Children of Vale, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Mater Vale's First Plea
Mater Vale's First Plea (Interpreted)
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
XXXIV
XXXV
XXXVI
XXXVII
XXXVIII
XXXIX
XL
XLI
XLII
XLIII
XLIV
XLV
XLVI
XLVII
XLVIII
XLIX
L
LI
LII
LIII
LIV
LV
LVI
LVII
LVIII
LIX
LX
LXI
LXII
LXIII
LXIV
LXV
LXVI
LXVII
LXVIII
LXIX
LXX
LXXI
LXXII
LXXIII
LXXIV
LXXV
LXXVI
LXXVII
LXXVIII
LXXIX
LXXX
LXXXI
Read More
About the Author
About the Page of Backers
Page of Backers
Special Editing Acknowledgment
Children of Vale
a novel
D. A. Anderson
Copyright © 2018 Daniel Alan Anderson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9998587-2-1
Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copy editing by Laura Hawkins.
Cover and book design by the author
Source Image: “Light-Toned Deposits in Noctis Labyrinthus”
NASA/JPL/University of Arizona
Author photo by Anita Roach
Published by the author.
author@childrenofvale.com
Visit www.childrenofvale.com
To my parents
Leum sekta voranum iseture tanosis-insesam,
isetu thalok nativumir, sin ta et vare,
Se leumes ashepela sun solu rakisara
seluanum et Valelane.
You who walk as aliens in a strange land,
born into this world, yet not from it,
I seek your love and light,
children of My hand.
Mater Vale's First Plea 1:1
As Interpreted by Her Sibyl
I
She wakes up. She opens her eyes for the first time. She hears muffled sounds at first: a low hum and a rhythmic pounding.
Everything is warm and wet. Her mouth opens. Wetness runs in. She inhales; fluid fills her lungs. She exhales and breathes it in again.
She reaches out. She feels her hands. Her fingers are long and pale as gypsum. She brings them close, touching her face. She feels her nose, her brow, moving up her forehead, up to her scalp. It is bald and smooth.
Everything is blue and blurry. She squints. Limply, with untested limbs, she swims through the fog.
Then—bump! Her head and hands hit something hard and smooth. It is the first time she feels pain.
Surprised, she stops. She doesn’t see what she touched, but curiosity gradually outgrows the pain. She carefully reaches forward. The fog ends in something invisible, cold, and hard. She presses her hands to it, then her face. She peers through the fog.
There are round forms in the distance. They look like bubbles, but they are frozen in place. Inside each one is a pearly-white form with a head, two arms, and two legs. Some look like her, but some are smaller. Some are nothing but tiny pinpricks. The wombs encapsulating the embryos are arranged in rows, stretching endlessly in a perfect receding pattern.
An immense whirring sounds. The waters around her quiver.
She feels something move in the water. She darts away, her newborn eyes struggling to focus. Long, serpent-like forms appear in the water. They flash a series of colored lights, pulsating brightly down their black bodies.
They swim toward her. She darts away from them, hitting the hard, invisible boundary. They advance. She traverses the curved surface behind her, but there is nowhere to go.
When they are very close, she can see them clearly. They don’t have eyes or a mouth—only a vertical slit at their front. One swims right up to her and its slit opens. Inside is a large, white iris.
She presses herself against the boundary behind her. Her eyes never waver from the creature as its iris flickers and pulsates.
It slowly places its iris on her forehead. It is not painful—it is warm and soft, even pleasant. Its phosphorescent body pulsates rhythmically and the others respond, each opening their own colored iris: first sapphire, then gold, then violet, then crimson.
Each creature attaches itself to the crown of her skull. She feels numbness work its way into her body; a wave of panic rises through her. The creatures brighten and synchronize. Before she can struggle, a profound relaxation comes over her. She goes limp. A warm, electric energy builds at the base of her spine. It rises up her back, through her neck and into the cavity of her head. The warmth builds in waves and fills her vision. It releases a shock; her back arcs reflexively and her vision changes.
II
The horizon is pink with sunrise. Bright stars form constellations, and auroras slowly dance, leaving luminous green and blue blushes against a black sky. Two moons, one dark and ominous, the other serene and white, hover overhead. A meteor shoots by, cutting the sky with a fading violet line.
Her back is wet. It’s dew from the grass.
She sits up. She is nude. She is an adult, but has the torso of an adolescent boy and the hips of a girl.
Ahead of her is a cliff dropping into the sea. The sun is resting halfway on the horizon. Distant storm clouds silently pass thunderbolts between each other, glowing briefly.
She stands. She is alone. Walking feels new to her but comes naturally. Her legs obey her intent without protest. She approaches the cliff. The long grass terminates and falls at the precipice. She lowers to her hands and knees, peering over the edge. Dangling vines point to a craggy, sandless cliffside where waves crash against standing rocks. The rocks are black and shine like glass: obsidian.
She breathes in the cool air and looks up. A breeze blows over her hairless scalp. A storm cloud draws near.
The cloud billows closer, darkening. In moments, it engulfs the cliffside and becomes a tempest. It casts bolts of static like a ship about to land. The wind around her grows wild, circling around her like a vortex, flattening the grass. She withdraws from the precipice and falls backward.
A pale figure splits the clouds in two. She is tall, with flowing white hair that whips in the wind. A colorless tunic dresses her and two outstretched hands peer out from underneath it.
The girl covers her eyes with the crook of her arm, shielding her face from the wind. The long grass, driven wild, slaps her body.
The figure’s feet touch the tips of the grass on the precipice, hovering effortlessly. A slender hand rises, opens; the storm dies, becoming a cool breeze. The grass stills. A voice speaks to the girl, but the figure’s mouth remains motionless.
“I am Vale, maker of this world.”
The girl lowers her arm, peering up at Vale. Her face is long, regal, with wide-set eyes holding large, cyan irises that glow against the storm. Vale’s hand lowers and stretches out toward her.
“You are my daughter. Your name is Tyana. I love you and have faith in you.”
Tyana looks at Vale’s outstretched hand. Vale’s fingers are long, with pearl-white skin, like her own.
She is overwhelmed, but Tyana forces herself to stand. Curious, she walks toward the cliff’s edge. She stretches out her hand and places it on Vale’s massive palm. It tingles with electricity. Tyana’s body grows warm with the touch. Vale smiles serenely at her.
The wind whips up. Vale’s smile fades, and her hand slips out from under Tyana’s. Tyana follows her to the precipice, reaching for her. Vale falls downward beyond Tyana’s view, disappearing into the sea.
Tyana stares, confused. The thundercloud dissolves, and Vale is gone.
The wind stills and the sea groans. A dark shape grows in the water. Waves hurl themselves against the cliff and their spray reaches the vines below. Tyana backs away from the precipice. The ocean breaks and water sprays upward. A wet, black figure rises from the sea.
The figure’s fa
She stares down at Tyana and smiles. Black liquid dribbles from her lips.
“I am Thea. You will obey and worship me.”
Tyana is terrified.
Thea raises her right hand, holding a scepter in the form of a double-helix. At its top is the head of a tan-skinned man. The man’s eyes open and he looks at Tyana. He says something in a language Tyana doesn’t understand.
Thea repeats:
“Worship me.”
Pain shoots through Tyana’s abdomen. She falls to her hands and knees. Something warm makes its way to her mouth. She touches her lips. Black liquid drips from their corners.
Thea smiles. She raises her massive left hand. In it are seven girls carrying a bowl on their backs. Thea lowers them onto the ground, and they walk toward Tyana with the bowl. Their hair is black, and they are naked. The girls lower the bowl onto the grass. Thea leans over it and spits. A stream of black oil pours from her mouth.
“Take this,” says Thea.
Tyana leans toward the bowl. The liquid is thick and smells like burnt earth. It causes her to heave a little, and she tastes it in the back of her mouth.
She looks away. She looks down at the servant girls, prostrated at the bowl. One of them looks up at her. Her face is blank and featureless; erased.
Tyana looks up at Thea, asking:
“Did you do this?”
Thea’s smoldering face only smiles in response.
Fear rises up in Tyana. Fear that turns to anger.
She runs at the bowl and pushes upward with her whole body. It tips a little, then spills, spreading the oil-like fluid into the grass. The grass withers and dies. Thea stops smiling. The faceless girls rush Tyana, tackling her to the ground. She feels intense pain and pleasure wherever they touch. Their fingers are like hot irons piercing her skin, and they paralyze her with overwhelming sensation.
“Destroy her,” Thea says.
One girl grabs Tyana’s throat and begins to press. Something gurgles into her mouth. Unable to breathe, Tyana gathers what she has in her mouth and spits.
Black liquid sprays into the face of her attacker. It steams and sizzles. The girl releases her grip and Tyana throws her freed hand at the girl’s head. It goes through, her fingers plunging into the girl’s face. They are like hot irons in liquid rubber. The attacker’s face begins to boil.
Thea frowns.
“I will make you obey.”
Thea raises her scepter high over Tyana. At its top, the tan-skinned man repeats his foreign words like a chant. Thea brings the scepter sharply down.
III
The dream stops; warmth and wetness return. Tyana feels herself floating again. The heat from the serpents attached to her falters and their lights flicker out. They detach, limp and lifeless.
A great pounding echoes through the womb. It turns into a roar. The waters stir and begin to spin in a vortex. The bottom gives out and Tyana feels herself sucked in. She falls through a wide tube, bumping against its surface. She is frightened and claws at the walls, but there is nothing to hold onto. She is pulled by the force of a vacuum.
Light breaks and she is thrown through an opening. Cold, dry air embraces her. She lands and rolls down something hard and metallic. She comes to a stop and coughs. Water spurts from her mouth.
She opens her eyes and they begin to adjust. Everything is cold and white. She can make out a gray, overcast sky. The ground is blanketed with snow. She starts to shiver.
In the distance she sees a black, blurry form. It is above the horizon, flying, moving beneath the cloudy sky toward her.
She commands her limbs to move, but they are weak. Her naked, wet body is shivering in the cold. She crawls backward, moving back up the incline she rolled down. The surface is smooth and freezing to the touch.
A sound now accompanies the dark form in the sky. It is a dull, melodic hum. Tyana looks back. It is getting closer.
She turns to run. At the top of the incline she can see the oval-shaped opening from which she fell. It is inside a tall, metallic cave. She is just at its entrance. She attempts to stand again, but fumbles, slipping on ice and snow. Behind her, the flying machine’s hum grows louder.
She finally gains traction. With freezing fingers she reaches the entrance and attempts to pry it open. It is sealed shut. There is no mechanism nearby that she can find to open it with.
The machine’s hum is now a loud roar. She turns—it is a ship hovering at the entrance of the cave. It is covered in spines. It releases a loud, hissing pop, and a pair of tethered cords fly toward her feet. They wrap around her body, sticking to her skin like glue.
The tether pulls and she is dragged toward the ship. She claws at the surface as she falls down. Snow gives way in her hands. The ship rises and she is lifted up into the cold air.
Hanging by her ankles, she looks down at the landscape receding beneath her. She can see the mouth of the cave. It is literally a mouth, a white maw carved in an obsidian cliffside. The mouth recedes into a face, and she recognizes the face: Vale, the same Vale from her dream. Her likeness, open-mouthed, is massive, partially obscured by snow, jutting from the side of a mountain.
Looking up, Tyana sees the tether reeling her into the belly of the ship. An aperture opens. She is drawn up into it.
The interior is white and clean. Around her stand four pale-skinned forms clothed in black, glossy attire. Two have crimson-colored hair. Another has braided, sapphire-colored hair. Another, taller and built, wears no gown but holds a long, bladed instrument with a barrel. Her hair is deep violet.
They stare at Tyana as she hangs upside down. The aperture closes under her head.
“Release the tether,” says one. The glue around Tyana’s body dissolves and she is lowered to the floor.
“Clothe her—gently.”
A crimson-haired girl puts a thick blanket over Tyana, wrapping it around her shivering body.
“Determine her caste.”
Tyana watches the girl approach with a metal tool. It carries a small needle at its tip. She reaches for Tyana’s neck.
Her hand snaps to the girl’s wrist and the tool drops onto the floor. Tyana pulls, yanking the girl toward her. They are face to face—the girl is stricken with a mixture of pain and pleasure. She cries:
“Sister—I … I can’t move!”
Tyana, still shivering, yanks again with all her strength. The girl is thrown to the floor. She crumples as if she had suffered a blow to her chest.
“That’s not possible,” says one.
Tyana stands and fumbles forward. She collides with a rack of tools and pushes it away. Containers fall to the floor.
“Restrain her!”
Tyana runs toward the nearest door. She collides with it and grasps desperately for any opening mechanism. She hears a loud pop behind her and a brief pain shoots up her spine, followed by an intense numbness. She falls limply to the floor.
The tall one with the violet hair stands over her, holding her weapon in the air.
“You have a Warrior today, Sister.”
“Not possible. You saw what happened when she touched her.”
Tyana hears a shrill moaning nearby on the floor.
“She threw her across the room,” says the violet-haired one. “She is a Warrior. How else do you explain her strength?”
The one with sapphire braids comes into Tyana’s view, standing over her.
“Bring us to the Mater’s City. Take her to a cell for now. We’ll determine her caste there. I won’t wait for her hair to grow in.” That one walks away.
The violet-haired one scowls, but says nothing. She looks down at Tyana and kneels next to her. She is fearsome-looking, with ornate, charcoal-colored tattoos that trace her neck and jaw. They seem burnt into her skin.
“Relax, sister. Let us do our work. You’ll be home soon.”
Tyana’s vision fades. Consciousness slips away.
IV
Tyana awoke to a bright light and an awful headache. She was on a firm bed. The numbness was gone, but her muscles protested as she moved. Her eyes adjusted slowly. She looked to her right, ignoring the fading pain.
