Immortal Progeny (Fragile Gods Book 1)

by Philippa Ballantine

  "What has happened to you?" he asked her, feeling his own heart begin to hammer again.

  Vervain smiled, and there was an edge of hysteria in her gaze. "So many things, Wisdom, so many terrifying things, but the most important is I found my power." She held up her hand between them both, fingers spread. "You can see that can't you?"

  In all the time he knew her, she was the calmest of Setna's students. In the House she set forth with great purpose to learn the ways of the akasha, but he always suspected beneath that serenity was a hint of ambition for more. Now he had his answer; he was right. She concealed it well from the others—but now it blazed from her.

  It was beautiful, but for a moment Wisdom was almost afraid to touch her. She burned brightly in his sight, and touching flame had never been his ambition. "I see it," Wisdom replied, and dared to adjust the curl of her dark hair—that at least had not changed. "But what does it mean?"

  Her face softened, and finally he saw the echo of the Vervain he knew and had always loved from afar. "It means we can make things better...together. All the terrors the temples inflict on our world, we can stop every one of them."

  Those words dried his throat suddenly. It was beyond ambition for one person to contemplate doing all that. The Zoekers tried for generations to accomplish that, and Vervain casually mentioned she could make everything better.

  She must have been able to read the doubt on his face—he'd never been very good at concealing his emotions, even after Setna's training—because she squeezed him tightly.

  "I know, it's mad and strange." She stared up at him. "But it is also true." Placing her hand against his chest, he felt it again, the warmth and power of the world around him.

  It began to twine itself around his senses, igniting passionate, primitive instincts once again.

  "Come with me," she whispered into his ear, licking down the line of his neck. "We shall do wonderful things, and fulfill everything Setna dreamed of."

  She smelt of open water and possibilities. When he kissed her she tasted of a warm, dewy day, and under his hands her body grew hotter still. When his sense began to fill with her, Wisdom did not struggle. He turned his face to her and abandoned himself to the powerful sensations she seemed to control.

  They slipped to the ground, but the bushes and vegetation shifted to cradle them. He dimly wondered how that was possible, but her hands held his shoulders, pulled him closer to her. The world grew brighter and brighter. He felt every inch of his own skin connecting with hers, and it burned hot.

  The forest around them seemed to sing; a high unearthly noise created by the trees, with their leaves twisting in the sun and wind. His clothes and hers were guided off their bodies when vines wrapped around them, until they tumbled against each other as naked as they'd been born.

  He began to wonder if Vervain had ever actually been born because the power she so effortlessly used was nothing he ever experienced or learned about. Some small portion of his brain wondered at it, even as their bodies arched together.

  Sliding inside her was bliss he could barely believe. Women he laid with gave him great pleasure, but she was something else entirely. Vervain kissed him, laughing, riding him against the earth, and from his perspective there was a circle of light around her.

  No woman should be so beautiful or so powerful, even in such a moment. Wisdom knew he should be terrified by what he experienced, but it was impossible. His senses were so full, and his bodily desires so compelling he couldn't stop.

  Cradled in the life of the forest, Wisdom worshipped in that moment, prepared to give his all, his everything, to this woman. He was lost and gave up all he was.

  As darkness and unconsciousness finally blessed him, his last glimpse was Vervain burning brightly above him. If death was to claim him, it was a happy way to pass.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Akasha’s Journey

  Was she killing him or making him into something new? Vervain rolled away from Wisdom and laid on her back looking up at the stars. She felt their sweat on her skin, which any normal lover would have, but she was nothing like normal. If she turned her head, she would be able to look him in the eyes, but she didn't want to. She knew if she did they would not see her; they were looking beyond to something else entirely. His life was now her life, and her control his actions, just as the panther's was.

  Wisdom was as connected to Vervain as her own legs.

  She hadn't meant to do it, and wasn't sure exactly how it had happened, but there it was. It was an odd sensation, but it also felt perfectly natural.

  As she watched the wheel of the stars above her, Vervain realized Setna's teachings were so far away from her, like the distant mutterings of a barely remembered childhood. She had grown, and perhaps the younger version of herself would have been appalled at taking control of Wisdom's life like that, but then things like free will were a myth. Akasha was in everything, controlled everything, and now she was merely the conduit.

  Carefully Vervain wrapped herself back in her clothes again, and had Wisdom do the same. Sex was an act that made little sense to her. It was meant to be a celebration of life, and the chance to make something new. She understood she was so far beyond that cycle it didn't have any meaning.

  Already her mind had been made up. Akasha boiled in her, and it had to have an outlet. There was only one place she could go.

  "Home." The word tasted full and delicious on her mouth. The House of Flame, where her fellow Zoekers were trained in the use of the akasha. Setna always wanted her to become a teacher, so she would. The lessons she taught would make them fit fighters against the lies of the temples.

  Only one problem remained. Vervain turned to Wisdom. Unfortunately, she did not know the location of the House of Flame—no one except teachers like Setna ever did. It was to protect them from the terrors of the theists, since the location might be tortured from junior members of the Zoekers.

  Wisdom spoke to Setna, held him in his arms as the old man died. All of those things Vervain read in thoughts as easily as she could read the patterns of a tree's bark.

  Holding out her hand to Wisdom, she asked for him to give the location to her. Though he was entwined with her, some tiny part of his training still exerted itself. A flicker of a frown passed over his forehead, and his eyes for a moment met hers. "Vervain..." he whispered, but there was no Vervain separate from him. He was asking for mercy, but there wasn't any left; there was only her goal.

  Without a thought she ripped the knowledge from him by wrapping her pitiless need around him and making it his.

  The House of the Flame was beyond the mountains, beyond all the arguments of the temples. It was on an island, in the curve of the bay of Elmor. It would take weeks to sail there, but the teachers never did set out on boats. They learned one great secret none of the theists had; the eternal flow of the energies of akasha.

  Perhaps if they hadn't been so busy stitching together dead creatures and making them live, they might have discovered it themselves. Vervain let out a sigh, and turned her face up to the sky. The teachers learned a way to fold distance and transport themselves wherever they wanted. It was the only way they survived so long, but it was the skill of a senior Zoeker.

  Senior or junior didn't matter to Vervain. She held out her hand to Wisdom and he came to her side. When she put her arm around him, the panther emerged from the bushes and pressed against her other leg. Vervain simply opened her mind to the flow. It was easy, pressing the two places together, holding both their spot in the jungle and the island view of the House of Flame in the other. The world flashed white and for a moment there was nothing. It was bliss.

  When Vervain opened her eyes and looked about a clear, bright day replaced the darkness of the jungle. A smile spread on her lips, because they were standing on the familiar stairs of the House, grey and worn from the passing of so many feet. Vervain knew they had never felt a presence like hers though.

  She had interrupted a normal day at the House. Stu
dents in loose linen robes sat in the shade of the porch, reading from vellum, drawing on tablets of hard wax, or debating with each other. It was a scene that could have been taken from her own studies.

  As they stood there, Vervain recognized the faces of teachers she studied from in the past. Brukenn, who taught her astronomy, appeared from the shadow of one of the House's many doorways, a sheaf of papers in her hand. Melio, with his grey beard and bent back, slowly stood up from where he sat and turned his blind eyes towards her. Alexion, her friend who had been raised to be a teacher so very young, glanced up from where he instructed some children and pushed his always wild hair out of his eyes.

  It was shock of course that did not make them run towards her in delight. None but a teacher should be able to do what she had, yet there she was with Wisdom and a snarling panther at her side.

  She realized how foolish she was being; it was not just shock. They would be able to feel the flow of akasha through her, an unprecedented amount. From their point of view it had to be terrifying.

  Vervain tried to communicate all was well by spreading her hands. Brukenn was the first to move towards her. Dropping her papers in the lap of the nearest student, she walked hesitantly down the stairs to her, titling her head from side to side as if not quite recognizing her former student.

  Vervain waited for her to speak, and as not surprised when it was to Wisdom she first directed her words. The flow of his akasha now went through her.

  "Wisdom, are you well?" she asked softly, as if he was a frightened horse.

  When he looked up, Brukenn let out a gasp and stumbled a step back. To the teacher Vervain knew, it would look like the face of one dead, washed of any emotion or personality. She didn't have the skills to see beneath that Wisdom was more alive than he had ever been.

  The other teachers began to gather around, curious despite their fear. As they studied the newcomers, Vervain studied them right back. The pulses of their lives were so powerful, and yet so erratic. She saw many ways to improve them, make them the weapons for justice and peace they had always wanted to be.

  "Sister Vervain," Brukenn said, her eyes looking past Vervain's skin and bone, and down into the well of her life, "what is happening here? Is Brother Wisdom unwell?"

  Vervain let out a little sigh. Brukenn was a sharp mind and she hoped she might pick up on it more quickly. "He is not unwell, Brukenn, he is the best he has ever been."

  The teachers around them began to chatter like birds in trees, but Brukenn stared harder at her former student. "You...you have done something to him..."

  Vervain nodded, even if it were not a question. "I have connected him to the akasha in ways we only speculated about in my time here. He is more alive than he ever has been before—more in tune with the world."

  Brukenn glanced at Wisdom again, holding out her hand as if afraid to touch him. "He is tethered to you, Vervain. You have changed his body too..."

  At last she was beginning to see. The akasha was making Wisdom stronger, more durable, and greater than any mortal ever dreamed possible. It made the tinkering about that the temples did seem like a foolish child's work.

  As Brukenn raised her hands before Wisdom and concentrated her own akashanic sight, Vervain realized she had to act quickly; the Zoekers—even the teachers—couldn't possibly grasp what she was doing, or what it meant for the future of the House. She already saw the frowns and shaken heads among them. Alarm would spread quickly, and she didn't want them to suffer needlessly.

  Just as Brukenn's eyes opened in shock, Vervain reached out. Her akasha wrapped around them, plucking the cords of their life force, and making them her own as she had Wisdom. The light began to fill them, and it was a beautiful thing. The theists had their gods in an attempt to explain the perfectly explainable. Vervain knew herself to be the truth.

  The mad clergy meddled with life and death as if they were nothing, but now the Zoekers would show them. Vervain would give them the tools to do that.

  Around Vervain, the Zoekers began to grow calm, absorbed into the akasha, and guided by her. Some of the students saw their teachers’ faces grow still, and they tried to run. They dropped the tablets and scrolls and scrambled into the House to try and avoid her. It was a shame, but it was also pointless.

  Vervain followed after, catching them as they fled, and calming them instantly.

  In time she would be able to release the leash from the Zoekers, give them back a little of themselves, but only after they learned and saw what she did. They would come to appreciate it in time—like children forced to take their medicine.

  For now, they stood still at her command, and she entered the House of Flame with only Wisdom and the panther following.

  On the wall above the grand hearth, just as she remembered, there was a map of the world, sketched in loving detail. Vervain's gaze darted over the various towns and temples marked on it.

  Tenderly she touched Wisdom's arm, letting him hear her. "This is what we shall remake. Sense and judgment will rule, and we shall show the theists what life is really capable of. It is a grand undertaking, but we can do it together."

  It didn't matter that Wisdom didn't respond, she knew he understood it as well as she did.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  A Sister Returns

  They left the Palace of the Pilgrims just as dawn climbed over the table-top, and punctured the low cloud.

  "Are you ready?" Violet asked, before confessing, "This is the part of your journey I could not see."

  That was hardly a comforting thought to Amaranth, but she replied tartly, "Then it will be quite an adventure, and consider this, at least it isn't raining."

  Fleabane let out a slight giggle, that seemed rather strange considering what Amaranth had seen her do the previous night. When Violet shot her a look, she quickly stifled it.

  "So where are we bound? You at least know that much, right?" Amaranth asked in the silence. Other pilgrims stirred, and she wanted to get out before any of them. If there was to be any trouble, she didn't want to include any of the innocent people.

  "The finger temples," Violet replied, unable to meet the young woman's gaze. "The Congress of Temples will pray today, so the gates will be open to all."

  The gates. Amaranth shivered. She knew they would be tall and made of black iron. Beyond she already knew what the square before the temples would look like. However, there would not be three girls there as there were in her memory. She didn't believe in ghosts but she was beginning to think Penance had more than a few—at least for her.

  Amaranth wasn't sure why Violet wanted her to go there—thanks to her strange reluctance to go too far into explanation—but it didn't really matter. Amaranth felt the pull of the place. The smell of the river, the sun beating down on her dark hair, and most of all a strange tug in the pit of her stomach. The girl she was, that whole girl, had been changed in the square. It was about time she worked out what she was before the pits and their sharp knives.

  "Will there be...opposition?" She patted Ceelut as a way to calm herself. The dog progeny leaned in against her hand.

  "The chimera will not risk daylight," Fleabane said, tilting her head and grinning. "Their lot don't care for sunshine and eyes looking at them."

  Amaranth wasn't sure she wanted to experience those things herself, but she nodded.

  "The temples are another story." Violet put her hand against Amaranth's back and began to guide her towards the entrance. "They won't be expecting you, or looking for a one-armed girl and her dogs...I don't think."

  It was a small comfort she supposed, but since Violet wouldn't mention the real reason she wanted to take her to the finger temples, Amaranth didn't argue.

  Out on the street, people moved towards the other side of the city, across the face of the table-top. Her progeny dogs kept close to her, but she found Fleabane and Violet dropping behind her. She didn't stop to ask why; in her heart of hearts she already knew; what lay ahead was for her, not them. It was good to have
Ceelut and Cedejo with her, even if they were really part of herself.

  The street began to widen, and then it finally joined up with the river. It was a disconcerting thing to see what she heard for so long. It might be trapped between stone embankments on each side, but the swirling grey depths of it were deep and terrifying. The taste of the water was in Amaranth's mouth, and for a moment she lost her breath, having to stop in the street to find it again.

  Pilgrims moved past her, some muttering to themselves at the young woman with the two strange dogs blocking their way in the street. Fleabane and Violet did not approach, but after a few moments gasping and panicking, Amaranth was able to move on, her steps half-hearted and forced. The wicked murmur of the river was still there, but she was able to shove away the strange memories more easily. The gate was indeed iron, and just as she imagined it.

  It broke a tall wall, while the river snaked away around it. The early pilgrims began to stream through the opening, their chatter and hubbub dying down almost magically as they went through into the square, as if somehow smothered by the place itself. Amaranth felt herself hesitating as she drew closer to the entrance; a beam of light somehow remarking the point of no return. It was impossible for her to raise her head, since her eyes seemed unable to focus on anything but that line. Amaranth was strangely removed from herself, watching from a distance this strange, broken creature retracing in reverse the steps she had made all those years ago. How could she have forgotten all this horror?

  In the end it was a shove from the pilgrims behind her that pushed her past it. An impatient young man, smelling of his long travels, couldn't wait, and jostled her into the square. Ceelut and Cedejo would have ripped him apart if she hadn't hushed them with a look. It was a relief to have someone make the decision for her, and now she was in the square.

  Letting herself be carried along by the flow of people, Amaranth could better take it all in. The wall encompassed the large square, and it was nothing but space for pilgrims and clergy to glory in the temple before them. Except, as her eyes ran over it, she understood it was not just one temple. Once in the pit, before the drivers found and removed it, a wasp tried to build a nest. Amaranth watched it for days, fascinated by the chambers the busy insect added, seemingly optimistic in how it would fill them.