Short Story: Gaya

Gaya

His foot ground down another piece of hardened mud as he moved forward, ever forward, for the great cause of the Reconstruction. He had been walking for a long time and his rations had begun to run alarmingly low. Raising his head he saw a fresh mound of earth looming up ahead of him, obscuring the path that led to his target. He vainly tried to scout out a way around the immovable rubble, but resigned himself to the fact that now, he had to climb. He had had to do much on this journey, to get to the Wastelands. The last few days were the most important in his career, but he did not know why such a scouting mission was needed at all. It was all dead here anyway, not even a pestilent weed had sprouted in these parts. How strong could they be? He grabbed onto chunks of mud with his calloused hands and hauled himself up so that he may gain some ground. It seemed as if the mound had grown taller, more obscuring, but he pushed forward, ever forward, for the great cause of the Reconstruction.

When I was younger I put my head to the ground and listened. I heard the rushing of the Earth’s blood. It was golden, molten; it filled my mind with a thick satisfying substance that morphed into a feeling of euphoria. It had opened my eyes. As I slipped off the tight leather glove and dug my slim fingers into the dirt I recalled how happy she had been, once. The now familiar chill spread through my core, reflecting her liquid life in mine. My perceptions dove deep, searching, because there was nothing she could not share with me. Standing up, I glanced behind me at the setting globe of molten mass, taking in the scent of yet another shifting season. It was the eighth block of summer within 6 moons, and it was getting more frequent. Soon she would stop spinning, like a coin which had been flung into motion, creating steady spheres until it lost momentum, flopping onto its back and bouncing side to side, only to lay still. Who was I to mind? She was tired. Let her rest.

The light had begun to dim by the time he reached his destination. He crouched behind a fallen cliff rock and rummaged through his coarse leather satchel for the bandanas and the wrist ornaments his General had given him. Placing them correctly about himself he felt as if he were ready to emerge from his hiding place and blend in with the Waste-dwellers. Standing up though he had miscalculated the length of the protruding rock above his head and collided with it quite severally. Dropping back down to his crouching position he grabbed hold of his head. Squinting through droplets of crimson he swore at himself for being so clumsy. It seemed to him like this whole trip had been plagued with unnatural accidents. After cleaning himself up he walked out cautiously amongst the crowd that had begun to gather outside the cave mouth.

Standing before the ornate mirror I adjusted my ebony gown and pondered at how stupid some people could allow themselves to get. Some say the Earth died and she did in a way, but what they didn’t know is what rose up out of her ashes. The thing was terrible, so terrible! Yet almost everyone was oblivious. They saw the same as I did; the trees begin to wither, the animals starve and they still believed she was incapable of action; the benign rock beneath their feet.

As he entered it swallowed him whole, taking the remaining dusk with him. The noise of harsh voices and fast paced counting filled the void. His head felt considerably worse, making him doubt his ability to undergo the task ahead. He paused within the cool space of the tunnel as his determination wavered, until a man pushed past him and his fighting instincts returned. This was no place to be hesitant. Striding forward he could feel the welcome adrenalin permeate his body. In the distance he could make out the distinct lick of flames. Jostling past clusters of men he made his way to what seemed to be the densest part of the crowd. It would be here that he would do it. Breathing out slowly he extended his hand to take hold of the man in front of him, but before his fingers could close over the fabric of his tunic a woman’s voice pierced the air. The Waste-dwellers grew quiet and he noticed that many had taken off their bandanas as they turned and craned their necks towards the raised platform on the left. Straining to see the face attached to the voice he scanned the crowd ahead of him. “Tonight” the woman boomed, “we will put on a show unlike any other! Our most skilled fighters will present to us their might and GLORY!” The crowd erupted in laughter and cheering, the woman herself stepped down from the platform clapping, one leather clad hand against a bare one. His sun drenched face mimicked her grin, for there was to be a fight, and gladly he stood back to watch, for this time it was not for him to instigate, but just to observe.

I marvelled at his enthusiasm, his eyes darted from one sweat dewed man to another. It was as if I could see his mind noting down all their movements. I looked down into the ring and a laugh escaped my lips. My second in command touched my shoulder and I composed myself, it was meant to be a serious event, but when was mockery ever serious?

He left in the darkest hour after the winners had been crowned and the losers carried away unconscious, or worse. His mind was abuzz with information to relay and of the praise that would come his way. He could hardly contain his happiness at the stroke of fate that had led him here at such a fortuitous time. His ecstasy was short lived though as he embarked on the return journey. He stumbled many times and at one point even collided with yet another sharp protruding rock that left a deep gash in his upper left arm. He had spent many harrowing nights in the Wastelands and was almost at the end of his strength, but he knew as soon as he cleared the perimeter of the Reconstructive Army camp all would be well. He was not wrong; as soon as he arrived the grip of pain ebbed away with the aid of the medical staff that rushed from their doorways to assist him. He lapsed into a blissful state of unconsciousness, images of bare fists colliding with bleeding flesh flashing before his eyes.

Listening, I counted the days. She showed me the parts that were heavy with footfall and I knew how much time we had before they arrived. It was only a matter of waiting now. All the preparations had long been made. It was time.

Waking up in his cot was the epitome of luxury for him. Waking up at such an early hour was customary. He slipped back into the role of the obedient foot soldier as he strapped on his boots and fixed his bow to his back. He felt much more comfortable being one amongst many men moving in the great cogs of the Reconstructive machine. His lone missions as a combat scout, although mightily successful had left him with many irritating injuries and an uneasy countenance, which was not something he looked forward to re-living. Opening the flap of his tent he emerged into the scorching sun. Another day’s march was ahead and only he knew the way. With a puffed out chest and exaggerated swings of the arms he made his way to the head of the army, leaving his belongings to be packed up by the slaves. His General and Leading Commander were still stationed in front of him, but even that slight formality didn’t stop him from imagining himself the equivalent of the Emperor. After a few hours march he came across the very same place that had tried to thwart him on his first passage through these parts; the place of the mound. It was marked by sharp cliff faces on either side that funnelled the path to a narrow point.  Stopping the army with a raised hand and clenched fist he took a long look around. Something was wrong, or at most advantageously different. The mound was no longer there. He felt pleased that he could lead the army on in a straight march, but a nagging sensation itched at the back of his throat. Should he mention this irregularity to his General? No, he didn’t want to look incompetent, instead he signalled for the army to resume it’s previous pace, a sign that the way ahead was clear and everything was as it should be.

I stood at the highest peak of this region, letting the wind buffet my hair back and forth. Strands of black flickered in and out of my vision as I took in the empty land before me. Soon it would all be different, and soon I would move on from here. Looking over my shoulder I saw the sun’s rays flow over the horizon.  As they hit my bare feet I felt her warm underneath me. Squatting down I dug my fingers into the ground and closed my eyes. I made a ripple that I sent out to the East. As I stood up I watched the ground quake as if it were carrying a dirt wave; a salute to the sun.

The whole brigade was on edge. The Commander had signalled a change in formation and every soldier, obedient until the end, moved to their set combatant positions. The Reconstructive Army was about to live up to its name and re-order the lives of the disobedient Waste-dwellers. They thought that they were above the martial laws of this world just because they set up their dingy homes in remote areas, barren of all life. He was about to see for the first time a successful attack on a base camp, a successful elimination of a wrench blocking the mechanisms of the great cause.  Up until now he had only been part of small skirmishes, hit and run attacks by rebels and deserters, only hearing about the great battles. The General barked out the order to advance and his feet automatically propelled him forward towards the fight, his whole body pulsating with the expectation of the kill. Something to the left caught his eye. Fallen stones lay alongside the path. They seemed oddly out of place and his marching gait faltered. Where was the overhanging cliff rock that had almost split his skull open? Looking towards his General he knew that it was too late to say anything now as his bow was already drawn, an arrow ready to be loosed.

The sharp smack of the first arrow colliding with the granite walls of the caves signalled their arrival. They were utterly predictable, signalling their intentions, as if I didn’t already know. Moving up through the tunnel I emerged through the cave mouth. I didn’t need higher ground to see what I could already feel. There were ten thousand feet treading the ground. Mine stood firmly planted within her flesh, bare and pulsing.

They waited. No rebels came out to greet them, fists raised and mouths screaming. None of the familiar clusters of men emerged from concealed positions. They stood uneasy in the open ground, all archers tensed and ready to shoot. He squinted in the direction of the cave mouth and held his breath as a woman appeared. He began to shiver as she walked forward and came into focus. It seemed as if his eyes were her target and her voice the blade. With mirth she boomed; “Welcome back soldier! I am so glad that you have come, and brought so many of you’re friends!” He could feel the eyes of the brigade shift to him and he was well aware of the situation. The fact that now he looked like he was in league with the enemy, leading his people into a trap. He took a step forward ready to counter her statement, but his Commander interceded; “Who are you woman, to be addressing one of my men so informally!” She didn’t reply, only her laughter reverberated throughout the clearing and he could see that this woman who had only a few days ago looked dainty and fragile upon a podium now stood before him; fearless. His Commander turned and walked towards him. Placing a hand on his shoulder he lent down and whispered in his ear; a threat of certain death if he himself did not deliver the same fate to the disobedient woman. Gulping down rising bile and wiping away the perspiration that had formed on his forehead he raised his bow and knocked an arrow. Through his narrowed sight he saw her beaming face and had a split second to register that it had begun to be encroached upon by spidery black lines as he released the shaft.

I had begun my complete immersion within her liquid darkness a few hours ago. It had bubbled up inside me through my soles to my calves, up my thighs and through my waist. As I stood before these ignorant vessels I felt her power reach my breasts and move past my collarbone staining my cheeks with the purest onyx. Her usually slow and stewing hatred had fused with the hot and fast movements of my blood and turned into something unstoppable, all it needed was direction. As the arrow sped towards my heart I let it out.

The sensation was indescribable, it were as if an explosion of time had rendered all things useless. With great effort he directed his sight towards his General whose face had paled. Neither he nor the Commander were prepared to deal with this situation, in fact if they had been relayed this detail by their scout they would have packed up and turned around. He shrank in on himself, all pride gone; knowing that what was to come was entirely his fault simply because he had not seen it. He had not seen the deception, the act played out in front of him as if he were a child so easily manipulated. The ground beneath his feet had begun to shift and as he focussed his attention back on the woman he saw that she was no longer standing on even ground. A pillar of Earth had elevated her above all their heads. His arrow dangled from the column, useless and puny. As she spread her arms the air around him seemed to solidify and he gasped for oxygen. Stumbling backwards he turned and fled the coming horror. He was no soldier, not even a man in that moment, but he knew that whatever this woman was about to do to them would not be an honourable death in any sense. He didn’t get far though, as a small stone appeared in his path and sent him keeling forward. Skidding along the jagged ground, leaving pieces of skin in his wake he cursed himself, not for being clumsy, because he never was, but for being blind.

I watched as their knees buckled and their courage escaped them. I raised myself up, crowned in her glory, and sent out waves of thick hot air to stifle their senses. With arms out stretched I pushed pulse after pulse of her hatred and anger into their bodies until they lay prostate and bursting with fear.

He closed his eyes so tightly that not even a ray of light filtered through his eyelids. Shrieks resonated from some of his peers, as they all lay upon the dirt. He turned his head slightly and opened one eye to see what gruesome fate awaited him. Men upon men were being strung up in the air; some by their feet, others their hands, but all dangling from invisible threads. The Earth was yanked out from under him as he was swung upwards by a tremendous force. All the blood rushed to his head as he swayed, trapped by his ankle that seemed to be gripped by barbed wire. Tears travelled up his face, not able to resist the gravitational pull of the land and dripped onto its parched surface. He watched with a morbid fascination as they were swallowed up by the ground, as if it were drinking his despair.

I laughed and rejoiced as one by one all the little soldiers became the leaves of my imaginary tree. I let them sway in the breeze for a while, their cries and moans like the rustle of crisp paper. I walked underneath them, and sat for a while. The same way I used to in the past, under elms and poplars. After I had had my fill I decided it was time. Turning towards the cave mouth I saw that my people had emerged, right on schedule. They stood all around, watching and waiting for the ritual to begin. This was the moment we all worked so hard for, the moment we all risked our existences for.

  

He craned his neck to see what they were doing. So many of them, he thought. So many men women and children, all about to watch him and his men die. How could they bear it? Why would no one stand up for them? Then he remembered that even the smallest rebel child was the enemy and he understood how they showed no pity towards him. If this had not occurred he would have probably been standing over the bodies of all these people, quiver empty, arm sore.  He continued to watch with a resigned state of mind. He slipped into the role of the observer and let the events wash over him. All the people had gathered in front of his army and taken off their shoes. They knelt down, submerged their hands into the dirt and began to chant. The woman stood in front of them, leading the rising and falling voices in an eerie melody. He had no chance to discern the words as he felt a great piercing pain in his whole body. He convulsed and bellowed in pain as rivets of blood escaped his very pores.

Completely engulfed by her malice and the words of the ritual I turned my eyes to the sky. I saw nothing in those final moments, just darkness. I felt everything, I was as she was, blind, but all encompassing. Ecstasy coursed through my veins as I felt all the men before me empty theirs. Every drop of life was given back to her. As her hatred subsided, my vision cleared. I felt that molten gold re-appear and I had never felt more at peace.  I let all the bodies drop and signalled to my people that it was done and time to move on. I would check on this place soon, to see how much she’d grown and how much new life had emerged from her renewed soil. I would look forward to sitting under a newborn elm, watered with the lifeblood of her enemies.