by Almney King
“I saw them once before, your mother’s art. In a marsh. There was a temple.”
“Galaya?” they said at once.
Windlen stormed in front of me. “Did you go inside?” he asked. He looked panicked.
I nodded. “There were images.”
The children looked horrified at my confession. It seemed the temple was forbidden to look upon. At least for me, a trespasser, with a foreign presence and foreign eyes. “You saw the tales of the fallen?” Windlen gasped. “Did you? What was it like? What did it say?”
E’lana elbowed him in the side. “We are not allowed to know, Windlen. Father says we are too young.”
“Hush, E’lana. I am old enough. You are the young one,” he insisted. “Tell us, kachi. What did you see?”
He stood there waiting, legs bent with his hands pressed to his knees. His eyes beamed with a curious light. It reminded me of Ellis as a child—heedless, overwhelmed by passion. It was that passion we shared that led us. And we stumbled, straight into the arms of the dark. “Don’t be in such a hurry for the truth,” I told him. “If you’re not ready, it just might be strong enough to kill you.” I stood up from the sand. “Ignorance is bliss. Haven’t you heard?” I said dully.
Windlen stepped aside. His eyes followed me as I made my way to the shoreline. “See what you did, Windlen. You made Celeste sad,” E’lana scowled.
Windlen answered her in Hedai. “I did not,” he whispered. “Kachien have no feelings. And they are stupid. ‘Ignorance is bliss?’ How foolish.”
“Windlen!”
“Only a fool would be happy to be a fool, E’lana. It is their nature.”
He was right. Only a fool would be happy to be a fool. I suppose I was a fool, then. If it meant going back, if it meant seeing Fern again, holding my mother again, then I wanted to be a fool.
“Celeste!” E’lana called. “Shall we go back? You must be hungry!”
I turned from the sea and headed back. The three of us returned to the house in silence. Windlen was particularly quiet. It seemed my words had upset him. I hadn’t meant to. I was only speaking my truth.
“It can happen at times,” Windlen said all of a sudden. We had sat at the table to eat. E’lana had served me a slice of sweetened bread, some island fruits, and two slabs of meat. All was quiet until Windlen spoke. “It can happen when there is war. Father says it is the hand of Kurios bringing balance.”
A world that could bring its own peace. Only people had that power back on Earth—only the Nazar. I remembered, years after he had arisen, how quiet the world was. But now that I think of it, there was no peace at all. It was fear, and it was our cradle of comfort.
The Nazar had promised us an empire. He promised us glory, life, and a great wealth in that existence. How could we turn away? We were so desperate, so pathetically clinging to the cloak of extinction. We needed him. We needed order. It didn’t matter what kind. A selfish order. A wicked order. As long as it sheltered us, as long as it kissed and caressed us, we were obedient. We were in love with our very own ignorance.
“It was not always so,” Windlen said. He looked up at me. “Ever since the cumenráge, everything has changed.”
“Cumenráge?” I said.
“The battles,” E’lana answered.
“So many have been lost,” Windlen whispered. “So many. Why? Father says it is destiny, the work of Kurios. But still... why does it have be so?” He lowered his head, his fist clenching over the table. He spoke like an old soul, like the spirit of war was such a senseless thing. But I didn’t think so. War was necessary. It was punishing. It was freewill. But with destiny, there was none. Destiny was a cage. And death was simply somewhere in between it all. But he couldn’t understand it, and I hoped he never would. He was too young to know, too corruptible.
“Your English, where did you learn it? You speak it well,” I said.
“Before the cumenráge, your kind taught it to us. It came to the rest of us by nature,” Windlen explained. “Father made us learn it. He said we should not let ourselves be fooled by the stranger’s language.”
Their father was wise. He reminded me of my mother. ‘Trust no truth but His truth. Tell no lie. Be still and be sound.’ That was my mother. She was so righteous, so infinitely beautiful. At times I envied her for it. That eternal faith of hers was unnatural but so heartbreakingly courageous as well.
“You must leave now,” Windlen suddenly whispered. “Our patro will return soon.”
I nodded. “Thank you, for your kindness,” I said.
“Take this food for your journey,” E’lana said. She placed the bundle in my hands. “Come back to us, Celeste. You are a very kind kachi.”
I smiled at her. Kind? I wasn’t so sure I was kind. Nor did I want to be. I had too much anger to be kind. My heart was a heart of hate. Still, I couldn’t resist reaching out to her, caressing her long, emerald curls. I suppose even a heart of hate had a hunger for softness.
Heeki shrieked when I touched her. I drew my hand away then stood. “Thank you for everything. The food was good.” Windlen stared up at me. There was such disdain in his eyes. Not towards me, but for the things I had said. He understood now, that the truth was not liberating and beautiful. It was frightening. And perhaps a cage just as destiny was a cage.
“Follow me out,” E’lana said.
At the front of the house, the hills welcomed me again. “Be safe in your travels,” E’lana sang. She wrapped her arms around me. And something strange overcame me as she held me. My heart clenched and my breaths went cold. I knew this feeling. I knew it well. It was longing. “Ali’vandi, Celeste.”
I patted her head and she released me. “Goodbye, E’lana,” I said. And I found myself wanting to take it back. I found myself not wanting to leave this haven, this perfect place of peace no matter how it tortured me.
“Here,” Windlen said shyly.
I looked down at him. He held one of the flowers up to me.
“It is a daleia, the flower of promise, peace, and protection.”
I took the flower in my hand, stunned by his compassion towards me. “Thank you, Windlen.” I tucked the blossom up my sleeve, the white petals sprawling over my hand. “It’s beautiful.”
“Ell may,” he answered timidly.
I smiled and stepped from the patio. I moved through the daleias until I reached the tree line. E’lana waved gleefully. Windlen simply stood there. I gazed at them one last time before disappearing into the everlasting woods.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILDERNESS
There was something conscious about the woods. I discovered this soon enough. They were haunted with my memories, the shadows of Earth blending in and out of the trees. For a time I thought my mind was lost. But the images I saw were too vivid to be a dream.
My father appeared over and over. He was always ahead of me, his back staring at me as we walked. I never saw his face. Perhaps I had forgotten it, or perhaps it was his shame. He knew better than to look at me with those eyes; that tired, suffering gaze of his. I could hardly bear it, watching him go, his shoulders strong with his head to the sky.
I followed his steps. I couldn’t turn away. The rage wouldn’t let me. And I hated it, remembering how he had disappeared into that frigid sunrise. I hardly recalled his voice. I only remembered his lips, moving soundlessly over my skin as he said his goodbye. His murmurs were deep as a black sea, and silkier than the morning fog. I had forgotten his final words. A few little sentences was all he left in his absence, and I resented them. I wanted his wisdom, and his anger, and his tenderness. I wanted his warmth, for his arms to hold me, to feel the stubble of his chin brush the corner of my temple. These were the duties of a father. These were the imaginary caresses that poisoned my love for him.
The longer I wandered, the less I saw him. He was but a memory again. And I closed him in the tombs of my heart, wanting to forget, wanting him to suffer the same dark I had suffered. There was no time to think of my
father. I had to find Ellis. Before he killed, before he lost himself, I had to find him. Ellis wasn’t like me. He was too righteous, too compassionate with life. It was sacred to him. No one had the right to take it, manipulate it, or abuse it. That was his belief. And that was why I had to save him. If he ever awoke, if he ever remembered, he could never survive the reek of death on his hands.
A branch croaked in the quiet. I stilled. Something was near. The scent of iron blew strong in the wind. It was a thick smell, reminding me of an old and awful thirst. I knew that scent—human blood. I moved softy through the trees. I wasn’t alone. There were voices in the distance.
I ran, wildly breaking through the thicket. And when I saw it, I hardly felt as if I were seeing it at all. It was an ambush. A body here, two there, laying sideways across another. The dead were fresh, and human—miracle workers in fact. Their bodies scattered the forest. And as I stood, I noticed how very alive they looked, all still and brutally twisted in death.
Then I heard it. A miserable moan rose from the dead. I turned and looked at him. He was shrugged against a tree, his body bending forward in a gruesome pain. I went to him, moving slyly around the bodies. He hadn’t heard me coming. But when he saw me, his body tremored, and his eyes grew wide in a scream. He tried to move, his left hand reaching frantically for his halo-com. But there was a wicked gash in his chest that stunned the movement.
I knelt in front of him, watching him struggle. His hand was close now. I brushed it away. He did it again. He reached for the halo-com. And again, I drew his hand away. The man whimpered helplessly. His eyes beamed at me. They were gray, angry, a storm of contempt. They looked like ash, like a titanium flame. There was so much hate in them.
It was cruel of me, I knew. But there was no sympathy in my heart of hate. My actions were not my own. It was the will of the savage. The savage within me would not let this moment pass. Because at some point in this long, abominable quest, there had to be vengeance. And it had to be now.
I looked at his wound again. It was deep. Even if he managed to contact New Eden, he would not survive. The man struggled, trying to escape as I put a hand to his face and shattered the glass of his helmet. His body bucked forward, his arms flailing, reaching for breath. I watched him. His face turned a ghastly blue, his legs violently thrashing in the dirt. I saw fear in his eyes, a blinding fear I found so poor and pitiful.
He gasped all of a sudden. And I knew the life was leaving him. I saw him cling to it. He was terrified, so scared of letting go. I broke a shard of glass from his helmet and just as the final winds of life ripped from his body, I stuck him with it, deep into his throat. The man jerked, his pale lips trembling, quietly screaming. And I never saw someone look so hideous in death.
His body shook once, twice, then a few more times before it stilled altogether. His eyes were open. They were glassy in the light. I remembered suddenly, the dead eyes of the attendant that doctor had shot and killed. I jumped back all of a sudden, terrified at myself. My senses were returning. I felt deathly sick.
I felt the pain rising out of nowhere. I shot myself with halos, two this time, to ease the shocks. It was happening again—the violent urges, the uncontrolled mindlessness, and the blistering thirst. It was ARTIKA. It was dementia. It was genasis. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t control myself. I was possessed.
I rose to my feet, afraid to look, afraid of my consciousness returning. I would forget what happened here. Never again would I dance with vengeance. It was too much like a demon. I couldn’t handle demons. The tombs of my heart couldn’t hold them. Because demons weren’t meant for the grave. They were meant for the fire. I could not go down that road. But the savage in me would try. ARTIKA would try. They wanted to see how far I could go, when my heart was not a heart, and I had finally surrendered my dignity. But it wouldn’t happen. Because even a heart of hate had a home. Even a heart of hate, loved.
I drug the dead to a shallow curve in the earth and took the helmets from their suits. Five were male, four were female. They were young. But not the one I had killed. He was perhaps as old as my father was. My fingers froze on the lining of his suit. I didn’t know why I thought that. And when I did, a vicious pain swelled inside me. Then I was angry again. I was angry because I couldn’t forget that my father abandoned me, abandoned us. I was angry because I loved him.
I held my breath to keep the pain in and focused on the man beneath me. One by one, I worked the MW’s out of their suits. Their wounds were shredded and raw looking. By the end, my hands were stained in blood. For some reason, I couldn’t stand to see them trapped like that in those suffocating suits. Maybe I was thinking too much like Ellis, but I wanted their spirits free. Free to roam. Free to go on.
The voices I had heard before were still alive. I followed them up the hills. And deep in the valley, a lowland of silver waters shined in the sun. A humble village rested above those waters. And there was smoke curling around the small bungalows. It was a long way down, and by the time I reached it, the sun was setting far into the north. Once it vanished, the night would only last a second. Then Niaysia’s second sun would rise high in the east and clear the dark.
There was a bridge at the bank of the water leading into the village. It was quiet again. The planks of the bridge creaked beneath me. Neon lanterns lit the dim. Then I heard a sound. They knew I was coming. I saw shadows, stretching slow over the huts. Then they surrounded me. There were three of them, all armed as they eased from the dark.
The lead arsenal held me at gunpoint. There was a playful glint in his eyes. I recognized him in an instant. Neil was his name. We had fought on several accounts in the arena. He never won of course, but he had a complex for challenging me, desperate to improve his own skill. It was almost admirable.
“Well if it isn’t Celeste 2102. What a surprise running into you out here in the middle of nowhere,” he said. He waved his hand and the team of green-tags lowered their weapons.
I looked at them. They seemed like a strong, established group. None of them were apprehensive of me. In fact, they seemed rather pleased by these sudden turn of events. “You alone?” one of them asked. I looked at her. She was fairly tall, her long blonde hair aglow in the neon light. I had seen her a few times around Pilot as well.
“I am.”
“That’s rather risky of you,” the other said. He was stalky for his height, broad-shouldered but lean.
“But if anyone can survive the jungle of hell, it’s Celeste,” Neil said.
“Let’s head back in. Vin and Tessa are waiting for us,” the blonde said.
“Why don’t you join us, Celeste?” Neil offered.
I nodded. “After you,” I said. He grinned and led us across the narrow pathways. They rocked beneath the sway of our steps. It was almost difficult to keep the balance. They were nothing but flimsy planks floating delicately atop the water.
There was a strange stillness in the village. The empty bungalows were lit with the neon lanterns. A thin mist rose all around them. It was like the marsh I remembered.
All was quiet, except for the croaks of nature echoing somewhere between the bushels of water grass. And as I stared into those green waters, I saw a beautiful face of stone submerged in the shallows. It was a dead body—a male Meridian.
“What happened here?” I asked.
“A divide and conquer,” the stalky arsenal said.
“Not exactly,” Neil objected. “We came across natives before. But these were different. They were hostiles.” He glanced back at me. And the way he did was as if he were seeking judgment, curious if I approved of his actions or not. I said nothing. What they did with their freewill was none of my concern. Their sins and matters of retribution was God’s to bear.
“It wasn’t a compete blood bath,” Neil said. “When we came, most of them were already gone. The rest, we took care of.”
“There were also a few... minor complications,” the blonde said.
I wondered what she meant by
that, but I realized it eventually as we came upon the heart of the village. There, in the center, was a brilliant fire. One of the arsenals was galloping around the flames like a madman full of joy. The other, Tessa, watched in boredom. A Terra-gun lay at rest in her lap, but her finger never left the trigger. And I saw why. There were natives among them, young Meridian watching the arsenal dance. Their eyes were vicious looking in the light of the fire.
“We have a guest,” Neil announced.
The arsenal stopped his maniacal dancing. When he saw me, he grinned, stumbling over his feet as he maneuvered around the fire. There was a bed of cushions around it, embroidered chests full of spoils and long spools of silk strewn across the makeshift chaise. No doubt the treasures were raided from the bungalows, sitting center as a symbol for what the arsenals had conquered.
Tessa looked up then shot from her seat upon seeing me. “Celeste,” she gasped. “You found her, Neil?”
He shook his head. “Actually, she found us.”
Tessa hurried around the fire, shoving Vin aside on her way through. He groaned and tumbled into the pillows, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “Ignore him,” Tessa said. “It’s that drink the natives gave him. It’s some sort of intoxicant.” I looked over at him with the assumption that it was more than the drink that had befuddled him. It was power. And he was drunk on it.
“You sure are difficult to find,” Tessa said. She looked me over. “It’s no wonder. You’re id marker . . . it’s fried.” I put a hand to my neck. I figured it had gone out, most likely on my journey through space. “You’re lucky.” She drew her hair back, exposing her neck. There was a light scar there on the dark of her skin. “We had to cut ours out. It was hell,” she said.
“A little pain for a lot of freedom. It was worth it,” Neil said. He waved his hand. “Come and sit. You must be hungry.”
I was. A few days back, I had finished what E’lana had gave me. Afterwards, I took a gamble on the island fruits. I had learned plenty about Niaysia and its agriculture, but that only applied to what New Eden had discovered. Out here, in the wilderness, there was so much more. Nothing was certain. Everything was a risk. That was why ARTIKA created us. Because we were expendable. Easy to kill, but difficult to destroy.