Chapter One - Emergence
The vine shuddered.
Pod clusters clung in thick bunches, lining many branches, but all were green and still. A single cluster of giant pods could number as many as fifteen to a cluster, each pod growing to a meter’s width at full maturation. The branch which was causing the overall vine to shake got no suns at all and seemed indifferent about seeking any, meandering away from the vine trunk in playful curls. Only two clusters hung from this branch. It was a miracle it had any clusters at all, let alone that it bore a budding pod which was preparing to fruit.
The pod in question was wriggling. Gently at first, then wriggle became writhe, writhe became wrestle, and wrestle became wrath, as if a congregation of bowling balls were at war within.
A handful of birds, annoyed at the disruption, abandoned their nearby perches. Lizards skittered deeper into the trunk’s crevices, protecting them from flying predators or from being shaken loose.
Below, the earth rippled softly. Jafeesi broke the surface barely ahead of Hetlo, leaves and fresh dirt dripping from their hair onto the jungle-floor. All but their heads still underground, both spun in a circle, scanning the area, and only after confirming they were safe did they emerge above their chins and share a complicated smile.
It was a free smile, fresh and wild, because Jafeesi had won the race despite Hetlo usually being the stronger swimmer. Perhaps she had gained wings from her new love-sprout: the expecting parents were about to meet their newgrown.
It was an agonised smile, lips tight and quivering, because if they were caught – but no, it was best to not even think about getting caught. They had told only their closest friends. These friends had recklessly offered to come and bear witness but both Hetlo and Jafeesi set their jaws as stone and that was that.
Now that the couple had arrived, both secretly thought the presence of friends would have been quite reassuring.
The two drifted close and nuzzled as they treaded earth, beaming at the pod but darting nervous glances at the slightest hint of an undertow. Jafeesi shivered happily as Hetlo’s gentle arms encircled her. Smiling, she twisted in his arms and burrowed her spine into his chest.
“Kavahna if a girl,” he breathed into her ear.
Jafeesi grinned, lifting a hand to his face and pressing her cheek against his.
“Vausha,” she corrected. “Kezhelok if a boy.”
Hetlo huffed from the back of his throat in mock disgust and squeezed his love a little tighter.
“And what if none bear witness?” said a new voice.
Hetlo whirled around as Jafeesi spun out of his arms, both baring teeth and daggers they had pulled in a moth’s blink, placing themselves between the newcomer and the tribevine.
Seer Anoccia watched them steadily, raising an eyebrow at the drawn weapons.
Hetlo and Jafeesi went rigid, their blood running cold as moonlight. Daggers were tucked away almost before they had tasted fresh air. What they were doing was already forbidden. Bearing blade’s edge to a seer was heaping sacrilege on top of blasphemy.
Jafeesi licked her lips. Vulka’s Veins, her throat was dry! She clapped a faltering smile to her face.
“Ashme, Yama,” she began, gliding forward. Using the endearment was an obvious ploy, she knew, but just because it was obvious didn’t mean it couldn’t work.
“K’tsa!” the seer said, her voice sharp. “‘Yama?’ It has been many cycles since my tunnels glimpsed your shadow, girl. Do not seek my sympathy; it is stale.”
Jafeesi quailed, sinking until her lips were just above the ground. She looked down, unable to hold Anoccia’s hot gaze. Hetlo, however, had not so much as blinked. His blades were sheathed but his stance bore protective shadows.
Nonetheless, one did not dishonour a seer. Hetlo had not flowered in a wasteland, after all. He bowed his head and brought his fingers together at his forehead in the appropriate sign of respect to a clan mystic.
Anoccia did not soften, exactly, though her glare lost a degree of its imminent threat. Finally she snorted and gave him a curt nod.
“Seer,” said Hetlo, “how did you-?”
The earth rippled behind the seer and two more heads slowly broke the surface, furtive and blushing.
“Ashme, Hetlo,” said Twaren, the one on the left, his root-tangle braids drooping mournfully. On the right, Miza – best friend to Jafeesi – was all eyes and wilting features; she seemed torn between hiding her face and rushing to Jafeesi’s side.
“We didn’t –” she said. “I mean, she came to us. In our geodes.” She cast pleading eyes at Jafeesi, who was still studying the ground.
“You did right,” Hetlo soothed. “Honesty is no betrayal. I’m sorry for putting you both in that position.”
The tension bled from him, and he caught himself just as he started to sink. No, he thought and straightened his shoulders. He had known the risks he was taking, and he would accept the consequences without remorse.
“What will you do?” he asked. The words tipped lifelessly off of his tongue.
“I am doing it, child,” said the seer, fixing him with a baleful stare.
Hetlo nodded, his jaw tightening. A low whine crawled up Jafeesi’s throat.
Hetlo’s heart was like stone, partially from guilt. To surface without sanction of an elder risked alerting nearby enemies that the clan was nearby, thus bringing danger on them all. This infraction was therefore punishable by anything from temporary confinement to irrevocable exile. To surface out of season, before the suns could melt the ice and soften the upper crusts, was doubly risky because such was the time their enemies roamed more freely.
Worst of all was to surface as they had done: unsanctioned, out of season, and with intent to assist a newgrown. It was blasphemy of the highest order. The penalty would be death, for them and the babe.
But to leave their podling to itself essentially sentenced the newgrown to stillbirth. Its song would not be strong enough. The earth would not hear and recognise its own, would not embrace the child, and even if the child could somehow pierce crust then the earth would not speak to it. The podling would have to find its way home. Not impossible but extremely rare. Above or below, the child would most likely die alone.
Their first. Their beloved. Hetlo and Jafeesi could not find it in themselves to commit to the Darkwatch, waiting to see if their child would make the journey and prove its strength to the clan.
The vine vibrated with a strong wriggle from the pod. Hetlo glanced up.
“One thing before you do it, then. The season is so nearly upon us; spare the podling.”
The seer blinked. “The podling’s fate is not mine to pronounce.”
“Please, Yama!” cried Jafeesi. “If I ever meant anything to you! Do for our child what you have done for me!”
Miza and Twaren’s eyes grew round. It was known Jafeesi was an early harvest, albeit only by a day or two, and yet no two stories of her arrival were very much alike. The clan had already shifted closer to the surface, drawn by the sun’s warmth; the child had not had far to swim, they said. A sentry had felt it floundering within arms-reach. No, friends of the family had been out foraging. No, it circled the clan and popped right into its parent’s geode. An unspoken rumour soon sprouted, that her emergence had been assisted.
Anoccia’s shoulders stiffened, though her face slackened. “I will do as I have done for all our clan,” she said carefully. “Nurture the crop. Now quiet and watch, or you will miss the emergence of your own child.”
Silence thundered, and the other exchanged shocked looks.
“Yama?” Jafeesi began, gliding forward. “Are you saying – I mean, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not sure, you little fool!” Anoccia snarled. Jafeesi recoiled. “But what am I to do, kill you both? Having kept you both alive these long years, shall I now prune you?”
The seer had risen out of the ground to her hips and her fists could now be seen, quivering at her sides. The very air around her darkened so she appeared to be the epicenter of her own tempest. Eyes wide, braids floating without wind and her voice all echoing gravel. Twaren and Miza sank to their eyes while Hetlo and Jafeesi cowered, gaping.
Anoccia released a pent-up breath and deflated, sinking to her neck as the air cleared, becoming light again.
“Fool I call you, yet more fool me; I cannot do my duty. Instead, I sanction this emergence by my very presence. And thus I spare your lives,” she said, shaking her head. “Vulka help us all.”
Jafeesi swept forward then, burying her head in the seer’s chest and wrapping her arms tightly around the elder.
“Thank you,” Jafeesi whispered. The seer’s arms rose, weakly, and settled around Jafeesi.
Hetlo stared, mouth still open. To attend an emergence was indeed the seer’s right, but no one could remember a time when she had exercised it. It should not raise too many eye ridges, though. Of course not. After all, an emergence was quite the special occasion.
The vine creaked, and all attention shifted skyward.
The pod’s exterior darkened swiftly, at which Twaren and Miza began chirping their encouragement. Hetlo and Jafeesi followed suit, arms tangled round one another; neither would ever be certain about exactly when they had embraced.
The outer petals of the pod split open at the top with a wet crack, then exploded into dazzling full bloom. The newgrown shot upwards, arcing and spinning high through the air.
Darkly glowing pollen sprayed out of the pod in a shower of midnight. This went somewhat unnoticed due to the newborn disappearing upward amid the bright inner petals shed from the podburst. The parents noticed. They also noticed how every other pod in the bunch suddenly blackened and shrivelled at the touch of the black pollen.
The parents stiffened, catching each other’s gaze and then looking sharply at Anoccia.
She had noticed, too. Of course she had. Twaren and Miza searched the air above with rapt expressions, but she had noticed. Their faces shone but hers was flat, neutral as a stone. Were her nostrils a fraction wider?
“There!” Miza cried, pointing.
Jafeesi and Hetlo spun, following her finger and lifting higher out of the earth, all thoughts about the seer forgotten in their excitement. The pod’s outer petals were already shrivelling, having expelled its previous contents.
Far above, newborn eyes drank their first draught of fresh light while his ears tickled with the delighted hoots from below.
He blinked curiously at those he passed; equally curious jungle birds, lizards and wobberii. Outworlders should envision a flattish furry mammal, much resembling a koala which has gone out of its way to upset a family of stampeding hippos. The birds were only flitlings, as the more dangerous terrors did not generally deign to hunt the dregs of the underleaf. Still, the flitlings eyed the newborn with great suspicion, admittedly a bit huffy at his incursion into territory that an earthswimmer had no traditional right to occupy.
Below, those of the clan also began squirming in alarm. Every pod exploded, true, but history suggested that all podlings eventually reversed direction. Not this one. This one soared, flipped and spun so high that Jafeesi half-feared he would pierce the underleaf and go on to the closest sun.
All parties were therefore quite relieved when gravity took control of the situation and pulled the newborn decidedly downwards, where it was mutually agreed he belonged.
A great voice booms.
“A fork in the path of destiny appears, and only you can see it.”
Use the form below to vote on what should happen in the following chapter.
Votes are tallied weekly, but if this story isn’t progressed in the new week then you can vote again!
