The Mantis Variant - Book One - 4. Chapter 4 - Agrell, Part Two

Agrell walked in darkness along the path that led away from her sheltered community. The dead face of her little cousin flashed before her mind’s eye, and her feet faltered; she stumbled but caught herself. Agrell swore she would never go back.

She trudged through that entire first night of her self-liberation, and before dawn, she reached the edge of the nearest local hamlet. It was so small that it did not even have an official name. The lot of it consisted of no more than an inn, a blacksmith shop, and a market that was only open one day a week. There were also six small houses in a row that lined the edge of a broad field.

All the lights were out, and Agrell hoped the people who worked at the farm and the inn were still asleep. She did not intend to wake them. Those who lived nearest to the community where Agrell grew up were sympathetic to the group’s beliefs and lifestyle. There was a chance that if someone caught her here, they might bring her back. Before coming to the first dark house, she crept off the path into the trees.

Agrell was underdressed, and she had shivered her entire trek through the night. A white sheet was pinned over a line, and she slipped it off and wrapped herself in it. The white was bright and would draw attention, so she hoped to find something else to cover it. She did not want to stay there any longer than necessary, and when a quick scan revealed nothing else of use, she moved quietly to the next house.

Agrell did not see anything helpful, but then her eyes caught sight of a hatchet with its blade buried in an old stump beside a pile of logs. She snatched it, hooked it in her belt, and approached the third house. A quick scan of the area in the pre-dawn glow revealed little more than an empty back garden.

The inn sat at the end of the row of houses, and as Agrell made her way past the next three properties, she could find no more clothing or anything else useful. She would need to check around the potentially busier building. Agrell was loath to linger or waste any time and hoped to be on her way from the area before anyone was aware of her.

The lights at the front of the inn were lit.

She crept up to the sidewall of the building, made her way along it, and tried to peer in through a few darkened windows. Nothing was visible within and she approached the back of the tavern. There was a glow through a tiny window in a door on the patio, and Agrell could see a row of hooks and a garment. She snuck up in the patches of shadow, pulled the door open with a creak, and snatched the thick material. A hat and a pair of gloves were underneath it, and she took them as well.

The aroma of food being prepared was tempting, but Agrell slowly closed the door and darted back into the woods. She pulled the hat onto her head and covered her cold ears, then slipped her hands into the gloves. They were too big but they were warm. The garment she stole was a hooded cloak with no sleeves, and she threw it over the sheet. A silver buckle clasped at her neck and she pulled the hood over her hatted head. Agrell left the nameless hamlet behind her.

Then realization dawned on her that she was farther away from the community than she had ever been. As the morning sun began to climb up the pale sky, Agrell pulled her stolen cloak tight. The start of winter was only a matter of days away, and the pale glow of the sun above the horizon provided no warmth.

On she walked, and every step felt like freedom, felt like something she was stealing from the community. Whatever blind dedication existed in her youth for the sect of Messiahs who raised her was gone, and she now enjoyed the feeling of taking something from them. She knew she could never go back.

The sun was cresting its zenith when a much larger village came into view. This was Agrell’s first time visiting it, but she knew the name before she reached its sign. The elder Messiahs sometimes made the daylong journey from their community, and Agrell was excited about her first visit to the town. She would not be staying here, but she still wanted to see everything that she was warned against throughout her childhood. She passed the sign.

The old village was said to be an evil place full of the wickedness of Shifts, where the most depraved of humanity festered. Eckelton was described by her elders like a boil on the face of the land.

Agrell could not have been more excited to be there.

However, the little village was no more than a few tired streets and rundown buildings. She walked by several houses and could see people through the windows, but the lanes were empty on that chilly afternoon. There was a large farm stand with one sign that read OPEN DAILY next to another with the words NOW CLOSED.

Agrell was soon at the other end of the disappointing town and she stopped. She was flanked by a pair of inns that stood across the street from one another. On a table in front of one sat several plates with a little leftover food.

Having eaten nothing over the previous 24 hours, the hunger that gnawed at Agrell focused with pinpoint precision on whatever was there. She snatched up half of a smoked sausage and shoved it in her mouth. She chewed vigorously, swallowed hard, and followed it with a heel of bread and the rind from a chunk of hard cheese.

Mid-chew, a hateful hand grabbed her wrist. Agrell turned with her eyes wide and her mouth full of food, and she stared up into the face of a very large bearded man.

“What have we got here?” he barked with a sneer, and he tried to pull Agrell towards him. Her cloak opened and the man could see her clothes underneath. “You’re one of them people from that cult outside of town, ain’t you?” the man snapped. He leered at her and tried to jerk her hand away from the empty plates.

Agrell’s palms came to the big men’s barrel chest, and she pushed.

To both of their surprise, and despite the man being easily three times her size, he flew back and crashed into another table. He sprawled to the ground as dishes clattered around him.

Agrell turned and ran, and the village disappeared behind her. The woods grew thicker as she made her way, and the evening quickly darkened into night. She found no shelter for quite a while, but several hours after sunset, she came to a lonely farm. A light burned in the cottage window, but the barn nearby was dark. Agrell snuck into the aromatic warmth of the side building, climbed into the rafters, and fell asleep in the straw.

Sunrise was only a matter of hours away, and she awoke to the sound of the barn doors being opened and the horse making a hungry noise. A man with a short gray beard entered and gave his horse a couple of pats. He then let the animal out, hooked it to his plow, and headed to his fields. (grain flank of hay)

Agrell crept down from the loft and began to make her way back to the path that led into the deep forest, but before she reached the trail, a quiet voice spoke.

“Ain’t you hungry?”

Agrell spun around, pulled her cloak tight, and made eye contact with a skinny older woman. She was looking out from one of the windows in the farmhouse.

“Don’t mind none that you slept in the barn,” she said to Agrell in a gentle tone. “Them’re some good animals, and it stays warm at night in there.” She added, “Reckon I’ve got something I could give you for your journey, if you don’t have no food. And I don’t want nothing neither,” the woman said in a definitive tone. “Just want to make sure you’s okay on your way.”

Agrell found her voice. “That’s very kind,” she said. This woman was the first person with whom Agrell spoke outside of her former community.

“We’s penniless,” the old woman explained, “but we’s got plenty to eat.” She placed two apples, a small sack of mixed nuts, and three smoked sausages onto a clean hand towel. She brought the four corners together and tied them with a string.

“Save that for when you gets hungry later,” the woman recommended, “and have this before you go.” She poured a bowlful of thick gruel, tossed a handful of mixed berries on top, and stuck a spoon in it.

The two stood together on the porch, while the warm bowl heated Agrell’s hands, and the porridge filled her belly. When she finished eating, she handed the empty dish and spoon back to the woman. Agrell brought her palms together and bowed deeply to her, but she got a confused expression in reply.

“A simple thank you is all,” the woman responded, and she attempted an awkward curtsy.

“Yes, thank you,” Agrell replied. With the makeshift sack full of food for her journey, she headed back to the path that led into the forest.

“Safe travels, girl,” the woman called out with a wave.

The sleep and breakfast invigorated Agrell, and she walked along the trail at an energetic pace. It was mid-afternoon when she arrived at a town that she had heard people in her community mention on a number of occasions. However, she could not remember ever hearing of someone visiting it.

By comparison, Eckelton was not even listed on most maps, but Brokenpointe was a long-established fishing village. Busy people bustled between buildings and most of them ignored the hooded vagabond who wandered through their midst with her head down. Agrell appeared as just another of the countless travelers who stopped briefly at the seaside town.

“Fresh sea eels!” called out a vendor to the pedestrians around him. “Get your sea eels here! Fresh caught this morning!” His words were like little wisps of smoke in the cold air.

Agrell continued and passed a small library. A few people were seated out front with books and beverages, but through the windows, her eyes beheld more volumes than she could have possibly imagined.

Suddenly music was playing behind her, and she turned to see a little open park of greenery. A group of musicians were seated together in a circle around a fire. Several were strumming stringed instruments and a few others were thumping hand drums. Agrell did not know how long she listened to them. She stood there and wondered to herself how it could be that she was unaware of so many wondrous things in the world.

Her eyes caught a glimmer down at the end of the street, and she turned toward it. Agrell’s mind told her what she was seeing, but she could not believe her eyes. She left the musicians behind her, walked one street farther, and came to the ocean. The vastness of the sea’s sprawl boggled her mind. Never could she have envisioned such a sight. She stepped out onto the narrow strip of pebbled beach that led to the water and fell to her knees.

Tears filled her eyes, as the red priest and her cousin flashed into her mind. That man, throughout her whole life, was their community’s exalted leader. He led the people in their daily routines. He was the ceremony master and the lord of rituals.

Agrell thought to herself that he was a murderer.

She stared out through her tears at the rolling ocean, and fresh sorrow broke her heart, as she realized the dead boy would never behold this breathtaking sight. Agrell choked back the lump in her throat, and she spoke to the stony beach and the sea and the sky.

“Why did they keep this from me?” she quavered in a whisper, and her body was wracked by her sobs. “How could they not share all this? How dare they?!” A wave of rage washed over her misery, but it subsided as quickly as it appeared. Agrell gazed out at the sea as her tears freely flowed.

She grew up barely aware of the ocean’s existence. There was a river near the community, but that was the only water that she had experienced in her youth. It was entrancing to look out at the expanse of blue before her. Agrell stayed there watching the waves until they started to change color with the setting sun. Every moment of her new freedom was more incredible than the one before.

However, as the light continued to fade, Agrell rose and looked toward the inland mountains and the clouds that hovered above them. It appeared as if some artistic giant reached up and smeared paint across the sky. No sunset she had ever seen decorated the world as much as this one, and it took Agrell’s breath away.

Eventually, evening wrapped the land in shadow, and she left the fishing village behind. The path out of Brokenpointe led through the flat coastal lands toward a blinking light in the distant darkness. Despite that Agrell was walking in its direction, it did not appear to be getting any closer or brighter.

To her right, the ocean kept its soothing sounds rolling over the land, and Agrell liked listening to it. Several paces away from the trail on her opposite side, the forest came to a halt where the soil was too sandy for the trees to grow.

Agrell was grateful to finally be out of the dense woods and have the stars overhead. The landscape close to the path was covered with heather and other low bushes that appeared grey as the moon began to rise. It was not quite full, but it shined bright with no clouds in the sky.

Agrell felt free.

At a fork in the road, standing between the two diverging paths was a waystone. She paused and removed one of the sausages from the makeshift sack that she was given that morning. Agrell stuck the meat in her mouth and bit off the end. It was a little spicy and felt good going down.

Not far ahead in one direction was the blinking light, but the sign on the stone indicated that Teshon City was along the trail that turned east. Agrell decided that getting there was more important than her curiosity about the light.

She ate the rest of the sausage and removed an apple before stowing the remaining food in the hooded cloak and continuing on her way. Under the cold moonlight, the path was clear and the trail led toward the silhouette of mountains in the distance. They looked jagged against the indigo of the night sky.

Agrell did not know how far she already walked, or how much farther she needed to go, but she was free. She had been unaware that her life in the community was a prison, and this new freedom in her was like a heartbeat that she did not know she possessed.

The hour grew later, and the moon continued to slide across the star-speckled sky. Agrell’s eyelids were heavy and her brain felt muddled from the lack of sleep, the limited food, and her recent horrifying experience. She could barely comprehend her past, and she could also not even consider her future. Her mind seemed to have given up, and she no longer thought about or paid attention to her surroundings. The trudge of her footfalls felt endless.

Behind her, a strange sound began to rise in the quiet of the night. Agrell was delirious with fatigue and did not turn around. The noise was a muffled and repetitive thumping that grew only a little louder, but since the sound appeased neither her exhaustion nor her hunger, her bleary brain told her to ignore it.

Then something collided with Agrell and sent her sprawling to the side of the path. The hood she wore blocked her vision, and a solid object smashed against the side of her face. She pushed herself up against a tree trunk and yanked the hood back.

Her eyes flashed wide, as a dark shape grabbed one of her arms. Agrell’s head swam and her ears were ringing, but she could see a second shadow bearing down on her.

Unnamed fears froze her to the spot. She did not understand what was happening, or what these shadow entities desired, and then Agrell’s terror took form in her mind. It was the red priest and his acolyte. They caught up to her and she was sure they were going to murder her, just like they did to her cousin. She knew the man was going to slit her throat, bleed her out, and decapitate her. The boy flashed into her mind, with that expression of utter desperation on his face before death released him from the torture.

Agrell was going to die horribly. She was going to die alone.

The second dark shape reached out for her.

She could not go back. There was a new and desperate necessity, brought on by her emancipation from that isolated existence, and it sparked a self-preservation that flared to life in the moment.

Agrell’s free hand came to the hatchet that hung from her belt, and she swung its blade at the oncoming shadow. Chopping wood was a daily part of life in the community, and she knew how to use the tool; she now used it as a weapon. It was impossible to know when the blade was last sharpened, but it sliced clear through the first being with what seemed to be no resistance and entered the second.

The hands that held her vanished.

She fell to her knees and burst into uncontrolled tears that shook her whole body. The shadows seemed like nothing, mere figments of her traumatized mind. Agrell wailed her sorrow into her hands, and there were long moments before she again caught her ragged breath.

New noises became clear as her sorrow subsided, and the sound of gurgling grunts came from beside her.

She opened her eyes and beheld the pair of shadows, and also the blood on her hand. She was wrong about them being nothing, as the two entities came into focus. It was not the red priest and his acolyte. It was also not a pair of monsters of darkness. Agrell rose to her feet and looked down at a couple of highway bandits who hoped for an easy score.

Her defensive swing with the little hatchet did far more damage than seemed possible. One man’s entire middle was ripped open. He gasped at the air and grasped at his spilled intestines that lolled from his abdomen like vile sausages. Shattered ribs protruded from his side, and the pink fleshy balloon of his lung was flat. A hideous laceration in it wheezed out the air he tried to breathe.

The hatchet itself was embedded in the other man. His torso was also cleaved wide open with bones and innards bulging out, and somehow he was missing an arm. It lay at Agrell’s feet. His three remaining limbs were seized up and his body twitched and vibrated, as noises issued from between his gnashing teeth, and blood bubbled from his mouth.

Agrell turned from the two ruined men and fled. Adrenaline raged through her body and her legs pumped her away from the violence. She ran hard, but soon the emotion of the experience overwhelmed her, and she again broke down in sobs.

Her body felt electric, but at the same time, she was completely drained. Through her tears, Agrell looked into the trees just off the path. She walked into the woods, and after only a short distance, she collapsed onto a patch of moss between a pair of old trees that provided her a little cover.

In the cold darkness, she cried herself to sleep✪