Along the coast further south she felt the eagles in the air, and the prey below. Humans did not escape her notice. Turning her attention to them, Vervain smiled. It was hard to pick out cleric from every day folk; at that distance, they were all beautiful.
One was more beautiful than the others though. He walked the forest trail, using a long stick to push aside the undergrowth. He had a large pack upon his back, and more worries than that held in his heart.
Wisdom, the man with the eyes of warm cedar wood, and a heart greater than any other. Vervain fell into him like she had the panther. His thoughts were scattered, and she had little experience divining one from another. However, she could tell he was sad, deeply sad. Determination kept him moving forward.
He was not that far off, and he was looking for her, she suddenly realized. She came back to herself, and found she had been gone a long time. Her legs gave out and she sunk back between the dead horse and the dead panther. Her mouth was dry, and she lay there on the ground working her jaw back and forth, trying to get a sound out.
She had been foolish. All of her akashanic training should have warned her not to delve so deep. Mustering a little strength, she got to her hands and knees and stared at the animals she killed. They did not look starved, but then they wouldn't have; she drained the akasha from them. Her body's natural reaction to being denied food and sustenance.
A vampire of life. A person without training would have curled up in a ball and screamed. Vervain clenched her teeth, absorbing the terrible fact that she had become the one thing all Zoekers feared. Taking akasha from other living beings was the danger of their kind, but it was nothing a moral sane person would ever do.
The changes The Pierced Man made had obviously freed her of all those bonds. While Vervain's mind had been flying amongst all the lives, her body demanded to live. Apart from a dry mouth, she had not suffered any other ill effects.
Staggering to her feet, she looked around, but not with her still aching eyes. She searched within the living net, guilt driving her towards the den where the panther hid her cubs.
When she last noticed them there had been two, now only one lived. Crashing through the underbrush, Vervain found the corpse of the smallest, while the elder looked at her blankly, only capable of raising a small snarl.
Vervain felt the pang of guilt cut right through her when the tiny golden eyes stared at her with such ferocity, even though the poor creature was nearly at the threshold of death.
Leaning down, she scooped the little kit up. It mustered another snarl, but did not bat at her with its needle-tipped paws, it didn't have enough energy for that. It was such a tiny thing, but so full of potential. Vervain's eyes pierced through the creature, feeling the empty stomach, the erratic flutter of its heartbeat. It was the least she could do to save the panther's last kit. She followed the lines of akasha into the kitten, filling its muscles with energy and stilling its hunger.
If she pushed harder, she had the feeling she would be able to make it even more. With only a little encouragement, the kitten would grow to its full potential, and become the equal of the mother that died protecting it.
However, Vervain was entranced by the creature, its size and ferocity would be enough for now. Returned to health, when she placed the kit back on the ground it stared up at her. It was no longer afraid of her, and when she turned away, the kit bounded after her, swatting at the trailing edge of her ragged dress.
It went some way to ease Vervain's guilt. She tampered with nature without knowing the boundaries. Yet she was aware that it would take some time to figure out the controls needed to keep their new gifts in check. The cub was strangely comforting in those moments as she walked through the forest. Nothing in there would harm her, but it was nice to have some companionship.
Companionship. Vervain stopped in her tracks, the cub mewled and raced around her in a circle. She realized she had been foolishly distracted. Wisdom was out there, closer than ever, slogging his way towards the temple of Serey. She sent her senses out towards him, like an arrow seeking its target. He was trekking through the forest with his head bent, and his sadness filled her.
"Time to make someone smile for a change," she said, scooping up the cub. Now she turned those gifts that she had used on the little animal onto herself. Filling her own muscles with strength and speed of life was so easy. So much power came from the forest all around, and when she tapped into it, she became almost giddy. Everything was bright and beautiful, as she turned and ran with the cub tucked against her.
Trees and bushes seemed to bend out of her way, or perhaps she ran through them, part of them more completely than she had ever been even with the Zoekers. Sunlight fell on her head and all about her gleamed with the pulse of life.
When she finally reached Wisdom, and stopped her dash, she wasn't even breathing hard. She ran perhaps ten miles in barely a moment.
Wisdom didn't seem to notice her standing there, so she must have come very quietly as well as very quickly. He had his head looking at the ground, concentrating on putting one foot in front of another.
The panther mewed plaintively, and the man's head came up. With her new sight, Wisdom of the Zoekers was even more beautiful than when she last saw him. He had eyes of gentle brown, strong hands, and the kindest of souls. Vervain knew all that before, but now she understood that she hadn't appreciated them. After her confinement, torture, and the discovery of her powers, everything was different. Her only concern was the sag to his shoulders; that was new and unwelcome.
Then he looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw her standing there. Vervain had been in such a hurry to see him, that she hadn't given a moment’s thought to how she would appear to him. She stood there smiling, half-naked thanks to the tribulations in the dungeon, and cradling a black panther cub. It was not how he had last seen her.
Looking into his eyes, Vervain was tossed back to a far more intimate moment. They had talked quietly under a willow tree in the House of Flame. Both of them, committed to the truth as they were, admitted their attraction to each other, but they agreed the Flame was more important. No Zoeker could take a lover or partner. It would only distract from their work. It had been the hardest decision Vervain ever made.
Standing, looking at him, she had a hard time remembering why she had agreed to that.
"Vervain?" The fact that he didn't run straight to her hurt a little, but she understood. It must be quite a shock.
It was a shock for her too.
Wisdom burned with the kind of light that falling stars might have. It pulsed and flowed over his skin, and Vervain was for a long time entranced by it. She tilted her head and approached him cautiously, almost wondering if he might fly apart and scatter like those fallen pieces of the sky. She held up her hand against his brightness.
Was this what she looked like as a wielder of the akashanic power, or was it how all humans looked? Her sister and The Pierced Man were not normal examples, and considering it, Vervain realized she had not seen another.
If it was indeed what all humans looked like, she was going to have a very distracting time of it.
His face grew brighter when he smiled, and she almost had to look away. The sacred flame, the House of the Flame, it all made sense now. They were all burning around her, life constantly consuming and being reborn.
"I found you." Wisdom's voice was beautiful too, more than she even remembered.
His kindness, his strength, and the sculpted body she caught glimpses of made that easy. What had not been had been concealing it from Setna. She wasn't sure if it was love, but it was far from the equality of affection the Zoekers insisted on. Vervain began to understand she had moved far beyond that. Just looking upon the strange new form revealed to her made her aware of her own body.
She held out her hand, closer to him this time, and dared to touch his shoulder. "No, I found you," she said softly, correcting him almost without considering that no Zoeker was higher than another. Only Setna and his brot
hers at the hearth had a place to adjust someone else's reality like she had just done.
He didn't flinch away when her fingers made contact with his skin, but his eyes widened. Perhaps he was attempting to look deeper into her, but Vervain made absolutely sure he could not be a witness to all the wonders she had seen—and continued to see.
"Well," he replied, circling around her, hand hovering above hers, "I suppose that is correct, but I was searching for you. At first I thought you had been killed by the clerics. We were all told that."
She nodded slowly, still entranced by him. She held her hands out, fluttering and close to his lips.
He caught them before they could connect. "Setna is dead, Vervain, but with his dying breath he told me you were alive. After that I had to come."
Another strange feeling began in the pit of her stomach, replacing for a moment the stirrings of desire. Setna told Wisdom she was dead? He couldn’t have known that for sure, but he’d said it anyway. No one would have questioned him on that. The feeling traveled up her throat, burning and painful. Her old teacher abandoned her to whatever the temple wanted to do with her, and only relented when he was dying?
He was her mentor for all the life she could remember, and he had thrown her aside in such a manner? He had been the closest thing to a father to her, and yet he had done that. The painful news of his death was nothing compared to the pain of his betrayal.
Vervain identified that sensation: disappointment and burning anger.
Perhaps she should try and find her sister so they could resurrect him only to kill him again? A tiny portion of her brain understood that was entirely irrational, but it seemed like a very small voice compared to the sparks of outrage and betrayal.
Wisdom had not done anything though. He came looking for her, and traveling alone in this wilderness as a lone Zoeker was a dangerous undertaking. None of those were the actions of one who had simple feelings for her. Opening up her new senses, Vervain tried to tap into a far more complex being—a human who might have feelings for her.
It was far more difficult than the panther, and she was more quickly lost that she prepared herself for. Once inside the House of the Flame, the Zoekers shed not only worldly pride and love, they also shed their pasts. Vervain, being so young, never really had much to lose, but attempting to understand Wisdom she tipped all unawares into the pit of his past.
She heard screaming and the running of many feet. She was lost in the tumult, thrown backwards and forwards and nearly trampled by many terrified people. It was made worse that she was so small. She cried out for her mother, screamed for her father. She cried out for a mother who never returned, a father who didn’t answer. Penance was crueler than she could have imagined.
Years whipped by, Father came back, but he wasn't the same. His love was gone, and nothing but emptiness remained. She caught glimpses of clouds and fantastic winged beasts. It should have been beautiful, but all she saw was a vast sky of nothing. It was only on the ground that she found purpose.
It was strange to see herself through someone else's eyes, but it helped Vervain understand the man better when she did. To Wisdom she was tiny and lovely, like a woodland creature that first day. He'd been afraid to hurt her then, and terrified to say anything that would drive her away.
He felt it too then, the stirrings of something she quickly crushed under training and discipline. They were warriors after all; setting out to save the world from the terrors of the temples.
When Vervain pulled herself back, Wisdom's face had more layers to it than she could have imagined; fire, akasha, and comprehension were merely some of them. "What have you...." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Where did you learn all these things?"
She smiled at him, almost as if he were a child. "They were inside me all along...now let me show you what I can do."
Chapter Twenty-two
The Palace
Amaranth almost missed it when they came.
The grey forms leapt down from the unseen roofs and directly into the mud only a few feet from her. Ceelut sprung at the first, and in the rain and darkness she couldn't see much of what was going on.
Someone cried out, but it was no human cry, more like a hiss. It wasn't Ceelut and Cedejo then, Amaranth comforted herself. More shapes filled the entrance to the inn, and they were trying to get to her. Violet didn't say a word, didn't yell at them to leave, or even fling angry words at them. She was silent, even while the progeny dogs were not.
How many were coming at them, Amaranth couldn't count. She felt when Ceelut and Cedejo were struck by knives, but the tough skin she had given them held. They were only angered by the attempts of these newcomers to hurt them.
She wouldn't run, she determined. While she had no physical gifts to give, she could control the scorpion-beetles, and give strength to Ceelut and Cedejo.
Violet and the progeny dogs were busy, all locked in a heaving mass, indiscernible from their attackers. It was impossible to tell if they were winning.
Amaranth stumbled back, as the form with its face swathed in fabric made a grab for her. She smelt the odor more keenly, even in the rain. It was the smell of the preservative they brought with them when they took her arm.
Recollection choked her mind and action; the scorpion beetles stayed motionless at her feet. The creature, human or otherwise was impossible to say, lunged at her. Its hands had claws, and behind the cloth obscuring its face she knew were teeth.
Amaranth's head snapped sideways as she was pulled away from the building. The creature that reached for her missed, just as she fell awkwardly in the mud, the cold jerking her out of her moment of indecision. Above she heard the sounds of combat, the hiss their enemies made, and only then did she realize her savior was Fleabane once again.
She stood above Amaranth, looking oddly tall, but she did not stay there long. The younger woman moved with such skill and grace, flinging herself around her opponent, knocking the back of its legs out so quickly it took a while to notice she used a knife. The outraged hiss from behind the bandages reminded Amaranth of the vipers that sometimes got into the pits.
It didn't seem to worry Fleabane. The young woman showed no mercy or even hesitation as she yanked back the thing's head and slit its throat.
Blood spouted from the wound, splattering over Amaranth as she struggled with her one arm to get back to her feet. The smell of it was not the honest reek of iron, it was the unnatural sharp odor of the preservative. Fleabane darted off into the deeper shadows where Ceelut, Cedejo and Violet still fought, leaving Amaranth thrashing in the mud, blood and rain. She felt guilt wash over her. It was apparently all her fault, and yet her friends and creations were fighting for her.
Clenching her jaw and giving up on rising, Amaranth dived once more into the tiny brains of her scorpion beetles. These attackers of theirs were flesh and blood and could be killed. The perspective of the world changed and became that of many. Now she could see among the compound eyes of her creations. They slogged through the water, and scampered over the mud.
In the tumult of the fighting, it was hard make out whose leg was whose, and Amaranth lost a few more precious creations when they were trampled all unseen. Eventually she saw the outline of a foot in loose weave that might once have been white. The scorpion-beetles attacked, flinging their tiny, but deadly stingers into what flesh they could reach.
Amaranth heard with her distant human ears the screams of those hit. Her original group had been whittled down so much she didn't have enough to kill, but they could distract.
Ceelut snarled and leapt on the struck attacker. His teeth locked around the attacker's arm, and ripped flesh from bone in an instant. Blood splattered into the rain-soaked ground again.
With Fleabane's arrival the assault seemed to have lost its strength. The attackers slunk back into the shadows, and after a few moments Amaranth realized there were no more opponents for her dwindling numbers of scorpion-beetles to attack.
She returned to her body
as it lay in the mud by the side of the house. Everything ached, and her breathing whistled over her teeth as she tried in vain to control it. The world dipped in and out as her vision tottered on blackness.
"Amaranth," Fleabane's whisper seemed a long way off, but she felt her companion from the pits take her shoulder and lever her upright again. Finally, when she was able to get her own eyes open, she saw that Violet, Fleabane, Ceelut and Cedejo formed a circle around her. Even the progeny dogs looked concerned.
She waved her hand. "I'm alright, I just need to catch my breath." She hated moments like that when what the pit drivers had stolen from her was made obvious. Amaranth tried to draw steady breaths in, but not too loud.
"The inn isn't an option anymore," Violet said, sliding her hand under Amaranth's arm. "Our best chance is anonymity. It won't be comfortable, but at least it will be safe."
She turned the group around and led them back onto the street. The rain was not giving them any more kindness, but Amaranth reached the level where she couldn't get any wetter.
"What were those things?" she asked Violet, since Fleabane took up the rear of their little band.
"Failures." The older woman paused at a street corner, glanced down it either way, and then led them on. "Chimera that could have been. Without the strength to transform themselves, they latch onto those that have. Most of their brains have been destroyed, but they can still be dangerous."
Amaranth wondered what horrors the wrappings concealed. All the while, she imagined her arm transported to some exotic location, instead it could have been wasted on something like their attackers. She began to feel like her own skills with the needle were somewhat amateur, since it seemed there was a whole horrible world out there of things people would gladly do to themselves.
The three women and their companion beasts continued on, but Amaranth completely lost her bearings. The constant rain and low mist was no friend to a stranger in Penance. The river continued in her head, a constant reminder. It was like a fixed point that her head kept turning towards, and an unpleasant one at that.
Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1) Page 24
