Page 21 of The Merciless Ones
Looking into the eyes of a goddess is like staring into the belly of a star. First, there are the white pupils, shimmering and cool. But the longer you stare, the more the white splinters, until soon you’re in a kaleidoscope of colour, thoughts neither here nor there.
“We will speak elsewhere.” Anok’s voice comes distantly, as if from leagues away, and then I’m standing in the middle of the lake outside the temple. The grounds are a hubbub of activity, although no one seems to notice us standing on the water.
It ripples under my feet, so clear I can see almost to the depths, all the different types of fish and other creatures swimming there. I stare, momentarily caught by the sight of all those creatures, most of which I’ve never seen before. Some are transparent like water, others smooth and amphibian. Some even have horns and fur and dart across the currents on flippered or webbed feet. Did the mothers take them from elsewhere, or did they create them the way they did the blood-eater vines? Then something massive and dark slithers under my feet. And I remember where I am and who I’m with.
Anok smiles. “Do not be frightened, our daughter,” she says calmly, kneeling down. She taps the surface of the lake in a quick series of patterns, sending a ripple spiralling into the depths below her. “The Ababa is simply curious about you.”
Even as she speaks, the Ababa surges up, churning through the water until it’s just below the surface, a colossal reptilian beast at least twenty times Ixa’s massive true size, all boulder-sized teeth and iron-grey scales. It stares calmly up at Anok, yellow eyes gleaming through the clear blue water until the goddess reaches in a hand and pets a tiny portion of a gargantuan nostril. The Ababa sniffs, pleased, then glides over to me, the water rocking so violently from its simple movement, I have to plant both feet firmly to regain my balance.
Once I do, I tentatively pet the Ababa’s nostril, relieved when it sniffs happily again. “Any relation to Ixa?” I ask as I quickly withdraw my hand from the water. If I squint long enough, I can almost discern a familial resemblance. Something about those scales, that vaguely catlike muzzle. Also, there’s the fact that it’s an aquatic creature.
Ixa was once completely aquatic too. Then I pulled him out of the lake. He’s adjusted happily enough to land, though. What happened in the Chamber of the Goddesses notwithstanding.
Anok rises, wipes off her hand. “By blood, no,” she says, shaking her head. “Ixa is a creature fully of the divine, like you. But the two are created from the same design; that much is true.”
“So, from a sea drakos,” I say, thinking of the colossal deep-sea dragons that come up every now and again to wreak havoc on human ships.
She nods. “Yes, a sea drakos…although I repurposed the Ababa for the lake, made him smaller to fit.” There’s something about her tone, a hint of sadness that’s so slight, it’s almost indiscernible.
That’s the thing about Anok: she hides it, but she’s the only one of the mothers who ever seems sad. The others may feel happiness, rage, indignation – but sadness, never.
“You’ve repurposed a lot of things,” I say, suddenly thinking of all the changes the goddesses have made to the mountain. I glance at her. “Is this what will happen to the rest of Otera?”
She shrugs. “Perhaps. A new age requires new wonders.”
I nod eagerly. “I can’t wait for that time to come.”
When the goddesses regain their full strength, we can finally stop fighting, defending ourselves against the jatu and the priests. Everyone will have the chance to be equal. And I can finally rest, perhaps even go to some far-off pleasure island with Keita and my friends.
“Soon.” I return my attention to Anok as she repeats, “Soon, the time will come.”
“But we have to fight until it does.”
Anok inclines her head in agreement, the weight of her infinite centuries slowing the movement.
She knows, as I do, that we have no other choice. We have to limit the damage the jatu create, the number of lives they take. The goddesses will be able to do many things when they ascend once more – and that, of course, is if they ascend once more, given the whole situation with the angoro. Even when they do, assuming I succeed, there’s one thing that will always remain out of their grasp: resurrecting the lives that have been lost. They gave up that power after creating the deathshrieks, along with a few others they won’t yet discuss with me. So we have to keep as many people alive as we can, even when the jatu continuously attempt to wipe our kind from existence.
“Do not be discouraged, Deka,” Anok says when my introspection carries on too long. “All will be well in time. But for now, I will say my goodbye to you.”
There it is, that word. Goodbye. I glance up at her, unease coiling. “What are you not telling me?”
Anok blinks. The expression is so swift, I almost don’t catch it, but the sight tightens the already tense knot in my stomach. In all the months I’ve been with the mothers, I’ve never before seen any of them blink. Never.
It takes Anok some moments to reply. “Follow me,” she says simply, then she steps down into the water, slipping beneath the surface so casually, she seems almost like an Oteran grandmother taking a stroll – if that grandmother were a goddess who wore darkness like a cloak.
I swiftly do the same, and then I’m inside the water, the currents brushing past me like a breeze, the fish eyeing me with curiosity. I’m not surprised to find that it’s easy to breathe. Anok commands the elements as easily as she does shadows. She would never lead me into danger.
The goddess is waiting on the peak of an underwater hill when I finally reach her. A school of opalescent fish has gathered around her, nibbling at her robes. I take a seat on the squat, rounded coral opposite her, then wait, trying not to fidget. There’s a reason she brought me down here, away from prying eyes. A reason why she blinked when I questioned her. I just have to wait for her to explain it.
Anok shifts closer, staring at the ansetha necklace, which I’m wearing on top of my robes right now, as I haven’t dressed for travel yet. She abruptly lifts it, then continues staring, her expression filled with concentration. When finally she looks up, long moments have passed. And her eyes are filled with determination. My unease grows.
“I want you to remember a few things, Deka. This necklace is proof that you are the Nuru – divine, just as we are. It contains blood from each of us, a reminder that we are one, all of us gods. Whenever you have questions, remember that – remember that the answer is in the blood.”
Now her eyes pierce into mine, that obliterating white narrowing my focus to her and her alone. I no longer notice the water, the fish, Ababa dozing nearby. All I see is Anok.
“Where is the answer, Deka?” she asks, her voice seeming to reverberate through my body.
“It’s in the blood,” I reply quietly. I’m tired, so very tired now, though I don’t know why.