Part 5
Hemolymph. You’re stilled, staring at the wounded lady as she reaches out with a middle leg, patting the bird and scratching its head. The motion slides open her robe, and you’re able to see her thorax and under abdomen. It — the flesh — is sliced open in multiple places. No, sliced is the wrong word. Bored open? Gouged? There seems to be holes melted into her, and she gushes out through them.
Hemolymph. The green innards of a mantis, you’ve never seen it before. Yes, you’re a nymph; you and your friends have sustained cuts and cracks before. Tiny things. But mantids weren’t supposed to leak, like a fruit someone bit into. It’s unsetting, uncanny.
“First time seeing blood, eh?” Blood? But only boney animals have blood. You almost ask, but it’s not important.
“Are you alright? What happened?”
While you ask this, you kneel down to get a good look at the mantis. The dark blue chitin marks her as foreign; no one in Shatalek has chitin in shade even close. The robes are dark, and you don’t see any insignia woven into them.
“Yeesh, I’m not dead yet kid, don’t get so interested in my stuff.” They cough again, and you watch their abdomen rise and fall as they suck in more breaths.
Again you run an examining eye over the mantis, searching for details out of place. They teach you to be incredibly wary of defects and renegades in pre-vesper, because they are tricky and all of them ruthless. This could be an innocent… but she could be anything.
She gathers her breath, and finally addresses your question. “What happened isn’t important… You’re from Shatalek, aren’t you? I was coming to warn you… all of you.”
“Warn us what?” You should have pressed about her injuries, about what caused them — but if this is a new world-scar…
“Termite mound. A fresh, big one. The Stewartry will be coming soon, and…”
You interrupt, “Well if the Vesperbane Stewartry already knows, they’ll handle it. We need to make sure you’ll be okay!” This would be so much easier if she stayed focused.
You had bandages in your bag — a vesperbane should be prepared, after all. Unfortunately, you had simply left out to study, so of course all your pre-vesper gear was still at home, including your bag. But you know how to start a fire, and you know the signals the guard uses. But would the smoke make it out of the canopy? Would it even be visible? The sky was darkening when you left.
Maybe you could send the bird back, but would the townfolk pay attention to it? How many would still be outside? Maybe the signal fire is the best idea. But if someone did this to her, and they’re still out there…
“Do you have any enemies? Who did this to you?”
“Enemies?”
“You know, like bad guys. Evil people who’re after you.”
“Well I have the twin snakes of the Stewartry and the Kult of Kaos coiling tighter and tighter around my neck… But where in the nine nations is this coming from?” Cough. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Well I’m thinking about lighting a signal fire, but if whoever did this to you is still out there, we don’t want to let them know and draw them to us.”
“A signal fire? In the middle of the forest?” She shakes her head, mumbling something. “Listen kid, I’ll be fine. You need to go back to your village and tell them… No, they would listen to a nymph…” She trails off.
“People listen to me!”
“Sure. Do you know a… Tlista?”
“My… mom?”
“You’re Tlista’s kid.” The mantis leans forward, head craning up as if to get a better look. But she moans quietly in pain and falls back. And she says, “Great, that’s great. Tell her the ambrosia witch sent you, and tell her—”
“You’re the ambrosia witch? I thought you were just a scary story.”
“Listen, kid!” She isn’t shouting (mantids can’t shout and speak), but she’s louder (making the raggedness in her voice clear), and there’s a clear note of warning to it. “Go back to your village. Find your mom. Tell her there’s a new termite mound. Council might exclude it, council might exclude you. You need to go fast, and you should go now.”
“I’m not going to leave you to d- I’m not going to leave you here! Vesperbanes save people.”
She laughs. She laughs at you. “I am a vesperbane, little one. Was, whatever. And I know that line is a crock of shit. How exactly are you going to save me?”
You take a step back. A vesperbane? If this was a vesperbane… you heard stories about vesperbanes reading minds and possessing people. Your antennae are quivering.
“You want to become a vesperbane, do you? Countenance and all? Ha…” She coughs, and she says, “Take a piece of advice I wish I’d known: the Kindling Dream is a nightmare. Everything is a lie.”
You didn’t miss her past tense correction. Was — Is she banefallow? Or… is she a defect?
Another step back away from the wounded lady. You glance away, looking at the muddy path back out of these cursed woods.
“Scared now? If you run, at least tell Tlista what I said. But if you really want to help me… I have a remedy at my cabin. Reva will show the way.”
The bird lifts up a head its name, and it chirps once.
“Either way, welcome to the heartlands, kid.” The vesperbane gives another mirthless laugh. “My name’s Maune. And I would like to know the name of Tlista’s kid. She never told me.”
What is your name?