Sentience, page 32
part #1 of Farm Land Series
We have always liked your people, Holt, she said. We choose not to hurt them because of friendship, and because we have no need to…
The same can be said of the spider, Mother, I continued. She chose to save us from a jasper, and to protect us. She has carried us here on her back without a threat of harm.
Curious… said the voice, we have never met a spider like this.
Neither have I, Mother. But there must have been a time when my people and yours would have thought friendship between us impossible, too.
There was a pause. We are willing to accept the spider in our lands, said Mother, on your word that she will harm none of my people. But if she becomes a threat, we will destroy her.
I understand.
Congratulations on your forthcoming blessing, said the dry voice. I see that you, too, are to become a mother.
I smiled. How is it you know everything, Mother?
One does not need to know everything, if one simply observes, Holt, she said. Much as I like your people, you humans do find the most mundane things surprising.
Then I must be the most mundane of all my people, I said. For it seems the more I see of the world, the less I understand any of it.
You are entertaining, Holt, she said. I am glad to see you have come safely through the season of rain. I thought of you often whilst my children slumbered. I see your powers have matured whilst we have been apart, and I long to explore them with you. Sometimes I feel the ache of loneliness, for even though I am joined to a wealth of minds, there are few that are truly of the same power as mine. Your mind has great potential. I think you and I will have much to teach each other, in these coming months.
I would like that, Mother.
You are far from home, Holt. I wondered, when my soldiers saw you, why you had come so far from the village to make your people’s offering for our Acceptance this year, yet I see you carry no gourds… Are you here for another purpose?
I fell into the river, and was swept far away, Mother, I said. I am making my way back to the village now. I met the spider and the other human, Hathor, as I fled from the flesh-eaters. They saved me and brought me home.
So why have your people not come to make their offering for the season? asked Mother. They come always within the first week of the sun returning, yet we have not seen them. When my soldiers saw you, they thought they had found out why, and you had been sent, but it would seem this is not the case. When I heard my children’s thoughts of you, I came to see for myself. It would please me if your people chose you to make the offering, but now you say they did not… so why have they not come?
Something reached into my chest and stole breath from my lungs. Have you seen my people since your children awoke from their sleep? I asked.
No, said Mother. And now that it seems you were not sent by them, I fear suddenly. It is not like them to forget to make the offering.
Mother, I said, I must leave to Reach to them. Will you give me your word that you will not harm Hathor or Seraphina?
Seraphina? Mother’s voice was incredulous. I have never met a spider with a name before.
All creatures have names, Mother, I said. Sometimes they just need help to find them… as you taught me.
Her sense of amusement was palpable. Agreed, she said. And your party will be safe, I promise you.
I left Mother and turned to Hathor and Seraphina. My face must have been pale, as Hathor gripped her spear with determination, obviously deciding the reason for my pallor was that Seraphina was in danger.
“No,” I said shaking my head. “You and Seraphina will be fine, just stay here. There is something wrong with the village. I need to see them, right now.”
And then, from within my mind, I heard a single, awful call echoing within me. It was Bracken, crying out to me.
Holt! she screamed. Holt, help us… we are dying.
Even as I heard her terrible cry, I saw Hathor and Seraphina turn to stare at a plume of dark smoke rising on the horizon. The soldier stretched its antenna into the air and shivered.
“Flesh-eaters,” I croaked. “They have found them.”
I threw my thoughts into the air. As I disappeared, I heard my body hit the floor. I looked back to see Hathor racing to my side, but I didn’t have time to stop. I threw myself into the wind. My mind raced for the village. Every other thought was gone as I became an arrow of purpose and of dread.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Destruction
I flew through the air, with a speed born of desperation. All I could hear was Bracken screaming, her cry resonating through my blood.
Over the bean plantations I whirled, past Farmers as they worked and herded aphids, through the trees, heading for the plume of dark smoke that was growing larger by the moment.
My mind flashed into the trees, tumbling past bugs, plants, trees and roots… and then I stopped, and stared at the ruination and chaos before me.
The round houses were on fire. Dark smoke was gathered in a vast fog over my home. The centre of the village, where once men and woman had worked and laughed, was aflame, littered with fragments of fallen houses and the broken, shattered remains of our lives.
I could see shapes moving in the smoke, running, being chased. I heard screams as indistinct shades bore down on them. I could hear the choking whimpers of people hurt, people dying.
I looked around in desperation, trying to see somewhere where I could go, someone I could help. But everything was dirty chaos.
I flew into the haze of smoke.
I felt as though I had entered the mind of Hathor; surrounded by the smoke and the fug of the fires, by the voices of screaming, dying people; people I loved and was helpless to aid. I darted from noise to noise, staring down at faces that I had known, laughed with, as they lay bloodied on the floor. My people had put up a fight. They had not surrendered their freedom, or lives, easily.
Eryngo lay over the earthen mound we had used to fire clay pots, his body slowly sinking into the embers beneath him. I raced to him, but as I stared into his unseeing eyes, I knew it was far too late. His body was riddled with arrows, black blood stained the front of his green tunic. Bramble was not far from him, her pretty face smashed in with rocks, which lay scattered, glistening with her blood, about her motionless form.
Grimly I took myself from staring at the face of a young boy, Woode, on the ground. I had to find those that were still living. I had to help my people.
From behind a blockade, made from shattered remains of one of the round houses, I heard a shout. I knew that voice. My heart could have exploded when I heard his call.
Skye.
I flew towards his voice and found a party of villagers huddled behind a makeshift barricade, hands grasping clubs and spears, their eyes wide with fear and horror. Skye was shouting orders. From here, I could see the flesh-eaters; dark, crouching shapes hiding behind a round house. I looked at the villagers and felt my heart drop. There were no more than ten of them. I could see no children with them. I could not see Bracken. Some gripped stone knives, red with blood, and spears, but few carried throwing arrows. They were littered all over the ground. Clearly my people had used up almost every weapon they had, and the flesh-eaters were still coming.
I flowed into Skye’s mind. Skye! I cried, my voice harsh.
“Holt!” he said aloud, shouting with surprise.
I am here, I said. I was almost home when I heard Bracken’s call. What can I do? Where did they come from?
“They came less than an hour ago,” he said aloud, his voice fracturing as he coughed on fumes. “They found part of the round house that took you, Holt, we heard them say it. They brought boats and followed its path to us. We are keeping them from following the children. They ran into the woods, but now we’re surrounded.”
Is Bracken with them?
“No,” he said. “Leaf… we sent her with the children. They are running for the lands of the Farmers. More have gone with them, but many of our people are dead.”
I saw some of them.
Skye shook his head. “Not all of them,” he said. “The flesh-eaters have a cart and cages. They are piling the dead on it and taking all the living they can.” He grimaced. “Fresh meat,” he said.
Where is Bracken?
Skye shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said and started to motion to the others to explain he was talking to me. “She and Thorn were trying to get Fletcher and others to safety. They took a group in one direction. We were supposed to get the children out and then run too, but we are surrounded. We cannot get out.”
He smiled suddenly. “If this is my last day,” he said softly. “I am glad I got to hear your voice once more.”
Stop that! I shouted. We have to get out. We have to get you all out. This is all my fault, they followed me, they must have.
This is not your fault, he said within my mind. They would have found the remains of the round house without you. And they are the ones who decided to kill us. The blame lies with them and them alone.
We can talk about this when we get you out, I said grimly. I have an idea. When you hear me call your name, be ready.
We will be ready.
I love you.
I love you.
I flowed from him and looked about. Behind us were trees, and I could see more huddled shapes hiding there. This is what he meant when he said they were trapped, I thought. Flesh-eaters were ahead of my people at the round house, and behind them in the trees. The forest was the best place for the villagers to run and hide. I would have to deal with the flesh-eaters there in order for them to escape.
I flowed into the trees, finding a group of flesh-eaters, perhaps ten or so, spread out through the bushes. But they were not what I was looking for. It took me longer than I would have liked, but I needed something that would make them flee. Eventually I found it; a spider, black and shiny, nowhere near as big as Seraphina, but easily large enough to terrify a man. The spider was busy racing up a tree when I found him. I leapt into his mind and took it under my control.
Compelling Seraphina from time to time had evidently paid off. I raced on my eight legs with ease, crashing through the undergrowth. As I smashed through the last line of bushes between the flesh-eaters and me, I let out a huge, shrieking hiss. The flesh-eaters screamed as my terrible form flew into their ambush. As I raced at them, my legs thrusting through the air and my jaws snapping, I saw their faces distort with satisfying fear. I leapt on one and before I had even thought of what I was doing, the jaws of the spider snapped down on his neck. Bright blood spurted from the gash, splattering up the trees, dirtying the earth. The others screamed as they saw him gurgle and spasm on the floor and I leapt for another, jumping onto his back, biting into his shoulder as I landed. The man screamed, thrashing with a blade which missed me and hit his thigh. He dropped to the floor as vivid red blood gushed from his self-inflicted wound, and I ran at another.
They were fleeing, looking back over their shoulders, tripping and falling into the mud, before scrambling up again. I ran at them, and kept running. And then I dropped from the mind of the spider, leaving it to pursue the flesh-eaters.
The shiny black spider would have a good meal that day.
As I leapt from the mind of the spider, I Reached to Skye. Skye! Now! I shouted.
But there was no answer. No one came running.
Swift on the feet of fear, I raced for the blockade, only to find it overrun. Villagers and flesh-eaters struggled against each other, hacking at limbs and faces. I saw Skye struggling against two men. They bore down on him, pushing him to the ground. I leapt into the mind of one and turned his hands to fight the other.
“What are you doing?” screamed the man I had turned on. I thrashed him with the filthy club in my hands, beat him until he fell to the floor, and then I looked at Skye.
I dropped the club and knelt down next to him.
His face was awash with blood. Mud covered every place where blood did not. I had never felt such fear. I reached out and touched his face gently, the rough hand of the man I controlled stroking his skin, and then suddenly, I heard him moan.
He was alive. He was alive!
“What are you doing?” screamed another flesh-eater, throwing the body of a villager to the ground and walking to me, his face enraged and confused. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No,” I said. “I know where my mind is.” I leapt at him, bearing his body to the muddy earth. Beating his arms as he raised them to protect his head, I scrambled over him and ran at another and another, ripping them from my friends and family, shouting at the villagers to run.
Arms grabbed me and I jumped from the body of the man I controlled even as I watched him fall to the floor, held down by flesh-eaters, his eyes wide and surprised, his mouth open.
I leapt into another, and another, fighting for as long as I could in each form. As I struggled, I screamed to the villagers to run. But I could not save them all. I saw some scramble for the trees, as I watched others die. People were being dragged away, some awake and struggling, others unconscious. They were taking my people, taking them away… but I could not be everywhere at once. I would deal with the men in the village, and then go for the carts and boats they were using to steal my people away.
But the flesh-eaters gathering my people were distracted by members of their own forces fighting to save the villagers. Each time I switched bodies and fought them, more turned to face me. Faster and faster, they were killing my hosts, and faster and faster they were destroying their own men.
One grabbed me, holding me by the hair. “Michael,” he said, gasping for breath. “What the fuck are you doing? What’s going on?”
“I am not Michael,” I said and laughed at his face. “I am the spirit of my people. I am their heart. Everything you reap today will come back upon your people threefold.”
“Witchcraft,” he hissed. “What have you done with Michael? What did you do to the others?”
“I have taken their souls,” I shouted, desperate to say anything that would make him run. “I will take their minds. I will take yours. I will destroy your people and everyone you love. Leave this place now!”
“Kill it!” screamed another flesh-eater and they leapt on Michael with blade and spear.
My mind soared into the air as they bore down on him and another flesh-eater was dead. I raced into another. “I am the spirit of the free people!” I shouted. “I will take your souls!”
“Get out!” screamed one. “Get out now! They have a witch!”
They ran, scrambling over broken barricades, retreating to their forces near the river.
I looked around; scattered were the bodies of the fallen, their limbs contorted, frozen in the last struggles of death, their faces driven into mud or staring straight up, glassy-eyed at the heavens. The earth was no longer black or brown, but red; red with the blood of my people and flesh-eaters.
I looked down. A face, bloodied and broken stared up at me. Her eyes were vacant, her chest open. Slimy, purple innards shone, ghastly in the sunlight. Her blonde hair was stained crimson; her face and body sullied with mud.
Ash.
The world stopped. Suddenly, everything was too bright, too harsh. I staggered back. I could almost see her smiling on the day we first met. I stared dumbly at Ash, my eyes roaming over her beautiful, broken body. She had been my friend, my sister. I knelt beside her, hoping to see something in her eyes that showed life was still within her. There was nothing.
Stumbling to my feet, I looked around. Other faces I knew stared back from the ground, all dead, all ruined and shattered. People I had laughed with, people who had helped me, people I had loved.
The loss was too great to comprehend. I could do nothing but stare.
They were gone; their light had left the world.
I looked away. Help Skye, said something inside me. Find Bracken. Find the children. Help the living.
I looked around, searching for Skye, and I heard a voice behind me, laughing.
“Witchcraft,” the man shouted, chuckling. “There is no such thing as witchcraft.” I turned, and saw a face I remembered. Bright blue eyes glinted with pleasure as he gazed at the destruction surrounding him. The scar on his cheek glistened in the light of the sun.
It was Luke; leader of the hunting party.
“Although you could probably tell them that, couldn’t you, sweetling?” he said, yanking forward a shape, huddled and bent behind him. The shape resisted, pulling back, but he grabbed it and threw it down at his feet. Other men behind him laughed.
As the figure hit the floor and rolled over, I saw her face.
It was Bracken.
Chapter Fifty-Six
