Taming the Queen of Beasts

ELRETH

She'd known challenging Gar would cement his resolve. She'd known he walked in here truly uncertain of himself for the first time in longer than she could figure out, and with Gar the way to make him determined to succeed was to tell him he couldn't do something.

But she hadn't imagined that it would bolster his resolve to bring down the lines of authority with him.

When he turned to look at the Elders and essentially accused them of being aware of the disformed's activities—but ignoring them—Elreth's heart dropped. She shook her head, but didn't drop her face into her hand like she wanted to.

"Gar, we are all learning that none of us knows as much about anything as we think we do. So why don't you share with us what you've been doing? What it is you think we already know, and then we can find out where we truly are ignorant?"

Gar stood a moment, staring at her, and she was surprised. Usually once he'd started on a path to accuse someone, or get a rise out of them, he was a dog with a bone and didn't let go until they'd admitted it—or fled in defeat.

But now he stared at her, his eyes boring into hers as if he was willing her to see something, pleading with her. But she didn't know—he knew she didn't know! She'd been asking him and her mother and Aaryn… everyone had seemed to keep the bulk of this entire story to themselves.

Why did he look at her as if he was pleading for mercy? Or protection?

Then his shoulders rose and fell once and he turned to address the Elders.

"You have all been aware of the disformed's organization. That we gather and work and train. You've known that we cross the traverse—"

"We knew it had occurred," Lhern corrected sternly. "Are you telling us you make a practice of this?"

Elreth's stomach went cold. Was Gar really going to tell them?

Gar nodded.

Holy shit. He was. Elreth leaned forward, simultaneously fascinated and so angry that he would choose now to tell what he knew. She'd just asked him the day before, was it? The day before that? Why would he speak up now and not then?

"The thing you don't know," Gar went on, "is that the disformed are peculiarly skilled in this area. They have a… resource available to them that the rest of the Anima do not. They were, quite literally created for this. Those that have the character for it, anyway."

"What do you mean, peculiarly skilled?" Huncer asked.

"I mean that an appropriately skilled and trained disformed doesn't have to cross alone," he said. "They can safely take others across—sheltering them from the voices, and lowering the risk of the traverse considerably."

"What?"

"This can't be true!"

"Have you been taking groups across the traverse?"

"That's in contravention of the terms—and without permission!"

Gar stood, stalwart in the face of the wave of disapproval and fear that washed over him from the elders. When Elreth looked at Aaryn, he was shaking his head, unimpressed. But Gar had lost that look of fear—even the pleading. He faced the Elders as if they were there in supplication to him!

"The days of the Anima alone in this world are short," he said when the hubbub died down, though more than one Elder remained on their feet, and Huncer and Lhern had their heads together, whispering furiously. "The prophecy is very clear: All our lives are at stake unless we handle this correctly. And all I can tell you is that you need the disformed. You need what they can do. And you need them now. To hell with the hierarchy—forgive me. But you're about to find out what Anima of old already knew: There's no more important tribe in Anima than the disformed."

"What prophecy?"

"What is he talking about?"

While the Elders got flustered, Elreth glanced at Aaryn who stared at Gar like he'd been hit with a bucket of cold water on a hot day, his jaw almost on the floor.

Before her eyes, Gar seemed to swell. All sense of unease and nerves that he'd been displaying when he walked in were gone. He stood in front of them—all of them—the avenging angel. Or perhaps, the warrior to save them all.

"Gar, what are you talking about?" Elreth asked urgently. "What prophecy?"

He turned then, to face her and right alongside the determination in his gaze, she saw a hint of apology.

"The thing no one would tell you, El, is that the disformed had to be hidden from everyone—everyone, even you—until now. Because until they were trained and ready, and the worlds were preparing to collide, it was imperative to keep our enemies from knowing we had a secret weapon."

"Enemies? What enemies?"

"The humans."

"What?" Elreth's voice was too high, to shrill. "Our own mother is a human!"

He nodded once. "I didn't say all humans. But there is a group… a society within the humans that hold great power. And they will stop at nothing to get to us.

"Several hundred years ago the Creator told the people that the disformed had to be hidden—even from the Anima. That they had to deny their value, deny their skill, deny the very purpose they were created for. Because only through utter ignorance would they be truly protected.

"Well, they did it. They eradicated all knowledge of this special race among us until, generations later, no one even knew the prophecy had occurred. Until… until about twenty years ago," Gar said. "That's when they learned what the disformed could do and they've been training them ever since. I found out by accident, but recent events… recent events would indicate that I've got a bigger role to play in this than I thought. So… I'm here. I'll do what I can. I'm not going to swerve, El. I know how it looks. And I know how it sounds. But it's all true. And you guys all need to get with the program, because if you don't, we're all dead. Every single one of us. The only people that stand in the way are the disformed."

The entire room was silent, pregnant with shock and disbelief.

Elreth stared at her brother who turned, meeting eyes with every older, wiser Anima in the room.

None of them challenged him.

Elreth shook her head. "You can't mean—"

Then he turned and shot her a look. "If you don't believe me, ask Mom."

***** 

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