Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1) Read online

  His staff chimed against the ground as he strode past them both.

  Keren stood riveted by his words. Finally she regained her senses and called after him: “What virtue does the Kirin represent?”

  The old man looked slyly back over an armored shoulder. “You don’t know? It is Charity.” His robe billowed as he made his way into the forest, swiftly disappearing beneath the shadow of the trees.

  Keren stood staring after him in confusion. “Wait…what?”

  “Odd, that the beast which represents selfless giving should be the one to appoint a ruler,” Akar mused. “Why not justice, or prudence, or mercy?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t even know there was such a thing until recently!”

  “Did you not say you learned of these creatures through tales told in your childhood?”

  “Yes… But why would I ever take those stories seriously? Everyone talks about how eagles represent strength, or mice timidity, or snakes cunning. Those are just expressions! How could they not be just expressions? How could an animal actually stand for a virtue?!”

  “Do not ask me. All of man’s talk is madness. What is virtue, but an emotion which men happen to treasure over other emotions?”

  “Uh-huh. ‘Why in the world is love any better than anything else’? Typical Necrow idiocy –”

  “In what way does this have to do with love?”

  “Ah-hah! Don’t you know, mind-reader? Love is another name for charity! It’s the virtue that people abuse the most. Many people like to talk of loving, being in love, loving everything and loving nothing.”

  “Like yourself?”

  “Yes…once…” Keren mounted the horse again, and they set off north across the plain.

  After a while she said: “Malak taught me better than that. He said love isn’t really that ecstatic feeling lots of people think it is; the one that burns you up inside and drives you mad. Love is actually charity, that selfless giving of yourself to another person.

  “To really love someone means you would do anything for them – well, not just anything; that would be pretty silly. Love means you’d do anything for the good of the person you love. That’s, uh, kind of an important difference. Sometimes, it means that someone would sacrifice themselves for the good of their beloved…”

  The memory of Asher came unbidden to her mind. I loved Asher, and he loved me. He loved his village enough to give his life for it. Did the women and elders give him a proper burial, at least? How could I ever have repaid such loyalty?

  “That seems self-defeating,” Akar said. “And blindly optimistic.”

  “What do you know about it?! There’s more to life than coldly calculating your own self-interest!”

  “That is still preferable to wasting one’s life on fleeting emotions.”

  “The emotions are only an afterthought! Or maybe, they’re really a veil over nothing at all. Any child can be devoted to their favorite toy; that comes naturally. Some children who ‘love’ their toys end up breaking and abusing them in the end, only to move on to something that amuses them more. But a child who truly loves his toy will care for it, even when it doesn’t amuse him anymore.”

  “That seems foolish. A Sacred Beast, something which stands for one of man’s highest ideals, represents the affections a child feels for its toy?”

  “No! It’s not like that at all! Why are you even interested in this? You don’t give a damn about mankind!”

  Akar was silent for several moments. A tense air hung between them as they walked. Keren felt suddenly nervous. She should know by now that although the Necrow didn’t care about things like a man did, it still had strong reactions towards certain ideas.

  She’d been inconsiderate, again. There was no excuse for being ungracious and insulting, even if the Necrow was just a mannequin…

  “Human emotion is burdensome and pointless,” the Necrow said quietly. “That does not reduce the importance of the kami’s existence, or its abilities. The Sacred Beasts have real power over nature and the hearts of men. That is why it is important to understand their virtues.”

  Keren cringed. As muted as its words were, she sensed its mind boiling inches from hers. It felt like the build-up to the kind of power she had felt when it had last mind-crushed her. The Necrow did experience emotions of a sort, and right now it was deeply disturbed. It was fascinating…the poor thing really was apt to go mad –

  Her chest seized up again, and Keren bent over the saddle, gasping.

  The Necrow pulled the horse to a halt. Are you all right?

  This time Keren couldn’t stop the tears from coming. The kami’s curse throbbed in tune to her sorrow, and for the first time, she began to understand why it was so painful. Still, she did not know what to do. Compelled as she was to turn to the safety of indifference, there remained the haunting thought that she could choose to embrace it instead. But that would be hard; so hard…

  She felt the Necrow’s icy flesh grip her wrist. It reminded her of the time it had asked her to kill it. Why are you in pain? You are not injured, and have no cause to be afraid. Why do you weep?

  Keren could not find the strength to respond. It wouldn’t understand, anyway. Why did she have to be so weak?

  Eventually she felt Akar release her and lead the horse onward again. They walked for some time, Keren crying softly as they went. The bitter winds of autumn howled around them, numbing their flesh and bringing the smells of desolation and decay.

  CHAPTER 15

  PERNICIEM

  They reached the northern border in a week or so, and all of a sudden it was spring again. The rest of the world was moving on from its dark days, whereas Iru Mori had just begun its first winter.

  The country into which they passed was called Perniciem, a cultural relative of Pouthenos. The first city they came upon was similar, yet different. Like Xiramin there was a cityscape of tall buildings of glass and stone, impressive in their own right, dominating a landscape bereft of the trees which might compete with them.

  Unlike Xiramin, these buildings had not been tended to in many years. Their colorful paint was peeling, and in several places cracks marred the windows and stone faces. These were all buildings that had been erected a generation ago or more. That seemed bizarre, for to Keren’s eye the city seemed prosperous.

  Like the cacophony of birds that had filled the trees near the Lake of Izanami, here the people flitted to and fro in a frenzy of activity. Their skin and hair were dyed in a plethora of brilliant shades, their clothing scanty or voluminous in turns, jangling with outrageous ornaments and jewelry. Keren couldn’t even tell what the original style of dress was; everyone seemed to be competing with everyone else for the most outrageous outfit.

  No more short, stocky Morians here. These were tall, sprightly men and slender, fair-boned women. They would have been beautiful, had their fantastic body paint and outlandish fashions not completely distracted from their natural appearance.

  At least Keren didn’t have to worry about changing her clothes and trying to fit in. Then again, given how these people made themselves up, she probably looked naked to them. No – perhaps her wildly unkempt hair and dirty skin would represent its own ‘fashion’! The Necrow should be positively popular, given its bizarre appearance (Keren saw at least three different blue-skinned men in the first few minutes, but none of them had the deep, rich color of frostbite that Akar did).

  Plus, she and Akar had a horse. That had to count for something! Everyone here was either walking or riding some confoundedly complicated contraption. Keren had a sudden impulse to deck the horse out with tassels and gold glitter. Yes, it looked too much like a real horse; if she could make it look more like a gaudy walking statue, it would fit in better…

  Keren chided herself for her foolishness. These people did not spare them a second glance as they moved through the crowd. Indeed, no one on the busy street seemed to recognize the presence of anyone else around them. At least the citizens of Pouthenos had awar
eness enough to notice changes in their surroundings, even though they disguised it behind masks of politeness. These people hardly seemed to notice anything at all!

  They drifted through the city, idly examining the bizarre shops that lined the streets. There were shops for liquor, fortune-telling, gambling, and at least a dozen different kinds of hallucinogenic herbs. It made Keren feel dirty. What on earth was wrong with these people? Did they have too much time on their hands? Did they have oppressive families or tedious occupations? Who could possibly be in want of this many sordid distractions?

  Then she noticed another oddity: there were no children to be seen. No babes or youths accompanied their mothers; no urchins picked through the litter on the street. Everyone in sight looked to be at least twenty years of age. Perhaps they locked their offspring up in schools for the duration of their childhood? That might explain the reckless pastimes and extreme efforts at self-absorption…

  Something else caught her eye. On the far side of the street were enormous statues of two stallions rampant, marking the entrance to some grand square. Beyond them loomed ancient buildings that, for all their age, looked better than anything else in the city, for their exteriors were not made of paint and plaster but of brick. Handsome and proud they were, as if they were the seat of some grand court of law.

  Keren plucked at Akar’s cloak. “I’m going to look at those over there. Mind if we separate for a while?”

  The Necrow shrugged. “No matter. I will concern myself with replenishing our supplies.”

  “You mean, ah, you’re going to go steal stuff again?”

  “…Yes.”

  Keren looked at the wild mob around them, and could not find it in herself to care this time. The people of Xiramin had been hardworking and civilized. These people, on the other hand…“Fine. Do as you will. Just so long as nobody misses anything!”

  “You may contact me using our usual method, should you run into trouble.”

  Keren nodded, handed off the reigns and elbowed her way across the street.

  Words had been carved into plaques near the stallions’ hooves on either side of the archway. Someone had long since scratched deep gouges in the stone, blotting out the words. Whatever this place was, it was now nameless.

  Keren went through the archway and gazed up at the buildings in awe, at ancient bricks entwined with ivy, a testament to knowledge and study. She had heard merchant’s tales of places like this; places people went in order to master a certain branch of learning. To think she could steal into a hallowed place such as this…

  Inside was a scene nearly identical to the busy street. People of every shape and color bustled in every direction at once, singing, yelling, and telling lewd jokes. Everyone was either so intensely focused on the items they held in their hands or so busy yelling out random words, that they were completely oblivious to their neighbors and repeatedly stumbled into one-another, eliciting streams of curses or fervent apologies. The only evidence of their attendance at this prestigious institution were the identical book bags slung over their shoulders.

  Keren’s heart sank. There was not even a dress code for proper attire, not even a common standard of hygiene or composure! So much for sophistication and learning…

  She went to one of the unoccupied tables on the edge of the courtyard and sat, at a loss as to what was going on around her. She didn’t have time to ponder long, however, before a young man came over and seated himself across from her. “Hey, I’m Marcus!”

  “Um…I’m Keren.”

  “So, Keren – cute name, by the way – what brings you to our campus?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Aw, come on, humor me!”

  The young man was handsome and lean of limb, with tousled brown hair and perky glasses on his nose. His shirt, however, was wrinkled and ill-tucked, and lacked an overcoat. At least he looked somewhat normal. Keren was slightly taken aback by the eagerness with which he examined her. It felt like an eternity since the last time any man had looked at her like that.

  “I’ve recently come from a forest that’s existed since the beginning of the world,” Keren said casually. “An animal goddess was in charge there, but she was overthrown by some human rebels with the help of a sacred animal that no one liked. I got kicked out, along with my – companion – and we’ve been wandering aimlessly ever since.”

  The young man nodded slowly, carefully adjusting the spectacles on his nose. “That’s very interesting. A goddess you say? What –”

  A group of female students skipped up to the table, book bags slung over their shoulders. Keren tried not to stare at the obscene clothing they wore, or the gaudy paint which marred their faces. One girl wore an outfit that was little more than a tangle of black straps encasing her torso, with a spiked collar around her neck and a large silver ring hanging from her nose like a bull. A set of pointed pink ears poked out of her hair, and from her rear hung a fluffy pink tail.

  “Hey, Marcus! What’re you talking about? Who’s the new girl?” they chimed.

  “This is Keren. She’s been having a rough time, wanted to ask for some advice –”

  “Actually –” Keren started. I didn’t ask for any advice!!

  “Ooh!” the girls squealed, ogling her. “That’s easy! You just need to believe in yourself!”

  “What…what does that mean?”

  “Believe in yourself! Follow your heart, trust your instincts, don’t let anyone tell you what to do!”

  “Uh…what if my ‘self’ says two contradictory things?”

  “Then get away from everyone and think about it until you find out who you really are!” one of the girls said. She gestured to her friend with the pink ears and tail. “Take Silva here for instance – everyone assumed she was a human ever since she was little. But she was never happy with her life. Then she took the time to really search herself, and found out she was actually a fox! Now she’s proud to be who she is and doesn’t let anyone tell her differently!”

  Keren stared at them blankly. Was this a joke? Had she just happened to stumble into this city on the day of some mad festival? There was no way that people actually dressed and acted like this all the time.

  Keren chuckled and answered with what she hoped was a good-humored smile. “Ah-ha, that’s funny. A fox! She looks nothing like any of the foxes I’ve seen, but what can you do, I suppose, if you’re just pretending –” she trailed off, quailing before the sudden blaze of fury on the girls’ faces.

  “It’s not a joke!” they cried. “How dare you disrespect Silva for being what she is? She worked hard on her journey of self-discovery, and you have no right to mock her for it!”

  “Wait, what…? Did she work hard to put on that ridiculous getup? Why should I respect her for that?”

  “It’s not just her ‘getup’, you chauvinist, it’s her identity!” they squealed.

  Marcus chose to butt in at that point. “Hey, ladies!” he said, waving his hands in distraction. “Go easy on the new girl – she’s a foreign student!”

  All three of the girls’ expressions instantly reverted to passive politeness. “Oh, a foreign student! We’re so sorry, we were totally making assumptions about you! People are different where you come from, aren’t they? We know, we learned all about different cultures in Civics class…”

  Keren flinched, alarmed at their abrupt change of mood. She doubted these people knew the first thing about where she came from. At least the Xiraminians had been willing to admit that they neither knew of nor cared about foreigners. This was even worse!

  Then again, who was Keren to think she could stroll into a foreign country without knowing the first thing about its people? Serves you right, she muttered to herself. You should have learned by now to watch where you’re going. You only have yourself to blame now, after wandering into a den of idiots…

  “Anyways,” the girls continued, “We know different cultures have their own ways of doing things, and we respect th
at. But –”

  “Just because I’m from a different culture doesn’t mean it’s not stupid for a person to believe they’re a fox!” Keren blurted out. She didn’t care about making waves with these people. Smart-alecks were smart-alecks in any country, and in Malak’s book it wasn’t worth one’s time sucking up to them.

  “You mustn’t make others feel bad, Keren!” they cried. “Why don’t you be more considerate about what you say?”

  “What do they even teach you in that country you come from?” Fox-girl snapped. “Not that I’m discriminating against you; I’m just wondering why on earth anyone would subscribe to that kind of philosophy! Obviously it’s hurtful and exclusive to others. I would be ashamed to believe in something like that!”

  Keren glared at her. “No kidding, you self-righteous twit.”

  “Ooh, cat fight. My favorite.” Another young man sauntered up and threw himself across the table, his head propped on one hand, facing the crowd of girls. He was better dressed than all of them, with a black overcoat and silky black tie. His face was thin, almost gaunt; handsome and aloof.

  “Hi Raoul,” the girls remarked, and continued talking over him as if he weren’t there. “You see, Keren, the world would be a much better place if we just tried to understand one-another! The only reason people ever fight is because they don’t understand that others are different from them!”

  “Oh, they understand that, all right,” Keren muttered. “But understanding someone else doesn’t mean you give a damn about what they think or feel. They’ll just as easily manipulate you as cooperate with you.”

  “Oh no, they shouldn’t! Not if they’re taught to embrace everyone’s differences! Everyone has the right to live however they choose, after all. We shouldn’t be so inconsiderate as to interfere in what you’re thinking!”

  “Don’t be fooled,” Raoul muttered. “They may not say anything, but they’ll still hate you for it.”