Twin Sun Series: Musing #3

A Story by buoyantMaureen

Excerpt of novel "Soothsayer" - Fern notices a change in Vier. The beast voices his concerns.

“Vier?”

Though Fern looked up and down the cage, she saw no shudder of movement from the beast nor heard the scrape of clawed feet on the stone tiles.

She had not been looking for a stoic figure, crouched in the center of the floor as steadfast as the stone icon over a burial site. Yet it was in that state that she found him, solemn and motionless. His long hands, one on either side of his feet, lay flat on the tile. The stem of his back curved up from the floor and ended with his head jutting out beyond his shoulders like a figurehead at the bow of a ship.

It was not that she did not trust this new, stationary Vier. It was only that she did not yet know him and could not anticipate what he would do next.

Nerves alive at the back of her neck, Fern circled round the beast and found a blank expression on his flat human-like face that could have been boredom as easily as puzzlement. He could have been asleep with his eyes open. It wasn’t until she stepped in front of him that the beast blinked out of his stupor, grey eyes flicked onto her as though he had just noticed she had entered the room.

“Good morning,” Vier said. Only his eyes had moved so far.

Fern pushed her uneasiness aside and said, “Good morning,” then “Vier?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“I am well,” Vier said.

“What were you doing?”

Vier’s head shifted, as though twisting off the last spell of lethargy. “Thinking.”

Fern sat on the floor. “About?”

“Things,” Vier said. “Outside, you, the Madame, pipes…”

Fern nodded. “I’m actually here to ask you a favor on behalf of the Madame.”

The blankness in Vier’s expression broke as his mouth twisted in a snarl. “I do not want to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Fern said fairly, but she couldn’t help but smile nonetheless.

“I do not care.”

He pushed off the floor with his hands and, shifting his weight backwards onto his feet, straightened his legs. He reached quite a height when he stood, and Fern knew he would be taller still if he didn’t slouch. But that would improve with practice.

Now that he was standing, Fern couldn’t help but notice Vier’s other features that had changed as well. His limbs were almost human-sized, his fangs and claws were all but gone. His hands were not scaled but fleshy now if not still a bit rough skinned. Enough hair had gathered to cover up his previously bald lizard head, even the quills had softened to a woody brown color though the texture still appeared too coarse to touch.

There were still days when Fern entered the cage to find Vier in a fit, tearing off his clothes, complaining about how the fabric itched before taking off galloping on all fours in a circle around the inside of the cage. But those days had become fewer and fewer. Now he could even fasten the ties of his shirt without ripping it.

“The Madame,” Fern continued, while Vier began his regular circuit around the cage this time on two legs, practicing his short jerking steps. His balance was improving too. “She would like to send the Mops-- ” Fern’s eyes darted up at the blackened window set high above the floor, imagining the Madame and her helpers leering at them from above. Could they hear her from behind the glass? Just in case she should probably stop using Guarder slang. “--A group of Cleansers into your cage tomorrow to clean up and bring you new trees.” It was an almost comical request. Even now she sat on the tile floor amidst the remains of the last trees they had tried to introduce to the beast. The crushed leaves, snapped twigs and split green trunks were the fallen victims of Vier’s latest rampage.

Vier expelled a snort. “Why? Plants cannot be important. They do not taste good and they do not do anything.” His spite propelled him forward increasing his pace, while his head was still pointed at his feet.

“If you can’t handle it yet, you have to tell me,” Fern told him.

Vier came to a stop. His arms twisted behind him, like he was trying to wriggle off some gross garment on his shoulders. Hints of his vulgar instincts still lingered in his attitude and the impatient flicker of his eyes. It was obvious that he only managed to stand with a great amount of effort. He quickly dropped down to the floor now as though finding solace in his old hunched posture. “I can handle it.”

“I’ll let them know,” Fern said. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d agree.”

Restless, Vier sprang out of his crouch back to the balls of his feet as though to regain some sort of dignity. “If I am to go outside with Fern. There will be more plants and other bad smelling things. And I will not be inside forever.”

“Yes.” Fern would have complemented him further, but she knew the beast became sour with too much praise.

Vier stood. His eyes were on the shattered pots and splintered corpses of the last group of saplings the Madame and her helpers had forced into his cage without his permission. Fern watched him make awkward steps in wide circle around the skeletal branches that had shriveled in the glare of the heat lamps above. He stepped from one crumbled leaf to the next, satisfied with each crunch that broke beneath his heel. Vier had two fingers in his mouth, picking at his teeth when he asked, “Why is your arm wrong?”

Fern’s throat clenched. For a second, she thought she’d misheard him, that is, until her good hand unwittingly shot to the bandages that bound her left arm. As though answering the call, the wound pulsed beneath its bindings. “You don’t--”

Vier didn’t remember.

“I don’t what?” The beast’s great head swung round, and for a moment Vier peered down at her still sitting on the floor as though she were very far away. When had his face had become so expressive? “Did I… wrong your arm?”

“It was before you could speak,” Fern told him. “It was not your fault.” It was the truth, but she could not bring herself to offer any further explanation. Instead she let the heat globes buzz overhead, tracking the time.

Vier continued his regular circular route around his cage not unlike a wolf might stalk the edge of his territory, crossing behind her. She heard his approach when he returned to the center of the room then saw him drop down, crouching on the floor two paces from her so that they were both facing the broken clay shells of the plants he had destroyed.

“I think about the beginning,” Vier said. “I think about here. Inside.”

“This room is all you’ve ever known.”

“When I leave, where will I go?”

Fern was about to say, with the Madame, with Olric’s men but the answer failed on her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can’t tell you.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Hm.” Fern looked up at the heat lamps. She didn’t know why continued to look up expecting to see the sky through several tons of dirt and stone that rested above the cage. How long had it been since her recruitment? There was no way to know for certain. She hadn’t felt the sun since the day she’d entered this underground metal world mapped by cold stone and populated by the paper-pale Madame and her helpers. It had been mid summer then but winter could have been raging in the world above them and life would continue without change beneath the earth. “Four, five months? Not very long.”

“It is long,” Vier protested.

Yes, it must have felt like a long time to Vier. She had to keep reminding herself how young he was. His transformation had been so significant, indeed it seemed like it should have taken years.

Vier shuffled his body so he could face her, straightening his back and crossing his legs like hers. He was copying her posture, always learning. “How long have you been?”

“Been?”

“Been,” Vier said. “Been Fern.”

“You mean, how old am I?” It took a moment to dig back up the memory; age was something that belonged to Fern Godric, the girl who lived in the shadow of mountains, who lay awake on summer nights house ringing with bird and cricket calls. “I must be twenty years old yet.”

Vier said nothing but the muscles on his neck flexed, digesting the news.

“I don’t remember all of it,” Fern insisted, hoping this would close the gap between them. “You forget a lot of the beginning when you get older.”

Still Vier did not answer. It was like he no longer knew what to do with his new hands. He tried stretching his fingers against the floor, gripping his knees, and shifting his weight from side to side.

“You don’t remember anything?” Fern asked him, shocked of her own daring. “Nothing from before me?”

Vier’s head gave a slight twist. “I too have forgotten most of my beginning. I remember smells, stone, food, then Fern.” The beast looked like he was chewing on a thought, but though Fern waited, he did not continue.

“What is it?”

He opened his mouth only to close it again, mashing his wide lips together.

“Please, ask my anything.”

Vier looked at her, straight into her eyes. Fern knew how hard that was for the beast. “I want to see your arm.”

“No.” Fern’s response was immediate. When Vier frowned, she struggled for a better answer. “I don’t"why would you want to see it?”

“It’s a hurt,” Vier told her. “I’ve never seen a hurt.”

That was it? That was his reason? His own curiosity? The thought of revealing her injury to anyone opened a hole in the pit of Fern’s stomach where something gross lingered. The aches and spasms were enough. Vier may not be, but Fern was afraid of what lay under the bandages.

And yet, Vier’s eyes were alight peering unabashed and fascinated by her arm. It made her wonder how long he'd been wanting to see it.

With an intake of breath and a surge of regret, Fern said, “Fine.”

Vier leapt up into a crouch, skidding to her side. Feeling sick already, Fern looked for the end of the bandage, but the Sowers’ knot was too small and too tight for her to manage with one hand.

Impatient, Vier leaned in hands inching forward. “I can open it.”

“Hold--” Fern began, but Vier looked down at his left hand and with the slightest flinch across his face all five fingers bloomed into new, black claws.

Fern was so stunned she didn’t even attempt to stop him as he gingerly took her injured limb. It was not wise to let him so close with those hands, she knew. Not when he had so recently been throwing tantrums, throwing himself into the walls of his cage, and digging rivets into the stone floor. What stopped her from yanking her arm out of his reach was Vier’s pure, almost clinical interest. It transfixed her as her injured arm transfixed him.

Fern had seen Vier rip rock and metal, yet he held her mangled arm with surprising lightness. And with the softest of touches, he drew a single claw down the length of the wrapped bandage. Fern bit her lip hard and braced herself but the material tore easily, and with the very tips of those same monstrous claws Vier peeled the edges of the bandage apart.

Fern turned her head away. Pain flashed up into her shoulder as the bandage separated from the wound that used to be her arm. And yet she knew that as soon as the injury was exposed, she would have to look at it. She couldn’t resist discovering what lay beneath the bandage. She doubted any human could.

There was the swelling and a nauseating odor. A strange blackened color to her too soft flesh. Once again, her alien arm looked up at her. The Sowers’ latest injection during her last Clinic visit did not appear to have helped. Was she imagining it or was her arm now worse than it had ever been before?

Vier faced the limb--its bumps and raw slips of puss--still as stone, his features taken over by what Fern now knew was his “thinking” expression.

The two of them stayed in that position absorbed in silence, Fern’s wounded limb cradled in Vier’s claws. Even after the Madame’s bell ran signaling the end of that day’s session, it was still a long moment until either of them released the other.

© 2015 buoyantMaureen

Author's Note

This is an excerpt from a larger novel but it has the strength to stand on its own. Let me know what you think!

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Featured Review

David Jae

It's very compelling. Vier and Fern are a strong counter-point to each other, both being prisoners in their own way. They are fully formed and you feel for both of them. You set the scene well with no needless exposition or unnecessary description, which adds to the strength of the piece.

There are some strange uses of punctuation, in places, but this is a minor point.

Ganbare