“Why are you wearing a paidrin?” Eric asked.
“Because I’m a priestess of Lady Chaos.”
“Wha...you couldn’t possibly...just last night, you...”
Annala let the necklace lie flat against her chest. “It’s not official, but the Book of Acceptance says it’s okay and I’ve been doing the will of Lady Chaos for a while now anyway, so I should make it official.”
“You mean the medical mana mutation thing?”
“Not just that, but also for the freedom for elves that is part of the deal and the tutoring that I’ve been doing for the last year. All of this is in line with the typical duties of a priestess in service to Lady Chaos the Grandmother. More to the point...”
She leaned over to peck Eric’s cheek.
“My boyfriend and big sister punched out Order. I want to protect them. You’ve done so much for me, even gave up a Seed of Chaos. Now I want to protect you.”
Eric took another look at the paidrin. If one removed the slack and wore it as a choker, it would occupy the exact same space as the Subjugation Collar.
“So this is about serving me?”
Annala shook her head. “Of course not, Master Eric.” She face palmed. “Okay, I know how that sounded, but I really don’t want to be your slave anymore and I don’t want to serve Order in any capacity except as an enemy. I’d much rather serve Lady Chaos.”
“That feeling could just be the brainwashing mixing with your double seeds. I think you should wait a while until the effect of both goes away.”
Annala giggled. “Don’t worry. There aren’t any vows of celibacy in Chaos’ Clergy. In fact, quite the contrary. We are encouraged to reproduce and encourage others to do likewise. After all, Lady Chaos is the First Mother and chaos is all about changing and growing. “
She sat down on the bed next to him and cupped his cheek.
“We can start now if you want.”
Eric recoiled, provoking Annala to withdraw as well.
“Is this outfit ugly? I’m sorry, Master Eric. I should’ve worn the dress Her Majesty sent me. I’m so foolish, I—” She shook her head. “That was a hiccup, really.”
Eric lightly held her hand. “That’s what I’m worried about. The first time for an elf always leads to impregnation. I don’t want that to happen unless you truly want it to happen, instead of wanting to please me.”
Annala sighed and stood up. “If that’s what you want, Master Eric, then…I mean…heh heh.” She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t acting when I was on stage yesterday. I meant what I said. It was a conversion experience, or rather, a re-conversion experience. Priesthood is the crossroads of study and compassion, and with my two seeds, I can do more for the elven people and all of Tariatla than any other elf. I feel that this could be my Eternal Hobby.”
“That’s a big decision.”
Annala shrugged. “Not really. I could always do something else because there’s no lifetime commitment. Technically, there’s no elven lifetime commitment. I’d only have to be a priestess for the first eighty or so years because that is a mortal lifetime.”
“...Okay, if this is really what you want...”
Annala smiled brightly. “Thank you, Master Eric!” She hit herself on the head.
“Maybe you should call me ‘Baka Eric.’ It should help you make the transition and I hear that’s a term of endearment over in Najica.”
She shook her head. “The proper grammatical form would be ‘Eric-baka’ with the insult as a replacement for the usual honorific, which in this case would be ‘sama’ to reflect your high station while at the same time my own subservience.” Grabbing the hand that lightly held her own, she continued, “In either case, I want to talk to Sister Sagart before you dissolve into a pile of dust.”
She pulled him out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door into the winter weather. Lacking a coat, Eric shifted his skin to that of his true form. It was marvelous insulation. It was also minor shapeshifting and made Annala stiffen in response.
It was a cold day in Dnnac Ledo, with the wind blowing nothing but empty branches. Eric noticed they weren’t the only things barren. The elves involved with the cleanup didn’t look like they’d just celebrated their holiest of holy days. They looked gloomy and jittery.
They need a good joke. Where’s The Trickster when you need him?
The couple passed through the village square on their way to the Sage Tree. There, elves had gathered to discuss their feelings through poetry. The chief topic was the low period that inevitably followed the high of a successful performance. They were joined by Sister Sagart, who enthralled them with chaotic verse.
“Swirling and churning, forever and ever/A sea of change, ending never. Today I die and tomorrow I live/The circle of life that no one can sever.”
The other poets clapped politely. Annala stamped her feet instead.
“Sister Sagart, you’re doing a horrible job! I’m going to follow you around and pick apart the flaws in your sermons.”
While the audience looked shocked and outraged that Annala would say such a thing to the venerable priestess, Sagart herself laughed. She walked over to the young girl and shapeshifted a taller form so she could pull her into a rough hug and ruffle her hair.
“No one’s given me the traditional request in ages. You’ve done your homework.”
Annala looked up at her while grabbing fistfuls of her robes. “I’ve had enough of being a schoolgirl reciting lines. I want to be the real deal.”
“No, you don’t.”
“...What?”
Sagart unhooked Annala’s hands from her habit and gently pushed her to arm’s length. “Book of Acceptance Chapter 1, Section 1, Line 2: ‘All it takes for someone to be a cleric of Lady Chaos is a desire to be so.’ You don’t have that desire.”
Annala’s lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and betrayal. “I slapped and denounced Order himself to defend our village!”
“Exactly. You don’t want to spread Lady Chaos’ love; you want chaotic power to feel safe. You think it will make you safe, but it will only feed your fear. The root of security is fear and the last thing you want in your heart when embracing Lady Chaos is fear.” She fixed Annala with a hard stare. The young girl squirmed under it. “I sense much fear in you.”
“I’m not afraid of Chaos!” Annala shouted. Then she shrank back. “I’m afraid of Order.”
“Only a fool wouldn’t be,” Sagart said, “but you are a special case. I haven’t seen the likes of you since the Conversion War. You’re so scared you want to use an orderly mindset to make yourself safe from Order and use Chaos to do it. That contradiction will tear you apart. I’ve seen it happen.”
Annala shivered, and Eric, holding her, felt it. He scowled at Sagart.
“I hope you weren’t this harsh last time.”
“Of course I wasn’t. Annala was in a delicate state back then, so I treated her with the utmost care and compassion. Here and now, she needs to be aware of the danger of what she’s embarking on.” To Annala directly, she said, “Do you still wish to follow this path?”
Annala met her eyes before declaring, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. I was hoping you would. You see, I have just the thing to help you sort out your fear and also your apostasy.”
Annala lit up with glee. “Really?”
“Yes, but we only administer it to acolytes after they’ve passed their training program because it carries a danger with it.”
Sagart retrieved a bag from thin air. The veteran chaos cleric pushed the bag open and Eric caught a whiff of something strong.
“This is Green Dust. It’s a potent hallucinogen and I’ve mixed it with a few other things to create the desired effect. It will stir every corner of your heart and awaken your deepest desire. You will have to confront it and come to terms with it. If you cannot, then you could develop long-term psychosis, become a vegetable, or other lasting damage.”
She s
hifted the bag from side to side. “Normally, this is not a problem due to the preparatory coursework, but for you, as you were a year ago, it was a death sentence.”
“What is the coursework?” Annala asked.
Eric didn’t ask because he already knew, and not because of Wiol’s clairvoyance. He mouthed along as Sagart said, “It involves traveling to a foreign country, living there for six months to a year, tutoring the locals, and studying chaotic philosophy and theology.”
Annala’s mouth dropped open. For once, she was at a loss for words.
Sagart nodded.
“But that’s...I did...Grrr...”
Eric rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “Now you know how I feel.”
Sagart held the bag in one hand and extended it towards Annala. The poets around them instantly chattered about how it paralleled Tasio’s posture the night before. They discussed its implications, wrote poems, or dismissed it as a coincidental and thus meaningless gesture.
Sagart ignored them. “Are you ready to confront every part of yourself?”
“Yes, I am,” Annala said.
“Including the parts you don’t like?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Including the parts you hide from yourself?”
Without another word, Annala grabbed the bag, pulled it to her nose, and took in a lungful of its fumes. At once, she fainted into Eric’s arms.
She woke up in a small house with a thatched roof. For a moment, she was confused. Then it hit her.
Cooking, cleaning, and tending the animals; it tired her out. Working with her family, going for a walk with her boyfriend, and finding scant time to read a book by the river was her daily routine for as long as she could remember. All this and more unfolded in her mind like it had always been there. She shrugged off her confusion as sleepiness. There was something special she wanted to accomplish today.
She grabbed her red traveling cloak on her way out of her room. She put a basket on her arm and placed food inside it. Then she grabbed a walking stick by the door.
“It’s time to go to Grandmother’s house.”
Outside, her family pleaded with her not to go. They spoke of with how much they needed her and how much they would miss her. She shook her head. They warned her of the dangers in the forest: wolves, slavers, and lunatics. She shook her head. They offered her a new book and she shook her head a third time.
“Neither fear nor guilt will stop me,” she told them. “I’m going to Grandmother’s house to hear her stories.”
Passing her family, she walked to the boundary between the forest and the outside world, and there she stopped. The tree canopy blocked out the sun. Another step would take her into darkness. Since it was only morning, she believed the forest would brighten by noon. She took a breath, set her resolve, and stepped inside.
It was indeed dark under the canopy but there was still enough light to see by, and pleasant scents surrounded her. The life of the forest was all around her. She stooped to admire the colorful flowers and craned her head back to watch the birds in flight. She breathed in both the perfume and the stench and then continued to Grandmother’s house.
There was a path from her village all the way there, but it was not an easy path. It was uneven due to ditches and hills. It was hard to see through leaves, dirt, and underbrush. It twisted and turned in on itself in ways that boggled her mind and fired up her curiosity. None of these things mattered because no matter how hard the route might be, she would do her best to follow it. She would never turn back because the village was a chain.
It bound her to an endless routine with little deviation. She rarely had time to read the few stories Grandmother sent her. Without them, the village would be too confining for her to stand. Then she heard a growl in the brush.
She stopped cold, hardly daring to breathe. Looking around, she discovered a wolf blocking the path.
Its fur was mangy and ripped. In its mouth it carried a head with silver-grey hair. Annala recognized it as one of the villagers who warned her away from the forest. Fears confirmed, she turned and ran. The wolf gave chase.
In her panic, she could no longer see the path to Grandmother’s house and so she blindly veered into the wilderness. She rushed through ferns and stepped on flowers, while the wolf crushed everything in its path. She couldn’t lose it. Spotting a low-hanging branch, Annala jumped for it and pulled herself up. The wolf snapped at her leg, but she kicked it in the jaw. It yelped and fell back to the ground. She used the opportunity to climb higher.
She clung to the tree trunk, breathing heavily and wide-eyed in fear. The wolf circled her, barking furiously, but eventually, it relented and returned the way it came. On its way, it breathed on the smashed flowers and restored them to vitality. Annala was too scared to notice this and instead counted backwards from ten to calm herself. When the wolf was gone, she climbed down and realized she was lost.
She couldn’t see the path anywhere. It made her worry that her family was right. Then she clutched her staff and recited the wisdom of Grandmother.
“The path that matters is the path you make for yourself. With passion, knowledge, and determination, it will lead you to where you want to go.”
Cautiously, she resumed her journey through the forest. She looked for the path, but what she truly wanted was a landmark to prove that she was going in the right direction. The forest that was beautiful earlier was still beautiful now, but the edge of threat made her unable to see its beauty. Instead of the flowers and the birds, she only saw the wolf’s absence.
A twig snapped and fear paralyzed her. Holding her staff tightly, she looked around. This time, there was no wolf but a young man. He wore fancy light armor and carried a sword and shield. A crown of bronze sat on his head.
“Good day, fair maiden. How are you?”
He walked up to her, grabbed her right hand, and kissed the back of her palm. She blushed and allowed him to hold it longer.
“Miss, I hope you don’t think me too forward, but you are a stunning beauty. Do you mind if I share your company?”
“Uh…Um…I-I don’t mind.”
She pulled her hand back and turned away, blushing fiercely. Her heart hammered in her chest. Numerous possibilities flashed in her mind and she shook her head to scatter them. The prince suggested a direction and she agreed. Soon they were talking like friends.
Annala spoke of her daily chores and studying and the prince of his hunting and ruling. All of her fear from before was gone. The tall prince with his broad shoulders, gleaming sword, and dazzling smile made her feel at ease. Even if the wolf showed up again, she would feel perfectly safe.
“Miss, you’re easy to talk to. I would like to spend more time with you in the future.”
“Yes, I would like that too.”
“Splendid. I’ll call my coach and we can leave right away.” He raised a horn to his mouth.
“Right away? But I’m going to Grandmother’s house.”
The prince lowered the horn. “If we don’t leave now, there won’t be time to prepare you for tonight’s banquet.”
Something about his words set her on edge. She raised her staff. “Prepare me?”
“Yes, of course. After this excursion, a scented bath would wash away the dust of travel. Then I can arrange a proper dress for someone of your splendor. I know of a style that would suit you divinely. Then perhaps some rogue…”
“Why would that be necessary? I’m just a commoner.”
“Not for much longer, I hope. I would like you to be my princess, but my parents must approve.”
“P-princess? You mean, m-marriage?”
She stepped back and the prince gently grasped her arm. “I pray you don’t find this change too sudden, but I’ve never felt this way about a girl. I want you to be with me forever.”
Again, images flashed into her mind: the banquet and its dances; a luxurious gown of full skirts, opera gloves, and a tiara; a library bigger than her village all to herself
; the resources to conduct any number of experiments to advance her knowledge and sate her curiosity; the prince as her loving husband and the children they would make. This all came with the realization that she would never reach Grandmother’s house. Royal duties would keep her busy all day and through all the seasons. Despite the luxury, it would be no different from the village.
She shook her head. “Your proposal is tempting, but Grandmother and her stories are more important to me.”
The prince released her. “If that is your wish, then AAAHHHH!”
Blood spurted from his mouth and stained Annala’s frock. The prince fell to his knees, revealing the wolf biting his neck. Its forepaws pushed on his shoulders and its hind paws dug into his knees, keeping him down while it feasted.
Annala shrieked and smacked it with her walking stick. The heavy wood caught it between the ears, and it growled at her. Blood dripped from its maw. The wildness in its eyes galvanized her into further action. She bashed it again and again, as hard as she could. She bashed it until its head caved in and the body fell prostrate on its victim.
For a moment, she stared at the two corpses. Dropping her staff, she stumbled backwards until she hit a tree. Sliding down it, she screamed again. Then she drew up her knees, hugged herself, and cried. Then she heard more bushes rustling and her breath caught in her throat.
Approaching her was an old woman. She wore a cloak like hers, but it was brown instead of red. Also like her, the old woman carried a walking stick, but this one had a sharp point at one end. She stopped at the corpses and inspected them. Letting out a happy chuckle, she drew a knife and set about cutting them up.
“What are you doing?” Annala asked.
“Gathering dinner. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Violating the dead.”
The old woman cut out a piece. “They’re meat now. Either for me or this forest, they will provide nutrition. As the stories say, ‘remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.’”
Annala sat up. “That’s in Grandmother’s stories! How do you know them?”
“I’m an old woman. I’ve heard many things over my long life. I don’t know where they all came from. If you walk with me awhile, maybe I’ll remember. We might find the path as well. In either case, I’d like company.”
Transcending Limitations Page 11