Distance did not, however, obscure the sounds. Moans and sobs wafted across the foggy plain like the pleas of ghosts. They ebbed and flowed, disappearing one minute and wafting back to them on the chill breeze. The wind also brought them the smells of war, which were ten times as bad as the sounds: blood and burning and the stink of men who had filled their pants as they died. Nira fished a cloth out of her pocket and kept it pressed against her nose.
They didn’t see any active encampments, but the thickness of the jungle meant that they could stumble across either humans or Naga at any time, which made for nervous going. Kest was ranging ahead, hoping to catch some sign of the snake folk, but he was only one man. What if the horrible beasts came at them from deeper in the jungle? They’d have no warning. For all that she mocked Nira’s fear of the Naga, Renna knew she herself would go to great lengths to never come face-to-face with them again.
Kest stopped and waited for them to catch up. “Looks like this was Garrett’s battle after all,” he said, pointing. Stretched out before him under the trees was a human corpse. It was a man dressed in the green and yellow uniform of a Far East soldier.
“So much for the peace treaty,” Renna remarked, feeling a hint of satisfaction. It warmed her heart to know that she’d been instrumental in the dissolution of such a diabolical pact. There can be no peace with the Naga. Anyone who says differently is lying to themselves.
“Indeed,” responded Gamarron, though he sounded far more troubled than she might have liked. She was glad she had plenty of time to shape his thinking – he obviously needed it.
“Look,” said Kest, kneeling by the dead man. He pointed at the arm just above the elbow. “I think he got eaten a little. Do the Naga do that? I’ve heard stories, but...” he shuddered. “Seeing it is something else.”
Renna dismounted alongside Gamarron, and they both leaned in for a look. There was a chunk of flesh the size of a crabapple missing from the back of the arm. It was a ragged wound. “It’s not from a weapon,” the savage said. “Obsidian and stone both leave cleaner cuts than this. It could have been a scavenger – plenty of those this deep in the jungle. But it could have been the Naga just as easily.”
“That one we met talked about eating us,” Nira said, hanging back. “I mean, she never said it outright, but she seemed to like how nervous it made everyone.”
Renna nodded her agreement. Madam Sycara had definitely known how to prey on human fears.
“You said the one you met had human teeth, though,” Gamarron mused. “Flat teeth can’t tear and rip like this, not usually.”
“Does it matter?” Guyrin asked.
“To this fellow I bet it did,” Nira replied.
He laughed. “No doubt. But unless they catch us, who cares? Wild boar, koira, Naga – the man’s dead one way or the other. Poor dope was probably crawling away from the battle. Soldiers are idiots.” He ticked off his reasons on his fingers. “The pay is terrible, you get mistreated by your superiors, you sleep on the ground half the time, the chances for glory are practically nil no matter what they say, and in the end, you get your face eaten by a snake monster. You might as well starve in the street – there’s more dignity in it.”
“You’re sleeping on the ground, too,” pointed out Kest.
“Ah,” the grinning chaos wielder said, “but I do it on Mistress Renna’s very best drugs. I might as well be sleeping on clouds. How you lot get by without is a mystery.” His zephyr tried to take a bite out of the dead man, but Kest swatted its nose.
Renna was about to tell Guyrin exactly what she was going to do to his face if he didn’t shut up, but a flicker of motion from the hazy battlefield caught her eye. Is that…? Impossible. Her heart skipped a beat and she slid off her zephyr without even thinking about it.
“What’s the matter?” Gamarron asked.
“I...” She couldn’t seem to form words, or even thoughts. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was a legend, a myth, a bedtime story for neophytes – and yet her eyes couldn’t deny what they reported. She took another step toward the battlefield.
Following her gaze, Kest said, “There’s someone on the field.” The fog wafted this way and that in the gentle breeze, making it hard to say exactly what was out there. The eye played tricks. And yet...
“She comes to the fallen faithful,” Renna whispered. “She plants their souls.” Unaware of anything around her, she drifted out of the trees. Kest called after her and Gamarron took hold of her arm, but she shook him off. “I have to go to her.” She had seen Gaia! The Mother in the flesh, walking in the fields of Asunder! I am the most blessed of all your children, Earth Mother. My eyes will glory in you forever.
Out there in the mist, right in front of her, the Mother was gathering up her faithful and planting their souls in the earth to come forth anew. She’d repeated the words to acolytes so many times that they had lost their power. She had come to accept the gathering as metaphorical, and sometimes, cursed weed that she was, she had even caught herself thinking that the Mother Herself was a construct of the mind – an ideal to strive toward rather than a Being of power and love that watched over all her children. But now she was
