Lower Earth Rising Collection, Books 1-3: A Dystopian Contemporary Fantasy

by Eden Wolfe

  But the lookouts couldn't do anything about the water sickness, the drought, or the crop viruses. Their skills fell far short of the threats in their modern world.

  For all those microscopic invasions, Gana was reliant on Central Tower in the capital. The researchers of Central Tower were revered throughout Lower Earth. Without them, all society would have died off in the second generation after the Mist. The Mist had already killed most of the habitable land on the planet. How blessed they were that Lower Earth survived the worst of it. Their native home. One of the last strongholds on Earth.

  Their enemies weren't biological weapons from a far off enemy or adversary, but rather the land on which they lived, which seemed to be in a constant state of flux. Invisible enemies in the shape of bacteria, parasites, viruses from the old world that had managed to travel on the Mist's back, surrounding the planet in places they never belonged. The Ganese had been gifted in finding ways to overcome them, but they had their limits. Some illnesses they just couldn't outsmart.

  "Look out, coming through," Lea led the cart through the first few hundred who'd arrived. Some wore the garb of West Gana. Lea loved how the long, white tunics flowed from their shoulders to their waist to the ground, how it caught the wind and flew like clouds behind them. Under the translucent cloak were the standard leather tunics, bodices with iron rings for attaching weapons, and the fur hangings to cover their legs. But the white over-layer caught Lea's breath every time. The West Gana population was fewer now; most had been called back to East Gana for agriculture. But the old theology was alive in the West. Lea thought they were more connected to the earth than the Easterners who looked out at the ocean and dreamed of something more, something greater. The Easterners had kept up the ways of sailing like the old generations, the boats maintained, especially for the management of the Forgotten Islands Prison. Certainly, there was good in the ways of the East and the dreams of what was out over the water.

  But Lea admired how the Western theology focused on the here and now. They were grounded and realistic. They favored plans over dreams.

  The crowd grew; Lea couldn't see across the central meeting point, there were too many women in the way. Their skin rich and dark like their land, hair long and woven. Most had taken the time to prepare for the full quorum. Leadon felt a sting in her stomach and tried to flatten her hair. She too was a natural Ganese, even if she was different from all of them. Those who knew her genetic background gave her sideways looks, always second-guessed her motives. They treated her as though she was never supposed to have happened. As though Ganese should not play with genetic codes the way the settlers’ descendants did. But Leadon had been given no choice in the matter. She'd just been born that way. A genetic design, an intentional copy. The only one in Gana. Warrior priestesses like Ahnira made their disdain known.

  Lea saw Ahnira coming toward her, and she mustered her nerves. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her breathing. Ahnira pulled her cart up alongside Lea, her lips taught.

  "Aren't you supposed to be setting up on the fourteenth corner, Leadon?"

  "That's where I'm headed."

  "Get moving then."

  Ahnira pulled her cart away without waiting for Leadon to give any kind of response. A call came across the shell horn. One long, two short. They had only a few more minutes before Batrasa would appear.

  "Go, go!" Shyanne pushed the cart forward.

  "There's people there, stop pushing!"

  "No time, Lea, no time."

  Lea eased the cart into the fourteenth corner and joined the crowd in the center. The clinking of iron on tunics clanged as bodies turned to look for Batrasa, though she hadn't yet emerged from her hut. The sound of the iron was musical, and despite the charged ambiance, Leadon found herself grinning at the excitement of it all.

  "What are you smiling about? Don't you know this is a full quorum?" a voice assaulted her, a shoulder bumping into her. The woman was tall, broad. Strong shoulders and glaring brown eyes. Judging eyes. Leadon refused to feel shame.

  "A full quorum is not by its definition a sad occasion."

  "You inherited something funny in that blood, replica."

  "Replica?"

  Shyanne's voice pulled Lea out of the conversation. "Leadon! Over here, I found our quorum house."

  Lea watched the woman and the woman watched Lea for a few steps, and then she was in the crowd.

  Replica? They call me that?

  The noise of feet stepping and iron chinking and nervous conversations surrounded Lea as she tried to follow Shyanne's path. She picked up pieces of other peoples' exchanges as she went.

  "Do you think she identified someone?"

  "I thought this would be a council decision."

  "Upper Earth attack maybe?"

  "Not a chance, we have haven't seen sight or sound of them since the scout removal."

  "But they could, theoretically."

  "Who's accompanying Batrasa? Could this be her final rite?"

  "No, she wouldn't leave it for the last second."

  "Maybe she didn't know, maybe she-"

  "Wanalia, over here! Our quorum's near the ninth corner!"

  Lea and Shyanne reached the other women from their quorum just as the shell horn called out for silence. One long signal, no mistaking it.

  "Where were you?" Niapal hissed.

  "Where were you? I was setting up the cart. You were probably off at the boats again."

  Niapal lowered her voice. "Of course I was at the boats. We had no warning."

  Lea sighed. "I know. I was caught off guard too."

  Niapal took Lea's arm. "We might need the boats more than ever. We could be at the beginning of very difficult times."

  "We could be."

  "Hush, you two," Shyanne gave them each a light slap on the back, "She's coming."

  All sound flew away on the wind as the horn echoed out to the forest beyond the village. Slapping leather against bodices and legs were the only sound as the fur door covering of the hut pulled back. Batrasa stepped into the light.

  "She has no accompaniment," Niapal whispered.

  "Maybe that's promising," Lea replied.

  "Hush."

  Batrasa looked out over the thousands of gathered women, seemingly still in her thoughts, not looking at anyone in particular. She closed her eyes and inhaled, her ribs expanding under her ceremonial priestess robes. No sign of the warrior she'd always been. She'd abandoned the leather and iron for softer custom.

  Lea could tell this full quorum would not be what any of them had thought.

  Batrasa exhaled and finally set her eyes straight. She looked at the women, one by one, those in her immediate radius. The women parted, giving her a pathway through the crowd, but Batrasa lifted her hand.

  She walked first to the left, following an imaginary labyrinth. She then turned right, into the crowd, women stepping aside as she came. Those she passed absorbed the sight of her, she who had led them for the past few years, since just before the coronation of Queen Ariane. Habana had been Chief for two generations, more than eighty years. She and Batrasa had quarreled, all of Gana knew it. Habana had wanted Batrasa to lead until her death, to take over the role as Chief. Batrasa insisted it had to be someone of the next generation. The fight had lasted days. Two elderly women with voices that echoed through the village. They let everyone hear their argument; they hadn't tried to hide it.

  Batrasa began to speak, still from within the crowd. She was far from the podium in the center of the square. Her voice carried through the village square to waiting ears.

  "Warriors. Priestesses. We of Gana are women of many faces."

  She continued her spiral through the crowd, inlets opening before her.

  "I have many secrets. They inform my ways. To you, I might look erratic. Obscure. Maybe even senile." She touched the face of a woman as she passed. "Glowell, how tall you've become." Batrasa stopped, taking in the woman's height, her breadth, her muscled arms, and chiseled face. "How you
've changed." She carried on walking. "We are all changing. Lower Earth is changing. I will soon change. I will pass into the world beyond this one, where our ancestors will greet me. I can only hope they will be pleased with what I've done." She stopped and let out a sigh. "I did what I could. I failed many times, I know." She nodded her head to the beyond, her eyes set on the clouds above.

  Lea couldn't unhook her eyes. They were held captive on the sliver of Batrasa she could see through the crowd. She felt the eyes of everyone cast in that direction, through Lea, through everyone. All eyes pointed at Batrasa, waiting.

  "You've seen I am unaccompanied. I am not the Chief. I was only ever the Keeper. I have asked the souls of Habana and those before her for guidance. Habana, who went just before Lower Earth's transition in power. Her judgment was already foggy with oncoming death. You were there, you recall. Only a strong leader can admit when she doesn't have the answer. And so we find ourselves here today."

  "Is she going to say who the successor is?" a voice behind Lea asked.

  "Today is a day of reckoning. You all expected an announcement, I'm sure. But I will not give you such relief." Gasps emerged from the crowd. "There is a reckoning to be had. Humility. Shame." Batrasa stopped. "Women of Gana, you have become too proud."

  "How can she say that?"

  "Does she have any idea what we seek?"

  "How can we be proud when we remain tethered under Geb?"

  "Stop!" Batrasa raised her hand high. "Your very words are your condemnation! Think on this, women of Gana. Who among you is the least? Who among you have you most cast away? Who is she that will stand forth when you have fallen under righteous weakness?

  Leadon felt her heart racing, as though Batrasa was speaking directly to her.

  Batrasa arrived in the center of the village square, stepping onto the podium without use of the many hands which offered support.

  "You might call me hard for these words, but truth is hard to hear." She looked out, no one dared to speak, lest they be labeled for the rest of their life. "I will announce nothing today but this: she who will lead you must be prepared to be hated by you. She who can withstand such hate and ostracism is she who will stand when you have fallen. It is she who will find you justice, liberation, fair negotiation, and honorable position."

  Batrasa stepped down from the podium, her cadence like a conversation with their society. "Do not speak to me of this. Do not ask. Do not parade your feathers like a proud peacock." She wafted her hand as though swatting the thought away. "I must rest now. I will call upon those with whom I must speak, but make no assumptions. I hate your useless assumptions. Dangerous assumptions."

  Batrasa reentered her hut. The electricity that had run through the crowd before her arrival dulled into a charged hum. Lea served the stew as the line of women passed with only nods of thanks as they went by. Lea looked over to Shyanne who kept her eyes on the serving spoon. Lea's mind ran a thousand miles a minute.

  No announcement? Too much pride? If only Aria were here. She could talk some sense. She could influence Batrasa.

  Lea sighed as the spoonful she served splashed out of the bowl.

  "Watch what you're doing," the woman snapped in a low voice. " You'd better not have tainted the food. I've always wondered if you're a spy for the Sisters."

  "Tainted the food? Why would I even do that? Your tongue is sharp but your wit is dull."

  "Lea!" Shyanne hissed.

  She spooned a second helping as the woman glared at her.

  "Move along," Lea said. The woman turned, shaking her head as she went.

  "Mind yourself, Lea." Shyanne kept serving but spoke to her. "You walk such a thin line."

  "And why is that, Shy? It's not because of me, it's because of what I represent. And how is any of that my fault?"

  "Don't speak of it. That only makes it worse."

  "I've been silent for twenty-four years. Don't you think the time has come for us to speak of such things?"

  "Hush. Damn it, Lea. Clear up here. I'll go back and start in the kitchen."

  Lea let the air huff out her nose. Speaking to Shyanne wouldn't change anything. But she was tired, so tired, of having to stay silent.

  The note slid across the dirt floor of their quorum house. The curtain flapped in the doorway as the messenger passed by. Niapal and Lin were closest and jumped upon it.

  Lin was always fastest and she snatched up the paper as Leadon put the last of the kitchen implements away.

  "Leadon," she whispered. "It has your name on it."

  "Me?"

  Lin nodded and passed the paper. Leadon looked at it for a moment before reaching out. She'd never received a message before. She was second cook in a feeding house and tried to keep out of the way. There had never been a reason for anyone to send her a message, and she'd always been glad for it.

  She touched the paper and her stomach sank.

  Is it Aria? Has something happened? Or could it be Irene? She hasn't been back in so long.

  Irene. The Queen's Commandante. Dedicated servant to settler Queens. Irene was well into her fifty-fifth year but remained as true as ever to her warrior roots. She took no prisoners. She led the Queen's Guard and enforced the disappearances. She was revered and feared across Lower Earth, the only Ganese of high position in the Fortress.

  And despite more than thirty years between them, Irene was Leadon's genetic twin.

  Leadon was the first genetically-designed warrior priestess in Gana. A fact too well known across their land, where native blood was their pride in the aftermath of the Final War. Leadon was the first, the only, the outlier of Gana.

  A replica.

  "So," Lin stepped beside Lea, "What does it say?"

  Leadon stepped away from Lin, desperate for a little space.

  The note was folded twice over. The paper was crisp under her fingers and cracked as she opened it.

  Lea read its contents and looked up to Lin's and Niapal's waiting faces.

  "It's Batrasa. She wants to see me."

  "You?"

  "When?"

  "Tonight."

  "Tonight!" they both said at once. The weight of it fell softly over all of them like a wool blanket and they said no more.

  Lea looked in the mirror as she prepared for the meeting.

  How do I dress? Ceremonial garb? Or do I go as I am, natural? What does she want?

  She smoothed her hair in the reflection and ran her fingers under her eyes. Her eyes were looking more tired than usual, dark circles underneath them. She pulled the sides of her face back, but instead of looking fresher, she looked contorted. She scratched her shoulder as she looked at the different clothing options laid out on her bedplate.

  "Can't decide?" Shyanne poked her head through the curtain.

  "What is someone supposed to wear to a meeting with the Keeper of the Chief?"

  "I don't think there's anything 'supposed' in it."

  "Then I should just go as myself?"

  Shyanne backed out of the room, "It's not for me to tell you."

  Possibly the most important moment of my life, and I'm worried about what I ought to wear? I've got this all backward.

  She sat on the edge of her bedplate and closed her eyes.

  I’ve got to be clear in what I want to say. I may never get another chance in my life like this one.

  Lea walked into the fresh night air. Autumn was coming in, and the smells of transition were swirling in the air. Cooked root vegetables. Leaves fallen and moist from morning rains. She inhaled deeply, the cool air feeling like a cascade into her lungs. She tuned in to the slightest of changes, the air warming inside her. She let the air fly out, her shoulders relaxed. And she knocked on the hut's pillar.

  The fur curtain moved slightly but Lea couldn't see who was behind it.

  "You received an invitation?" a voice spoke from behind it.

  "Yes," Lea lifted it in her hand. She'd guessed she might need it. As proof.

  The woman led her in, eac
h step intentional and heavy. The air in the hut was thick with smoke and incense. Lea felt a tickle and swallowed hard to make it go away. She intended to make an impression. A lasting and deep impression. This was her moment to impress upon Batrasa the need to bring in the Queen to help decide Gana's future. Lea believed it with her whole heart, growing in conviction with each step.

  The woman pursed her lips and then spoke quickly to Lea. "It's through there. Wait to be addressed. She’s in a time of deep prayer. She'll speak to you when she's ready and not before. Understood?"

  "Yes."

  The woman lingered a moment longer, looking Lea down and up. Lea took in a deep breath and forced herself to give a nod to the woman, hoping it looked like she was dismissing her. Then she turned her eyes to the little fire in the middle of the room.

  It crackled, small twigs and embers waving smoke streams into the hut. The roof hole was closed, forcing the smoke back in, rounding down the sheep-skinned walls. Lea felt a layer of sweat start to gather in the small of her back and a trickle down the side of her face. Batrasa sat on a small stump at the edge of the fire, her prayer stick thrust into the middle of it all. Dried leaves and feathers caught the flames and sizzled out; Batrasa re-fed it, nodding at the little sounds. A crackle of ember shot up, landing on Batrasa's wrist. She put down the prayer stick and slapped out the glow, a black char of her skin left behind. Batrasa inhaled deeply and looked up to Lea at last.

  "Thank you for coming."

  She's thanking me?

  Leadon began the greeting prayer, hoping it would set her on the right foot.

  "Lassa Batrasa weh."

  "Pona sebana weh" Batrasa replied.