Root (Energy Anthology) Read online

  ROOT

  — • —

  Lloyd Matthew Thompson

  Starfield Press

  Oklahoma City, OK

  ROOT

  by Lloyd Matthew Thompson

  Copyright © 2013 Starfield Press

  www.StarfieldPress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are purely of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art: The Lament for Icarus

  by Herbert James Draper, 1898

  Cover design by Lloyd Matthew Thompson

  www.OpenedeyeStudios.com

  ROOT

  THE ENERGY ANTHOLOGY

  — • —

  LLOYD MATTHEW THOMPSON

  • ONE •

  He didn’t remember exactly where he was before he had a body, but he definitely remembered where he was when he became aware he was now inside a body.

  The harder he tried to remember before, though, the further it seemed to slip away. He had to have known at one time— he remembers there was a “one time,” doesn’t he? Why was it now cruelly held captive at the edge of his awareness, taunting and teasing his muffled soul?

  His awareness. That’s another thing he now found frustrating, though he cannot quite explain why, if asked.

  Before, there were no limitations on his awareness. Had there been any restrictions then? It seems there used to be a time when he was not so confined in his senses. Things were different then— weren’t they? It’s so difficult to tell now.

  One thing he did know: he did not belong here. He was not from this place, he was not made for this place, he did not belong in this place. He was sure of it.

  But to this place he had come.

  His first awareness came from above. He was in a tree, clinging for dear life to the highest, thinnest branch that would support his weight without snapping and sending him tumbling into the hands of the angry throng below.

  Dear life? He supposed life was dear, even if it was not his own life. But this was his life, wasn’t it? Had it always been? No, there had been something else, before. Yet he reacted as if this was his own life, in this moment.

  Looking down on the crowd screaming for him sent waves of tense electricity through his body. His every muscle seemed to tighten around the slender branch more than should have been possible for this body. Had this always been his body? He thinks it has been. And these Others with their twisted faces and boiling eyes wanted him to come down, wanted him to do something, wanted to do something to him!

  A new shock went through his system, and shivers began tormenting his body uncontrollably. What was this sensation? He looked to the sky as a wetness filled his eyes. The brightness on the large cloud drifting by blurred into the sparkling of jewels overhead. A darkened speck moving across the glare grew larger, came closer, took shape. It was an animal, flying. Bird, his mind named it as it appeared to be coming to rest in his tree, then changed its mind and veered away at the last second. The wetness rolled down his cheek as his body continued to shake. Tears. Crying. Crying because the bird flew away, or because he was stuck in a tree? Stuck in a tree, or being chased by a mob?

  Tremors that were not from his body entered his awareness. A cry escaped him, the sound of his own voice startling as he looked down to find his tree was now being hit by two separate men in the crowd. Swinging heavy sticks with sharp metal attached, they took turns chopping into what little sense of safety he had.

  Panic gripped his body at a new level. What were they going to do to him? Why were they doing this? What was going to happen? What would become of his body? How was he going to get away? He needed this body— his body! What would he do if he lost it? What would become of him?

  The cracking of wood accompanied a disorientation in his awareness. The limb began moving, though his own limbs did not. His tree tumbled over, its roots left behind.

  And Lam fell to earth.

  • TWO •

  Pressing his hand to the tree for support, Lam doubled over and gasped for air. His heart was unaware his legs had stopped running, and continued to run in circles within its cage of ribs. The blood pounded in his ears so loudly he was sure his pursuers would be able to hear it, and find him again.

  The crowd had forgotten their anger long enough to split frantically and avoid being crushed by his falling tree. Lam had landed hard, flat on his back. It had knocked the wind from his lungs, but he’d recovered quickly and scrambled into a run as the gap between him and the Others swiftly closed. He hadn’t even had to think about it. It was as if his body had a mind of its own— it just got up and ran.

  He had lost the Others twice in his flight, and been discovered twice. Only after ducking into a feeble structure, out its back entrance, scratching through the shadows of a thicket, and splashing through a stream did he slow down enough to realize he had lost them for good. For now.

  He glanced back, making sure once more the Others were not in sight. His panting was beginning to subside, his mind beginning to clear. He glanced up into this new tree. It had droopy leaves instead of the tall, uplifted branches the one he had fallen from had had. Should he climb its branches and return to where he felt safe? Was that where he belonged? The vivid memory of his recent fall returned and quickly pursued the associations of safety and heights, replacing it with the opposite.

  His heart sent another surge of electricity through his system, and he backed away as if this tree, too, would fall on him at any second.

  Tripping on a stone, he fell backwards into a cluster of fuzzy vine-like plants. Grateful it was not the brambles that had torn and bitten his skin as he had clawed his way through in desperation to reach this place, he sighed and felt his body relax, if only slightly. There were no Others to be seen here. No sounds but those of the trees and plants stirring in the breeze. He was alone, the only one in this place, abandoned in an unknown land, rejected, cut off from his home. He had nowhere he belonged.

  Home? Was that the “before?” If so, where was this home? Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to be doing? He had been doing something, hadn’t he? He felt sure of it. But what?

  His eyes drifted to the sky once again, and found even the clouds had abandoned him. Lam thought of the bird that had almost joined him. Why had it changed its mind? Had it rejected him, or rejected the mob below him? Where had it flown instead? Where were any of the animals here? It was extremely quiet. He missed the constant chatter in his head. It felt so empty without it, so lonely. Had it been noisier at home, or was it merely the absence of the angry crowd screaming for his life that now rang in his ears? There was no way for him to know. It was all so confusing, all so hopeless.

  Lam sighed and allowed his body to release more of its tension. It really did feel wonderful to loosen his muscles. They were so heavy. His entire body felt so bulky, so weak. He wasn’t used to this. Lying on the soft bed of vines and gazing into the expanse of sky spread above him brought feelings of peace and relaxation within him. Something about the sky stirred something in his body. It was a wash of electricity through his system, like that of the fear when he was running, but somehow different.

  Ah, fear. That’s what that had been. That sounded right. Then what was this new feeling?

  He didn
’t know why the sky was blue here, but its shade began darkening, then returned to its full brightness, only to be dimmed to an even darker hue. The brightness returned as he inhaled a deep breath of air into his lungs and opened his drooping eyes fully once more.

  He exhaled the air as he drifted into blackness and dreams of things he could no longer remember.

  • THREE •

  A sharp stick jabbed his ribs. He screamed and tried to leap up. He needed to run again— the Others had found him! He had to protect his body!

  But his body would not respond. It would not rise or run.

  The huge round face of an old woman filled his vision. Her large round eyes mirrored the shape of her face. Their hazel color appeared to be so light they looked yellow, and flickered as her toothless mouth spread into a grin. A rank odor flooded his nostrils as she chuckled and inspected his face. Lam struggled again as the old woman leaned in even closer, her long beak of a nose nearly touching his. The only way she would have been able to achieve this angle of examination was if she were sitting on him. He realized she was, and fear coursed through his veins once again. What was she going to do to him? He thrashed his body as hard as he could, trying to buck her off.

  The woman’s wrinkled fingers touched the center of his forehead, instantly calming him. Her hand grabbed both sides of his jaw firmly, and turned his head to one side. Tilting her own head slightly upward, she peered down her nose at him. A wet clucking sound came from her mouth as she turned him the other way. “Hmmm…” she muttered, releasing his face and sitting up straight on him.

  Lam now saw the sky had grown dark, as if the blackness that had overtaken his vision in sleep had somehow stained the expanse, and he had ruined it forever. Maybe that’s why the old woman had pinned him to the ground. Why wasn’t he afraid anymore?

  In the light of a huge bonfire raging nearby, he saw he was no longer where he had fallen asleep. Gone were the droopy leaves hanging over him, and the soft bed of vines underneath him. How had he gotten here? The flames from the fire, with its sparks and embers floating into the night, mesmerized him. Had he ever seen anything so beautiful? The sky had been beautiful, but had it been as beautiful as this fire? He realized this was the flicker reflecting in the old woman’s eyes, and almost smiled as the thought occurred to him that this same beauty was flickering in his own eyes as well.

  Beyond the sound of the round woman’s labored breathing, Lam became aware he was hearing something else. Consistent chirping came from the darkness in all directions. Had the birds returned? Had they been waiting for night to come out? That seemed odd. No, this must be something else. Weren’t there night creatures here? Crickets. Yes. The silence that had deafened him was broken at last, by crickets. Lam did smile now. He was no longer alone.

  “SEED!”

  The old woman jolted him from his thoughts. How was such an old woman able to project her voice so loudly?

  A murmuring joined in the chorus of crickets. Voices! There were people here! Had the Others found him after all? Was this woman one of them? His internal anxiety increased, but his body remained strangely calm and unmoving. He knew his life was over now. His body was already lost.

  With the aid of a thick tree branch that had been stripped and shaped, the woman slowly stood her plump, old body off him. He realized that was most likely the stick that had been used to poke him awake.

  She spread her arms to each side, never taking her eyes from his face, never dropping the smile from her face. There was a rustling and shuffling all around, and Lam saw a ring of people moving into view. They drew closer and stared at him. Lam squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tension in his body increase as he braced for the Others to recognize him and rush to attack him.

  “Ric’ua!” the old woman called out. The Others did not attack him, but instead gathered tighter and seemed to be even more interested in him than before. What had she told them? Were these not the Others? A woman broke from the circle around him. Her figure was silhouetted against the bonfire as she cautiously approached them. She moved to the other side of them and knelt to the earth. The blaze now illuminated her features. Her eyes sparkled and glowed as if they were made of diamonds. The fire accented what lines and wrinkles life had given her, but it was difficult to determine her age. She stared at Lam for a brief moment before turning her face up to the standing woman.

  “Your son no longer lives,” the round one said.

  A wail burst from the woman kneeling beside him. The diamond sparkles in her eyes fell to her cheeks and rushed to her chin. She collapsed to the ground, moaning and shuddering. Gasps and cries rose from the crowd all around. The old woman raised her arms to the people, signaling for silence.

  “Ric’ua,” she spoke to the weeping woman, “Ric’ua, mourn as you must, but you are blessed this night.” Ric’ua raised her head to look at her. Streaks of mud caked her face, a mask of dirt and tears.

  “But, Shen-Ma… my child…” She trailed into sobs once again. Lam looked in wonder from woman to woman.

  The old one hobbled the few steps it took to lay her hand on Ric’ua’s head. “Your child has willingly stepped aside. He has seen the great need of this land, and offered himself in service, that a Seed may be planted in his place.”

  “He was only sent for gurja fruit!” Ric’ua howled, oblivious to the eyes resting on her every move, the ears hanging on her every word. “He was to return quickly! My son was told!”

  The Shen-Ma patted her head gently. “This is your son now.”

  “NO!” she screeched. “I will not have it! I won’t! I will have my Pael! This is not my son!” The crowd stood motionless, barely breathing, neither moving to assist, nor in a hurry to comfort the distraught member of their own. It was as if they knew they must not interfere with this interaction. Were they afraid? If they were afraid, which were they afraid of— the old woman or the mother?

  “This is your son.”

  “No! He is different. This is not Pael!”

  “No,” agreed the old woman, “This is the body of Pael, but this is not Pael. You have been gifted Another.

  “Before you now is the Seed of the Stars.”

  The people collectively gasped as understanding suddenly ran rampant among them. The Shen-Ma’s words were repeated and whispered from person to person. They snuck uncomfortable glances at him as they stepped back, their circle expanding once again. Their bodies and curiosity retreated deeper into the shadows.

  From the ground, another understanding also dawned. They were not afraid of the women.

  They were afraid of Lam.

  • FOUR •

  “What is your name?”

  Ric’ua scurried back a few paces, as if nearness to him would become dangerous when he spoke. The Shen-Ma shifted her great round belly toward him, to further indicate he had been addressed. “What are you called?”

  He looked from the Shen-Ma to the mother. Her mud mask was quickly drying and cracking, giving her face a reptilian appearance. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Her shoulders visibly shook. He knew she could burst into tears again at any moment, and he did not wish that for her. Something within him felt warm towards her.

  The tree branch prodded his ribs again. He turned back to the Shen-Ma, who simply waited patiently.

  “L-Lam,” he said.

  “Lam,” she repeated. She spread her arms again to the ring of people. “He is called Lam!” she bellowed. “Pael is no longer among us, but we have been gifted with Lam!

  “He is The Seed!”

  The crowd burst into cheers and shouts of rejoicing. They moved in closer, dancing and clapping, quickly abandoning their circle formation. The Shen-Ma extended a hand to Lam, and he found his body would now respond. He grasped her strong hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. The people formed themselves into a single audience before the three of them as the Shen-Ma offered her other hand to Ric’ua. The woman hesitated, and seemed to notice the crowd for the first time, though she had
come from it herself. She stared at the people, wide-eyed.

  “Ric’ua,” the Shen-Ma beckoned. Ric’ua slowly stood and took her hand. The old woman smiled reassuringly and nodded. She pulled Lam and Ric’ua’s hands together before the bonfire. The people held their breath, watching their fingers interlace as the Shen-Ma wished. The old woman raised their joined hands as high as her thick arms could reach.

  “The Mother and The Son!” she cried.

  The crowd erupted into joyful shouts once again as the old woman leaned close to the two before her. “Take him home now, Ric’ua. Embrace your son.”

  Ric’ua appeared momentarily horrified, as if it hadn’t yet occurred on her that she would be bringing him home. Lam felt a similar hesitation, but the warmth and familiarity that was also inside him for this woman quickly overcame it. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him, but he realized he did want to go with Ric’ua. He smiled at her and offered his other hand. Seemingly comforted by his gesture, she slowly placed her hand inside it. With their eyes locked on each other’s, they stood together as their own circle in front of the Shen-Ma, in front of the bonfire, in front of the people, in front of the stars.

  The old woman had said he was of the stars. What was the word she had used? Seed. He knew seeds were planted. Had the stars planted him? Were there people among the stars? If so, why had they planted him here? These people here seemed to know him already though. Had he been planted some time ago, and it was just now being recognized? Why didn’t he remember?

  He knew seeds grew into plants, and he knew that after a time, plants bore fruit. This could explain why it was just now becoming known. Perhaps his fruit was just beginning to show.

  Another part of him also knew fruit was then plucked.

  Yet Lam felt he knew this woman. He was aware that Ric’ua was the most familiar to him of all these people. The warmth for her in his chest spread to his face, and his smile widened naturally and easily. What was this feeling? There was a word for it. Love. Yes, he thought. Love. Comfort. Safety. He felt safe with this woman. He wanted to be near this woman.