it in a matter of fact tone, but she knew it came with a flood of images. They carved up people there and turned them into parts for the creation of progeny and homunculi.

  "So fragile," Rowan said, getting to her feet and letting his hand drop away from her. "Gods aren't supposed to be fragile." She turned her face the shadows, unafraid now to see what was there. The people of that land were killed mercilessly. Her mother had been only the most recent in a long line of Stonekeepers who killed for their god.

  "Serey is a lie then?"

  "No god is a lie," he followed her, a ceaseless whisper in her ear. "All come from the Void, beautiful and fragile. What is done to them after is the greatest lie however."

  Gods were among the dead. How that could be, she didn't know, but she felt them among the ranks of those around her. A beautiful woman with long grey hair that trailed around her feet. Serey of the Waves, and she was long dead. Her image bore the scars where they ripped her apart, making the greatest of progeny.

  Sadness washed over her, the kind that threatened to bring her to her knees. "A god is nothing great then," she said, closing her eyes. "It means nothing but death and despair."

  "Not if you claim your powers as your own," he whispered in her ear. "Not if you actually do something with them."

  She felt her rescuer trying to pull her back from the edge, but the last week’s events had all culminated in a lead blanket of despair. Rowan couldn’t understand how she would ever be able to get out from under it.

  "Look," he said, and taking her gently by the shoulders, turned her away from the sea, back inland. "Look to the Mountain Home."

  It was the target of her mother's ambitions, and what she had been creating progeny to take. The Pierced Man slid his arm around her shoulders, practically holding her up. "The mountain halls are the kingdom of death. Generations of people died there. Great armies have broken on the grey shoulders of those mountains. Is there a better place for you to become what you need to be than there?"

  He was talking about power; Rowan heard her mother talking about it long enough to recognize it in another.

  "You must make yourself safe, from her and from the world." Now his finger brushed the side of her face. "Aren't you sick of people telling you what to do? Don't you tire of not being in charge of your own fate?"

  It was hard to concentrate with the whispers of the dead all around her.

  "What about my sister?" It was a simple attempt to turn aside, to follow in someone else's footsteps, which she was used to.

  "She is gone now." He took hold of her arms, turning her to look at him. "You are your own creature, Rowan. You must make the world accept you...fear you if necessary..."

  "Why do you care about what the world does to me?" She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but the path he suggested seemed dark to her.

  "You don't know?" he let out a little laugh. "Didn't you see me in the shadows? I was keeping an eye on you all the time. You must have seen me..."

  "I...I think I did." Rowan glared at him. "But you got me into a lot of trouble with Gentian."

  He nudged the slain Stonekeeper’s body with the tip of his toe.

  "I was making sure she didn't do anything to you, and as it turns out, I was right to watch." He quirked an eyebrow at her, but she could not argue with that.

  "What do you want from me then?" she blurted out. The old Rowan from only a week earlier would have never dared say something so rude, but she was a long way from that now.

  He pressed his hands around hers. "I want to believe, Rowan. I want to see a god at work, doing what she was always meant to do. I have been waiting for you for so long."

  He was hard to read. Anyone who was not dead was hard to read for Rowan, but she was not about to kill him to find out the truth. She wanted to ask him why he would possibly believe in her, but she was afraid of the answer.

  The truth was, she had nowhere to go, and no one else to trust. The number of gods among the dead told her the path of her kind was not an
easy one. Should she just reject The Pierced Man, and wander off to fend for herself? It was not like she had any skills for it. Temple life had ironically not trained her for life as a god or a normal human.

  She had to take a chance on the tall, handsome, and dangerous man before her. Rowan pressed her lips together and decided; a chimera and a god it would have to be. "Then to the mountains then. Perhaps the enemy of my mother will be my friend, or perhaps only the dead will be."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The Strength of Life

  The earth spat Vervain out into the darkest part of night.

  She wind milled her arms, through the dirt, until she was eventually carried to the surface. Vervain crawled out, covered in dirt and gasping.

  She should be dead, but the powers within her would not let it happen. As she lay there looking up at the colors of the morning sky, she recalled the evening before, and there was no two ways about it; she had seen her sister disappear.

  It was an odd sensation considering she had just found out she had one, and Vervain couldn’t quite decide if joy or fear was winning out. On one hand Rowan had rejected the woman she considered mother, but on the other she had gone with The Pierced Man.

  The moon was out, and very beautiful as she considered her options. She had no way of knowing where The Pierced Man had taken her sister, and no idea how to follow. It seemed that she was denied her chance to get to know her sister, and help her in any way.

  As she rolled to her side and climbed to her feet, she understood she would have to make her own way, and by the time she had shaken most of the dirt from her clothes, she had made up her mind.

  She would find the zoekers and use this power to help them. Gentian was not the only mad priest in the land.

  When the clergy struck, it had been at night, and in the ensuing chaos, with their camp burning around them, they took Vervain. She understood many of her colleagues might even believe she was dead. Setna perhaps held out hope, but she could imagine his face when she found him.

  Movement in the remains of the forest caught her attention, and she was surprised to see the shape of a horse there. One of them had come back despite the terrible power of the Stonekeeper. Holding out her hand, she called him to her in a low voice. He came out of the brush, and pushed his soft nose against her palm. Even this little gesture nearly made her weep; she was not completely alone.

  Climbing up unto his back, she rode away from that poisoned place. She set her mind to imagining the surprise on her fellow zoekers face when she showed them what she learned. No, Vervain reminded herself, she had not learned anything—she discovered something. What it was exactly remained to be seen.

  With the smells and sounds of the night tightening around her, Vervain began to think on what she felt when the spines of The Pierced Man had buried themselves in her; the heady rush of power.

  The akasha—it had to be a manifestation of that. It was the only explanation.

  Just as she began to sort through that realization, her horse snorted beneath her, trotting sideways at something in the brush she could not see.

  Tightening the reins and whispering a word of assurance to the animal, Vervain opened herself to the akasha again on reflex.

  The rush of light through her eyes, the smells of wood and moss, the kiss of the cool air on her skin, and the feeling of blood on her tongue. Everything was so intense and blinding that for a moment she forgot her own body.

  Only her training brought her back from the brink. Without having to think about it, Vervain quickly sorted one sensation from another, and brought them under control. Immediately she knew they were not their own.

  The creature in the undergrowth not ten feet away from the legs of her horse was in her head, as vividly alive as anything had ever been. Taking a breath, Vervain took control of her own fear and examined the rush of sensations as rationally as she could. Blood in the mouth, so it was a predator, light in the darkness, so a creature that saw as well in the night as she did in the day.

  It was not certain, but whatever it was might well spring on an unarmed woman and her very tasty looking mount. After all, they stumbled into its domain with a fresh kill not far off. The wind blew away from the beast, ruffling the low ferns, and she understood why her horse was so surprised by it.

  With her heart racing in her chest, Vervain knew if she kicked the horse into a run it would not guarantee safety. It was a terrifying prospect, but she would have to rely on those powers The Pierced Man ignited in her.

  Swallowing hard on the sudden bile in her throat, Vervain reached out for the beast. It was a great panther, black as the night that surrounded them, and twice as hungry. As terrifying as the prospect of being killed by the animal, Vervain was entranced, momentarily forgetting her own weak body.

  The panther was all muscle, lean and focused. It was a she, with cubs hidden in the hills, and her whole being was set on protecting them. Her mouth pulled back in a snarl, but she had a fresh kill and was only concerned for her young.

  The maternal pull was unknown to Vervain, but it felt as though it were her own body. She thought to take over the panther, but she was in danger of losing herself to the majesty of the beast. Her training in the ways of akasha was of no help, since the beauty and power of the beast was more attractive than she could have imagined.

  To be wild, part of the world in a way a human never could, was intoxicating. Vervain could let her mind fall into the panther's, and give up breathing herself. It might be a kindness to it. Let the horse carry away the bag of flesh, or perhaps the panther would eat them both. That would be fine irony.

  The humor of it yanked Vervain free. Humor was not something panthers had.

  The woman was able to extract most of her essence, but still keep some hold on the panther. Freed of the lure of the wilderness, Vervain was able to examine the beast in better detail.

  It was no talent she ever felt in the akasha, and curious as to its limits Vervain slid down from the horse. Her mount would have kicked up its heels and run for its life from the panther, but instinctively she extended her power, whatever its name was, and held the horse still too. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Vervain approached the panther.

  It stood as high as her chest, a magnificent animal that if found by the temples would have been turned to their foul purposes. The moonlight ran on its smooth, dark flanks, and its golden eye tracked her approach. Reaching out, Vervain hesitated for a moment before running her hand against that fur. The heat from the animal was powerful and wonderful in the cold of the night.

  Vervain licked her lips, and tried something more subtle with the power. The panther let out a slight growl before crouching down at her command. A slow smile spread across Vervain's mouth, and she gave another unspoken command.

  The panther flipped over, rolling onto her back like a kitten in the sun. The only objection was a slight rush over air that almost sounded like a grunt. Vervain reached down, and fearlessly rubbed the belly of the beast.

  She realized if she had commanded the panther would have led her to those cubs she was so sure of protecting only moments before. Vervain's control of the beast was complete and utter.

  Glancing over her shoulder at the horse, she saw that it too was stock still, though its eyes rolled white. It seemed as good a time as any to test her new power. Standing from her position above the panther, Vervain took a deep breath and brought the horse forward.

  The beast walked towards the panther as if it were strolling through the meadow with nothing to fear ahead. The strain between predator and prey was there, but she easily overcame it.

  With a nicker of complaint, the horse knelt down on its front legs before her and only a few feet away from the panther, its greatest fear.

  She was surprised at the ease of it all. To make two creatures so opposed to each other get so close, risking life and limb, should have been impossible.

  She stood there breathing hard, between two creatures who were deadly enemies, and
the only thing keeping them from attacking or fleeing was her. Crouching down, she laid her hands on both of them, the sweaty skin of the horse, and the silk of the panther.

  Something more moved between them, a bond of life that kept them together, predator and prey. She felt it as much as she could feel her own blood pounding in her body.

  Hers was not the only body in the forest around them. While the temple dragged off or killed most of the large animals for their own purposes, there were still plenty that remained.

  In the burrows underground, rabbits slept huddled together. Up in the trees owls scanned the forest floor for voles to snatch up. Foxes prowled the edges of the clearing looking for the same thing. When she was with her fellow Zoekers, Vervain had always been afraid of the dark woods. She never confessed it to Setna, but she imagined the progeny of the temples lurking in every shadow ready to snatch her up.

  Now crouching with her hands on one of those fearsome night animals, she saw how wrong she had been.

  The trees pulsed with ancient life even as the wind caressed their tops. The earth beneath was full of insects who all played their part in the life of the forest. Vervain felt overwhelmed by how many living things there were around her. Unlike her time in the dungeons, she was finally aware she was not alone. She was merely a mote in a tapestry of life all around her.

  She was a mote who could see all of this. It was a gift. Wondering how much further she could feel, she tested pushing her senses further. Her sense of self was completely gone, as the warmth of life enveloped her. Beyond the forest was the ocean, teaming with strange and beautiful fish, and terrifying monsters. Well, they should have terrified her, but instead a warm love cradled them. The temple took so many that very few remained. They should not instill fear but only sorrow.