Chapter 347 - The Body Politic part 5

I dreamed that day, but the dreams were not my dreams. I dreamed of a frozen sea, its surface cracked into great white jigsaw pieces, and a strange glistening creature surfacing between the rafts of broken ice. The creature seemed to be grinning. Its kind intelligent black eyes held mine without malice, only curiosity, and then it blew a mist of water vapor from an orifice in the center of its head. I held a spear in my hand. I had been hunting seals, but I was so enchanted by this creature that I did not think to attack it, a thing I hungrily regretted the moment it subsided back into the water. I dreamed of endless blue skies with wispy clouds harried by a constant keening wind. I dreamed of my village, home of the Orlo, with its low domed huts and seal hides staked out in the sun. I dreamed of wives who were not my wives and children who were not my children. These are Yul's memories, not my own, I said to myself in the dream. But they were similar enough to the life that I had lived that I awoke with a bittersweet sense of loss. Such simple times. Such simple pleasures.

I feared I would have to contend with Yul's belligerence when I awoke, but the voice in my head was much diminished when I came to. Perhaps the dreams were part of some absorptive process, for my thoughts no longer seemed so diametrically apportioned. Or perhaps the Eternal's phantom personality had simply resigned itself to its fate. Whatever it was, I had begun to assimilate the Eternal's psyche. I could push him into the recesses of my deeper consciousness with only a modicum of resistance. I opened my eyes and sat up carefully in the dark.

Home.

Zenzele, lying still and cold beside me.

It did not seem real.

Perhaps it isn't, I said to myself. Perhaps this is just another hallucination, and I am still hanging on that wall in Uroboros, a head on a pike, the God King's gruesome trophy.

Now that was a horrible thought!

I raised my right arm and flexed my fingers. The limb was shorter and more muscular than my original arm, but it seemed real enough. No hallucination, then. I lowered my right arm and raised my left arm. It moved more clumsily than the other. It flopped wildly about when I wagged it. But I would master this limb too, given a little time.

Zenzele sighed softly.

I did not wish to disturb her so I rose and headed toward the main chamber of our living quarters. Perhaps I should say, I meant to rise. I completely misjudged how much strength to apply to the movement, propelled myself upwards much too forcefully and sprawled forward onto my face. Zenzele woke to the image of my bare buttocks wagging in the air. Below that, a pair of unusually pendulous bollocks swinging back and forth, like a wrinkly Newton's cradle.

She erupted into laughter. "Gon! What are you doing?"

I tried to right myself and fell back hard on my rump. My teeth champed together on my tongue and I saw stars.

"Here, let me help you," Zenzele said.

"I can do it!" I snapped in frustration.

"Help yourself then," Zenzele said, unruffled by my tone. She rose and went to dress.

Nursing my sore tongue, I watched her shimmy her slim figure into tight leather garments. Her vestments were unambiguously masculine: padded leggings, an armored vest, armguards to the elbows. The woman was anything but, features too fine, hips too round for androgyny. I could not help but stare at those smoothly curved buttocks as she pulled up her trousers, the ugly mushroom rising in tandem with her breeches.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Are you getting up? The sun has set. We have things to do."

"Why don't we lie down for a few more minutes?"

She sighed, but it was a good-natured sigh. I could tell she didn't want to be amused, or seduced, but she was a little of both. "You're insatiable," she said.

"Always. It's one of my charms."

"I wouldn't call it a charm."

"A fault, then."

"An agreeable fault. On occasion."

Despite her impatience, she strode to our bedding and sat down beside me. Triumphant, I lay back and put my arms behind my head. She took the mushroom in hand and bent it back and forth, examining it critically. "It's so ugly," she said. "All veiny and wrinkled." It wilted at her disdain and she laughed. "Oh, my love, I'm sorry!" She wiggled it vigorously, trying to revive it, but her mockery had slain it. "I've spoiled the mood, haven't I?" she asked.

I extracted myself from her grip with as much dignity as possible. "It's all right. In a way, I'm glad you find this body wanting. It just proves how much you enjoyed the original."

"You and your ego!"

I struggled to my feet, stumbled, caught myself against the wall. "We need to recover the rest of my body soon. I'd hate for you to start looking for a new man."

"Despite what you might like to believe," Zenzele said, "my interest in you is based on more than just your physical form." She helped to steady me. "Although I have to admit, you slipped out last night more often than usual."

"Aha!" I cried, wagging my finger at her.

Zenzele chuckled, taking my pointed finger and curling it down into my palm. "Enough teasing, love. I'm famished. Let us go visit the bloodletters. I'm sure word of your return has spread through all of the city by now. You must let yourself be seen, reassure the people that you are strong and still dedicated to this war against the God King. Then we need to review the troops. Bhorg has been pestering me relentlessly about it. After that, we should call a meeting of the High Council. Much has happened while you were gone."

Sobered by my responsibilities, I nodded. "Yes, yes, you are right. But afterwards…?"

She stepped close to me, placing her cold hands on my chest. "After, I will let you do whatever you wish to me… for as long as you wish to do it."

I smiled devilishly. "I'll try not to slip out."

Eyes twinkling with mirth, Zenzele pushed me away and walked swiftly from our sleeping chamber.

I struggled into some clothing, then followed. In the chamber beyond, Tapas, Irema, Eris and Usus were gathered around the hearth. Judging by the smiles they were trying to suppress, they had overheard most of our badinage. Zenzele had given Eris some orders. They all rose as I entered the chamber, Eris and Usus to depart, after bowing to me respectfully, Irema to embrace me.

"How are you feeling tonight, grandfather?" Irema asked, kissing me on the cheek. I hugged her back. She had a demonstrative nature. She took after me in that regard, though at least three hundred generations had passed between my mortal era and hers.

"I feel more like myself tonight," I said, hugging her back. "I wish you would call me Gon, however. Grandfather sounds strange to me. Too formal."

"Zenzele says we must call you Mother and Father in public."

"Most of the mortals in Penthos regard us as deities," I said. "For the sake of our war with Khronos, we encourage their superstitions."

Mortal men were more willing to fight and die for a god than for a cause, even one that was in their best interest. Death, I suppose, is less frightening with the assurance of heavenly recompense. It appealed to their egos too, I think, taking part in some grandiose battle between divine entities. Good versus evil. And I do not think I need to expound upon the allure of eternal life, either in this world as a blood drinker or the next one as a spiritual being. Religion was not the engine that drove our war, but it certainly greased the wheels.

Such calculated manipulation made me feel tainted—so very, very dirty!—but our deception was a necessity. I had seen the future the God King meant to unleash upon the world, and it was far worse than any lie I might contrive.

"It is a necessary evil," Tapas acknowledged. I think that he probably coined that term. I had never heard it before that evening. But he understood. Sometimes you must do wrong to prevent an even greater wrong.

Another necessary evil? The Temple of the Bloodletters.

We needed to feed. Fortunately for the immortals of Asharoth, our mortal cohabitants provided an inexhaustible supply of blood. Down in the city below, mortals flocked to the temple day and night, cutting open their veins for a drop or two of the Strix. Our immortal potashu was highly valued for its healing properties, not to mention its psychotropic effects. A few drops of the Strix smeared into an open wound would heal an injury in moments. Ingested, it could cure illness and rid the body of infection and parasitic infestation. It induced a temporary state of euphoria. Mortals who regularly partook of the Strix were more permanently altered. They aged at a slower rate, were physically stronger and faster than normal human beings, with quicker reflexes and heightened perceptions. Sometimes they inadvertently ingested too much of the Living Blood and were fully transformed, but that was a rare thing. Most who "gave up the sun" did it willfully, trading their humanity for immortality, in full knowledge of the risks involved and what they would be giving up in exchange for the powers and responsibilities of a blood god. Before we could go down to the temple and nourish our bodies, however, we had to make ourselves a little more presentable.

We could not go down into the city as we were! We were the Mother and the Father, the God and Goddess of Asharoth, and our subjects expected us to play the part. Reflect, if you will, how vicious your kind can be when one of your mortal celebrities appears in public without her makeup or in unfashionable attire, or dares to bare a flabby body on some European beach. Look how you react when some religious or political figure is caught in scandal. You mortals love to tear down your idols almost as enthusiastically as you worship them. It was no different twenty thousand years ago. You are still the same pack hunters, who drive off your alphas the moment they show weakness.

Luckily, we had Eris, who had returned from Zenzele's errand to help us with our dress. As Usus and Tapas conversed idly, Eris and Irema painted our faces. They circled our eyes in black so that they seemed to jump out of their sockets. They painted our lips a bright bloody shade of red and decorated our skin with abstract markings. Dots on the brow and zigzagging lines around the upper arms. Upon Zenzele's shoulders they placed a feathered mantel. At her waist, a fringed skirt. The skirt seemed to shimmer when she moved as all the little tassels swept back and forth. I do not care for feathers as they remind me of the creature who had made me a blood drinker. Instead, I wore a cape with a fur-trimmed collar and a plated vest. My leggings and the shoulders of my cape were padded so that I appeared larger and more impressively muscled. There was just one problem. Yul's body was much broader than my own, and it was nearly a head shorter. My old clothing did not fit very well. They were too tight and my cape dragged the ground when I walked. I looked like a boy dressed up in his father's clothing, but it was nothing Eris could not remedy with a knife and some careful stitching.

I did not like the pomp with which we were expected to comport ourselves in public, but I knew it was necessary to maintain the solidarity of the diverse peoples who had come together to aid us in our war with the God King. Khronos had ruled since time immemorial. To them he was a god, terrifying and all-powerful. Had we also not assumed the roles of gods, we never would have amassed an army large enough to challenge him. Who would follow a man who sought to challenge the gods? Only madmen would throw their lot in with him. Madmen and martyrs. So we played our parts. We had no choice. Our coalition would crumble if the people lost faith in us. Not all at once, perhaps, but it would happen, grain by grain.

It had nearly happened when I fell to the God King.

When Khronos had me Divided, he made sure the news of my downfall was spread as far and wide as possible. He immediately dispatched an embassy to Asharoth to proclaim his victory. His envoys had Shared their Living Blood so there was no question of my ruination. He demanded their surrender. Our alliance nearly dissolved then. If not for Zenzele's unyielding resolve-- and a very timely "prophecy" that I would be reborn and destroy the God King forever-- our coalition would have fallen apart. In fact, a great many people had fled from Asharoth then, thinking the end was nigh, but Zenzele held the alliance together. Barely.

Now I was reborn. It was not my original body, but it was good enough to proclaim the prophecy fulfilled. I had arisen from the dead. Time now to go down among our followers and be seen by them, to reaffirm their faith in me.

Accompanied by Eris, Irema, Usus and Tapas, we departed the Aerie and made our way down the mountain to the city of Penthos. We did not climb down the face of the mountain like proper vampires would have done, though it would have been quicker. Instead, we walked down the less precipitous path that zigzagged down the mountain's flank. It took quite a bit longer to descend that way, despite the fact that Asharoth was only a modest peak in comparison to some of the titans in that ancient mountain range. Some of the mountains in the Urals soared two thousand meters in height. Asharoth was a middle child. Only a thousand meters tall. We took the long way because I was still a bit uncoordinated, and it would be terribly unseemly should I lose my purchase and go plummeting to the foot of the mountain. No one likes to see their gods fall from heaven. I would shatter like a Ming vase. It would be terribly embarrassing.

Vehnfear met us on the path, tail wagging.

"Vehnfear!" I exclaimed. I squatted down with open arms, expecting another slathering of love, but Zenzele's pet shied away from me. Hackles bristling, he growled at me suspiciously. "What's the matter, old fellow?" I asked. I was genuinely puzzled, and a little hurt, by the wolf's reaction to me.

"He doesn't know you," Zenzele said.

"What do you mean he doesn't know me?"

"He doesn't know you anymore," Zenzele answered.

Vehnfear snarled as if in agreement, muzzled crinkled back from his teeth.

Of course! Why didn't I realize? I might be me in my head, but I was a completely different person in the flesh. Even my voice was different, altered by the shortening of my vocal chords. The immortal wolf didn't know what to make of me now.

"Hey, boy, it's all right," I said soothingly. "Come here and give me a sniff. It's your old friend Gon. I know I look different, but it's really me. I promise."

The wolf edged grudgingly nearer, glaring at me balefully with those strangely intelligent blue-gray eyes. Tail curled between his tense haunches, he eased into my space and gave my face a nervy sniff. I waited for him to bite my face off, but he finally seemed to recognize me and slopped my cheeks with his big red tongue. He nearly bowled me over in his enthusiasm and I laughed and gave the beast a rough hug.

"Easy, boy, I missed you, too! No need to make a spectacle of yourself!"

Vehnfear relented, but he continued to grin. Tongue lolling from the side of his muzzle, he accompanied us the rest of the way down the mountain.