El and Onine (14 page)

“Yes,” he said. “Your time is running out. The troop
will return at the rise of the eye.”

“But how can I choose?”

“You already have, my goddess.” He said so much more
but I was no longer listening. My mind had dropped away to the other world I
once loved—my realm, my pedestal, my flames.

“I can’t give you up,” I said. “I can’t sacrifice
Kyprian for another.”

“We will live among you. You will see us in Terra’s
nature, her organisms, her soil, her people. The Kyprian will never leave you.”

My sapient storm of emotion couldn’t match my
exterior calm—a newfound Kyprian grace—and though I knew the truth,
I couldn’t feel it deep within me. “You must be mistaken,” I said. “This can’t
be the end.”

He told me it was not, that it was only the
beginning, but I didn’t understand any of it, how I was to choose. It was
difficult to see Onine in the darkness but the eye started to make its way up
to slay night again with its rays, shining its purple light through the lattice
of my shanty, allowing me to see his perfect Kyprian face once more.

“What will become of you?”

“You already know, Kypria. We have discussed this,
the plan was set long ago. Terra is our only escape. You must do this for us.
If not, Kyprian flame will surely die.”

If I didn’t choose the sapient path I’d been newly
born into, Midan would extinguish my devotees and take me as his slave. The
troop he’d sent here had already tried to implant me with their flames, to burn
away my sapience and steal my purity.

“They have not succeeded,” Onine said, reading my
expression. “The serum you took in the cavern has foiled their attempt. I saw
you spurn their spark when you vomited on the path.”

Their attempt to poison me with Venusian matter was
foreseen and we’d planned for it. I knew Onine was right and I mourned the
passing that was to come, admiring him as the eye continued to reach for him
with its light. Like Saturnia’s sister, like all of my Kyprian followers, he
too would metamorphose and become one with Terra.

“I can’t do it,” I said, as I rushed toward him. “I
won’t give you up.”

He held me again for the last time and I breathed
him in deeply. My senses were fooled, he smelled like smoke.

“You will not forget me, El.” He said my name the
way Tal had in the field, as though he’d never said it before,
unnatural—alien to him.

“I can’t do it—I can’t do it.”

“You must,” Tal said from the entryway of the
shanty.

I pulled away from Onine at the sound of the sapient
voice that made my Kyprian shrieks seem foreign. I longed for my new chosen one.

“He’s coming,” Tal said. “Through the
field—the wheat crumbles under his step.”

The ground shook and the walls of my shanty trembled
before they collapsed around us. I stood between Tal and Onine, looking out at
the field, and saw the beast coming. He made jerking movements, as though he
struggled with the weight of his own body. His color was magnificent, like the
jade stones in the hall, his scaly core refracting the eye’s light and making a
rainbow of colors shimmer about him. Steam shot from his nostrils, as he
barreled toward the three of us. His troop followed him, barely able to keep
up. I didn’t have time to say goodbye—the choice was made.

Tal pulled me to him and forced me to the ground,
covering me with his body. I thought I saw Onine’s transformation. When I
peeked out from under Tal’s embrace, I saw the roots first and then one wax
petal fell to kiss the soil.

ONINE

When I had returned to a destroyed Venus, I had questioned
my apprentice about the ambassador’s takeover.

“It was swift,” he had said. “The troops from
Menaleck joined forces with the rebels and Midan led them in the seizure of the
temples and the ruin of our landscape. We have lost many.” He had meant the
flames extinguished in the takeover. My goddess had been saved, though the solarium
was theirs by the fall of Jupiter. “Please show me the way to Terra,” he had said.
“Let me breach the cold as you have. I cannot stay here. I must escape too.”

I granted his request since I had promised I would
bring him to the new planet. I had explained the risks but he was resolved to
go. I could have never known he would betray me and my goddess, and risk every
flame in her retinue. I would have never suspected his treason since malfeasance
was impossible for a Kyprian to consider. Tiro proved a special case, of
course, but he would pay for his disloyalty.

When I stood in the light of the artificial eye and
Saturnia’s sister first told me of his betrayal, I had asked her to repeat what
she had discovered. My disbelief made her story seem a fiction. “Your
apprentice has been in contact since our escape,” she assured me. “Since the
dark passage was sealed and we were shut out of Venus.”

“How?”

Perhaps I had been hearing sapient speech too long,
for I misunderstood my sibling’s words. She spoke with a refined Venusian
tongue, having shed her terrestrial shell, dressed for the flame of
purification in the forge we had built from Terra’s molten core. Our flames
rose up together, twisting about one another, as we revived our primal nature.

“The reptile comes for the sapient,” Saturnia’s
sister said. “He travels the same route as we and will breach the sphere through
your apprentice.”

“Is he alone?”

“His troop follows.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“Kypria showed me.” My goddess had seen it in the
tome, no doubt. The mysteries of our existence were only puzzling to me. She
had prepared for this and told Saturnia’s sister to keep her secret and stay
the course to fulfill the Kyprian promise.

“Your apprentice cannot know the danger,” she said.
“He is naïve to the trader’s schemes and the ambassador’s power.”

“But if we tell Tiro,” I said, “surely he will break
his ties with Midan.”

“He believes his assignment to the sapient is his reward
and is greedy for the experience. He desires the youngling more and more though
he is oblivious to her appeal.”

“Can we trick him? Make him a similar promise on the
condition he break his transmission with Venus?”

“It is dangerous to manipulate the script,” she
said. “To do so may risk all that is written.”

Her decision to abstain from interfering was her
own, but I trusted her completely and relinquished my position. She would uphold
the Kyprian promise and lead us in my goddess’s absence.

“Assure me you will not reveal our goddess even if
you think it may save the youngling,” she said.

I swore my oath but feared for El at the mention of
her. “Will she come to harm?” The thought of her at risk made my fire brighten.

“Not any more than is necessary,” she said. “All is
as it should be.”

Though she was the healer, her words gave me no
solace. My sibling’s ways were mysterious, and I only had half the story. My
goddess had relied on me to do my part but it was a simple ripple amidst a wave
of change. Our plan for salvation was complex.

“What can I do?” I asked. “My goddess was blind to
this—that Midan would come for her.”

“The secrets between Kypria and the sire shall
remain hidden, Onine.”

Ur had planned his progeny’s escape, but had he
anticipated the destruction of Venus? I doubted Midan’s hostile takeover of
Terra was a part of the sire’s strategy to free my goddess. I feared he was
unaware of the danger we now faced. “But Terra is to be our haven,” I said.
“Kypria is to be safe here—Kyprian too.”

“Stay your hope, my sibling. Fire cannot live if you
cut off its oxygen. Terra is a part of the greater plan, as is the arrival of
Midan. But you must do one thing.”

“Anything.”

“I hope you understand the depths of your offer
because something greater is expected of you.”

“You know I would give my existence to save my
goddess.”

“So you shall.” Her words rung with finality and she
unwrapped her flame from mine, tearing herself from fire and back into the terrestrial
form she had made her own. I followed her and prepared for the true eye’s rise.

“Your role is significant yet,” she said. “Do not
doubt it. You must watch over the youngling once Mara joins me. Her offspring
will be left to fend for herself since we have annulled her assignment with the
sapient.”

My goddess chose the fire starter long ago but
Saturnia’s sister had terminated the union. “Why have they been separated? Did
the fire starter no longer please my goddess?” I revealed my contentment too
easily and regretted my transparency.

“The annulment was for a greater purpose,” she said.
“An adjustment had to be made since two schemes were possible and I was to
choose the one that best fit.”

“The fire starter, then, is the cause for the annulment?”

“Yes,” she said. “He must be prepared, a detail we missed.”

“Can I help prepare him?”

“You will play your part in this but it is different
than you think.”

“Does she desire him?”

“El does, yes, but Kypria another.” All at once, I
understood my part and felt silly for letting my emotion blind me. Saturnia’s
sister acknowledged my revelation with a smile.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Now you see.”

“I must begin immediately,” I said. “She must know
me, she must recognize me.”

“Easy, Onine. You will take this in stride and let
the sapient come to you. You cannot let her know your role—not just yet.”

“And Tiro? Where does he fit in this scheme?”

“Exactly where he is. Awaiting his sapient.”

“Can he really believe she belongs to him?” My
apprentice was dimwitted but this proved the silliest thing he could imagine
yet.

“He must,” she said. “We need him to meet them when
they come.”

“He will perish, will he not? He cannot be prepared
for the change that is to come. It will destroy him.”

“Yes,” she said. “But it was his choice.”

I felt no regret for my apprentice. He had brought
about his own extinction. “May I keep Tiro in line if his desire grows too
great to control?” I despised the thought of the knavish brute harassing my
sapient.

“He is too vain to attempt anything daring,
especially before her preparation. She still frightens him, despite his desire.”

“He is a foolish one.”

“When we have taken Mara, you should be diligent,
but keep your desire for the youngling hidden. Terrestrial jealousy is still a
mystery, and if he suspects the sapient, he may stir the flame before Kypria chooses.
The choice must be hers—we cannot sway her, Onine. She must choose of her
own volition.” I nodded in agreement. “We may tip the scales in our favor, if
ever so slightly, but everything must unfold as it is written in the tome of
the deity.”

“And the ravishment?”

“Impossible to avoid.”

I touched my Kyprian sibling with the palm of my terrestrial
hand. She held mine with hers and squeezed my rigid skin, as we both suffered
the coming of our goddess’s pain.

“I admire your sacrifice,” I said.

“And I yours.” I tried to console her but the
thought of our end burdened her. She knew the agony to come and that which we
had already suffered.

When I left to fetch Mara, thoughts of my goddess
warmed me and my sibling’s touch had softened my wounds. I met the sapient in
the wheat field after watching her kiss her offspring goodbye. She was unable
to understand she would always be united with her youngling through my goddess.
Our ways were so different from hers and though she had seen the future in the
gold sediment, she was incapable of trusting its truth.

“You will be with her again,” I said. “Did you tell
her so?”

“I promised her,” Mara said, “just as Kypria told me
I should. I said ‘I will always be with you and you will always be with me,’
though I have yet to believe it. I do not see the goddess in her.”

“You will, my sapient,” I said. “And you will see
why my goddess has chosen you.”

“I am afraid.”

“Do not be. The worst is over.”

“Will I feel the pain?”

“Nothing you cannot bear,” I said. “All good things
must come with a little pain.”

“Will she?” She was asking if El would suffer the
choices she had made, the sacrifices she had offered my goddess.

My honesty comforted her. “She will.”

Mara was tearful when we walked through the wheat
together. I offered to help her along with my stick but she refused. “We have
enough time, don’t we?”

Terra’s satellite reflected the eye at full strength
and its coldness crept into every crack of my terrestrial form but I let Mara
enjoy her last journey. “We have time,” I said.

“Will you look after my youngling?”

She too was blind to the tome of the deity and I
understood her concern. She was unaware of the future to come. She was Kyprian as
much as any sapient could be and though she trusted us completely, she had yet
to become a part of us.

“El is my charge,” I said. “And I will guard her as
the precious source she is. Nothing is more sacred to the Kyprian than your
youngling.”

Mara smiled at this. She was unveiled and her hair
hung loosely down her back. She looked as she had the first time I saw her in
the field. Her manner had mellowed since then and her physical appearance had changed,
but she was still the same. I admired her, as she walked alongside me,
traipsing through the soil in her bare feet one last time.

When we reached the ridge of greenhouses overlooking
the landscape of wheat, Saturnia’s sister met us and ushered Mara up to the
large glass tablet at the top of the mount. The sapient held on to the Venusian’s
diamond-encrusted stick and slipped behind the glass with ease. I followed my
sibling and her new flame with a touch of sadness, most likely Mara’s reflection.
Once we entered the greenhouse, the Kyprian healer worked quickly. The sapient
tried to speak, but was silenced. I know the name of her youngling was on the
tip of her tongue when Saturnia’s sister pulled her into her flame and made her
one with us. I was unaware of the pain Mara suffered and hoped it was minimal. I
danced with her among the flames since then and knew she would see El again.

***

The smoke of the fire pits distracted me when she
came rushing through the cedar door, her tiny body barreling toward me as if some
force drew her to me. I raised my stick, bent on protecting myself as much as
the sapient. I had gotten good at avoiding them, especially now that I was so
involved with the one. The end of my rod stabbed her in the chest and I could
barely contain my shriek of anguish at contact. When she fell to the patio, I
thought I had ended her life. I watched for the blood to drain from her
complexion but her color remained. I stood over her like a fool, willing her to
stand and look at me again.

When the fire starter rushed over to see her, I kept
him away. His connection to her was strong and I envied his open display of
affection. I was anxious to make it my own.

“El,” he said. “Get up. He’s waiting.”

I pushed him aside with my stick, motioning for him
to return to his fire. He obeyed but left her there reluctantly, keeping a
watchful eye on her from afar.

I leaned over the clay-born goddess and whispered in
Kyprian tongue. I shared my regret and begged her to forgive my foolishness. “I
would never wish to hurt you. Please come back to me.” Her veil masked the
color on her cheeks but when I traced the outline of her face, despite the
sheer silk, it took everything in my power to resist touching her. I held my
gaze on her, even as she stirred to life again, the veil lifting with each
breath.

“Come back, El.”

When she opened her eyes, I shared my relief. I
think I smiled but cannot remember. When I saw she was fully awake again, I
moved to the side and held out my stick for her and brought her up and onto her
feet. I should have let her go then, but I did the thing I was forbidden to do.
Saturnia’s sister would have chided me if she had known, and I expected my
goddess would have also, but I wanted to show her I remembered her. I placed my
stick below her chin and raised her eyes to meet mine. Like pools of ore, her
gaze was strange next to my goddess’s flaxen look, but the exchange was for her,
not me.

I showed her everything my species had to offer. I
reminded her of her core, her alien being, her universe. My act was slightly
selfish, for I saw deeper into the sapient creature in doing so. That moment of
pleasure was in fact the only thing that kept me going during my fusion with
the fire starter. The vision of El’s eyes helped me see through the pain of my
torture and it was then that I realized she was the matrix I had created in the
cold deeps of the Gelanese pool. I knew El before she existed.