They never found their supplies after Drache ate their horses. Half-starved, Ungeist looked like a wild animal, unshaven, hair a matted tangle. The dragon hadn’t dropped below the cloud cover in two days, didn’t even land to sleep.
“You have money?” Erdbehüter asked, knowing the answer.
Ungeist growled something under his breath about flying cunts.
She turned away, examining the log farmsteads, the rolling hills and rocky soil struggling to push out whatever the farmers grew. How many trees did they slay to make this horror? “This used to be grasslands once.”
Ungeist grunted his apathy.
“The Faulig forest stretched all the way down to the Flussrand River. Everything south of that was the GrasMeer.”
“Stupid horse stickers,” said Ungeist, knowing she was from the GrasMeer tribes and their reverence for horses.
She ignored the jab. Aside from a muscular body, he had little else to offer. Odd that it took so long for her to see it. A decade or more her senior, he seemed so wise when they first met. Age and wisdom and intelligence are unrelated, she decided.
“Where are we?” Ungeist asked.
“Look at the rocky soil. See the endless mud? See how the plants all look half dead? Note the decrepit state of those houses. Even the goats look depressed.”
“Gottlos.”
“Gottlos,” she agreed.
He flashed a smile of strong teeth in her direction and she remembered a bit of what she saw in him. As animals go, he’s a fine specimen. She resisted the urge to press her fingers into the hardness of his chest. I’ll make him come to me.
Ungeist set off down the long slope, stride purposeful. Every step squelched in the mud and his footprints filled instantly with murky water.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Bringing the word of the Geborene to the unbelievers.”
His fists clenched and unclenched and the set of his shoulders changed. He stood taller, straighter. He moved with iron purpose. She knew that look. He used to walk like that all the time, but the last year bent him. Morgen and Konig—or his Reflection—made hard use of their Exorcist. Executioner might be a better title. He might not yet be broken, but he slid a little closer to the point of snapping each day.
It’s the Pinnacle. He’s losing control. Morgen worked all his Geisteskranken priests hard, drove them to the edge and then—wait, hadn’t she been thinking about Morgen earlier? Walls. Spending his cadres of Geisteskranken. I made him a gods-damned wall, encircled the entire city! And it was easy.
After the Earth Spirit gave birth to her, pushed her from the soil womb of the GrasMeer, she’d been weak. For the next year she was capable of little more than calling pebbles to life. She practised and grew in power, but it wasn’t until Morgen asked her to build the wall of Selbsthass that she truly understood her power.
Asked? He asked, but she didn’t remember having a choice.
The wall. Civilization. Did Morgen truly work to the same purpose as—
“Are you coming?” Ungeist called over his shoulder.
Erdbehüter followed, annoyed at having let him take the lead but knowing she was safer behind him. Sensing her anger, the earth shifted beneath her feet, ready to do her bidding. If he turned his madness in her direction, mud and stone would rise up in her defence. It was so easy now.
A shadow passed by far above the clouds, momentarily darkening an already gloomy day. The down-draft from Drache’s colossal wings staggered the two Geborene. She flattened the surrounding plant life and made waves in puddles of dark filth water as she swept past. Erdbehüter divided her attention between watching Ungeist and searching the clouds in case the dragon decided to drop something.
Ungeist marched to the closest farmstead and pounded on the door, rattling it on its hempen hinges. Why was the fool knocking? Strange how some aspects of civilization were so hard to shake.
A farmer opened the door, blinking in the early morning light, half-starved and thinner even than Ungeist. He showed none of the Geisteskranken’s muscle. The man looked the Geborene priest up and down, clearly struggling to make sense of what he saw. Spotting Erdbehüter his eyes widened in understanding.
“Can’t spare much,” the farmer said. “But there’s some broth and potatoes from last night. I’ll ask my wife to—”
“I see such darkness in your soul,” said Ungeist.
“What?”
“You’ve done terrible things.”
The farmer shifted uncomfortably. “Well…”
“There’s a demon in you.”
Erdbehüter felt the earth heave beneath her feet. This town was an affront to the Earth Spirit. The pitiful goats and sheep imprisoned in their corral begged to be freed, she saw it in their eyes. She couldn’t speak with animals, but the Earth Spirit told her of their need. The ground in front of her rose and parted as a stone the size of a grown hog rose to the surface. Too big to easily move, the antecedents of this village’s residents buried it, shutting it away from the sun for centuries. No structure would stand before its rage.