Origin of the Body (17 page)

Matthew turned to look at his wife, Emily, who read the intention in his eyes and shook her head firmly.  He held her gaze, indicating that he had to; they’d travelled this far, risked everything, it couldn’t be for nothing, and her firm gaze turned to something softer, a plea, but he had made up his mind.  He took a deep breath before placing a hand on the shoulders of the men in front of him and gently ushering them out of the way.  The movement caught the attention of those around him, who, after breathing a collective sigh of relief, began to move aside, clearing a path to the stage.  He moved slowly at first, then more quickly as the whole gathering came to realise what was happening and fell over themselves to let him pass.  Matthew reached the front, not really sure how he had got there, and mounted the stage with a confidence he didn’t even come close to feeling inside.  He averted his eyes from Doyen lest his conviction evade him, his feet somehow turning so as to be ready to address the crowd, a vague thought registering in the gloomy fog of his mind that he had not a clue what to say, and then, by some miracle, the words started to flow.

‘A month ago, a friend came to me and told me it was time to act, time for us to escape to the Wild Lands and join the revolution, to make a difference in the world before it was too late.  That friend had just had his farm stolen by Austin in an unjust and barbaric act.  Not only had he had his land and buildings commandeered due to his recent lack of production and resulting inability to pay Austin his, so called, safety tax, Austin added insult to injury, by forcing him to stay on his farm, a prisoner, and work for free to cover his so called debt.  My friend watched as a Mind Councillor was put in charge of his business, the livelihood that had run in his family for generations, which he had inherited from his father and had intended to pass to his son.  He watched as the Mind Councillor stole from what little the farm was still able to produce, for no other reason than to bolster his own personal supplies.  He put up with the Councillor making bad planting decision after bad livestock decision, the result of which will in time be reduced production and no doubt further, unreasonable, excessive and unjust punishment from Austin.  And what did I do when my friend looked to me for help?  Tried to warn me there was nothing we could do as individuals to stop the tidal wave of Austin’s forces?  Tried to explain there was only one route open to us, and that was to act, to join those who had suffered in countless other ways and overthrow those who oppress us?  Well, I am ashamed to say, I did nothing.  I told him it would be better to cooperate than to fight someone as powerful and established as Austin.  And in truth, I thought it may not happen to me, that I might escape unscathed, and that it would be foolish to defy someone like Austin with no good reason.

And then just days ago Austin paid me a visit, and of course, I, like all of you, didn’t escape unscathed.  So now I have a reason strong enough to drive me to action too.  So when Austin took my farm, I told my friend I was sorry, that I had been a selfish coward, and that I would stand by his side and join the revolution.  So we gathered our families, who had been enslaved in the houses we used to call our homes and we fled in the middle of the night, from farms crawling with Austin’s private army.  We risked our lives to come here, to a place full of hope and promise, to a leader who we were excited to think was about to take action, to do something.  But instead, what do we find?  Not revolution.  Not salvation.  Instead, we find more of the same rhetoric we’ve heard a thousand times before, followed not by a call to arms, but to caution.’  He spat the word ‘caution’ and turned for the first time to look at Doyen as he said it, surprised to see him calm and collected, looking not even a little worried by Matthew’s speech.

‘Well,’ he continued, turning back to the crowd, his resolve renewed, ‘I’m not here to sign up to tea round the campfire, wasting weeks as part of a planning committee.  I’m here to take the fight back to Kingdom, right to Austin’s doorstep, right in front of the relic he’s supposed to be figuring out how to return to the Gods.  And I’d like to know who’s with me?’  A roar went up from the crowd, followed by banging, clapping and stamping as they rallied to this new and uplifting message of war.

Doyen walked towards Matthew, who turned to face him.  He forced himself to meet his eyes, emboldened by the hammering of the crowd below them.  Doyen took hold of Matthew’s hand and shook it, placing his other hand warmly on Matthew’s arm.  ‘I think the revolution has found itself a new leader,’ he said, his tone even and respectful, ‘I wish you luck and hope you achieve everything we want to; I may disagree with your approach, but we both want the same thing in the end.’

‘Thank you,’ said Matthew, surprised by how well he had taken this intervention, but finding it hard to believe he was now the revolution’s leader; this had certainly not been his intention when he’d taken to the stage.

‘I will take my leave,’ said Doyen, heading to the steps.

‘You’re leaving?’ asked Matthew, taken aback.

‘When a leader is replaced, the last thing the new leader needs is the old leader hanging over his shoulder; worst case scenario it will divide opinion and that’s the last thing our cause needs now.  Good luck,’ he said, vacating the stage to another roar from the crowd.  Matthew looked down and took a deep breath, a feeling of deep foreboding eating at his insides.  How had that just happened?  What had he done?

*****

Amber stood back in the shadows and watched as the scene in the clearing unfolded.  She and her cronies had followed Matthew’s band of travellers all the way from his farm, a feat that had been mind-numbingly simple and certainly not worthy of her skills, but she understood the need; there was nobody else Austin could entirely trust not to screw it up.  But really, they hadn’t even posted lookouts when they slept and not once had anyone doubled back to make sure they weren’t being followed.

She watched with disbelief as Matthew strode towards the stage and made his pathetic speech.  She was gobsmacked when the intriguing man on stage stepped down with not so much as a terse word or bitter backward glance.  It was all just too easy, not to mention good news for Austin; if Matthew was now leading the so called revolution, they would no doubt act soon, in disorganised fashion, and take the fight to the city.  Consequently, defeating them would be about as much trouble as crushing an army of ants.  She nodded to the men around her; time to report back.  She’d been away for an infuriating amount of time already, and who knew what the other idiots Austin kept around had been filling his head with whilst she’d been away.

*****

Doyen watched as Amber melted away in the darkness.  ‘Run back to your master little messenger,’ he said aloud, before slipping away into the woods, a smile on his face.  Mission accomplished, he thought, as he too disappeared into the night.

*****

Draeus slipped away, the commotion providing cover for his retreat, and returned to where he had left the others.  However, he got there and was greeted, not by three relieved faces as he’d expected, but by an icy hand of foreboding clenching at his guts, because, although the vehicle and all of their supplies remained exactly where he had left them, Alexander, Anderson and Anita were nowhere to be seen.  Draeus scanned around for any signs of a struggle, or indeed any footprints, but there wasn’t enough light to see by and it would have been foolish to draw attention to himself by getting out a torch.  Instead, he stalked back into the trees, found a secluded vantage point from where he could monitor any activity around the vehicle and waited for dawn, praying the others were okay.

However, he’d barely settled when he felt a tap on his shoulder and heard the urgent whisper of Alexander’s voice, ‘it’s Alexander, don’t scream!’

‘Of course I’m not going to scream,’ replied an indignant Draeus, biting his tongue to stop himself from giving Alexander a tirade of abuse.  ‘What happened?  Where are the others?’ he asked instead.

‘We’re here,’ said Anita, also appearing out of the foliage, ‘we were almost discovered by Amber, so we hid in the trees.’

‘Amber?’ exclaimed Draeus, not entirely sure he’d heard correctly, ‘what the hell was she doing here?  Was she looking for us?  How did you get away without her spotting you?’

‘I’m the Spirit Descendant remember?’ said a now indignant Alexander.  ‘That makes me pretty good at reading energy.’  He kept to himself that it had been Anita and not him who had recognised Amber’s hostile force; they had agreed it best not to let on she had that particular ability.

‘When Alexander realised someone was approaching, we retreated back into the trees and watched,’ said Anita.  ‘Amber saw the vehicle but didn’t pay much attention to it, she didn’t even bother getting her men to search it.  It looked like they were following someone, but it obviously wasn’t us.  She and her men came back past here just before you did, Amber looking pretty smug.’

‘Any idea why?’ asked Anderson.  ‘What was with all the lights?’

‘We’ve stumbled into the heart of the rebellion,’ said Draeus, ‘and they were discussing their next move.  The leader suggested they take time to plan their attack but the crowd disagreed and he was overthrown.’

‘What?’ said Anita.  ‘But we only heard cheers, it must have been a pretty quiet takeover!’

‘To be honest, the old leader didn’t seem to be too cut up about it.  He just stepped aside when the crowd turned and disappeared into the trees.’

‘Weird,’ said Anderson.  ‘I can’t imagine anyone in the Institution doing something like that.  Can you imagine Helena just stepping aside?’ Anderson laughed at his own joke.

‘Did you recognise anyone?’ asked Anita, ignoring Anderson.  ‘The old leader or the new one?’

‘No.  But the new leader is from Empire.  He was a farmer who, along with many of his peers, has recently had his farm seized by Austin because he couldn’t pay his debts.  Austin is effectively keeping the farmers prisoner, forcing them to work for a Mind Councillor who he puts in charge.’

Anita scowled, ‘I knew it.’

‘What?’ asked Alexander.

‘Never mind,’ said Anita, not wanting to have a conversation about knowing that Marcus would be unable to curb Austin’s despicable activities in front of the others.

Alexander gave her a curious look, making a mental note to ask her about it later.  ‘Okay, so the rebellion has a new leader, but did you hear what they’re planning to do next?’

‘Not exactly, but the old leader was overturned because he wanted to take his time and the new leader received roars from the crowd when he said the time to act was now, so I’d anticipate them doing something fairly soon.’

‘And Amber knows they’re coming,’ said Anita.

‘It would seem so,’ replied Draeus, ‘so they’ve already lost the element of surprise.’

‘It’ll be a massacre,’ said Alexander, ‘Austin’s army is huge, not to mention disciplined.  They won’t stand a chance.’

‘Unless they do something clever,’ said Anita, never one to write off the underdog.

‘Well hopefully we can find a way to send the relic back before this all gets totally out of hand,’ said Anderson, pompously.  Alexander and Anita shared a disdainful look at Anderson’s statement of the obvious.

‘Let’s get out of here before we get caught up in anything else,’ said Draeus, rallying the group back to action.  ‘We’ve still got a fair distance to travel.’

They gave up trying to camp and travelled through what was left of the night, reaching Wild Sky as the sun came up.  It was nothing short of breath-taking, the sun catching the clouds that billowed and corkscrewed across the great open expanse above them, casting a purple and orange glow over the sweeping plains below.  They travelled at speed across the mostly flat terrain, marvelling as the light changed to stark white shards, making the frosty ground sparkle as they raced past.  Although Wild Sky was one of the biggest provinces, they took only two days to cross, the going consistently good.  Even when they approached Wild Air’s mountainous boundary, the ground undulated in pleasant rolling hillocks, rather than becoming treacherous sheer inclines.  They camped in copses of trees both nights, the second night with the Cloud Mountains looming forebodingly in the distance.

‘Another half a day and we’ll be at the base of the mountain,’ said Draeus, sipping at a cinnamon hot chocolate spiked with hazelnut liqueur, the speciality of the region.  The temperature had steadily dropped as they’d travelled, both due to the time of year and their proximity to the mountains, which were renowned for somehow remaining chilly all year round, so Draeus had made out the addition of alcohol was pretty much medicinal.

Chapter 9

As Draeus had predicted, they reached the base of the Cloud Mountains around lunchtime the following day, where they had to ditch the 4x4 which had somehow, miraculously, got them this far, and hired mountain ponies to take them up the single track that wound its way to the top.  It took another day for them to scale the mountain, the ponies knowing the way almost too well; they seemed nonchalant about the perilous climb, taking turns at what seemed to be excessive speed.  Anderson suffered where they others were exhilarated, his knuckles white from holding on so hard, face tinged green, eyes averted from the edge.  Despite the gruelling pace, Anita found the whole thing really quite elating, although even she was glad to see the checkpoint with its ancient shack of a shelter after a full day’s ride.

They stayed at what was known as the lodge for the evening, accepting the delicious roast chicken with fennel and clementines that the nondescript monks had somehow managed to rustle up; it would seem supplies up here weren’t so hard to come by.  They made small talk, the monks never once probing for the reason why they were here, Anita wondering how they didn’t freeze to death in the thin, flesh exposing robes they wore.  They slept on hard beds with thin sheets covering them, Alexander and Anita wearing their warmest clothing and huddling together to try and keep from contracting frostbite, Draeus telling them it would be rude to get out the sleeping bags they had brought with them for conditions such as this.  Anita wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to seek shelter in some secluded corner somewhere outside, the lodge seeming to almost purposefully channel icy drafts through every room, gaps of several centimetres evident around the windows and under the doors.

The following morning, they got up early, all red-eyed and shivering except from Draeus, who somehow appeared at breakfast looking refreshed and rejuvenated, with an expression that said he was wondering what all the fuss was about.  They ate a breakfast of boiled eggs and toast before thanking the monks for their hospitality and making their way up the narrow path that was all that now remained between them and the Spirit Leader, leaving the ponies behind.

The path took them another two hours to ascend, Anderson frustrating Anita no end by insisting on frequent stops and a slow pace.  She could read from his energy that he was terrified, but selfishly she didn’t care, the path wasn’t entirely treacherous and she was impatient to see what was inside the cylinder.

They finally made it to the summit, where the gradient flattened out into a small, enclosed courtyard, the other side of which stood a large, wooden, arched door which opened for them as they approached.  A short, medium built man, with thick, wavy, sandy coloured hair stood in the centre of an entrance hall that seemed to be made entirely of white marble, the whole place gleaming in the sunlight.  The room, although not excessively sized, had ornate columns at the four corners, an imposing, round, marble table in the centre, complete with shiny silver bowl of dead still water sunken into its middle, and shafts of light streaming down into it from the ceiling, although it wasn’t apparent from whence these originated.  The hall had only two openings; the one they had just come through and a similar door the other side, through which she assumed they would soon be walking.  This made the room oppressive, a bit like a prison cell, and it made her hope she would never find herself in there with both sets of doors closed.

Anita’s thoughts were interrupted by a powerful, penetrating voice that didn’t at all fit the man who stood in front of them.  ‘Welcome to the Cloud Mountain,’ he said, ‘it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our Temple.’

Draeus and Anderson bowed before the man, Alexander remaining resolutely upright, Anita a little confused as to what was going on.  ‘Spirit Leader,’ said Anderson, in a gushy voice Anita was surprised had come from him, ‘the pleasure is all ours.’

The Spirit Leader ignored Anderson, reaching past him to take Draeus’ hand, pulling him to his feet.  ‘Draeus, it’s been too long,’ he said, with a warm smile, pausing a moment to take in the changed details of his friend’s face before turning his attention to Alexander and Anita.  ‘Alexander, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of your company since you were, what?  Ten?’ he said, in an overly familiar way, as though Alexander were a fond relative, the Spirit Leader a mildly patronizing uncle.

‘That’s correct, Timi,’ replied Alexander, his energy neutral, but a warning edge to his voice, ‘it’s been a long time.’

Timi, thought Anita, of all names!  It seemed in a strange way to both suit his intimidating self and diminish his authority.  ‘And you must be Anita,’ said the Spirit Leader, taking Anita’s hand and lifting it to his lips.  ‘I’ve heard a great deal about you.’

Anita was caught off guard; not just because it was a strangely old fashioned greeting, but because he also knew who she was and had heard a ‘great deal’ about her.  She managed to recover enough composure to say, ‘lovely to meet you, but I’m afraid that until a few days ago I had no idea of your existence.’  She smiled sweetly, not meaning for the words to sound so aggressive, wondering how hostility had crept into the meeting; this wasn’t how she had envisioned it at all.  She pushed aside the thought, resolving to be nicer going forwards, she did after all want his help with the cylinder.

The Spirit Leader turned and they followed him out of the strange entrance hall into a snowy, cobbled, circular courtyard beyond, the grandeur of the entrance hall forgotten, a grey stone fountain in the centre still trickling water despite the cold.  There were buildings on all sides that had the look of squat, miniature castles, each building turret like, with a conical shaped roof perched on top.  The buildings were connected by grey stone corridors with sloping tiled roofs, glassless windows allowing glimpses of the burning torches that adorned the walls inside, providing both welcome heat and light in the gloomy walkways.

They followed Timi across the courtyard, through an empty archway to a stone staircase containing a seemingly never-ending number of steps that they climbed to a flat, open area at the top.  The staircase was completely open on one side, nothing but air standing between them and a deadly drop off the mountain, Anita smiling cruelly at Anderson’s energy, which was going crazy at the threat.

They reached the area where Helena and countless others had stood when being received by the Spirit Leader, the intimidating drop now on all three sides, before Timi swiftly led them to a stone table and chairs, sheltered only by a few pieces of fabric ballooning in the wind.  Timi motioned for them to sit and help themselves to the steaming tea laid out on a tray in front of them.  Draeus helped himself, leaning back in his chair and savouring its warmth, but the others refused, Anderson’s hands shaking too wildly and Anita and Alexander more concerned with the conversation that must inevitably follow.

Timi helped himself to tea, then turned to face Anita directly, ‘very well,’ he said, making no effort to hide his irritation at their refusal of his hospitality, ‘you’ve come to discuss the cylinder I presume?’

Anita inhaled sharply, ‘how could you possibly know that?’ she asked, shock and confusion filling her energy.

‘There’s very little I don’t find out, one way or another,’ he replied, obliquely.

‘Very well,’ she said, the hostile edge she had resolved to banish returning in full force, ‘are you able to help us open it?’

‘So you’ve finally found it.’

‘Your information isn’t entirely up to date?’ she asked innocently, doing nothing to diminish its mocking intent.

‘I didn’t say I know everything, Anita.’

‘But you are involved with the Institution then?  That’s the only way you could have found out.’

‘Yes, I’m involved with the Institution.  That’s why Helena was happy for you to seek my help.’

Anita rolled her eyes inwardly.  ‘Yes, we’ve found it, but we can’t find a way to open it.  Alexander gets thrown out of the meditation when we try and nothing we can think of will work.’

‘What have you tried so far?’

Anita ran through the different scenarios they had tried, from mentally willing it to open, to physically trying to pry it open, to dropping it, to trying to find a way to twist it apart, to examining it for a secret button they had to press, to rolling it around on the floor in the vain hope it would suddenly just decide to pop open.  Timi laughed at the last one.

‘Have you tired meditating with anyone other than Alexander to open it?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she replied, ‘it seemed unlikely anyone we can trust would be more help than Alexander in a meditation.’

‘Hmm,’ he mused, ‘well I think the first step is that we should meditate together.  I need to understand exactly what we’re looking at.  We can meditate together this evening, after dinner, which of course you are all invited to have with me, in my private quarters.’

Anita read Alexander’s energy to see what he thought of this suggestion, but it was resolutely stable, which either meant he was fine with it, or that he was purposefully covering up his feelings in front of Timi, which seemed to Anita the more likely of the two scenarios.

‘Fine,’ she said, ‘after dinner.  But what about your research, or records of the old Spirit Leader?  The one who gave the cylinder to Clarissa?  It may be helpful to work our way through those as well, to see if there are any clues.’

‘I’ll do that only if and when it’s deemed necessary,’ said Timi, firmly.  ‘I’m afraid only the current Spirit Leader is allowed to access those records and we may be able to open it without doing so.’

Anita knew it was futile to protest, so didn’t bother, but this seemed stupid to her; it was more than likely there was something in those records that could help them.  At that moment, a monk at least twice the age of Timi appeared at the top of the stairs, his robes dishevelled, his white, wispy hair blowing around in the breeze, his back a little stooped.

‘Ah, Jonathan, perfect timing as usual,’ said Timi, motioning to Jonathan to come closer.  ‘Jonathan will show you to your quarters where lunch has been laid out for you.  Then, if you would like, he will show you around or of course you can have a few hours rest before dinner, which will be at seven o’clock in my quarters this evening; Jonathan will show you the way.’

They nodded and got up to follow the old monk back down the torturous staircase, Timi putting a hand on Draeus’ arm to stop him from leaving.  ‘I’d appreciate it if you would stay a while longer,’ said Timi warmly, as Draeus sat back down, ‘I’d like to talk to you about supplies; there are a few things we’re running short of.’

*****

Jonathan showed them to their quarters, one of the turret like buildings they had walked past on their way in, the accommodation split over three floors.  The top floor had a large double bedroom and bathroom, the middle floor had two single bedrooms and a bathroom, and the ground floor had a large seating area, dining area, and a small kitchenette off to one side.  It was pleasant enough, although the décor was mismatched and old, most of the furniture missing slats and holes from years of wear apparent in the seat covers.  The beds were made from spindly brass frames with mattresses that had seen better days, now sinking in the middle, ready to give anyone who ventured into them back ache come the morning.  The rooms had odd layouts, a result of most of the walls being curved, pieces of furniture sticking out at jaunty angles, baths occupying the middle of the bathrooms, with other bathroom furniture squeezed haphazardly into the, not large enough, spaces left around.  The curtains were thin and had been patched numerous times, light was provided only by flickering flame torches, and the stairs groaned nervously every time they were used, however, this gave the place a homely, cosy feel, in a rough around the edges sort of way.  The windows thankfully had glass in them and a roaring fire on the ground floor seemed to somehow radiate heat up to the two floors above making the rooms, if not toasty, at least not cold.

Anita and Alexander took the top floor room, dumping their belongings unceremoniously on the floor and quickly washing the travel dirt from their hands and faces before racing back downstairs.  By the time they returned, Anderson was already tucking into the bread, meats, cheeses and pickles that had been laid out for them and had spooned out three bowlfuls of pumpkin and goats cheese soup.  Anita ripped off some bread and tucked in greedily, relishing the warmth of the food as it slowly crept down her throat and into her ravenous stomach.

They ate everything the monks provided, leaning back in their chairs, stuffed full, Anita contemplating a nap, when Jonathan returned to invite them on a tour.  She wondered how he managed to turn up so exactly on cue, considering briefly the disturbing possibility they were being spied on, before following the monk out of the turret.  Jonathan moved with surprising speed as he weaved through the maze of corridors, the three of them having to stride out to keep up.  He showed them rooms for every purpose; large dormitories for sleeping, eating halls with long benches, communal wash rooms that looked like some kind of spa, complete with steam rooms and saunas, reading rooms, lecture theatres, research labs with all manner of interesting looking brass measuring devices, and most fascinating of all, rooms dedicated to meditating.  There were a number of these located all over the Temple, each with different characteristics and a different impact on one’s energy, but all with a bowl of still water in the middle.

‘What’s the bowl of water for?’ asked Anita, curious.  Alexander had never suggested they add one to their meditations.