The New Flesh

Orcal clutched the blue pearl in his outstretched hand, fingers curled protectively around the orb as though it was the most precious object on the planet. Arual tried to prise the fingers open but found them locked tight. Feeling her way around the body, in the close, damp cave, Arual sought for a stick or piece of rock to provide leverage. At last her hand brushed against a hard object and she grasped it, feeling its smooth surface and knowing from her keenly honed sense of touch it was a bone. Man or animal she could not tell, but she knew it may not be strong enough to break Orcal’s grip. Arual placed the knobby end of the bone under the middle finger of the dead mala’s left hand, as gently as she could, not wanting to break the dead man’s fingers – her respect for him held beyond life. She pushed the bone down across the top of her foot. The pain was intense, but she pressed her full weight on the bone, slowly, surely, steadily, so as not to snap it. She had to get home quickly, before she was missed.

* * *

Enthroned on a chair carved from ancient wood, Sumer surveyed the scene before him. One of only a few remaining mala of Eon, he was revered by his followers, none of whom had ever seen him. The people of Aoneg, long ago forced to take shelter in the lightless cave system of the Setimolod Mountains, had evolved; their senses of smell, hearing, taste and touch had far outstripped their useless sense of sight. The remnant eyes of the Aonegians were white and unseeing. Sumer, an ancient Eonian, still had the gift. He ventured alone into the wilderness and brought back tales of destruction and death. It was told that three dicensia had passed since he’d seen another of his kind.

Sumer’s aide appeared. He did not speak, but his presence was enough for Sumer to know it was time for Lanruid, the prayer ritual performed twice each moon cycle. He signalled to his aide to sound the horn. Sumer stepped down from his throne and retreated to the antechamber to prepare. He seated himself before a mirror, an object of use only to Sumer but revered by his people; they knew his visions came from within the looking glass after he had adorned himself with the sacred oils.

A quiet knock at a door on the far side of the chamber told Sumer it was time to begin. He checked his appearance in the mirror – a vanity he could not shake – and was startled to see not his wizened face but the face of Arual. She was not in the great hall hand-hewn by his flock over the past 300 moon cycles. She was in a smaller cave and looked fearful. Her beautiful face, with its pearlescent eyes, was contorted with effort, although Sumer could not see what she was doing – his vision showed only her face. Arual stopped suddenly; it was as though she could sense she was being watched. As soon as Sumer realised the girl had felt his gaze the vision disappeared, leaving the high mala stunned. He knew Arual was special, but telepathic? The knock at the door was repeated, this time more urgently. Sumer put his thoughts of Arual aside, opened the door and swept out into the hall.

* * *

The spine-chilling sensation chasing up and down her back frightened Arual; she knew she had been discovered. Throwing down the useless bone, she stood up, took aim on remembered bearings, and slammed her foot down onto the dead man’s hand. She knelt to retrieve the object, sending up a fervent prayer that it be undamaged. The death grip broken, Arual was relieved to find the blue pearl intact in Orcal’s hand. As she enclosed the pearl in her own, Arual felt a powerful shock surge through her body. She staggered from the cave into the twilight wilderness and leant against the rock face to catch her breath. She lifted her head to take in several gulping breaths of clean air. Her cry was heard by no other living creature. She could see.

* * *

Although deep in the throes of the ritual, Sumer could sense a schism opening somewhere just out of reach. He finished the Darshini incantation and waited for the echoed reply to die out before addressing the gathering.

‘Do not be afraid Aonegians, for you are good and true.’ He began his speech with the traditional opening, before deviating starkly. ‘Something has happened in the wilderness. Something has changed.’ An electric hum buzzed the room.

‘I must travel to the beyond and discover what thing is amiss. I will see no harm comes to you. Please, retire to your bedchambers and await my return.’

Sumer strode from the room, leaving the Aonegians flustered and afraid.

* * *

Arual gazed out across the landscape, her senses in turmoil. She was overcome by the signals bombarding her brain. The colours screamed in unison, though she did not know their names. Overwhelmed as she was, Arual was able to understand the world had not been destroyed. It was pure, it was crystal. It was home.

She felt the high mala’s presence before she saw him. The power of the blue pearl emboldened Arual as she turned to face Sumer.

‘My lord, it is pleasing to see you. Allow me to escort you back to my people. You have some explaining to do.’

"The Blue Pearl"
Copyright: © 2009 Lily Mulholland
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Lily Mulholland enjoys writing when she’s not busy tending to her two cherubs or too diverted by her day job. Lily’s stories have been published by MicroHorror, Soft Whispers and Bewildering Stories. You can read more of her flash fiction at Ten Seconds a Day.