El and Onine (16 page)

“Your goddess? El’s—”

“No.” I cannot be sure what he pieced together on
his own.

“Why don’t we share the pleasure?” He said.

“Shall we share the pain too?”

He tossed the hair from his brow. “When will you
stay for good?”

“The time is almost here,” I said. “Before then we must
sever ties with the other.”

“Em,” he said. “Why were we forced together in the
first place?”

I knew the answer but was forbidden to tell him.
Saturnia’s sister had explained it to me along with other matters of sapient
biology. “The fire starter must purge himself of his sapient seed before yours
may take its place. The only way for him to do so is in the womb of another.”

“What if a youngling is produced?” I had asked.

“The seed must take but the life will be choked from
it shortly after inception.”

Indifferent to the sapient cultivator we had chosen
for the task, I saw her as any other, a sacrifice for a greater purpose.

I told Tal to avoid such trivial matters. “The plan
is greater than us and all we can do is play our parts.”

“I don’t love Em, you know? I never wanted to be
with—”

“I know,” I said. “She is unworthy of you.”

When Em found us in the wheat field after she had
met with the council, I avoided contact, but her mention of keeping the
youngling angered me. She had disobeyed the council.

“You didn’t take the emetic?”

“I only pretended to and when I vomited, it was
merely grains and milk.”

“They didn’t know the difference?” I was sure my
sibling would know the sapient held onto her youngling and expected Saturnia’s
sister to take it out of her.

Em’s tears, her insipid emotion, had no effect on us.
The fire starter was oblivious to his power with me inside of him and could have
never known what would happen. I kept him away as best I could but when she
rushed toward us I spoke for him. “Don’t touch me. You mustn’t.”

I shouted, as she reached for his hand, but her
touch surprised me and I was too slow to escape. She burned down to ash almost
instantly. I felt the fire starter’s horror at seeing what he had done and I
forced him to run deep into the field away from the site. When we had gone far
enough, I leapt out and stood beside him in the cold.

“We must leave here,” I said. “We must make our
escape. It is almost time.”

“But—but—I couldn’t have done that.”

“It was me.”

“How? How did you—”

His shock was understandable and I explained
everything, as he followed me back to the hall of stones. Our final preparations
were awaiting us there, as was Saturnia’s sister.

***

When I told the fire starter I was to become a part
of him, I was dishonest. He would remain the same, it was true, but would also
change. I struggled with my deceit but Saturnia’s sister warned me against
telling him the truth.

“It is unfair to him,” she said. “It should be
enough that he will be more than he is now, and his body the vessel for an
entire generation of beings.”

“He will not actually propagate the future race,
though.”

“Our goddess is the true progenitor,” she said. “But
the new breed will take his physical form and part of his essence.” The sapient
soul was a mystery to us, though Kypria vouched for its existence.

“Will my goddess recognize only him?” I tried to mask
my jealousy but my sibling knew me too well.

“She knows all her creatures—past, present and
future,” she said. “She may sense the depths of his loyalty and recall you, but
the fire starter is the one El loves.”

My heart sank at the destiny I had created for
myself. Giving up my goddess was the only way I could be with her. “I still
feel I should tell him I am taking more than his body.”

“He cannot be aware you are making it your own. You
know what you must do, Onine.”

I lost my argument with Saturnia’s sister since she
made these decisions, and various others, with our salvation alone in mind. I
had to obey.

“What good can come of his knowing? If your bonding
is going as well as you say, telling him will only stall the process. Let him
live in ignorance and enjoy the union with our goddess.” Tal would share his
body with me, unaware that his essence—his soul—would eventually
blend with Venusian fire. “As it is written,” Saturnia’s sister said, “fire and
clay.”

When I told Tal he was going to witness my Kyprian
demise, he showed sincere fear. “Where will you go?”

“My body will join the soil but my flame will tie
itself to yours for a time.”

“Your flame?”

“My core,” I said. “My soul, if you will. The thing
that makes me Venusian.”

His dark eyes revealed his concern. He had grown
attached to me since our bond was now inevitable. “Why only for a time?”

“I cannot live with sapient essence forever.”

“Why not if I let you.”

I smiled. “You are not free to choose. You do not
control your spirit.”

I could tell my explanation confused him. He thought
for a moment and swept the hair from his eyes. “Will I see you again?”

I reflected his emotion despite my resistance to it.
“No. Once the change comes, my form as you know it will disappear.”

“Will I know when you’re gone?”

The logistics of our fusion were difficult to
explain and the sapient tongue seemed too simple for a conversation as
complicated as ours. “Perhaps you will know me through El and the memory of our
union will live in your offspring.”

“My offspring—with El?”

It was a shade of gray I was to avoid and I
regretted it the instant I said it. “Never mind. We have greater matters to
attend to.”

The fire starter was brave. I was certain if he knew
the truth he would back out. I was glad I followed my Kyprian sibling in her
wisdom and kept him in the dark about the most significant events—those
that would affect him forever.

When we entered the hall of stones, Saturnia’s
sister blinded him with her brightness and spoke to him in hushed tones, putting
him in a trance so he was oblivious to my transformation. She wanted to hide
our secrets—a habit she clung to until the end.

“You may speak to him,” Saturnia’s sister said. “He can
hear but is unable to see.”

“I am with you,” I said to the sapient. He looked
smaller than I remembered, weaker, and I hesitated, knowing this was the form I
would take forever. I worried this vulnerable frame was too delicate to save my
goddess.

Saturnia’s sister read my mind. “You must be brave.”

I regained my courage and reached for my sibling in
earnest, ashamed I had doubted our plan. She nodded and called me to her. “The
thorn has pierced his side and the blood runs out of him,” she said. “When he
is overcome, you must take to the tree.”

I stepped forward to the small bush of wax flowers
at the center of the hall of stones. The jade pieces in the corners of the hall
shone with the eye’s brightness and showered my goddess’s tree with their
light. The flowers were in full bloom, ripe for the picking.

“The time is now,” my sibling said. “Take to the
tree.”

I bent down to the shrub and plucked the first
flower and placed it in my mouth. I took the second and did the same, and the
third and so forth until I had consumed every single one of the blooms on my goddess’s
tree. I ate the flowers despite their bitter taste and frigid texture. They
burned my throat and froze my core. I tried to remain standing, as I waited for
my release, but the pain brought me to my knees. Saturnia’s sister floated to
my side and soothed me with prayers to my goddess.

“You are almost there,” she said. “Your reunion with
her will be sweet, my sibling. She will choose you, I know it. This is as it
should be. Be brave, sweet Onine, be brave.”

The blood of the sapient continued to drip on the
glass beneath him, as he floated in the atmosphere of the hall. He was overcome
by the thorn’s magic and hovered in stillness but his blood seeped across the
glass and into the soil of the tree. The newly bloomless shrub softened with
the blood’s touch and bent toward the soil in which it stood.

“You may release yourself,” Saturnia’s sister said
to me. “It is done.”

I heard her, as I floated out of my terrestrial form,
Onine’s form, and into the air above me.
I
love you, my sibling. I thank you for your sacrifice.
Her words carried me
through the painful transformation and soon I was the fire starter, my flame
embedded deep inside his core.

“Go,” Saturnia’s sister said. “Go save her.”

The next time I looked at the Kyprian healer, it was
through the eyes of the fire starter. I held out my hands and admired the soot
under the fingernails. I brought them up to my nose and smelled the smoky brine
from the fires I had made long ago. I left the hall of stones desperate to make
the eye’s cycle move faster. On the third moonscape, I would be with her again.

***

El weighed nothing in my arms, as I carried her past
the wheat field and across the lake of solid gold. When we had arrived on Terra,
my goddess had set fire to the water, unaware of its significance to the planet.
The sea crystallized beneath its gold surface and the outer sands were born.
Rumors of their desolation were enough to keep sapients from attempting to
cross them. They would stay within the limits of the compound they knew,
especially since they feared for their survival if abandoned.

But many thó had passed since then and Terra proved
resilient to change. The planet’s nature germinated beneath its surface, just
waiting to be set free again. I saw the cracks in the gold lake before I noticed
the saplings squeezing up through its surface. The roots were desperate for the
eye and stretched up to meet it. The liquid beneath had survived my goddess’s
flame, and would soon creep through the element to flood the planet again with
its freshness. Lava and acid were submissive here and if my goddess chose Venusian,
she would have to return to our fiery home. Terra could never house the species
we once were.

I felt at peace with the youngling in my arms. Tal’s
body was strong enough to carry her for long stretches without tiring and I was
happy to learn the limits of my newfound ability. My frame was compact and
rigid and I struggled to recall certain Kyprian phrases, but the fusion was
successful otherwise. Once I reached the cavern and built the fire to keep her
warm, I discovered more about my new form. I could touch fire as if I were still
Venusian, but my talent for levitation was gone and I was forced to abide by Terra’s
pull with the weight of a true sapient core. I could handle darkness better
than before, however, and coldness was a newfound friend.

“Welcome back,” I said when I saw her open her eyes.
Disoriented, she struggled to sit up. “Let me help you.” I reached through the
fire and lifted her, placing her gently against the wall.

She looked at me as though a stranger. I leaned in
closer, wanting her to see my new body.

“You felt cold,” I said. “The fire’s to warm you
up.”

She finally smiled at me and I thought she knew me.
But how could she? I looked like the fire starter.

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” I said.

I stirred the fire for want of something to do. I
was afraid to touch her again. “The outer sands. We’re in a cavern on their
edge. You’re safe.” I sounded foolish but I wanted to reassure her. When she
asked if she would see her creator, I had no answer.

“How’d I get here?” She asked.

When I told her I had carried her she looked
confused.

“But how’d you get here?”

“I walked.” I should have tempered my response but
was beyond lies since the end drew near.

“But what about the wall of fire and rings of lava
and acidic rains and chasms—”

“El.” I said her name but wanted desperately to say
the name of another. My goddess felt so near, living between us. “You should
rest.”

She became hysterical without warning, fearful of
our predicament. She feared for her pet, recalling the goat in the garden. The
sight of her bloody animal confused her and I wanted so desperately to tell her
why we left Bendo as we did. When I had come upon her between the cabbages with
the pet, she had dissolved into tears and asked me about the other sapient as though
she had seen her burn to ash in the wheat.

I crossed the fire to sit beside her, putting my arm
around her and pulling her to me. She fell into my embrace and I could barely resist
squeezing her. “It won’t be long now,” I said. “You are strong.” When she asked
me what she was to do, my answer slipped out. “Choose.”

“The blood,” she said.

“A sacrifice.” She missed my meaning, as I meant
something more than the goat. “Be strong.”

“Will Tiro come for me?”

Yes
, I wanted to say. My
silence moved her in ways I cannot explain. She pulled herself from my embrace
and looked into my eyes. I could see her eagerness, her desire, her need to be
close. I wanted to kiss her as I had seen the sapients do, but I was too afraid
to sway her. Instead, I offered her the serum that would save her. “You need to
eat.”