by Ford, Lizzy
“Wait a minute.” She twisted to look at the rapidly changing world around her. The grasses had spread outside the crater and showed no sign of stopping. The trees in the original section were taller today, their leaves connected to new trees that had sprung up while she slept. More flora was visible in the Anshani jungle, and she counted a second stream forming on the opposite side of the oasis.
And then there was it, the creature she mistook for a shadow at first glance, at least until it blinked its three eyes.
Kiera rose, peering into the darkness between trees, unable to confirm if the shape she saw was real or her imagination. She limped closer and stopped uneasily. The world was coming to life quickly, and she had no idea what kind of creatures to expect of the alien planet.
The six-legged cat behind her was young and energetic, running in circles and occasionally bumping into her. She shuddered each time it did, unable to shake the image of a huge tarantula. It bound past her into the shadows of the trees surrounding the meadow where she’d slept the night through.
White fangs snapped at it as it neared the shadowy creature beneath the tree, and the spider-cat cart wheeled out of the shade, smacked into her legs and righted itself before darting off in another direction.
“Please don’t be something horrifying from Aliens or Predator,” she whispered, stepping back, her thoughts filled with images of the monsters from science fiction movies. Whatever lingered in the shadows stood and slinked out from the shade.
Kiera stared at the creature. It had six legs, like the spider-cats, but the thick, powerful body of a bear. Its three eyes glowed orange-red, the same shade of the Anshan earth, and its body was covered with shaggy red fur lined with jagged golden stripes. Its ears were at the top of its head, its triangular shaped face offset by a scruff around its neck.
It was ugly and threatening but nothing like the monsters from movies. The creature sat on its haunches not far from her, its sinewy legs jointed like a normal animal’s and bearing claws on the front and back legs while the middle set were padded.
“Okay. Giant Anshan bear-bug or something,” she said. She had never been this close to a bear on her planet – but she knew they only had four legs. This was purely an Anshan creation, no matter how closely it resembled a bear.
The creature was regarding her closely, as uncertain about her as she was about it.
Kiera retreated to the middle of the meadow. She was hungry again, borderline starving, and not at all certain what to do about it.
The bear settled onto its belly in the grass, unconcerned about her. She left it in the meadow, praying it wasn’t hungry enough to eat her, and went to the stream. Drinking more water, she gazed longingly at the five-finned fish before realizing she’d never be able to catch one.
She limped through the jungle and plucked up various leaves and plants, collecting them to try to eat.
“Won’t have any problem getting my fiber in,” she muttered unhappily. “Come on, A’Ran. Look at Anshan.” She glanced at the green canopy above and reached a boulder at the edge of the meadow. She sat and sorted through the unappealing collection of plants. “Never was a salad person.”
She tested one, found it bitter and went on to another. Most of them were edible, though the flavors left her frowning. When she’d exhausted the supply of food, she was still hungry and dissatisfied.
Kiera stood and tossed the stems and least tasty of the plants. The sounds of the storms were more distant today, as if the upward sprouting trees were pushing back the moody Anshan weather.
I have to do something. Turi’s people, along with Evey, were still trapped beneath the surface, their air supply running lower the more time she spent trying to understand her role. The planet’s energy wanted her to leave.
The silent padding of the bear didn’t reach her, but the creature spitting something out at her feet jarred her out of her thoughts. She leapt away, staring at the Anshan monster that appeared even bigger up close. It had yanked three of the glow-stick shaped plants from the roots of trees and flung them down at her feet.
Kiera stared at the creature, whose mouth was open in a silent pant, before she looked down. The creature followed her gaze and snatched one off the ground, smashing it between its powerful jaws. The stick-plant crunched like celery.
“So it’s edible,” she said and bent to grab one. She grimaced at the animal’s drool still on the surface and went to the spring nearby to wash off the plant. She bit into it cautiously afterwards. It was fleshy and thick, unlike the thin leaves she’d been trying to eat earlier. It had little taste but was filling.
She ate both of them and rose.
The animal appeared to be watching her again.
“Those fangs don’t look like something an herbivore has,” she murmured, uncertain why a predatory creature like this was showing her how to eat Anshan celery.
It rose and crossed to a nearby tree, rooting around the roots for more of the celery sticks and using its middle legs to paw and capture the vegetation without damaging it with its claws.
She watched it for a long moment, unable to understand the animal’s motivations – if it were even capable of thought – before she, too, began looking for the plants. She found several and wrestled them free from their deep roots and piled them nearby. The bear did the same, its pile covered in drool.
When she had ten of the sticks, Kiera piled them all like logs into her arms and went to the stream to wash them.
Kiera ripped off one of her sleeves to wrap them in and stood. Her knee was stiff but not painful this morning, though her bruises and cuts sent random stings through her as she moved.
When she turned, she saw the bear moving across the meadow. She searched the area around her once more, puzzles as to why there was only one large creature to develop from the basin. She had spotted at least six little spider-cats frolicking among the trees of the jungle and only one bear.
Kiera trailed the creature curiously. It paused at the opposite end of the meadow and twisted to look at her. The bear tossed its head towards the direction it was headed, as if telling her to follow, and began walking once more.
How was it possible for the animal to communicate with her? To show her food and even bring her some of the celeries? She had never thought twice about the ability for animals on earth to think like humans, but this creature seemed capable of it.
Then again, she was on a different planet, one that had its own soul. How different would that make any living creature that grew on it?
So she followed the animal. It led her to the edge of the basin and into the newer part of the jungle until it reached the edge. The animal didn’t stop, but Kiera did. She watched the jungle grow outward at a pace of about a foot a minute, unable to identify anything as incredible as knowing she’d caused it.
She lifted her eyes to the storm once more and stepped after the bear. Its ambling pace showed no sign of hurry, and the same bubble that formed around her when she entered the storm was around it as well. They walked away from the safety and food of the jungle, and she glanced frequently over her shoulder, until the vibrant green was swallowed by the red dust storm.
The bear plodded away. Kiera stared after it. If every living thing on Anshan was connected, it was possible the animal was more in tune with the planet and taking her somewhere safe.
Or … it was hunting or wandering or had some other motivation to lead her away from the oasis.
“Hey!” she called to the bear.
It didn’t acknowledge her and continued walking.
“I hope you know where we’re going,” she said and clutched the bundle of Anshan celery to her chest.
The bear stayed just within sight, leading her through the storms at a pace she was able to tolerate despite her achy knee. With it guiding her, she didn’t fear falling into another depression but neither was she certain she needed to go wherever it took her.
The terrain turned from generally flat to sloping to steep after several
hours. The bear seemed to understand she wasn’t able to navigate as fast as it could and often sat on its haunches several feet ahead and watched her climb with some effort up the sides of hills. By the time twilight fell, she had eaten half the glow sticks before reminding herself she needed them to act as her flashlights once it was dark.
Just before night fell, the bear led her into the dark mouth of a cave. Kiera followed slowly, not noticing how loud the storms were until deep enough in the cavern for it to become quiet.
The cave sloped downward, and the bear showed no sign of stopping. The raging storms grew farther and farther away until she wasn’t able to hear anything but the padding of the bear’s paws against stone.
At long last, the bear stopped. Kiera almost sighed in relief and drew nearer, lifting the light sticks when she saw the round door in front of which the animal stood. She drew nearer, gaze resting on the imprint in the shape of a large hand in the middle of the door. The bear moved to the side, and familiar apprehension drifted through her. She lifted her hand and pressed it to the imprint.
The door depressed several inches, and she jumped back, waiting. After a pause, it rolled to the side to reveal a dark room beyond.
The bear led her into the room. As with the other chambers she’d explored with Turi, the moment she crossed the threshold, lights flickered on from evenly spaced points around the chamber. This room was round with an open entry on the opposite side of where she stood.
Kiera followed the bear through the chamber and down the hallway on the opposite side. Once more, the corridor sloped downwards, and they walked through a tunnel whose corners were old enough to be rounded.
Anshan was an ancient planet with a history far longer than she knew of Earth. It had to have taken thousands of years to wear down the corners carved by far removed ancestors of A’Ran. The deeper they went, the more Kiera considered how incredible such a history truly was. Human history on Earth was relatively shallow with more unknowns than knowns.
But here, on Anshan, traditions had been passed down through A’Ran’s forefathers for millennia. That she was chosen by the planet left her feeling more humbled than before.
“You’re amazing, aren’t you?” she whispered to the ancient planet whose soul had chosen her out of everyone else in the universe.
The corridor reached an end beside a wide, quickly moving river running beneath the mountains. Kiera gazed at the waters racing by and moved to the edge of the stone walk running alongside it. The river stretched in each direction, disappearing around a curve downstream and swallowed by darkness upstream.
Glimmers of metallic rainbows came from the massive fish swimming in the river, and she leaned over to get a better look. The aquatic animals were as large as the bear, each with five fins and eyes huge enough to scare her back from the edge. The creatures were cute when they were the size of her hand but a little freakier the size of a Smart car.
“What next, bear-bug?” she asked, turning to the furry creature.
Once more, it was ahead of her. The bear had walked a short distance away to a section of the stone walk protruding into the river. Kiera joined it on the mini-dock and peered uneasily into the waters once more before the tremble of the stone beneath her feet threw her off balance.
She scampered from the edge and dropped to her knees. The stone was moving. Like a chunk of ice carrying penguins in Antarctica, the stone left the bank of the river and drifted towards the middle of the wide river. The bear sat down as well, and Kiera quelled the mild panic racing through her at the idea of being stranded in the river with the huge fish.
She moved to the center of the stone and sat by the bear that had led her this far, uncertain once more how or why the wild animal was capable of guiding her anywhere at all. Its six legs left her leery. Accompanying a bear somewhere was less weird than considering the creature to be an oversized bug.
“I guess you’re more bear than bug,” she reasoned, studying the creature.
It settled onto its stomach, as if to tell her they were going on a long ride.
She lay down on her back to gaze at the ceiling and was surprised to see similar paintings on the ceilings as had been in the chamber where she awoke the planet. They were faded, sometimes to the point of flashes of pale colors with no real forms. The river propelled her by them too quickly for her to make out what story the drawings might be telling. But one thing she knew: before the planet’s art consisted solely of metal statues, it had been rich with colorful paintings and drawings. A’Ran was always amazed by her artwork, and she was happy to know she had more in common with Anshan than she initially thought.
Over the next several hours, Kiera nibbled her way through two more of the glow plants while the six-legged bear dozed beside her. She gave up looking for meaning in the artwork flying above her head and instead admired the colors and forms created by a civilization far older than her own.
A jolt made her sit up quickly.
The flat stone conveying them down the river was moving from the center of the river to one side, as if the unexplained ride was over. The bear roused itself as they neared the stone walkways lining the opposite side of the river, and their conveyance bumped lightly against the walkway.
Kiera stood, tested her balance, and then stepped off the self-propelled rock. The bear trailed her and padded past her to the opening of a corridor sloping upward. Lights glowed to life the moment she entered the hall.
They walked upward for ten minutes before the bear led her into what felt like a maze of corridors lined with closed, stone doors. The well-worn hallways grew wider as they went, the ceilings taller. Some contained more modern metal statues or markers and at least one the colorful, twisted cords used by Anshan and Qatwali to decorate the ceilings and corners of their homes.
Shuttered windows began to appear shortly after the simple decorations, followed by dim entrance pads marking modern technology at the side of doors.
The massive building they were in was empty of life, though she guessed it had been inhabited not so long ago. Far from luxurious like the back-up palace of the Qatwali, it was nonetheless far more glamorous than the moon home where she’d been living with A’Ran and his family, too.
They entered a new part of the building, this one with soaring ceilings and towering doors lining a hallway wide enough to fit a four-lane highway. Sculptures made of gray metal and outlined by red dust punctuated the middle of the corridor and stood between doors. The shapes were different than the statues she had seen on the moon: these were of exotic animals and people instead of geometric shapes or artistic twists and curls.
Kiera walked along the middle of the hall, studying the fantastical creatures she had yet to meet that she assumed represented the wildlife of Anshan. She identified the shapes of the spider-cats and many other animals she wasn’t quite able to imagine in person. The bear, however, was not among those animals present.
As if sensing she thought of it, the bear gave a plaintive roar from its position in front of the two largest doors.
She returned to it, guessing it wanted her to open the doors. She tried lifting her armband to the access pad beside the door first without success before planting her palms against the doors.
They opened at her touch, and she stepped into the room behind the bear.
Light flared to life, one torch at a time, until the massive chamber was brightly lit to display brilliant works of art covering every inch of the floor, walls and high ceiling. Kiera gazed around her, smiling, sensing the warmth and energy of Anshan more here than anywhere else. The room – or perhaps the planet – was welcoming her. Her first interest was in the art, and she explored it ravenously with her gaze, identifying the different techniques and marks of dozens upon dozens of different artists.
The art displayed on the walls ranged from faded, barely discernable, to newer, bolder paintings. Pictures of people and Anshan battles and monuments were intermixed with letters from Anshan’s symbol-based language. Metal stat
ues lining the floor of the chamber were the newest additions to the story of Anshan plastered on the walls, and the floor consisted of mosaics in various hues of sand, red, orange and faded yellow.
Absorbed in studying the marks of a people she was just starting to know, Kiera’s focus left the walls only when the bear gave another cry of complaint. She joined it at the center of the chamber, where it sat next to a raised dais. Two stone chairs, far simpler than the Qatwali thrones, were at the center of the dais.
Kiera paused before them, innately understanding what they were. The artsy chamber at the center of the elaborate mazes, as boisterous as the people of Anshan were reserved, was the throne room, the center of Anshan’s royalty and people.
The Anshan palace was plain compared to Qatwal. As she stood in the silent chamber, the energy of the planet tickling her feet, she experienced a heavy emotion not entirely her own.
Unlike Qatwali, no life existed on Anshan. The throne room, the palace, even the oasis where she’d rested, were engulfed in a sense of loneliness. Abandonment. Sadness.
But here, the sorrow so painful, so palpable, it made her breath catch.
Kiera studied the beauty on the walls, the sign of how well loved and happy the planet had been filled with so many people who appreciated it before the events of the past dozen years or so.
The planet was barren, abandoned, yearning for the lives connected to it to return. Yirkin had claimed the spirits of the people were contained within the planet itself. If true, then how could it survive without them?
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she whispered. “That’s why we’re dying.”
Unable to speak to her directly, Anshan wasn’t able to tell her if she was right. But Kiera didn’t need to hear the affirmation to know she’d hit the truth.