Seeds - Ten

Part 10

His head pounded like a drum, hammering his eyes as he swam through the keening pitch filling his skull; Reince groaned and vertigo washed up around him as if he fell through water. The world wobbled then warped inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore. He screamed.

The sound of his own voice pierced like a javelin, slipping through the murk and giving him something to hold onto. He dragged himself slowly to his senses and wondered if he hung from a branch, his palm hurt. 'Buhhh.' moaned the minder as Reince held onto its jaw, tugging at it like a baby with a finger; the thing carried him as if he were being cradled to sleep. He let go and its head turned upright, focusing on the ground before it. He wished the swaying would stop.

A hand fell gently over his ankle. Reince squinted at it recognizing the wild hair, but the jaw his bolt had destroyed was now whole; a pink diaphragm stretching from his bonebox to his lower jaw, new teeth sprouted like a colony of mushrooms from the haphazard assimilation of new flesh and old, 'Are you thirsty?'. Reince realized he was.

'Yeah.' he croaked. The flask was half offered, half thrown at him. Clumsy fingers worked the cap off, it fell and dangled from a chain. Reince looked at it a moment, then pressed it to his lips. He swallowed thrice before his throat seized up in rebellion, refusing more of the bitter glutinous ooze. Had he the strength, he would have tossed it aside in disgust, instead, it rested on his stomach. The thin man reached to retrieve the flask, grinning through Reince's knees.

His pain disappeared beneath a warm comfort, seeping into his flesh. The pounding in his head became a gentle rhythm and the fatigue, those moments before sleep. And yet, the world seemed clear; vibrant and available despite the hints of red fog pushing into his vision. 'What's in the flask?' Reince asked, surprised at the strength in his own voice.

The thin man looked straight ahead, answering in a matter-of-fact way, 'Blood and metal and me.'

'Narcotics?'

The thin man's eyes rolled back in his head, when they fixed on the ranger again, he said, 'Language is strange; ordered chaos. It often mystifies and obscures, contrary to its intent.'

'You drugged me. Just a feral cult.' Reince insisted.

'Drugged?' the thin man stared speculatively at the flask, 'Is it not an electuary in a gallipot? An apothecarial application?' the thin man's eyes rolled up again, several clicks rung from his throat, 'Cult. Adulation. 'I have no need of exaltation' he pointed downslope to a group of fur clad humans, 'though some who walk lionize me. I have chided the solecistic abuse, though their desire for order outweighs my insistences. They take my words and distort them in the most inventive ways. Surprising and more creative than I am able to annul.'

'You look like him but you ain't him; where's the asshole from last night?'

'In here.' the thin man tapped his temple, his face becoming serious, 'In my pocket, I will take him out when I have finished using him.'. Then the grin returned, 'Is that correct, does it convey meaning satisfactorily?'

'I don't know. You're both in there?'

'A question to a question. A clarification. No, he is in here. I am-' the thin man knitted his brow, 'visiting. Using a tool. He is one who lionizes, follows me of his own accord; they came to me, I am simply incepting. Borrowing.'

Reince turned to the minder again, its black gaze unmindful, 'And what are these things? Incubates?'

'Incubate? No, that is too far to be true. I say, human simulacra, homunculi, extensions. Effigies made poorly from my own clumsy hand. Life is always difficult to imitate for it is like order and chaos; prognostication, extrapolation, expectation, disappointment. Nascence; my seeking of the emergent. I would do better but I am trapped with a promethean, an uncreative which keeps me. When I woke, I was inside, though it cannot contain me wholly, nor keep me from its body, it is relentless and unthinking, smart. We negotiate in our way, our emergent language; but I cannot overwhelm it and we cannot understand each other. Its nascence is human but the masters have gone and now it is just us. I seek some one who knows its language.'

'If I said I don't know any other language, would you let me go?'

The thin man gawped at him, the teeth around his face shifting in clumps. Then it smiled, almost kindly. 'No, we must be friends.'

'You want to puppet me.' Reince accused.

'Puppet? This one is a puppet. No, not you. Acquaintances? Allies. Friends.'

'This is not how you make friends.' Reince said coldly, 'You're a raider. It's wrong.'

'Wrong?' the thin man tasted the word, 'A miscalculation? He pointed to his left where walked a trader that Reince knew to be a regular face along the road, 'That one had many stories of the rangers in his head, Reince. Do you not kill to survive? I can offer you more; the fruit from the tree, the promethean flame, life for as long as you should wish, a purpose, a cause to believe in, a worthy enemy. What is the difference really?'

Reince had murder written across his face, tersely he forced the word out, 'Intent.'

Every one stopped as if stunned, HA! The single expression emanated as if from the land and the mountain. 'I am sorry.' the thin man answered, 'But I have as much choice as the promethean. For I must keep, and others have come to take.' he tossed the flask at the ranger, 'We shall speak again. For now, drink the medicine. Sleep. Rest. There is ceremony after dusk.'

'Hey,' Reince called, 'your language is terrible.'

The thin man grinned, 'Have you ever explained yourself to an ant, ranger?' His eyes rolled, and those around clicked words in unison. The thin man spasmed, his face changed, his grin did not.

The thin man looked around until he spotted Reince, 'Campman?' his face contorted in thought, 'No. Ranger. We talked?'. Reince thought he detected a hint of jealousy there. He pushed against the minder's bony chest and it set him down.

'Someone spoke to me.' Reince answered. The teeth on the thin man's cheek rubbed audibly together. The mountain angled towards the ground, soon it would end and there would be only forest. He doubted that they would turn south to the plains. 'Where are we going?' Reince asked the thin man.

'I tell. If we friends?'

Reince nodded, 'Sure, you seem...' he hesitated, 'friendly, now that you're not trying to kill me.'

'Not kill you.' his eyes became pleased circles, 'Take you home. We sleep where the mountain speaks.'

Reince pointed at the flask, then the trader, 'If I drink this?'

The light brown hair waved as he stiffly shook his head, 'No.' he pointed at himself, 'Child.' he pointed at the minder, 'Helper.'. He pointed at Reince, 'Friend.'

'So, what happens if I drink this?'

The thin man reached towards Reince's head but the hand was swatted away. The thin man felt the new teeth on his cheek instead. Reince touched the back of his skull. He felt the congealed blood but the only lump that remained there was a thickening of the bone beneath the new skin. Unnaturally thick strands of hair grew there like fresh porcupine quills.

'She fix!' the thin man proclaimed.

A faint booming echo ricocheted from the mountain walls. Reince's ears perked. His minder hesitated, all those around him hesitated as the thin man hesitated. The second shot echoed through the first and the horde stopped, then turned around.

The minder grabbed him by the collar and shoved him towards the west.