189) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 24 -- The Seeds of Hate

They crouched in a copse of trees on the edge of a little clearing. Peering through criss-crossed branches, they could see the land sloping uphill. Squatting, Dominic drew a diagram in the dirt. “Here,” he whispered, pointing at a specific part of his drawing, “is the cave. And here, above the cave, is the cat. The slope is pretty bare below it, just scrub brush and small boulders. There’s only one place to get close. Here.” He pointed to the right part of his diagram, where the forest curved upward, toward the cave. “Kohra, Reilly, you go here. Gorb, you go there,” (pointing to the left), “and Lenny and I will come in from the front. After Reilly takes out the cat, Lenny will send her message to Dev, and on my signal, we move in. Shoot to kill. Got it?”

         Everybody nodded.

         Each person hugged Reilly, then Kohra. It felt like they were saying goodbye for good. Even Lenny leaned in for a non-customary display of physical affection.

         The two girls crept toward the outcropping of forest, low to the ground, watching their feet so they wouldn’t even snap a stick by mistake. They couldn’t see the cat yet, or the cave. Dominic had given them a path that kept them well out of sight for as long as possible.

         At the edge of the treeline, they stopped, laying on the ground underneath some spindly bushes. About halfway up the hill, Kohra could just make out a dark opening in the hillside. The cave entrance! Perched above it, stretched lazily on the rocky slope, the great cat surveyed his domain, tail twitching occasionally. A thin trickle of grey smoke wafted out of the cave, floating in their general direction. This was good; they were downwind.

         Kohra turned toward Reilly, placing her hand firmly on the little girl’s chest, right above her heart, like a hug. Reilly looked scared now, her deep-blue eyes too wide-open. “You can do this,” Kohra whispered.

         “For Dev,” Reilly whispered back. Then, her mouth right in Kohra’s ear, she added, “I have to do this alone.” Kohra nodded. Another person would only spook the cat.

         What if this doesn’t work?

         She forced the thought away.

         Reilly looks so small, the cat’s jaws could so easily….

         She forced the thought away.

         It would be just like that guard, back at the house. The way his eyes glazed over.

         She forced the thought away.

         Reilly stood up, walking slowly forward, focused intently on the process of Heart-bonding. The Flux responded instantly, as soon as she reached out for it, the energies rushing out of the Wild to dance around her body. It was exhilarating, so much stronger here than at home. Even the Druid gardens, for all their beauty, did not have the same playful exuberance as the Wild.

         She felt out with her heart, extending a feeling of respect toward the cat. She knew she had only seconds before it would decide whether she was friend or foe, but she couldn’t hurry. “Friendship blooms in the soil of safety,” the Druids had taught. She needed to find a way to bond, so that it trusted her.

         “Friendship withers in the soil of dishonesty.” These sayings had seemed so obvious, or stupid, at the time. But they forced her to learn them anyway, ignoring her entreaties to be clearer. She had never understood why. But now, confronting a creature that would surely kill her, the lessons she needed were popping into her head.

         She looked at the cat’s proud, shaggy face and muscular torso, languid in its afternoon torpor, but packed with power. It was scary. But it was also beautiful, an embodiment of the Wild, a sentient being surging with Life. She felt her Heart-energy start to penetrate its awareness, felt its predatory hunger. It wanted to hunt, to kill.

         Then she felt something else, nagging at its awareness — confusion, and sadness. It did not understand why its master had brought this new, weird-smelling creature into the cave, or why it was outside, instead of curled up in its familiar corner by the fire.

         There was a deeper feeling too, an almost imperceptible but depthless void of loneliness. This cat was not with its own kind, nor had it been for most of its life. It had no concept of who it was, except as Companion. Right down at the foundation of its awareness was a vague longing for something so far in the past it could no longer remember. All it had, its whole world, was its Friend.

         But its True Nature remembered. Nothing is remembered, and nothing is forgotten. Another of the Druid’s quixotic sayings. Whatever that was supposed to mean, in this case, Reilly realized the great cat DID remember; Reilly could feel it. Right down in its bones and muscles it remembered that life was supposed to be about more than this.

         Reilly attuned to those subtle feelings of longing, felt waves of sadness wash through her, then, far back, far, far back…Fear. Pain. Darkness. And before that…snippets of half-memories: dappled light through leaves, a little cub growling. Wrestling. Climbing trees. Stalking mice. Chasing. But…who? Chasing…wrestling…others! Other cats! It was with other cats!

         “I’m your friend, too,” she thought, her own waves of sending reverberating back toward it. “I have no family either.”

         She felt it flare up momentarily with anger, but then it settled down, soothed by her unguardedness. She was not an enemy.

         The cat was a mere 15 paces away, looking right at her. It could easily cover the distance in a single leap, she imagined. She threw some sausage links toward it, keeping herself open, Heart-bonded. It leapt back with a low growl, momentarily startled by her sudden movement, but then sniffed, searched around in the scrub, and started chewing.

         “Friend.” she thought into its mind. “You’re so pretty.” She imagined herself stroking it, petting it, snuggling into its mane. “Like a big kitty.”

         Slowly, one step at a time, she closed the distance between them, hands open, eyes slightly averted so as to not meet its gaze directly, maintaining contact with her heart. The cat growled once, then again very slightly, then stopped, amber eyes watching the small girl walking inexplicably toward it.

         Reilly smiled, holding out her hand. “Come here, Big Kitty,” she called softly. “You need a good scratch.” She threw more sausage links, her heart hammering so stridently she felt sure the cat could hear it.

         Be the love. She used to giggle when the Druids said that. But now she understood. She was not “Reilly” in that moment. She was just a channel, through which Love could flow.

         And so was this cat. They were not-different. It was easy to “be the love.” She did love big kitties.  And it did love these sausages.

         The great cat looked up from the sausage links, body stiffening into a crouch. It was ready to leap. From her hiding spot in the trees, Kohra stiffened as well, suddenly realizing the futility of her even being there. If that cat leapt, it was hopeless. She tried to Connect, to concentrate, but she just couldn’t focus! She needed to do something!

         Reilly remained still, hand outstretched, as the cat stayed poised, and Kohra, luckily, remained frozen in indecision. After about seven heart attacks on Kohra’s part, it lay down, head on its paws, eyes fixed on Reilly. Slowly, she approached, closer and closer, until she was standing right in front of its face.

         She reached forward, petting Big Kitty on its muzzle, its whiskers blacker than she had expected, like slivers of night; its breath, hot; its eyes, burning with amber fire. She couldn’t hold its gaze for long. It was too magnificent.

         The cat sniffed, teeth mere inches from her throat. “Nice kitty.” She offered more sausage links, right out of her hand. “Careful!” she admonished. “No biting, Big Kitty….”

         Delicately, it snapped up the sausages, then licked her fingers clean of any remaining meat-juices. Giggling, she pet its head. 

         “Nice kitty. We’re gonna be good friends.” She scratched behind its ears and then its muscled neck. The cat started to purr, a deep sonorous humming through its body. She rubbed its back and haunches with the flat of her hand, stimulating its hide. The purring deepened.

         “C’mon Big Kitty, let’s go for a walk,” she suggested nonchalantly, one hand holding its furry mane. Like, why not go for a walk on such a beautiful day, with your new friend? The cat padded beside her, away from the cave, down the slope, and into the forest. Kohra watched them disappear into the trees, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Hopefully Reilly could buy them enough time….

         She realized they hadn’t considered what the long-term plan was with this beast. What would happen when it stopped being under her spell, and found out its Master had been attacked? Well, no time to worry about that now.

         Hefting her little crossbow, she looked toward the cave, trying to pick out the best path up the hill as she waited for Dominic’s signal. Lenny would be trying to reach Devona right about now.

* * * * *

         Inside the cave, Devona’s eyes were squeezed shut, as she desperately tried to hold onto some shard of herself, anything to keep from completely panicking. In the end, what she clung to like a drowning person to a log, was the Infernal.

         She could never, would never admit this to anybody. But Devona knew that the whole idea of “the Infernal” as being the embodiment of Evil, was based on people misunderstanding what it really was. As The Presence helped her to see, the Infernal was simply the magic of relationships.

         But people were afraid. They were so afraid, that to protect themselves from even considering the possibility of True Seeing, they had turned it into this caricature of Evil. What Devona was increasingly coming to understand, is that it just takes the right kind of person, to use it for the right reasons. And she was that person. She knew it for sure.

         She had, in secret, studied snippets of the Infernal; only bits though, because the Infernal was a forbidden path, and there were no books, no teachers, no resources. At least, that’s what she was told by her tutors. That simply tempted her more.

         And Devona was good at finding out information, so with her parents’ resources and connections, she was able to gain access to stores of knowledge that commonfolk had no possible access to, nor even awareness of. Little by little, she’d begun to learn.

         One of the very first “Arts” that an Aspirant of the Way had to learn was the Art of Repulsion — of deflecting attention away from yourself. In many situations, it was better to be unseen than seen. Also, to be a True Aspirant, it was necessary to practice counteracting your egoic tendencies to attract others to you, to be liked and accepted. This required an inversion of that process, projecting the so-called “negative” energy of Repulsion, rather than the so-called “positive” energy of Attraction.

         She whispered the incantation to herself, very quietly, imagining a bitter taste in her mouth and feeling of nausea in her stomach.

         Not too much; too much would backfire and attract negative attention, possibly even incite the hermit to violence. But just a little bit of repulsion would sit between them like a murky swamp, subtly dissuading him from approaching. She wanted him to feel that it was just too bothersome to deal with her right now, like wading through smelly muck. Surely there was something else he’d rather do?

         When the Summoning was done, she opened her eyes, watching her captor for any clue as to what he was going to do next. It seemed to work. Several times, he turned from the fire, rambling about how happy she was going to be. Then he would catch sight of her and stop, wrinkle his nose, shake his head, then turn back to the fire.

         She watched his back, listening to him scuffling, muttering, metal pots clanging, fire crackling. He seemed excited and happy, making tea.

         This was a nightmare. Her fingers throbbed, swollen from a lack of circulation. Her wrists were bound tightly to her ankles, propping her in an awkward, bent-over position. Her body buzzed with pain, bruised and scratched from the stumbling walk through the forest, her shoulders and back aching from the restraints. She was terrified. She felt helpless, exposed.

         She scanned the cave for anything useful, a sharp edge of rock, anything that she could use against her ropes. He didn’t seem to notice, sitting in the glow of the fire, absorbed in his tea-making.

         The cave was simple: a wooden bench, 3 sitting-logs, a small “kitchen” area with a few pots and tools (nothing sharp that she could see; plus they were too far away) and a jumble of jars and other containers. Lengths of old rope were piled in heaps. There wasn’t much else.

         She had been dumped at the back. The entrance, she couldn’t see, the passageway curving so that the outside was blocked from view, although some meager light still filtered in. There was no other exit. And nowhere to hide.

         Hopelessness clouded her mind. Okay, think, think. How am I going to get out of this? What are my options? This is like Ms B’s class. I need to brainstorm, imagine every possible solution. No idea is wrong. Go…go!

         Nothing came to mind.

         Come ON! How can you brainstorm if you can’t think of a single idea?

         Despair sunk into her chest. Another Art of the Infernal flashed into her mind. The Art of Sacrifice. Sacrifice? Isn’t that what I’m trying to avoid?

         She thought about it feverishly, hoping by some miracle it held the secret to her survival. The cave kept fading in and out of her vision; she would see the old man by the fire, and then things would…swim and she would have to close her eyes against the dizziness.

         Yes, the Art of Sacrifice. It could work, although she was going to allow an Entity into her Being. She would never be the same after this.

         She closed her eyes and started to whisper the prayer. Then stopped. She knew she HAD to do this; she had no choice. But, she just couldn’t, not even to save her life. If you give yourself up to save your life, then what life are you saving anyway?

         A wave of perfume wafted through the cave. The old man was tossing handfuls of powder into the fire and, singing? Chanting, she decided. The smell grew very strong.

         The light changed in the cave…everything changed…her vision felt weird, the world swimming before her eyes…she saw herself swimming, like fish. Everything is crystal clear. Even this thought. I’m looking right at it. Like a piece of glass.

         The cave broke, cracking into glass-like shards. They drooped, melted, and dripped away into a river of every colour, swirling in front of her in the blackness, around her in whirlpools. This thought wriggled into her mind like a school of fish. What is happening to you, Devona? And then the thought, “Devona” itself became a fish, and she swam into that fish’s eye and down the river of colours and —

         A hand touched her face, warm, fingers gently brushing tendrils of hair back from her eyes. Her Friend was squatting in front of her, waving back and forth a little like he was a pond and someone was throwing stones into him. Everything moved so slowly, she could hear each crackle of the fire and feel each breath in her chest. She realized, he did love her. She could see it in his eyes. He had come to help her, to stop her wrists from hurting.

         He smiled at her in the firelight, and she felt better. He was more than a friend, she knew. She couldn’t remember…couldn’t remember…but yes, he was. He took care of her. He would make her feel better. He stroked her cheek with his hand, caressing her skin so gently, running his fingers through her hair, down her neck. She closed her eyes. This felt good. Her body started to relax. She was safe now. 

         “We’ll be so happy here, we will, we will,” he crooned, like he was singing a song.

         She liked his song. She could listen to it for a long time. She closed her eyes, enjoying the singing. It was like — Choir! A memory flashed into her mind: herself in a dress, standing, singing in choir. I have to let them know I’m going to miss practice! They’ll be worried! Oh…. She remembered her parents saying goodbye. Right. I’m in hiding now. Hiding right here in this cave with the Shaman and my friends.

         She opened her eyes again. The voice singing behind her was not Gorb. Who is this? Where am I?

         She struggled to focus. But mostly, mostly it didn’t matter, because she was safe, and he loved her and…. But, she should at least tell people right? Tell her friends she is staying?

         No, she wanted to just listen to his song. All this thinking was making it hard to listen. But still, her friends?

         “I want to tell my friends,” she managed. Her voice sounded far away, like it was someone else’s, talking in another room.

         “No, no, no,” he crooned. “We are your friends, me and Tiki. We are your family. The forest gave you to us. Yes, yes, we are your friends, my darling. Soon you will never want to go back. You will see how beautiful it is here. Beautiful, like you.”

         “I’m…not your darling?”

         Am I asking a question? Why? How did I become his darling? I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.

         “No, no, no, not yet,” he sang. “Not in an hour, not in a day. But in eternity, yes, my darling, you are, you are.”

         He bent close to her ear. “We have lived together a long time, many years. You get confused sometimes, remember? That’s why you need me to take care of you, remember? I gave you this.” He thrust a dirty stuffed toy, a bear, into her hands. It seemed like the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given.

         “You love it here,” he whispered. “We have this whole forest. It’s all ours, our kingdom, and you are my Queen. You are so happy.” He continued stroking her hair. “Just wait, wait until we hear the owls hooting. Wait until we watch flower petals open in the dawn. Wait until we watch lightning dance across the sky. This is paradise, my darling. Soon you won’t even remember that you had another home.”

         Something sparked inside her. “What does that mean?” she asked. “Remember what? What are you doing to me?”

         “Loving you,” he sang, walking back to his fire. “Loving you like the forest Queen that you are. And you love me too. You know, you know it’s true.”

         Forest Queen? That doesn’t sound like me. She squinted, trying to bring things into focus. Where am I?

         For a brief moment of clarity, she saw him, the old hermit, leering at her. He was doing something with the fire; the smoke was pretty; it smelled nice, filling their little cave. She closed her eyes again.

         Then snapped them open. She knew! White hot anger surged as she realized she was still tied up. She thrashed, screaming, “Never! I will never love you! ! I hate you!”

         He grinned, clearly enjoying her anger. “Soon, soon, so soon, you won’t know the difference.” He rummaged around in his meager kitchen, taking what looked like leaves and seeds out of rusty metal containers and dirty pottery jars. He began breaking them up into a kettle, then placed it over the fire. “We’ll drink tea together.”

         “Dev! It’s Lenny. We’re outside. Count to 60, and make a distraction. Think fast! Sixty seconds, and we’re busting you out!”

         Who? Lenny! In her mind? What was happening? Was this real?

         She realized she wasn’t counting to 60. Damn! She needed to get her hands free. That was more important than anything else.

         “I, I need to go to the bathroom!” She squeezed an extra note of urgency into her voice, which wasn’t difficult. “Right now!” She looked up at him as sweetly as she could manage. “Please?”

         His eyes narrowed. “You can go after tea. Just hold it.”

         “I can’t!” she cried. “I think I have diarrhea! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s, it’s coming out right now! Please….” She tried to look as panicked as possible. “Please! I’ll drink your tea, I promise! But it hurts so much; I can’t hold it!”

         He moved quickly, his thin body spry and wiry, producing a small wooden bucket and some strips of cloth. “Here.”

         Looping a rope around her neck, he pulled it tight. She coughed, the rough fibers burning her skin as he whispered into her ear. “I am going to untie your hands. But understand me, girl, if you try anything, anything at all, I will strangle you until you pass out. Then I will cut off your feet.”

         She had always imagined that her mind would go blank in a moment of pure terror. But this moment, she was crystal clear.

         He undid the knots, then backed up, keeping the rope tight around her neck, watching closely as her numbed fingers fumbled with her clothes.

         Suddenly the light shifted subtly, the cave darkening momentarily, like a shadow moved across the entranceway. Stones skittered. The old man whirled toward the entrance. “Tiki?”

         Nothing, just the crackling fire. He turned back to Devona.

         Twang! Dominic’s bolt hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around until he fell face down into the dirt with only a quiet “Ooomph.” Devona’s head, yanked forward by the rope, slammed against the rocky floor.

         Then, Dominic! Standing above her, looking down!

         A huge wave of relief washed through her. But a second later, the old hermit leapt up, snarling, smashing a rock into the side of Dominic’s head. He crumpled, blood spattering his face, and the old man was on Devona in an instant, teeth bared, eyes wild and bright, knife flashing in the firelight.

         She Shaped. It was the first Shaping her parents had forced her to learn, right when she first showed aptitude for Connecting to the Flux, and in her panic, she called on it instinctively.

          “BOOM,” she whispered, but a tremendous thunderclap erupted from her mouth. It caught the old man by surprise, the shockwave lifting him right off the floor and throwing him back against the cave wall. He grunted with the impact, but surprisingly, scrambled quickly back to his feet, grabbing a burning stick out of the fire and brandishing it menacingly as he stalked back to Devona.

         “You’re gonna pay for that….”

         “RRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!” Two hundred and ninety pounds of chainmail and raw Klliik muscle slammed into the old man like a battering ram. He flew through the air in a jumble of skinny limbs, ending in a crunch against the wall.

         The rope slackened. Devona sucked in new air, chest heaving in huge, rasping gasps. Someone was cutting the bonds of her feet — Lenny! She heard Kohra’s voice, calling from far away. A loud wail came from somewhere off to the side.

         Gorb knelt in front of the groggy hermit, who was splayed on his back, clearly empty of any remaining fight. Gorb’s shoulders shook and the cave rang with his keening wail, as he looked up into the rocky ceiling of the cave, like he was searching for some Light to shine in this bleakness. Then the Light Singer, eyes dripping with tears but burning with unholy fury, raised a large rock above his head with both hands. “Forrrgive me!” he sobbed.

         “Stop!” Devona managed to croak.

         But Gorb didn’t stop.

         It was a sound none of them would ever forget.

         Lenny’s arms wrapped around Devona, lifting her into a sitting position, cradling her head against her chest, murmuring, “It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.”

         Devona groaned once, then went silent. She just, stopped.

         At that moment, Kohra rushed in breathlessly, having sprinted up the slope from her hiding place, crossbow loaded, ready to shoot the first skinny old man she laid eyes on.

         Then she stopped, stunned, lowered the crosswbow and stood for a moment, absorbing the scene.

         The cave was a disaster. Gorb sat, weeping, in one corner, facing the hermit’s body. At least, the lower half. The rest was…. She just saw red, a lot of red, and didn’t look further. Gorb was shaking with sobs. Lenny sat cradling Devona in front of a turned-over bucket, pieces of rope strewn about. Dom lay on the ground, groaning, his face covered in blood.

         He waved weakly at her. “I’m okay,” he moaned. “Help Dev.”

         Lenny looked up, whispering, “She’s passed out. Shhhhh, she’s okay; she’s okay.”

         Kohra nodded numbly at them, then walked carefully over to Gorb, staring at the floor directly in front of her. She didn’t want to see…that…again.

         “It’s me, Gorb.” He didn’t respond, his shoulders still shaking. “I’m taking you out now, Gorb.”

         She took hold of his elbows, helping him into a standing position, and gently turned him away. Abruptly, he staggered the few feet over to Devona and Lenny, then stopped, falling heavily onto his knees. “Time t’ go.” His voice sounded flat, lifeless. Cradling Devona in his arms, he stood back up and carried her outside. 

         Kohra and Lenny tried to help Dominic to his feet. He felt too woozy to stand on his own, so they each slung one of his arms over their shoulders and half-walked, half-carried him.

         As they slowly staggered forward, Kohra looked around at the mess. To think that this place was a home. That he lived here. She looked at his sleeping-nest. The misshapen clay bowls he likely had made himself. The jumble of jars of unknowable ingredients. It was only then that she noticed, the far corner of the cave was painted. It was…her eyes filled with tears. It was a boat — a little boy and an old man fishing. She looked for more paintings, but no, that was the only one. Is that him? Was he that little boy once? Kohra stared at the painting for what seemed like forever, wondering how in the worlds a happy little boy fishing with his grandpa could possibly become what the old man became.

         Finally, they were at the entranceway, and out, back into the brightness of the day, the green of the trees, the sweetness of fresh air.

         Devona was silent, blinking against the daylight, staring at nothing.

         Lenny cleared her throat. “Where’s Reilly?”

         “She went into the forest with it, the cat,” Kohra answered.

         Despite himself, Dominic, one hand holding a bloody cloth to his head, laughed. It was so incongruous to the moment that they all looked. 

         There was Reilly, perched atop the broad back of the giant cat, waving as it strode out of the forest. “This is Big Kitty! He’s my new friend!”

         Kohra laughed too. It felt, good, to feel normal for a moment again. Well, “normal.”

         Devona continued staring at nothing. Momentarily, she registered that Reilly had somehow joined them. Reilly’s safe. What does that mean? Safe? Oh, the cat’s here. She didn’t care much either way. Not right now. She closed her eyes, trying to block everything out, wishing that she was unconscious.

         Somberly, Gorb gathered them together in a circle (except Reilly and the cat, who were now prancing around at the bottom of the hill. “’Old ‘ands,” he commanded, and as they linked themselves together, he began to pray, singing to the Light, his deep bass strong and reassuring. He was Healing them.

         But nothing happened.

         Kohra looked up at Gorb, and he let go of her hand, his prayer-song ending abruptly. He coughed, awkwardly got to his feet, picked up his shield, and without a word, trudged down the hill. The others looked at each other, then followed in silence, each person struggling to comprehend the full implications of what this meant.            

Gorb’s Light was gone.