The Wild Lands: Legend of the Wild Man (35 page)

“That's revolting.”

The ape only shrugs.

“Aren't you spending too much time in the
chamber? Days with your flock and nights like this?”

genuine
disappointment in his voice. The hominid puppet looks to the floor.
At least Skup's a little ashamed.

“Of course you are...” his body language
betrayed his guilt. Urea couldn't hold it against him, “I wanted to
talk to you in person.”

The ape sits down cross legged and pats the
ground beside him. So some of the old Skup is still there. Urea
sits. The ape puts an arm around her. She feels strangely
comforted, but still wishes to see her brother. She wants so see
his face, her own reflected back in twin, near identical save his
hawkish nose and slicked back hair. She pushes the arm off of her,
and scoots across the hallway, looks into the ape's eyes, and tries
to see her brother.

“I don't think we should be doing this
anymore.”

The ape points to his chest and raised an
eyebrow.

Me?
He asks, perhaps,
This
body?

“That's part of it, but there's more,” she
takes a deep breath, she's been practicing this, each rehearsal
racked her with guilt as she was forced to think how she kept
something from her brother, the only family she has in the world.
“You were right Skup, Baucis is...misguided. I think the
howluchin
s want to escape, same as the
biselk
, my
panthera
, same as everything. We're doing something wrong
here. We're playing gods. We're not working with Nature, we're
abusing it.”

The ape stares at her for a long moment, then
shrugs almost as an afterthought.

“I don't know what to believe anymore. I used
to love all that we did for the Naturalism and the Spire, but
lately it all seems so phony. We're all just puppets, Evanimals
enslaved to the ideas the Masters put into our minds. Those of us
with the most power are the biggest tools.”

The ape nods slowly. Urea sees realization
dawn across his brow ridge. She continues, clinging to her momentum
while words pour out like lightning from the Spire.

“I don't want to be a princess for a religion
I don't believe in. I don't want people to worship me for doing
what I do. Naturalism should be about striking a balance with
Nature, not subduing it, and definitely not fearing it. We need to
return to the surface. I think everyone's lying to us about the
dangers, especially the Council. They want us up here for their
stupid games. I'm sick of all of them, especially Baucis. To think
what he would do with that body,” she points weakly at the ape, “to
think what he would make you do with it,” she sighs, exhausted.

“You know what I want to do?” there's life in
her voice again, “I want to run my hand through her hair. I want to
pet her, and hug her, and tell her I'm so sorry for using her. And
if she decides to eat me then you know what? I don't care! That's
what we deserve, Ntelo's right about that. We're awful.” Fat tears
roll down her fair skin. She glances at the ape, who does nothing.
She wipes them away.

“Maybe we're not though. I think we can
survive down there. And I think he can help us.” Urea taps the ape
squarely in the chest. “They've been down there this whole time.
That other one killed a
biselk
with its bare hands, imagine
what they could teach us.”

The ape shrugs again.
So what?

“You know Baucis captured the other one,
right?”

The ape only scratches his head.

“I didn't think Baucis'd tell you, Elia
must've brought him up. He's being held at the end of this hall. I
wanted you to meet him, but... not like this.” The ape grunts. Her
brother could be so rude sometimes. She eyes the ape's body warily.
“He's our best chance at survival down there. “The High Priestess
always said we were the angels of both worlds, that we'd bridge the
divide. I think we can. He told me... the full moon. I think he
wants my help to escape.” she hangs her head, “I agreed.”

Her confession is over. She feels better,
much better, like she just had a good cry and is ready to get on
with her life.

The ape stands awkwardly, takes a deep
breath. She knows it's a lot to take in. She hugs her brother,
tells him it will all be OK, but he isn't here, not really. The
body hugs her back, but its not his. Her voice must sound different
through another's ears.

Then footsteps.

“We're not supposed to be here!” Urea hisses.
There is nowhere to hide in the immaculate white hallways. “I snuck
past the guard, we can't go that way. How did you get him in
here?”

The footsteps are louder, closer. They don't
have time. Then Urea's heart drops out of her chest. Echoing down
the hallway she hears a familiar voice.

“Urea! Urea!” he screams, she could hear her
own voice in her twin's. “I'm sorry I got lost!” Skup rounds the
corner with a hawkish grin. “Not all of us have cat like stealth,”
he says, then stops.

Urea tries to push away from the ape but its
useless. He's taller than her, more robust. She gets far enough to
see his eyes, before his grip tightens on her arm and she feels
capillaries burst and bruises form. His eyes sparkle with
electricity. Someone is behind those eyes.

“What the...?” Skup tries to ask.

“Run!” screams Urea, she hisses and tries
twist free. No use.

“Urea!” Skup screams and runs towards his
sister. The ape easily scoops him up. He holds the two aloft, like
children. Skup beats on the ape's arm to no avail. Even if he did
hurt the ape, the pilot would feel nothing. VRCs don't transmit
pain.

“Who are you?” screams Urea. She scratches
and hisses at the ape, lost to the instincts her mind is accustomed
to fighting.

A low growl emanates from the rough animal
vocal chords: a voice better suited for howling at the moon or
facing down a rival over food rumbles at her:

“Baucis.”

Nature seduces us, plays us against each other.
She'd as soon see us torn apart by the Wild Man as the Scourge
devour our bones. Our greatest strength lies in the wisdom of the
Council. They alone hold the answer to the Wild Man. They must face
him while our humble flock waits meekly.

He sits in his cage. Nothing can be done. The
walls are solid. The blue shimmering force shoots pain through his
arm and can't be weakened. He thought he could escape, but no. The
Hidden know how to make strong cages. He spends his time scribbling
on the floor, trying to understand.

Kao is his name. He was given it by a mad
hermit more god than man. A mad hermit who lived in a cave, gave up
meat and the ways of his elders for potions and paintings. Look
where it got Kao. He does not understand who sent him here. The
hermit? The Hidden? His dead sister?
She's alive
. He wastes
his life in the chamber. Nothing can be done.

Time has slipped from him. The lights blaze,
always the same eerie brightness, never ceasing. He eats what he is
fed, like a pet, a stray dog. It strengthens him but with each bite
the moon pulls at him less. That is not so bad. He realizes he has
felt this power for many moons. Its the power the meat from the
forbidden planes would give him.

Kao liked to hunt there (though he wasn't Kao
in those times, in those times he existed without a name, without
anything except himself and his spoils). He would bring catches to
his family, outrageously large rabbits, ground birds big as
children. They were always sparkling black, a midnight rainbow. His
tribe was always afraid to eat them. Kao never understood. Now he
does. He should have listened. His last hunt proved to be a
mistake. He chased a young prongelk too far. It was his own fault.
He should have known that its beautiful bedecked antlers were too
good to be true. It was a god's animal, or a demon's, the
difference is unclear.

The Hidden are real
, and stronger than
he ever imagined. Kao was marked by their cursed animal, one, two,
three times, close to too painful to understand. Not true. Kao
understands weapons. As soon as those three prongs slipped into his
flesh, part of him, that deep-down savage part, hoped they would
stay and gore others worse than they gored him. Little good they do
him now. Nothing can be done.

He misses his family. He misses the father he
never knew, his mother buried and lost to the earth. He misses his
sister, and wonders if she lives. She hung limp and lifeless in the
talons of the kingcrow, but she did not smell dead, then later Kao
found her bracelet, high up were it should not have been. Kao longs
to see her. She spent much more time with the hermit, and who knows
what the mad shaman taught her? He had long said Kao was brighter
and bolder than the last generation, maybe he saw even more promise
in his sister. Kao was sure of it.
She was so smart, much
smarter than me
. She knew the habits of every animal in their
jungle. She seemed to be able to ask any of them, be it bird,
cricket, squirrel, if any of their kin were sick and they would
bring them to her for a peaceful death. She would bring the little
animals to her brother and their mom, always crying softly. Fish,
lizard, cricket, her tears knew not the difference. She would bring
them the animals ready for death amidst a basket of berries and the
family would eat and be content to be together as they mourned a
lizard. His sister was gifted, but Kao was certain only one could
truly know
how
gifted, the hermit.

Every minute of every day, Kao yearned to see
the hermit again. He wanted answers, but would settle for rotten
advice and a spoiled laugh. The hermit would understand what was
happening here. The hermit would know how to escape. Kao wonders
what the old man's name was, if he had one. Surely he does, he was
obsessed with symbols and stories, he surely had one about himself.
Yet Kao had never asked it, nor had the hermit told him. The man
was so mysterious, and Kao's last link to his people's past.
Someone would have to teach his sister their stories, and Kao was
no story teller.

He hopes he can find her and bring her home.
He wants to catch food for her, to gather fruits and berries
together. He wants to teach her which organs must be cooked and
which are best raw. He wants to care for someone.

For any of that he must escape. He has tried
so many times, but the walls do not budge and the shimmering blue
makes his arm sting. He does not mind the pain but abhors the
futility of it all.

Then: footsteps. Not the near silent steps of
the girl, and not the angry fat squelches of the pudgy little man's
fat feet. (Kao took some consolation in the Hidden's feet. Just as
many toes as him). These footsteps are more measured, not as quiet
as the cat girl's but more in tune with the rhythms of things. They
are far apart too, the legs on those feet are much longer than any
of the Hidden he has seen. And there is something peculiar, they
don't land quite right, there is almost... a limp!

Kao leaps to his feet. From around the
passageway he sees first a flickering shadow, then the hunched
shoulders and wispy gray fur of his old teacher. The hermit is
alive and free! How he did it, Kao has no clue, but he knows that
if anyone can figure out the Hidden, it is the old hermit.
The
old trickster
! He approaches the shimmering surface and waits
for the elder to get close. Kao tries not to smile. He is overjoyed
to see the old one.

Before Kao can say a word the old man points
to his eyes, then to Kao's. His hand trembles fiercely, like he is
having trouble controlling it, then goes down to his side. Then he
turns to the box that the pudgy little man had used to strengthen
the shimmering blue wall.

Kao wonders what the gesture meant, the
hermit had never used it before.
Did he see the spark in my eye,
the lightning blue spark that tells of a Hidden stone
?

"I'm free, they have not touched me," he
says, but he wouldn't believe it.

The hermit glances at him again, his eyes
burn electric blue, like Kao's, then lurches back to the little
box.
He knows their power too?
Kao thought his prongs gave
him the Hidden's strength, but maybe there was another way.

The shimmering field vanishes. Kao runs
through and embraces the hermit, long and strong. He doesn't quite
hug back, just wraps his arms around Kao like he's going through
the motions. Why is he so distant? He is not acting like himself at
all. The Hidden have changed him...

But the stench of the hermit brushes all else
from Kao's mind. The old man smells awful, like the vegetables the
Hidden eat have all rotted and mixed with the hermit's potions. Kao
smells like this too, he has bee eating it for weeks, but the
hermit smells rancid, like rot. His body is not taking to the alien
diet. Kao is not surprised. Urea looked healthier than his pudgy
captor, the Black Moss might just be too tough for any but the
young and virile.

“Are you safe?” Kao asks, and pushes the
hermit an arm length away to look at him. The old man man is
shaking so much Kao can't tell what he tries to say. He trembles,
convulses almost. His whole body twitches. Kao notices long scars
run up and down all of his limbs, his ribs, his neck. The wounds
are still fresh, pink, and held together with knots of string. Kao
takes hold of one the hermit's hands and holds it up close. The
hermit wraps his other arm around Kao to support himself. His
tremors are getting worse. Kao must free him from the Totem before
the Hidden do worse. Scars run along each digit, it seems every
bone in the hermit's body has a scar cut above it. He has been
butchered and sewn, all while living.

A prick in Kao's neck and he understands. He
shoves the old one off him, the violent gesture no less painful for
Kao. A bolt of lightning discharges from his prongs and knocks the
hermit down with more force than Kao intended. The frail old man
heaves himself to his feet.