CHAPTER TEN
A thousand times the city-states came against us, and a thousand times we threw them back. They say this like it was our great victory. It was not. We now speak their harsh tongue, our own long forgotten. Our children run away, seeking adventure in stone cities. Where once we chose the sane to lead us, we now mimic the madness of the city-states. They won this war a thousand years ago.
—Weisheit, War Chief of the GrasMeer Kr?he tribe
Erdbehüter, Geborene priestess and living embodiment of the will of the Mother Earth, sat at her fire, warming her hands. She watched Ungeist flail about with his tent. The incompetent tit still hadn’t managed to erect it. She preferred to sleep under the sky as the Earth Spirit intended.
The moment they left the city walls Drache twisted into her dragon form and hadn’t been seen since. With any luck they’d never see her again. It bothered Erdbehüter that the dragon, soaring high above the clouds, was beyond her reach. Of course it was only a matter of time before the deranged bitch tipped over the Pinnacle, never to retake her human shape. She’d be an animal and Mother Earth had nothing but love for her many creatures. Even those born of madness. Humans, however, were a curse on the Mother’s flesh, a devouring rot.
Erdbehüter tossed a few more branches on her fire. She examined Ungeist through the flames. Though short, he was a tight-wound bundle of muscle. They’d been together for a while, almost a year, before she realized how incompatible their desires were. Their similarities bound them together—they both loathed humanity—but their differences were too great to ignore. Ungeist had no love of the earth. He didn’t understand that while people might be infected with inner demons, they were themselves an infection. But what really ended their dalliance was the way Ungeist acted like he owned her. And she went along with it, without noticing, for most of a year. It was an insidious type of slavery, happily abandoning one’s choices to another. Letting him decide everything was so easy.
She thought back to her childhood on the north-eastern edge of the GrasMeer. Hexe, the old wise woman, wrinkled and collapsing in on herself like a plum left too long in the sun, selected Erdbehüter to be her successor. The tribe celebrated for a week, feeding and waiting on Erdbehüter’s every need. They told her that, when she came of age, she’d have her pick of the tribe’s young men. Tapfer’s broad shoulders and flowing black hair would be hers. She’d never hunt or butcher meat unless she wanted to. The tribe would pitch her tent every night, bringing her wood and lighting her fire. All the world’s wisdom would be passed to her from Hexe. She’d lead the tribe, settle all differences. Her word would be law.
And then they stripped her naked and buried her up to her neck in the hard soil of the grass plains.
She remembered Hexe crouching before her. The old woman stank of sweat and dirt and horses, her beady eyes sunk so far back in her wrinkled cheeks Erdbehüter had to assume they were actually there.
“And now we must break you,” the crone said.
“Why?” asked eleven year-old Erdbehüter.
“You’re already cracked,” said Hexe. “I see it in your eyes. That’s why I chose you. But we must break you open.” She tapped a wizened finger against Erdbehüter’s forehead, between her eyes. “You’re trapped in here.”
An ant crawled up Erdbehüter’s neck and she imagined snakes, long and dry, coiling about her limbs beneath the soil. “How long will it take?” She felt pride at how little her voice shook.
“As long as it takes.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, hoping to impress Hexe.
“Then you’re a fool,” said the old woman. “This will scar you to your last day.” Hexe stood then, grunting as her ancient knees creaked. She left without another word.
For a week they fed her sips of water—barely enough to keep her alive in the GrasMeer sun—and she ate whatever insects came within range of her mouth. Otherwise, the tribe ignored her. People she grew up with walked past without so much as a glance, no matter how she begged. She would not exist until the trial broke her mind and they dug her out.
Early in the second week she pretended to lose her mind, babbling and drooling what little spit she had. She ranted random thoughts, screaming them as loud as her parched throat allowed. Hexe stood over her, watching for half a dozen heart beats, before grunting and wandering away. Somehow the old woman knew.