Monster Nation(64)

She turned, slowly, beginning to understand, and shaded her eyes. On top of a ridge, not two hundred yards away, Mael Mag Och sat with his long hair blowing in a breeze she couldn't feel. He raised one hand and waggled his fingers at her.

Nilla crossed the bottom of the canyon and clambered up the rock face beyond. She kicked off her shoes and used her bare toes to dig for footholds, clawed at the weathered sandstone. She didn't sweat, nor did she pant for breath as she climbed upwards, always upwards, but she felt the strain in her dead muscles, the pull in her back as she hoisted herself bodily to where the naked man sat waiting for her, not moving an inch to close the distance between them.

'So brutal you can be.' He tsked her, looking like he had just dropped by for a social chat. She clambered up to him on her stomach, crawling like an insect, and just collapsed. 'So angry. I suppose it's understandable. The living have been so cruel to you, haven't they? And now you're willing to torture them just to find out a name that doesn't mean anything anymore.'

She stared at him for a moment, unsure what to think. She was pretty sure that Mael was not at all what he appeared to be. 'You have a better plan?'

'I do, lass. Would you like to hear it?'

She rolled over onto her back and lay staring up at the intensely blue sky, so rich in color it nearly turned to black at the zenith. 'Your English has improved,' she told him.

He took it as a yes. 'End all the anguish, finish all the sadness. Wipe out the violence and the depravity and the suffering in one fell swoop. It is a tall order, I'll admit. Perhaps we can go one better: get them to do it for themselves.'

She hadn't cared for Singletary's nebulous refusals. She liked even less when Mael talked in riddles. 'What are you?' she asked, sitting up, facing away from him. He wasn't really there, of course. He was pushing himself into her head just like the psychic. It didn't matter if she looked at him or not.

'A musician, once upon a time. And a politician. I was a sorcerer and a hunter, too. I wrestled with monsters in my day. I conversed with what you would call gods.'

She smiled weakly. Great. A Jesus freak. Or no, he had said gods, plural. A Hare Krishna. 'Oh, I see. And what did they tell you?'

His voice softened. 'Shall I be plain? They whispered to me in the dark and stillness of the forest that humanity is wicked. That men are born with evil in their hearts, and must expiate their corruption by deeds."

“Oh yeah? What kind of deeds makes up for somebody with evil in their heart?” Nilla asked. She wished he would get on with it.

"Sacrifice. Blood sacrifice, if necessary. The longer we go unredeemed, the steeper the payment. They told me that should the necessary rituals go unfulfilled and the good works left undone it might eventually be necessary to wipe out the human race altogether. For the good of the world.'

'That's'' Nilla started, but she knew better than to finish.

'Crazy? I know you think it so. Your generation knows better. Your land doesn't believe in gods. You believe everything just sort of happens for no reason, isn't that right? You call that belief science. In my day we knew better. When the gods, especially when the Fathers of Clans spoke, we listened.'

Nilla stood up on the top of the rock and stared down at him. 'Did you start the Epidemic?' she demanded. 'That's what I'm feeling here. You brought the dead back to life so they could kill all the living for you. I swear''

'Lass, you're confusing the author with the agent. I didn't make this apocalypse. I serve it. As will you.'

She shook her head violently and started away from him, moving as fast as she could, walking flat-footed on the uneven rock. The sun's heat, stored up all day in the rock, burned her feet but she kept moving. She wanted to get away from him, away from'

'You were created to be the sword in my hand. My weapon.' He stood before her. She hadn't seen him move, hadn't even seen him blink into existence there, he just' was there. She stopped short before she collided with him. 'Why do you think your name was taken away from you?'

'Brain damage. There was no oxygen going to my brain so part of it died.'

He grinned at her. 'That sounds crazy to me. Why would the Father of Clans bring you back damaged? He had his reasons, I can assure you. He wants to make this task easy for you. You have no attachments to the humans. They hate you'you may safely hate them back because you don't remember what it is like to be one of them. You can do violence without guilt. You don't ever need to question your own motives. What a gift you have been given!'