Every problem has a solution which is trailed behind it. We just find it distasteful to grab it. We are afraid of dirtying our hands.
LoG, 129
Nalina's lips were as dry as dust as she reached through the bars and greedily welcomed her daily water ration. She grabbed a minuscule wooden cup, eyed it for the moment and then made a face.
Instead of crystalline transparency, what awaited her was muck. In all honesty, it looked more like a muddy porridge than like water to her. Disgusting though it was, Nalina knew it was all she would get until the following Light. She began to sip her share, her unshaven legs hanging out between the bars as she stared at the dust beneath her feet.
The caravan was moving along a winding road at a tortoise-like pace. It had been like that for seven Lights now.
Or, at least I think it was seven. I don't know if I engraved the number of the Lights properly with this old pencil. Also, my cagemates ... Hey, hold on a second. Cagemate? Is that even a word? Well ... Whatever they might be called, they are not very nice. They might have added or removed some days from my calculation, just out of spite.
She sighed, reconciling with her destiny. Her longing almond eyes were transfixed in a stare. The forest of Lug was just there, next to the path the old rickety wagon was following. Yet she couldn't leave. She was a prisoner.
What does it look like? Nalina wondered.
Pansies, violas, nemesias waved her from the forest floor. She yearned for being able to walk freely among those tall yellow-leaved trees. Their trunks and branches kept stretching out in a silent prayer, several dozen metres upwards, as far as the human eye could see.
Are they looking for more light? Nalina pondered. Her whole life, she had been collecting, drawing and studying plants. Nature amazed her to no end. Now, she could only catch sight of it from afar.
The present was not the only thing that kept her mind busy those days.
There was the past as well, nagging at her like a curmudgeonly old grandmother. Nalina thought about The Mushroom and how homey it seemed in comparison to the cage where she lived now. She thought about her dead father, the remnants of her family and all the deaths that surrounded her overall.
Oh, how I wish I had a Viewstone! I just want to be able to use it, just to see mother, sister and Sobik once. Simply ... to make sure that they are all right.
She thought about The Second Water War and The Geyser that caused it. She would think about her brother, Borna and she would grit her teeth in fury. She thought about The Prince and the kindness with which he had treated her. She mused about where he could be at that moment.
Wondered whether their paths would ever cross again.
If they do, that will be great!
Nalina reprimanded herself for such enthusiasm.
If not ... That is okay as well.
Now that I think of it, then I would get to keep this fantastic knee-length dark grey trench coat! She hugged the garment tighter with a smile but then her nose wrinkled in disapprobation. "Ewww. It definitely smells no longer of pine trees. No wonder, I haven't had a decent bath in seven Lights and seven Darks. My legs are all hairy!"
"Crazy Nia is talking to herself again," the three of her cagemates snickered in hushed voices.
The youngest one of them, a ten-year-old boy, spat in her direction. "Hey, Nia! What are you up to now?" he sniggered.
It took five or six calls for Nalina to realise that he was indeed addressing her. She still hadn't gotten used to her new false name even though several days had passed since the tribe of Mind worshippers, The Monoliths, captured her unawares as she was roaming the forest, trying to read the map.
She almost hooted with laughter recalling the moment when she met these people, and they asked her for her name. It was a simple enough question, yet Nalina almost gave an erroneous answer.
She remembered responding "My ... Name? Umm ..."
"Is that a hard one, She-Mountaineer?" One of her incarcerators was getting keyed up.
"No, of course." Nalina cleared her throat. "My name is Nal ... Nai ... Hrrrmpf! Nia."
"Just Nia?" The guard looked suspicious of her statement.
"Yep. Definitely. Just Nia. You know. Good old Mountaineer name. Nice and short. Like Fox, for example." She coughed yet again. "Sorry, I got something stuck in my throat."
The Prince warned me not to tell my real name to anyone. I guess he is taking his own advice.
Nalina was still a bit peeved for not knowing what he was really called. But, I mean, he IS The Prince of the Mountain. I could ask anyone, anyone at all and his ... um ... liegemen? Vassals? Would have told me his real name, I am sure of it.
As for her capture, Nalina could only ascribe her newfound misfortune to the fact that she was wearing the clothes from The Kingdom of The Mountain. She knew The Mountaineers pretty much didn't care for the religion of The Mind.
They must have thought I belong to the sect of Sceptagogs, Nalina concluded morosely.
Things didn't bode well for her. Judging by what she knew about how Mind worshippers treated Sceptagogs, she was in for a Desiccation Ceremony.
Yikes. I have to think of a plan and get out of here as fast as I can.
"She is probably thinking about yet another crazy getaway plan." The boy's mother smirked at her.
Nalina raised her weary head at those words. Her hair was now matted and greasy, tied up in a tight bun, and, if she had to guess, probably infested with lice. "Hey! Actually, I was! How did you guess?"
"Maybe because you wouldn't shut your mouth about it ever since they put you in this damn cage with us." It was father's turn to speak, and he wasn't in exactly the best of moods.
"I am sorry," Nalina said, resigned. "It's just that... I don't know how you can just sit here so calmly, accepting your own death. Aren't you going to anything about this situation? At least attempt to run away? It's not fair. You don't deserve to die because you believe or not believe in something or someone. It's a choice you made. People shouldn't kill people based on their choice. That's just wrong."
"Apart from being crazy, she seems to be a philosophic preacher, too," the mother mocked her. "That's how the world works. We knew it was wrong to be a Sceptagog. We knew it was against the law. We did it anyway because people should stop being delusional and worship the farce of The Mind. And now we are paying the price. That's how it goes."
Nalina rolled her eyes. She was pretty much sick and tired of this obnoxious woman and her miscreant son. The only one who treated her relatively nicely, albeit with a touch of grumpiness, was the father, but even he was losing patience for her machinations.
"To escape this feckin imprisonment and certain death, we need tools. Or weapons. We don't have any, do we now?" He pronounced every syllable with an extra accent, just so that he would make sure he was using a tone parents only use with their children.
The images of the two dead men sprawled in the alley of Lagad and the Vigils' bodies lying motionless in the field rushed past her eyes.
Nalina bit her lip.
I have no tools. Nor weapons. But I hardly need any, huh, Anilan?
Remembering being a killer felt awful. It just ... It just didn't go with her. Miglena would probably describe it as wearing a blue dress and orange slippers. She wanted to be the healer. She couldn't even kill forest animals when she was hungry.
Nalina didn't want to turn on purpose, to risk harming those people who were put under lock and key like she was. She sighed and pushed her fingers down her bosom, checking on the Grogmog flask and the map she had hidden there.
The paper whispered satisfactorily, and the stiff husk of the flask was now rough against her skin. Those were the two most precious items she had.
Then her eyes fell on the cup filled with muddy slush. Revolting though it was, that was all she would get, as far as bodily hydration was concerned, and Nalina knew it. She obediently began to swallow the dark liquid, grimacing, forcing it down her dry throat.
The other slaves in her cage did the same, hanging on to their wooden recipients as if they were clinging for their dear life.
Nalina fought down the despair. She inwardly swore she wouldn't become like the three of them. She didn't understand them.
They were a family, the three captives. They had something to fight for, to live for. Yet they were giving in to the inevitable notion of their deaths and even getting used to the idea of it.
That was something Nalina couldn't comprehend. Even if she had given up everything else–she didn't want to give up her quest for freedom.
The muddy water was soon gone. Next to Nalina, that rude boy began to cough weakly.
There were only four of them in that wagon, skinny, smelly and dirty, yet that was just one out of twelve wagons that now slowly advanced through The Forest of Lug. Nalina felt pity for them all. They were slowly becoming feeble, sickly, underfed. And the wagons were taking them back to Lagad, to the belly of the beast. Further and further away from her original destination.
Taken for slaughter.
Paranoid thoughts were now racing through her brain. It was nothing like Nalina, who was always in exuberant high spirits. She knew it, but she simply couldn't stop them from coming and overflowing her conscious psyche.
Coming this way was dangerous. The borders were no longer clearly established, now that it seemed that everyone had gone to war. They were also bound to bump into disorganised groups of skirmishers and deserters. Men without honour, who would kill without a hesitation for a bite of food or something to drink.
I have to focus on my goal. I have to. My brother ... Sobik indirectly told me to go to that cave. I have to ... I need to escape. I somehow have to get there. She was now downright anxious, not seeing the solution.
A huge brown rat appeared behind bars. The father of the family of three placed his forefinger on his lips, shushing the others around them.
He probably hopes to capture the animal, with some luck. Nalina concluded. Well if he does, all I can wish them is a pleasant meal. I am not eating that. Not. A. Chance.
The flask she owned suddenly started shaking in her bosom.
This attracted the attention of both the man and his son and earned Nalina a scornful gaze from the woman. Nalina thought she had heard her whisper: "shaking her teats in honest men's faces ... what's next? Wiggling her scrawny ass, that whore!"
Her décolletage didn't stop at that. Mere seconds later, it expelled the flask straight onto the cage floor, and all the water the receptacle held spilt out on the wooden surface.
Her cagemates were appalled.
"Crazy Nia had water all along! Pure ... water!" The woman exclaimed, craving look forming in her pupils.
"Oh, that? No, you see ... It's not ... It's not what you think. That is not ... water," Nalina tried to defend herself lamely as she backed up against the cage wall.
She was now genuinely afraid of them. Lack of food and drink could do strange things to people's minds and nudge them over the edges they had thought they would never cross.
Lucky for her, Grogmog chose to emerge in his full shape now.
"Mom!" the boy's voice was urgent with fear. "The ... water ... is moving!"
And he was right. Not only was the stream of water moving, but it was also darting towards the rat with a miraculous speed.
"What in the name of The Mind is ... going on?" The father muttered, standing up and coming closer.
Nalina almost pointed out how it was funny for a Sceptagog to invoke the name of The Mind but she refrained herself from commenting.
In the beginning, it looked like the water was bathing the rat. The tiny furry critter was fully immersed in the makeshift wave. Moments after, water started entering all its orifices, penetrating its minuscule body through its nostrils, ears, mouth, and eyes. Its torso twitched violently for several seconds. Then the parts of it started disappearing one after another.
At first, it was all an indiscernible whirlwind of skin, fur and meat. Eventually, all that remained of the little creature was a stiff carcass composed of cleanly peeled off bones.
The mother covered her son's eyes as she looked away from the sight as well.
"Is that a ... Reka?" The child inquired with a mixture of amazement and reverence.
"He ... Yes, he is one of the creatures from The River Tebesum." Nalina remembered Reka was their official name.
"I've never seen one before!" the boy exclaimed. "Mommy, can I come closer and have a look at him? What is his name?"
His mother nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Be careful," was all she said.
"His name is Grogmog," Nalina smiled. "You can pet him," she added, seeing the boy's intention.
"He won't bite?" The child seemed a bit anxious.
"Who, Grogmog? Bite? Noooo. He is very gentle and kind," Nalina answered.
No need for them to know how his kill count has escalated in the past seven Lights, ever since we became best buddies.
"So he eats rats?" the boy caressed the lithe reptile body, admiring its transparency.
"He, um ... " Nalina stopped mid-sentence. "Yes, stuff like bugs, insects, little furry animals ... Anything he can find, really. He's not picky, that's for sure."
"Could he kill the guard who has the key?" was a sudden father's idea.
"Oh." Nalina pondered on that question for the moment. "Yes, I suppose he could but ... "
A part of her felt really bad. She didn't like the fact that yet someone else might die because of her. But if we don't get the key somehow, all these fifty people will die within two Lights time. She sighed, eventually opting for the lesser of the two evils.
"There is a piss break coming on now. You could see what you could do." The man insisted onhis ploy.
"Sure. Ok. Yeah. Maybe ... just disorient and distract the jailor while I get the key," Nalina sighed. She wasn't sure whether she could explain to Grogmog that he shouldn't kill the jailor, merely incapacitate him.
"Pissing time! Pissing time! Come on, you miserable wastrels and whoresons! Pissing and shitting time!" The guard's voice reverberated throughout the provisional camp as the twelve wagons came to a halt.
Nalina came out of the wagon just as the jailor approached. She groaned, knowing full well he wasn't going to back off. He was intent on watching her relieve herself.
No matter how peculiar that seemed to Nalina, she would force herself to recall her childhood days when all of her siblings used to have a wee-wee in front of each other. Besides, if she was going to pull off her little trick with Grogmog, Nalina knew she would do well not to antagonise him.
She then turned on her most charming smile and started a conversation. "This was nice," she said awkwardly. "I was longing for that break."
"Yeah, I bet ya were." The jailor, a rounded, sandy-haired young man with a sleazy look in his eyes snickered. Nalina always found him a bit dull-witted.
"So how is your day treating you so far?" Nalina continued swimming up the conversation current.
The man sneezed and then spat into the dust. "Can't complain. It was a good Light's march, and we ate a mighty fine meal, yeah we did."
"Soooo you just had lunch?"
"That's right. Me and the boys, right there by the fire."
"What did you have?"
"If ye must know, we made a nice rabbit stew with taters, from supplies, yes siree. And alls of us gots two rations."
"What about fruit?"
"Oh yeah. And two pears each. Yeah. Tastiest damn pears you're ever likely to find. Better than stuff what they eats in Lagad and Begi. Soaking in melted brie cheese." He licked his lips as if trying to recall the taste of his dessert.
"And you had this when?"
"Oh, about an hour ago."
"There's nothing you'd need? Nothing at all?"
"Well, now that you're mentionin' it, we still haven't been given our daily water rations. And my throat feels a wee bit parched, I have to admit it." The guard sighed. "Wait a second. What am I telling you all this for? Get into the cage here, right this minute, or else."
"Of course, of course," Nalina complied, coming closer to the cage. "I was just trying to be ... You know, friendly."
Her mind was whirring as she approached the cage door. "Would you care for some water?" She inquired sweetly.
"Fer some ... " He looked at her in confusion. "Hang on? You have water?"
"Just a bit in this here flask. I am not thirsty anymore so if you want it, you can have it." She didn't even finish her sentence properly and he was already taking a greedy swig from it.
Nalina closed her eyes, thinking how the essence of Grogmog was now travelling all over that man's innards.
Sure enough, the same thing that occurred with the rat sometime before now repeated with the man. A heap of clothes and his partially eaten cadaver remained to lie in the grass before he could even utter the sign of protest.
What caught Nalina unawares was Grogmog himself. Instead of looking like a fifteen centimetres long snake, she witnessed him turning into a cat-sized one.
He ... Grows as he absorbs water from the bodies he feeds on, she realised.
"The key! Quickly!" her cagemate hissed towards Nalina. "The four of us can leave before any other jailor notices anything!"
A low "crack" and "thud" sounds filled the air. Nalina snapped her head up with disbelief.
She could see the bone cudgel being raised one more time. Then it bore down, making a cracking sound as it landed on the enslaved man's skull.
His lifeless body slumped over on the wooden board floor. A piercing scream came out of his wife's throat as she threw herself over her husband's body, covering her son's face.
"No!" Nalina bellowed, now practically leaping across the tiny space, slamming her palms against the man's chest.
The second jailor, the executor of her cagemate, slowly turned his head, granting her a cold stare, almost daring her to do something.
He saw the body. He was there the whole time. Nalina gasped. He must have assumed the father killed him.
"Why did you ... It wasn't ... He didn't do anything! You didn't have to kill him!" Tears were now streaming down Nalina's face.
The man shrugged. "No one raises a hand at a Mind Worshipper, kills him and lives to tell the tale. His punishment will be an example for the others. Anyway. He wouldn't have lived for long. The Desiccation Ceremony was supposed to be two Lights from now. For all the good that does him, living two more Lights, he may as well die now. It's even faster and less painful. Look at it like this: I did him a favour, that's what I did. And after all, we can't have a camp rebellion on our hands, can we now?"
"It wasn't him! Do you hear me? It wasn't him." She reiterated now, anger boiling in her.
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "I just supposed it was. Who else could have done it? Which of the three of you, then? A frail lass such as yourself? That feeble woman, or her scrawny brat, perhaps?"
"It was me. It was my fault. You didn't even let me ... "
"You. How could it have been you? Just look at you, I mean ... "
He drew breath, staring as her body transformed in front of his very eyes.
An enormous, two-and-a-half-metre-tall man with a dishevelled hair stood before him where the girl used to be.
The jailor grunted in alarm, trying to alert the others and run away, but Anilan stopped him by grabbing his throat.
He lifted the jailor from the ground as if he were light as a feather. He choked him mercilessly until the man lost consciousness.
Then Anilan shook him like a limp, ragged doll and tossed him aside. He grabbed the key and unlocked the door of the cage.
"You ... What are you? You ... Beast!" The woman gasped, clasping her son's hand.
"I ..." Anilan shook his head, saddened at the mixture of horror and disgust he saw in the woman's eyes. "Go. Just go."
He considered freeing all of the captives, but that fell under the category of drawing attention to himself. It was just a matter of time before someone would find out that two jailors were gone missing.
Anilan had to act fast. Taking the last glance towards the wagons that used to imprison him, he knelt on all fours, hid in the grass, and crawled away toward the tall yellow-leaved trees.
A now ramshackle and dingy grey coat was placed carefully over his shoulders. The transparent mini snake nested on the top of his head.
"I haven't even asked them for their names. That's the second time I forget my manners after I meet someone." Nalina said sometime later, sitting in the flaxen grass, fisting out the remnants of the tears from her dirty cheeks.
She was absently petting Grogmog. The snake was making a soft murmuring sound as if trying to calm her down.
"Oh, what's the use anyway? People either die or leave me soon after I meet them." Nalina bit into her lower lip, crestfallen.
"Awww, let us hope that isn't always the case," she heard a choir of dulcet low voices right behind her.
Nalina turned around, startled.
She found herself face to face with the kind of creatures she'd never seen before.