Needle's Eye: "God of Life — God of Death"

Enter a world where boundaries blur and realities collide.

Anthology Contributor: "God of Life — God of Death"

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Sample

The silence was broken only by the soft rustle of the breeze in the sweet, resinous scent of the firs and deep grass.  The skies were a blue so rich that the pine needles were light in comparison. Distantly, the pounding roar of the waterfall reached her questing ears.  She altered her course slightly, heading toward it, trusting more in her ears than her memory of landmarks. She trotted smoothly, her joints loose and relaxed under her cougar-skin smock, her bare feet thick with callus from a lifetime of travel, following the herds.  Her name was Ena, named for the sound made by the mouse-deer when it was spitted on a spear. It was an insult, cast upon a newborn that would not live through the night.

But she did.

Reddish-brown, ratted tangles hung down about her muscular shoulders, the frazzled tips brushing her waist as she continued her pace, eager to catch up with the clan before sunset. Her smock was pieced together from different cougar hides, some of them the color of sand, others more red, others shaded more toward gray. All marked her as one of the Clan of the Great Cat, one of the fiercest of the clans. She was proud of her clan … even if they did hide her when fighting other clans. It would not do to have one who looked like her noticed by other clans. Her face was finely boned, with a pert nose, full lips and large, blue eyes. All were at odds with the rest of her clan, who were much heavier in the brow and nose, with dark eyes and hair. Ena favored her mother, taken captive after a battle between clans by her father. Ena was never as strong as the others were, and she did not have as keen a sense of smell, but she was faster, more nimble, and much more cunning.

Ena looked up at the sky with a gasp, then let out a relieved breath. It was only a dark mound of white drifting across the sun, not actual sunset darkening the sky. Nonetheless, it was nearer dusk than she liked. She hefted her bone-tipped spear in her left hand as she ran even harder. Not only was she further behind the others than was acceptable, she was also empty-handed, no game to show for it.

The ground steadily grew harder and less grassy as the firs closed in about her, enfolding her in dim, sweet shadow. It was welcome, helping her maintain her pace without as much of the sun’s heat. Then again, it muted the sounds of Sea God’s Gate, the angry waterfall that was the agreed-upon meeting place. She was no longer certain how much longer she had to run. She could just imagine coming out of the trees and stepping off the edge of the jagged cliff, to fall down with the tumbling water, just one more droplet amidst the rains of all tomorrows.

Ena burst out of the trees and stumbled to a frantic halt, not because of a deadly fall, but because of the looming monstrosity of the waterfall rising a hundred feet above. She had been wrong. She was off course, ending up at the base of the waterfall, rather than at its top. She did not understand it, but it had happened. She was in the basin, a round hole cut into the stone, and the thunder of plummeting water coming down smooth stone to a massive pool was deafening. Mist was everywhere, enshrouding its base, casting the sun’s rays into the bands of the rainbow as it drifted steadily toward her. Ena smiled, letting the moisture settle on her skin and cool her overworked muscles. She extended her arms to the sides, watching droplets form on the pale hairs on her forearms, weighing them down until they slid down her skin, dragging away the dirt and leaving trails of pink behind. How could it be forbidden to enter the basin? It was wonderful.

Her spear smacked onto the bare rock at her feet as she hurriedly pulled off her single, smock-like garment. The skin crumpled in on itself in a cloud of dust, mites and burrs. Ena watched more mist condense on her skin and rubbed at it with her palms, drawing streaks of thin mud across her body. She slid both palms over her face and into her hair, exulting in the cleansing chill—

There was no pain as a bone-tipped spear tore through her flesh, parting her ribs, then meeting the rock at her feet. Dazedly, she looked down at it, jutting upward, grasped it with both hands, and looked up at the rim of the basin … where she was supposed to have met up with the rest of her clan … saw her attacker, dressed in a cougar-skin smock like the one at her feet. She tried to move, but the bone tip was caught in a crack in the stone, holding her upright until she finally fell to her side. The impact forced the breath from her lungs … and she was unable to take in another.

Death.