The Bonded

by John Falin

  I respond accordingly. “Seth is a thorough teacher. He is unyielding, demanding, and quite disciplined, but for me, those are qualities I can admire when my life is on the line.” His eyes narrow with confirmation. “As for Percy, she is a true predator, teaching through words and action.”

  “Good. How are the others treating you?”

  This is a loaded question so I respond with apathy. “They are cautious with me, but I haven’t experienced any physical assaults or threats… yet.”

  He seems satisfied with my answer and moves from pleasantries to the issue. I’ve met many men like him, no time for small talk—to the point and be done with you. I wonder how he is in romantic relationships.

  “Adriel, have you ever heard of the LGM?”

  “Yeah, the Last Glacial Maximum. It was the most recent Ice Age that occurred about 20,000 years ago. I think the human population shrank to less than a million? That’s all I can recall.” Damn that memory. Percy was correct; it was like going through reel-to-reel film.

  “I have to admit, I am a tad surprised at your knowledge of that event. This book in front of us is called the Knosis. It was written by our progenitor, Anu, about 4,000 years ago and describes in an ancient, simple language the events that I am going to share with you. He, as you will learn, was probably over 15,000 years old and worshipped as one of the oldest gods recorded in ancient Sumer when it was written.”

  Cassius caresses the old text with one finger and continues. “It was as you describe and was the beginning of our people. As you mentioned, the climate changed dramatically, creating a blanket of ice covering a large portion of Earth. I’m sure you are familiar with the science behind this, so I won’t bore you with details, but for the sake of the story, I must point out that it did indeed create an atmosphere so brutal that humanity struggled to survive. Humanity evolved over hundreds of thousands of years due to their ability to adapt and this was no different as they escaped a deadly freeze and moved into areas that were warmer. There was one tribe, though, according to the Knosis, caught in a raging blizzard that happened upon a cave buried in ice halfway up a treacherous mountain.”

  He takes a long breath and says, “We don’t know where the cave is, but suspect it is located somewhere in Germany. That is another story for another evening”—four seconds pass—“perhaps.” He lifts his eyes from the book and contemplates me. “From what this book states, that tribe avoided certain death during the ice storm, barely surviving frigid temperatures in that enormous cave for three days. In the empty darkness there was no food to be found. So, when the snow and wind finally capitulated, the men immediately departed for the hunt while the women investigated the deep labyrinth of tunnels that dug into the mountain.

  “As you can imagine, the options were sparse, with larger game and hunting relegated to small rodents or the occasional canine. The men returned on the verge of starvation when the women informed them they had discovered a small lake with peculiar water deep within the heart of the mountain. This, of course, was no ordinary water. Anu describes it as ‘the color of grass and the sun.’ That was an apt depiction as I have found paintings created during the Babylonian era, from our kind, with a pool of green water that was only a shade away from being colorless. It was this pale-green water that gave life to our kind.” His tone became distinctive as the last sentence was spoken with emphasis. His stare pierces my eyes as he continues. “I have seen famished humans with rib cages protruding and stomachs bloated from malnutrition. I know what desperation can do to the mind. They will eat tree bark, dirt, anything to stave off impending death. So I can envision the tribe emaciated and ravenous, with a primal survival instinct taking over all logical thinking as they cupped their hands and lifted the green water to their lips with warnings of poison and sickness overridden. It was in that moment our legacy began and as with all of nature, the change was gradual, not immediate.

  “They named the strange water ‘úš MU’ in Sumerian, which roughly translates to ‘blood-water.’ It was similar to water in that it satisfied their thirst and rehydrated their bodies, but they soon discovered that it was more. In fact, we now know that it wasn’t water any more than we are skin. Just as skin is entirely made up of dead cells and merely protects the living creature that resides within, so was the water a skin for an ancient organism that was also alive. There is no evidence that it was sentient; just a primordial organism that thrived on the nutrients found in living blood.”

  “Was it some form of virus?”

  He thinks for a moment. “That is a good question. We have no actual specimen to study, so all we have is conjecture and hypothesis.”

  “But what is your conjecture or hypothesis?”

  “The organism survived without the blood, but flourished with it. The blood must not have been life sustaining… It was life enhancing. Beyond that, we do not know. As the blood-water was consumed, they became much stronger and healthier, recovering quickly from illness and more tolerant of sub-zero temperatures. They also found that fire used in cooking meat was no longer needed or desired as it robbed the meat of precious nutrients found in fresh blood, not to mention it charred the taste. This organism alone was not enough to sustain life; rather, it amalgamated with the white blood cells found in blood, enhancing their natural function of defending the body. They drank the water with greedy delight, but continued to hunt so that the water would have what it needed.

  “As the village was built on a riverbank, this discovery caused the tribe to fortify their cave and settle within the cavernous abyss. The years passed and generations were born and died as they modified the cave system and made it their permanent home. Their numbers increased expediently because they mated like rats, not so different from today.” He says this as if a bitter taste floats in his mouth.

  “Then, after 400 years of living and toiling within the darkened caves, a child was born that changed everything. He was akin to the others, but his eyes marked him as unfamiliar. They were the color of the blood-water. Their tribe had consumed so much of it that his DNA had assimilated with the primordial organism, causing his eyes to turn the lightest shade of green. Yet, that was just in appearance. The blood-water had transformed him into a blood-thirsty killer that was immune to diseases and the effects of aging with a metabolism so incredible that he had no reason to fear the harsh elements of the Ice Age.

  “He was the first of our kind. He was raised in caution and secrecy due to his eye color; surely we both understand how primitive tribes would have reacted to children who were different. Again, not much has changed. The Knosis does say that, as he matured, others feared him because of his ‘fire skin’ and ‘sharp teeth.’ To protect him, his mother kept him discreet by picking off the old and sick of the tribe, but also feeding him the blood of farm animals. His appetite was voracious, comparable to one of our older ones. Luckily, there were over a thousand humans then and missing a couple was not an issue. So time moved on for everyone, except him.”

  “He was capable of living off of farm animals? Are we capable of that as well?”

  He gives me a condescending look. “We cannot die from lack of human blood. We will shrivel and become mummified, but will not die. Animal blood will retard the process, but will not prevent it.” Cassius, frustrated with interruptions, continues. “Finally, after years of arctic winter, the climate slowly embraced the spring with all its life and the tribe began to venture farther into the country in search of game. Although the weather continued to be difficult, the animals returned and nature was correcting itself. With food supplies replenishing, the tribe was becoming less reliant on the blood-water for sustenance. It was during this time that the small lake had dwindled with use and the High Council of Elders placed emergency restrictions upon it, but it was too late. It had another four seasons before disappearing, and the tribes began to fragment over the stress.

  “After several cantankerous seasons of discontent, the tribe recognized an overpopulation issue and determined the
time for relocating was upon them. They spread like seeds into the surrounding areas, cultivating the lands and doubling the population over and over again within a hundred years. With the daily challenge of subjugating land and starting new villages, the blood-water became folklore as the remaining effects of it dissipated due to the lack of consumption amongst the general population.

  “Meanwhile, deep into the blackness, Anu was building his future, taking many mates that bore him many children. If a child did not have the privilege of genetic superiority, he wisely let the villagers raise them for future food resources. After a while, the recessive genes passed on to the majority of children, but all were shadows of the original. The green eyes were never duplicated, but were reinterpreted as blue and yellow, the blood thirst was experienced through the Resurrectio instead of birth, and immortality was diluted. His children were copies, not originals, yet they remained superior in every way to humans and used their talents to kill.

  “After many years of Anu’s children feeding from the local villagers, supply and demand was imbalanced and the herd began to thin out. For years their strangeness contributed to the village gossip as they became the scapegoats for missing stock or the bedtime stories to scare children into obedience. When the villagers’ casualties became apparent, the unintended results were the more serious stories of cave-dwellers that seduced and drained life from their hapless victims, which was developed through millennia into what we now know in pop culture.

  “The folklore compounded with rumors instigated a communal panic. In response to the rumors, locals organized an assault on the cave-dwellers, as they were called, and marched up the mountain to destroy them. Please remember these were barbaric ancestors, the beginnings of our kind, and were extremely vulnerable to myths and fear. Yet, I believe the villager’s reactions to be appropriate as they were being exterminated without thought by cave-dwellers that now numbered in the hundreds. The result of the assault is obvious, the villagers were butchered, drained, and all the excess blood ‘formed an eternal river of red that leads to the cave.’”

  I interrupt Cassius. “How did they feed with no villagers?”

  He squints in strained memory. “That is a perfect transition into the ‘Blood War.’ As you have observed, the villagers were massacred. Men, women, and children were disposed of within a matter of hours. In my opinion, it was a waste of resources and poor strategy, but I digress. As I mentioned earlier, they now numbered in the hundreds. Although most of them were young and did not require the large quantities of blood that Anu demanded.

  “Apparently, Anu was disgusted with their hasty and violent response, as he was searching for new food sources at the far boundaries when the slaughter took place. Upon his return he expressed his fury by murdering the leaders responsible for the carnage. The others were frightened and acquiesced when he addressed them with dire news of barren lands and surrounding tundra. There was mild dread and after several nights without blood, some of the younger ones who had not experienced the Resurrectio started to disappear until there were none remaining. Vengeance weaved its way into parental minds and accusations laced with threats were issued to suspects. The Knosis states, matter-of-fact, that during this time brother turned on brother and mother on daughter until only a couple dozen lived.

  “Anu had allowed the war to destroy his children, knowing that they were uncontrollable and lacked the skills necessary to survive the coming centuries through secrecy and deception. It was when they were reduced to those few left that he reappeared and put an end to the bloodshed. He forced them to choose two leaders and leave the caves, never to return.

  “One of the leaders took ten followers, making a harsh journey through the tundra and into warmer lands and settling in the wild forests. His group embraced nocturnal hunting, developing a taste for raw meat. They fed on animals and humans; it didn’t matter as long as it contained white blood cells to satisfy the blood-water. Centuries crawled on as they evolved to their environment with thick hair for warmth, four sharp incisors resembling a wolf’s for tough meats, and a monstrous size to hunt the largest of predators. They became animals, feral and unthinking just as you met them the week of your arrival here.” He spit it out like poison and abruptly softened. “My ancestors stayed in the familiar caves, living off local villagers and faithfully drinking only the pure blood of humans. As a result, our teeth stayed as they were and our height actually lessened. Contrary to popular thinking, in that period of time humans were taller and bulkier than today, especially compared to the last 4,000 years. Through time they decreased in size, as did we, to blend in, but for whatever reason we remained as we are now even as the pendulum swings back. To assist in our camouflage at night, our hair became dark and we have an uncanny ability to move without sound.

  “Evolution is quite the seer, knowing that we would live long lives and multiply until the earth was depleted of food, so we were robbed of fertility and only produce several offspring a millennia. Our lives are longer than our cousins, the waers, so we produce even less than they do.” He shifts with seriousness. “Adriel, you do the math. They are brutish creatures unable to control their desires and they breed at nearly twice our rate. We will be overrun and destroyed if we allow them to go on unfettered.”

  It is so much to process, but I know there will be plenty of time for it later. To make certain I gather as much information as possible, I continue the questions. “What happened to Anu?”

  He is caught off guard, expecting that I would become rabid with fear with the population issue of the waers, but regroups and says, “The Sumerians would worship him as the immortal Anu, eventually influencing the Babylonians, Assyrians, and Akkadians. Of course that isn’t his given name and we have no evidence as to what that was. The Sumerians were the first to develop writing, therefore, the first to give him a name. He is the only true immortal that we know of… at this point. His body somehow found a balance that controlled the burn, which leads us to death. Selfishly, he disappeared around 600 BC and has not returned since.”

  I make an immediate mental note of eye color, appetite, and the cave location for future analyzing, but hold my cards close, as Cassius is not to be trusted. We both allow the silence to pressurize the room as I am lost in thought and he is intent on me. The pressure builds to the point of discomfort so I decide to siphon off a little with a few questions. “Cassius, do you think th…” My mind goes hot with racing blood. I recover quickly as the burst lasts only one or two beats, but he notices and reacts with serenity. His nostrils slightly flare, inhaling potential threats, and his head tilts with ears perked for battle. I see a suspicion crinkle as he squints and slowly stands, concentrating on the door behind me.

  He speaks with a level just above intimate conversation. “Antonio, let our guest in.” From within the house I hear his servant walk to the door with urgency, yet open it with casual demeanor. Everything is smoke and mirrors. “Good evening, Persephone. He is expecting you,” says Antonio with silk in his voice.

  She already knows where we are and turns to face Cassius as if waiting for approval to enter. Recognizing this, Cassius pauses for effect. Then with a nod that is more in expression than movement of the head, grants her approval. I stand as well, not because I am chivalrous, but my senses are on alert. He glides over to Percy gently, grasping both hands and kisses each cheek as is the tradition in many cultures. I catch myself dreading our next greeting as I really value my personal space. He says with aristocratic authority, “Welcome, Persephone. I apologize for intruding on your time. It seems the hour has run away from us. Please, have a seat. I have not had the opportunity to have a conversation with Adriel.” Like a cat, she moves into the other guest chair. I follow suit and Cassius dramatically trails behind. Is this guy for real?

  He shifts attention from Percy to me and begins. “Again, Adriel, forgive my bluntness, but the Council of War is meeting in minutes and I have spent our hour together selfishly telling stories. I interview all that are ne
w to our tribe, so please don’t think of this as some sort of interrogation. I just have several questions that will help me better understand who you are and how you will fit into our family. From what I understand, you were adopted. What are your earliest memories?”

  I recall Percy’s warnings concerning lies or exaggerations and choose to be as truthful as possible. “Nothing out of the ordinary, just images of when I was two or three of playing outside. My childhood was quite unremarkable, as my parents went out of their way to create the most normal environment possible for me. I’ll always consider Brandon, Mississippi, home—the name alone raises powerful memories of good friends and fun on the reservoir, but it isn’t exactly the untamed streets of Hollywood.”

  “Why do you think they made an effort to avoid attention?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve processed how they did it, just not why. They were secretive, whispering behind closed doors late into the nights. I had always assumed it was about their marriage or careers, but as I grew older, I realized there was something they knew about me. Of course, I thought they were merely struggling with the fact that I was adopted, as they had never mentioned it. The guilt must have been a burden. Now after all the events that have happened in the last month, I don’t know.”

  “So, they never spoke of your past?” He senses my distrust and says, “Obviously, you know that I am trying to discover your heritage and why you were not raised as one of us.”

  Half-truth, but I’ll accept it. “Never said a word.” (Whole truth—I left out the note.)

  He relents. “At what age did you leave and where did you go?”

  I don’t like the questioning, but I feel cornered. “I left at sixteen and travelled the world, never really settling for any substantial length of time.”