The Twisted Vine

by Alyce Caswell

  ‘Fei, please…’

  ‘Tell me!’

  ‘The scars can be removed,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘But I don’t want you to do that.’

  Fei nodded curtly. ‘Thanks for not lying to me. This time. When were you going to tell me I’d signed up for immortality?’

  ‘I love you.’ He was whispering now.

  ‘I can’t even look at you for three seconds without feeling ill,’ Fei bit out. ‘I’m not sure I can handle an eternity in your presence.’

  She marched out of the hut, ignoring the confused looks many of the villagers sent her way, refusing to stop when they called her name. They would only ask her awkward questions about how she was already back from Gerasnin and she had no idea how to answer them. Kuja was the one who’d lied; he could deal with the consequences of his actions.

  She couldn’t stifle the shivers. No matter where I go on this planet, he’ll find me. He’ll fucking find me.

  I could, Bagara’s — Kuja’s — voice said softly as she picked up the hem of her nightie and began to run. But I won’t come after you. It’s your choice to return or to…leave.

  Callista, his sister-in-law, had made a choice like that, her memories told her — no, those memories were his. The pain that came with them squeezed Fei’s heart.

  Her fingers curled reflexively over the scars her husband had given her.

  But she didn’t turn back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  With night falling fast and the thicket now impossible to navigate, Fei perched on a rock beneath a large tree and watched the glowing nashba bugs parade through the branches sprawling above her. So long as she didn’t move too quickly or annoy the insects, they wouldn’t unleash their stingers on her — or would they unleash them at all? They wouldn’t want to anger their god by attacking his wife, would they? Fei grimaced.

  She had stumbled around for hours, losing her way after deliberately veering off the well-trodden path outside Bagath. The booming waterfall she had once enjoyed listening to had been too loud, too constant, so she’d ignored it and kept going, until only insects mocked her with their tinny voices.

  And now she was here, wherever ‘here’ was. Fei’s hand dropped to her hip, but her techpad was still in her bag on Gerasnin. This meant that she couldn’t pass the time by jotting down notes about an idea she had for debugging software that could pick up any mistakes in the code the moment they were made. But what would be the point? Anything she accomplished in her life was useless compared to what Kuja could do as a god.

  If the people in your life don’t end up abandoning you, they’ll make you wish they had, Fei thought and sealed her eyes against the precious moisture that threatened to escape them. She was already thirsty enough.

  When she managed to open her eyes again, she immediately regretted it. In front of her was a sea of quivering leaves that definitely hadn’t been there a few moments earlier. One particularly large leaf glided forward, heavy with water, and nudged her hand until she lifted it to her lips, draining it. The leaf darted off, its mission complete. Others crowded forward in its place.

  ‘No, no,’ Fei said, shrinking back against the tree behind her. ‘No. Stop. You don’t have to do this, you’re only doing it because of him — or because of my son. I’m just human.’

  She allowed herself to hope that they’d leave her alone. But then the vines wrapped around the tree struck — they coiled themselves into a crown and dropped over her head, squeezing hard once they found their mark. Fei gasped when something punctured her temples. Her fingers rose, desperate to wrench out the vines that must have looked like squirming tentacles beneath her skin, but the tree threw down thin branches to capture her wrists. Fei prepared to keep fighting, except suddenly she forgot why she’d wanted to.

  Because now she didn’t just hear or smell or see the rainforest. She felt it.

  Old and endless; young and renewed. Those parts of it that were tired and worn dropped and died, replaced by fresh plants and animals in a constant cycle. The rainforests had served the Creator God since the beginning of time, never knowing another master — until Kuja came to them.

  The plants showed Fei an image of a boy, small and wiry, with bright green eyes that didn’t yet hold the shadows that belonged deep inside caves and plunge pools. He had been so young and so full of light then, unmarked by fear or despair.

  He breathed new life into us, a voice told Fei. It was high and reedy, demanding her attention, and somehow suited the vines it belonged to. The mortals in his domain were drawn to his positive spirit, like a flower turning towards a shining star.

  ‘That’s not what attracted me to him — the god, I mean,’ Fei said. ‘He didn’t demand. He just offered. And he understood mortals. At least, I thought he did…’

  Another plant spoke, sounding so wizened and ancient that she had to strain to catch every word. This had to be the tree behind her. He was made wise by his pain. He lost his mother because she removed her binding scars and shortened her lifespan, but he was glad for her. She was so much happier as a mortal.

  The scars on Fei’s hands throbbed. ‘And his brother?’

  You speak of the Desine…

  A younger voice, belonging to the glistening leaves in front of her, interceded as the older one faded. The desert god’s wife left because she wanted to pursue her own path. She wanted to know who she was beyond the wife of a god. The Desine did not understand. He did not listen.

  ‘She kept the immortality scars,’ Fei murmured, knowing it to be true. ‘She kept them. Why?’

  Why do you keep yours? the vines asked.

  Fei tilted her head back and looked up at the branches. The nashba bugs continued to dance worryingly close to her, but she felt safe beneath them. She could actually sense how much they cared for her. They would even bow to her wishes, should she have any.

  Fei’s vision swam. ‘Do you only respect me because I am his wife?’

  No! cried a thousand voices. You are Feiscina! Creator of Worlds! Spreader of our seeds!

  ‘But it was just code, all I did was write code,’ Fei said, wiping the back of her hand over her face, scraping the tears away. ‘The engineers who look after the terraforming equipment do the heavy lifting. And the scientists — you remember them, don’t you? Before they left Bagaran? They’re the ones who go to other planets and collect seeds and cuttings. I don’t create anything.’

  We remember them. But they took. They did not create. Not like you.

  Fei nearly sobbed in relief when the branches that had captured her wrists released them. She immediately gave a futile tug at the crown encircling her head. The wound the vines had inflicted in order to connect with her might not be hurting anymore, but she could still feel something pulling on her skin, forcing her to talk when she’d rather sit in sullen silence.

  Fei glowered, not sure which plant to target with her fierce expression. ‘Simulations! That’s all I do, you know. Or maybe you don’t. It’s all done virtually, not in real life. Um, I’ll try to explain it but…’

  We understand, the plants chorused as one.

  ‘I’m not so sure you do,’ Fei muttered, then swallowed a wave of nausea. Her son had shifted inside her, roused by her disturbed feelings. She moulded her hands to the curve of her stomach. ‘It’s alright, honey. It’s alright.’ A new thought occurred to her. ‘What about my son? Is he…is he allowed to live as a mortal? Does he have to help Kuja rule the rainforests? What?’

  A spiky fern, which stood out amongst its gentler brethren who weren’t so barbed, answered her. It sounded like a venerable old mediaist, honest at the cost of viewership. That has yet to be determined. The Old One will not say. But why could your son not create worlds, like you do?

  ‘I don’t create worlds! Don’t you get it?’ Fei blew out a breath, trying to keep her anger in check. She knew she had failed when her son’s unhappiness rolled out of her stomach and up her throat, gathering bile until she felt the need to throw up. ‘I�
�m not a god! I’m nothing!’

  The nashba bugs tumbled, rocked by a giant gust of wind, and went shrieking for cover. Trees bowed away from Fei, turning their bark-covered backs on her, and the vines snapped out of her temples and withdrew, but not before radiating hurt.

  ‘Um, look, I’m flattered that you think so well of me and I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Fei said, holding out her hands and smoothing them over the nearest leaves. They trembled beneath her touch. ‘But I’m nothing special and you’re only being nice to me so I won’t leave him.’

  A nearby branch snapped, plummeting to the ground. Fei threw a nervous look skywards when she heard more creaking overhead. The next branch came closer, causing her to stagger away from the trunk. But the tree wasn’t the real threat, she realised. It had only been herding her.

  She was now standing in front a whirling, human-sized vortex that seemed to be made of twigs and assorted greenery. Fei tried to step back towards the tree but the vines were faster. They ensnared her wrists and yanked her clear into the air. She didn’t even have time to scream.

  The vines were already tossing her into the vortex.

  • • •

  Kuja crouched in a tree on a world halfway across the galaxy from Bagaran, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He’d brought himself here in a desperate attempt to ignore the temptation to return to his wife’s side. It was working. So far. But it took supreme effort not to eavesdrop on Fei’s thoughts.

  The communicator on his belt broke the silence, buzzing insistently and causing his shirt to shiver over his skin. Kuja glanced down, startled. There were only two people who knew he now had such a device and since Fei had expressed no desire to ever speak to him again, it had to be…

  Kuja grabbed the communicator and held it up. ‘Gerns, is something wrong?’

  ‘Kuja, it’s Zareth Sins.’ The usual confidence that Kuja had come to expect from the Chipper’s voice was eroded by tension. ‘Gerns gave me your communicator details — look, I wouldn’t have asked her for them, but something bad is happening. And I can’t stop it in time.’

  Kuja’s heart shuddered, then pumped even faster to make up for the pause. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Colonel Lilon Neron, Fei’s father, claims that the rainforest god launched an unprovoked attack on Gerasnin,’ Zareth replied. ‘He says we need to respond in kind.’

  Kuja frowned. ‘Lilon kidnapped Fei and Bagara rescued her. My god was defending one of his followers, not making a declaration of war.’

  ‘Yeah, well, the colonel doesn’t see it that way. So he’s…’ Zareth paused. Static jumped from the communicator. ‘I’m on a ship headed for Bagaran, your homeworld. Lilon convinced Head General Huw Hunslow to put the orders through — we’re to strafe all the rainforests from orbit. And we’re not stopping there. This is just the first planet on our hit list.’

  ‘What!’ Kuja felt as though someone had thrown a rope around his ribs and was tightening it, crushing the fragile bones. ‘But we’ve done nothing.’

  ‘Except refuse to worship the same god,’ Zareth reminded him. ‘It’s not right. I know it’s not. Look, I’ve spent months quietly talking to other agents about changing things. Some of them are on the ship with me, but they need an extra push before they even consider disobeying Lilon. They won’t risk their careers just because I’ve raised some doubts. And I figure that by the time the mediaists hear about it and come to Bagaran, it’ll be too late. I don’t suppose you could get Bagara to help you out?’

  Kuja gnawed on his lip for a moment. ‘Zareth, Bagara could destroy your ships. But I don’t want him to.’

  Zareth laughed shortly. ‘Don’t hate me that much anymore, huh?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t die when you’re the only chance GLEA has of becoming anything halfway decent,’ Kuja said and blinked, realising he meant it.

  ‘That’s nice to hear, but we’ve just dropped out of leapspace near your planet, Kuja. You better do something fast.’

  Kuja winced. He had to act soon, but he didn’t want to make a decision on this scale without Fei. He’d seen what had happened to Sandsa and Callista when they had made choices independent of each other.

  But Fei hadn’t called for him yet. And he wouldn’t go to her before she did.

  ‘Give me some time if you can,’ Kuja murmured.

  He switched off the communicator and summoned a tornado of vines and twigs that rose from his feet, preparing to take him back on Bagaran.

  • • •

  The vortex had sent her to a completely different planet. Fei was more resigned than surprised.

  She skirted the edge of a temperate rainforest, fascinated by the savannah-based grasses that cut their way along the trees, forming a solid barrier between them and the rest of the planet. Fei remembered one world, ruled by a very wealthy caste, that had commissioned TerraCorp to make distinct square-shaped habitats with strict borders. They had wanted it set up this way, so that their world could be as ordered and rigid as their society.

  Fei glanced at the sky, counting the moons just to be sure. ‘This is Butisl, in the Ratanni system. I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve by sending me here, but…’

  A leafy sprout shot out from a nearby tree and affixed itself to her temple. Fei stopped dead. Her chest heaved, but once again the pain only lasted a moment before she was gifted with an awareness of the nearby plants. This small, fabricated rainforest wasted no time in also showing her an image of Kuja. But now Fei saw him holding his mother’s hand as she ushered him towards his much older brother.

  But what would the Desine know about teaching a god who would rule over plants and budding life, not arid and desolate worlds? It made no sense.

  The partnership had not been for Kuja’s benefit, Fei realised. It had been for Sandsa’s. Their mother had wanted someone to be there for the desert god, to keep him company throughout the endless aeons.

  What about Kuja? she wondered. Who’s there for him? Me? I can’t be. I’m nothing compared to him.

  Creator? a timid voice asked.

  Fei shook her head roughly, clearing her vision, and found herself back at the tree that had imprisoned her inside those images of the past. ‘Kuja is your god. He looks after you.’

  But you gave birth to us in your code — our god only tended what you began, the tree said, sounding quiet and cowed, like a child who had been scolded. It was so easy to forget that this immense tree, with its expansive roots and its ancient genetic memory, was only one Old Earth year old.

  Fei softened her voice. ‘I…I had a really, really small part in making you you. The bits inside you came from the rainforests tended by your god. And he could have made you appear in seconds just by thinking about it. He doesn’t have to spend months writing code.’

  The tree paused, considering this, then rejoined brightly, But he would not have known about the special grasses. The lundi grasses. Our friends.

  ‘Friends?’ Fei glanced at the safari-style square that the Butislans had asked for. ‘Oh. I chose the lundi grasses because they were known to communicate with other intelligent plants in their savannah climate on Alnia. I picked your species for a similar reason. The simulation I ran worked; it said the barrier wouldn’t break down because you and the grasses would cooperate. I imagined you two having long conversations or even throwing wild parties.’ Fei snorted, shaking her head at the memory.

  Friends, the tree repeated happily. Our god would not have thought of that. He would have forced his will upon us and kept us growing through might alone. It would have taken effort. And once his thoughts turned from us, we would have ceased to be.

  Fei’s throat burned. She swallowed. ‘So if Kuja got distracted you’d wither away or be overtaken by the surrounding environments.’

  Yes, yes! You are so wise, Creator of Worlds.

  ‘I’m not a god. Not like Kuja.’

  God? The tree made a sound that seemed to simulate distorted laughter. What use is he? He only looks a
fter us. He doesn’t create anything. Not like the Old One. Not like you.

  A chill ran the length of Fei’s spine, as though someone was running an icicle over each and every bump. ‘The Old One. The Creator God.’

  Yes, yes! Creator! Feiscina!

  ‘I am nothing like him!’ Fei cried, backing away. The shoot that was attached to her temple strained and nearly snapped. ‘I am not a creator! I’m not him!’

  Confusion filled the tree’s voice. But we don’t want you to be him. We want you to be you.

  Fei’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She glanced down at it. Her son wasn’t even born yet, but already he was making himself heard. He saw his parents as celestial bodies rotating around him — the god and the creator. They were beautiful, both of them, shining like stars.

  Fei closed her eyes, breathing heavily, but the dizziness swamping her did not abate. When she staggered, a hovercar-sized fern caught her — a plant she had selected and chosen to be there, because it would help ensure the rainforest’s survival.

  Beside her the lundi grasses whispered gently, their words lost, buried in a language that only other plants could understand; they belonged to another god, so Fei couldn’t hear them through the sprout in her temple. But the tree, a forever friend to the lundi grasses, translated for her.

  Creator of Worlds, the grasses chanted, over and over again.

  Fei crouched to run her hands over their soft blades, startled and pleased when they caressed her in return. ‘But I might not be able to create as much as I did at TerraCorp. Yalsa Industries is very small and hasn’t got any clients yet.’

  None of us would ever bow to TerraCorp as we do to you, the tree vowed on behalf of so many plants from so many different environments. They knew who had given them the chance to live, they knew who had decided to include them on this planet — and they knew that their brethren on Bagaran were in imminent danger of falling prey to GLEA’s weapons.

  ‘Take me back!’ Fei commanded. ‘Now!’

  Another vortex appeared beside her, whirling and spitting out tortured sounds. She was afraid to see Kuja again so soon, but she could not turn away from the rainforests who needed her just as much as they needed their god.