The scent of chorizo washed over her from behind, upon Karina’s breath. Her sister had passed out right away, but Althea was not yet accustomed to sleeping on something so soft. She did not complain; she grinned, imagining Father saying to give it time. Dirt or a scrap of blanket over a hard floor would help her drift off, but she remained where she was for her sister’s sake.
“What’s wrong?” Karina’s drowsy voice startled her. “You’re not still drunk are you? You’re lucky Father didn’t notice.”
Althea nudged her head deeper into the pillow. “I met a man who knew my mother. She’s probably dead now.”
Karina kissed on the back of her head. “I can’t imagine not knowing…”
“I’m sorry.” Althea flicked at the covers with her toe.
The response sounded less tired. “Why?”
“For making you remember your mother’s dead.”
Karina was quiet for a minute, and then pulled her tight. “I got a little sister instead of a little brother… I’m happy.”
Althea rolled so they were nose to nose. Karina squinted at the bright glow an inch from her eyes, and squeezed her sister’s hand. Minutes passed in a contest of who would giggle first; Althea lost.
“Hey…” Karina’s voice got sluggish again. “Sometimes I go to the garden and meditate whenever I miss her.”
She felt as tired as Karina sounded. “Meditate?”
“It’s when you clear everything out of your head and try to think about nothing; then the important thing comes to you. I’ve tried it a few times. It makes me feel better, but I still haven’t seen her. Maybe it will work for you since you’re the Prophet.”
Althea gave her a raspberry. Prophet had become a bad word. They both giggled, but swallowed it, not wanting to wake Father.
He deserved his sleep.
“In there?” Althea gawked up at a massive white dome-shaped structure.
Karina held her hand as they strode up the walkway to the door. “Yes. I’ll see you in a few hours; I’m already late to the field.”
After a hug, her sister hurried off.
Althea watched her run out of sight before she turned and walked through a doorway into warm, wet air hanging heavy over a concrete path slick yet rough beneath her feet. A presence here brought back her feral vigilance, and she crept along past old metal tables piled high with boxes and clay pots. The scent and taste of soil entered her throat while fine droplets of mist settled upon her skin. Above her, a patchwork of metal pipes leaked random streams as they carried water to clusters of immense suspended pots from which grew various vegetables.
The cupola blazed with the sun, flooding the area with heat and light through milky triangular panels. At the center of this place stood a grove of trees studded with developing fruit and surrounded by a patch of grass and flowers. The place Karina had talked about, the four trees and the small wooden bench. The curving walkway was laden with warm puddles, slippery with algae in spots and coarse with worn concrete in others. Soon the shade of the trees blocked the oppressive radiance from above, and she sat cross-legged on the ground by a small pond ringed with growing herbs. Resting her palms on her knees, she threw her hair over her shoulder with a nod and closed her eyes.
Thinking about nothing proved harder than it sounded. She fought the nagging distraction of the grass tickling her legs, the sounds of birds above, and the settling of her breakfast.
Karina had said she should breathe. It sounded bizarre at first; everyone breathes. It was the way you breathe she meant, slow and rhythmic. In and out, one breath at a time. Althea was sure Karina had missed something in the information she had gotten from the traveler who told her about this “meditation” thing. That was why it had not worked for her, because she did something wrong.
The prey instinct returned; it teased at her spine and sent a shiver through her heart. The placidity of the place ended at the moment chirping birds fell silent. She opened her eyes, breath stalled at the sight of a shadow behind the orange tree. A man stepped out of the folds of a billowing brown coat, lifting his head to peer at her from under the brim of a battered cowboy hat. Skin stretched over his skeleton so taut he resembled a walking drum; sunken eyes glimmered like rubies in their dark sockets and pinned her to the ground.
A frail hand removed his hat as he approached; teeth the color of a decaying bog bared themselves in a sinister grin. Even the trees seemed to want to flee from him.
Althea planted her hands behind her in the grass and uncrossed her legs, pulling her feet under her as she eyed the path. He raised his hand as if to beg a moment, and she hesitated, reversing in a crawl rather than bounding into a run.
“Who are you?” Her fingers clutched the soil with the posture of a threatened jaguar.
Long grey hair danced as he laughed in a voice that resonated through the garden despite its lack of volume. “I am this place.”
She furrowed her brow. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re a man.”
Paper-thin lips parted, flashing his seaweed smile. “I am that which has drawn forth from the enmity of man.”
She remembered Aurora talking about something she called a sentience.
This being had no thoughts she could read, only a radiance of dread. “Why are you here?”
He paced in a circle, gravelly voice doing its best to sound nonthreatening. “Humanity called. I answered.”
Althea trembled as he passed behind her, but refused to look. When he moved into her view, she made eye contact. “What do you do?”
“I keep things as they need to be. I sustain. I feed.”
“You’re a ghost.” She released the soil, folding her hands in her lap.
“Heh.” He laughed again. “I am many ghosts.”
He raised a hand, and her mind flashed with images of war and death. Great machines she had never before imagined streaked through the sky, raining fire down upon the cities of the before-time. The visions lingered on people dying, especially those who could not defend themselves.
“Stop it.” A grimace of revulsion crossed her face.
“You asked.” He faced slightly away. “I am they.”
She remained quiet, thinking. “All of those people, they died in the war. You’re their anger?”
“I am.” He glanced off. “The rage of fallen warriors called me. I came as black wolves of vengeance made strong by a feast of tender souls.”
Images of angry creatures with twisted fur and glowing red eyes appeared behind him, the bonedogs that attacked Den stalking through the forest. Their pale grey fur changed to ebon, their eyes lit crimson. As her vision passed a large tree, the forest changed to before-time streets filled with fire and soaked with blood. They prowled through the drifting smoke, searching. Ethereal fog rose from bodies as they passed, leaping with the form of humans into the air, but landing as wolves.
In a wide alley, the alpha she had killed stood in darkness, barely visible as an outline of black fur against the night. Shimmering orange eyes stared right through her soul as others slinked from the shadows and into him. Individual shapes merged, piling on in a rising tower of darkness. The glowing spots fixed her, rising through the building column of vapor until they came forward, the eyes of the man before her as he walked out of the heart of it.
Althea swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is my mother in there?”
“In the sense you dread, perhaps.” The weathered face crinkled with a sinister grin. “Perhaps not. There are… possibilities.”
Again the visions came. A sky-blue jumpsuit fluttering from bones in the sand; the same woman screaming, collared and begging, as she is brutally wifed; her mother clad in raider armor driving a blade through a man’s heart and savoring the act.
“Stop. Please.” Althea hid her face in her hands, sobbing.
“Exquisite.” The word slid out through grit.
Althea peered between her fingers at him, watching as he leaned back and savored her torment. She knew what he was doing.
>
“You’re evil.”
“You’ve said that before.”
In an instant, Althea was bound to the metal post again at the gas station. Instinctual panic at being tied kicked in and she struggled for some seconds before she stared at the man; now the slave-catcher. Immense roaches scuttled along, moving past him as if he was not there. They converged on her, antennae twitching with anticipation. She stopped squirming and frowned at the knot between her ankles. She did not feel scared; she felt angry.
“This isn’t real. That man was not you.”
The garden again, her hands in her lap; the entity seemed disappointed.
“He is now.” He paused long enough to chuckle. “You should have let him take you. One of The Freddy’s girls is dead now because you aren’t there.”
Althea looked down; if she had gone with him, she would not know Karina or Father.
“There… succulent guilt.” He smiled. “You prefer being here even if it means the fat man’s whores die.”
Her gaze snapped up, determination made fists out of small hands. “We can go save them.”
“How many people from Querq would fall fighting The Freddy’s men? Two… six… perhaps a dozen? For what? Trading the lives of men with families for a bunch of meat-holes used by anyone with a few coins? Either way, someone dies.”
This being disgusted her. She shivered at the thought. “Why must there be such suffering?”
“Human nature, girl. The war burned away any notion of society. The primal essence of which your kind is made clawed its way forth from the crumbling ashes of humanity. The strong dominate the weak. Those with power take what they want.” He made hand gestures as he spoke with a cadence devoid of emotion.
Zhar appeared a few feet away, rifle in hand and pride on her face. “A few are strong and take their freedom in blood.” His voice came out of her mouth. “The weak get what they deserve.”
Rachel appeared, dying at her feet, blood gushing from her mouth.
“Killed this bitch for warning you.” Zhar’s voice laughed at her.
“Liar!” Althea screamed.
Zhar and Rachel disintegrated into smoke.
The man walked into view, still lecturing. “Querq is a quaint attempt to cling to the old ways, but we both know how civilization worked out in the end. Order is fleeting. The corruption of the human soul will drag even this place into the hands of savages in time. Humanity is what it is, and no matter what people try to make of themselves, they all return to the same thing. Everyone wants power.”
“People do not have to be like that.” She stared at him.
“Yet you wonder why you are traded like a prize? Your idealism is naïve. Humanity takes what it can get away with and kills what it cannot understand. Just like your little Den.”
The garden vanished again; cool, wet grass had become hot sand beneath her. A band of metal locked around her right ankle bound her with a chain leading to a stake in the ground. Dead raiders lay scattered around the wreckage of a camp, and she had scurried as far away from them as the tether would allow. Den stood over her with a spear pointed at her heart, wearing a disdainful sneer. Nalu walked up behind him offering a look of suspicion as he pulled the stake from the ground. He dragged her into his grasp with it and placed her, chain and all, into a wooden cage. Den shouted in anger, upset with Nalu for collecting her. The spear came in through the bars, driving her into the corner of the cage.
A trickle of blood ran from the point upon her chest as Den spoke. “Bad things follow glow-eye. We should kill it.” He glared at her as if she was an animal too dangerous to be allowed to live.
Althea shook off the projection and cradled the agate in her hands. “That is a lie. Den was not like the others. It was Palik who wanted to kill me.”
The sentience laughed. “Once the fog of their aboriginal superstition lifted, he wanted you for himself.” The raspy words came from everywhere, yet he made no footsteps. “What better way to become chief than have the great Prophet as a wife.” He pointed at her. “Do not think for a moment you are any better. The one boy out of an entire village that didn’t fear you, and you think you love him? You sought to use each other. There was no love. Love is a lie.”
Smooth stone slid between her fingers as she rubbed the pendant. The emotional link it held to Den defied this creature’s words. Her tears slowed and came to a halt. One straggler ran down her cheek as she raised her eyes and fixed him with a glare.
Authority crept into her tone. “You’re lying. I won’t let people do that to each other.”
After a wheezing laugh, he appeared on the other side of her. “No, I suppose you’ll try. You are a bit of a fly in the ointment, but you do have a purpose.”
Althea looked downcast at the grass in front of her. “I’ll not help you spread pain.”
“Oh, but you do.” A boot stepped into the corner of her vision. “Every person you keep alive only survives to feed me longer. All you accomplish is giving them more time to suffer. If you let them die, their agony ends.” The last words trailed off into a corpse-whisper. “Now, now. Neither one of us wants that, do we? I wish them alive a little longer to feast upon their wretchedness, and you cannot bear to watch them die.”
She looked away from him, searching the swaying oranges for answers. “People don’t have to suffer just because they live.”
“Life is suffering!” he rasped, lunging close enough to make her fall back on her ass. His voice dropped closer to a whisper. “So naïve, I hope you live a long life so I can enjoy you. Mankind will suffer no matter where it dwells. It is the way they are built. They crave it.” Behind him, images of raiders manhandling Aya, Ramani, and Zhar filled in out of the smoke. “All seek power at the expense of others. Out here, it is the same as beyond the great walls of flame.”
She got her feet under her, but stayed crouched, remembering the stories. Far enough west, they said a standing curtain of inferno cuts off the land, destroying all who approach it. It is the place where the souls of the damned go. Her mother appeared and cried out in agony, burning, her charred body standing amid a curtain of conflagration. Althea took a breath and dispelled the image, unsure if it was her worry or this creature’s influence.
Her thoughts focused on the memories of those she had saved. “I’ve been a captive for most of my life. I don’t care what they do to me as long as I am helping people.”
“Now who is lying?” He stood, pacing off to the left a few yards. “You have been here a week and look how fast you have attached yourself to the girl, Karina, and her father. Every minute you spend with your sister, you cry about the life you could have had if only you were normal.”
A ring of six-year-olds formed around her; no longer giggling, they teased her about her miserable childhood and sang a rhyming song about glow-eye living in a cage.
She cringed. Captivity had not bothered her when she knew no other life. Having a taste of family here in Querq made the past hurt.
The man drew in a long savoring breath as she wallowed in sadness. “Perhaps something foul should befall Karina. I’m sure your lamentation would be delicious.” A glimmering mash of peat shone at her as he grinned again.
Sorrow became wrath.
Althea leapt to her feet. “No. You will not harm them. I will not allow you to hurt my family.”
A pulse of white energy welled up around her for an instant, and the old man spun with dread in his eyes. His sudden fright melted into an accusatory grimace, then a pointing, shaking finger as he took a step back. His reaction confused her, even more so when he retreated from her next step. She advanced, scowling at him.
“Do not harm my family. I forbid it.”
“You…” His finger quivered. “You do not belong here. Your soul is not of…” He glanced to his right, his nonchalance returning as he sensed something in the wind. “Their death will not be my doing. Raiders are here; they have come for you.”
Her anger gave way to worry. “You influe
nced them. All the evil, you make it happen.”
“I must sustain.” He approached as if to put an arm around her shoulder. “Weak men do what weak men do. I merely hasten the inevitable.”
Althea glowered. “Stay back.”
He seemed afraid once more, and halted in place. “An arrangement then. I shall clear the way for you to find your little Den. What I ask of you is a gesture to acknowledge the workings of the universe. You must accept my place here. We are two sides of the same coin, and cannot exist without the other.”
She looked down at the pendant, tracing the edge with her thumb. “What does that mean?”
He was close to her again. His breath, hot corpse-rot, blew over her face. “The raiders will lose. One of them will not die right away. Let this evil man who has come to take you away from your so-called family perish, and I shall ensure you see Den.”
A frown spread across her face. She thought of Karina, of Father, and of this thing’s lies. He could mean finding Den’s remains.
“I don’t trust you. You will let me find him dead. Leave him alone. I’d rather never see him again than have him hurt.” Her voice quivered.
He made a face like a snake oil salesman caught in a lie, and held his hands to the sides. “All right, you win. Let the raider die, and you shall be reunited with a living, healthy, wild boy.”
“Joined to Yala and no longer wanting me.” She stared down, at the blades of grass between her toes.
The entity cringed. “Yet you deny being a Prophet.” He laughed. “Let the man who threatens your family perish, and I shall bend fate to give Den back to you as it was before you were taken from him.”
Althea’s thoughts ran from Den to Zhar; how she had said a twelve-year-old could not really fall in love. Even Karina had hinted she only liked him because he was not afraid of her. It had been hard for her to say, and harder still to hear. She knew the look in his eyes the last time they were together. It had to be more. This was a chance to get him back. Karina and Father appeared in her mind for a moment, replaced with a cage she could barely turn around in. Her little arm reached out through the bars at a man that could not pay, watching and feeling him die ten feet away. The vision of Vakkar’s death came next, once more stuck behind metal and unable to reach a dying man.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 23