Filaria - Brent Hayward [92]
“I’m going home.” But attempting to take a step, Deidre discovered she could not lift her tingling feet and that her knees were too weak to hold her weight. Grasping the edge of the platform, buttocks resting on it, she said, through gritted teeth, “What were those larvae doing to me anyhow? Working on my wounds?”
“Yes. Very astute, child. Very. But please, if you insist on moving about, let me assist. At least, let me help you into the courtyard.”
The door before her slid open silently, letting in an organic yellow glow that fell over her, covering her body from head to toe with warmth. Subtly hinted scents also entered with it; she breathed them in, making her feel somewhat less tense. Blinking (and sneezing, which hurt like heck!), she did manage a faltering step.
Out there — if she could trust her senses — was a garden. She saw thin columns of light, moving through what looked like branches, and real leaves that winked in at her lasciviously.
“Where are my clothes?”
“They had to be cut away, Deidre.”
“Then give me something else to wear.”
“There’s no one here to see you. There is no need for clothes.”
“I want clothes.”
“I might be able to conjure up a robe, I guess. I have very limited matter to work with.”
“Do it.”
To retain the momentum of her decision to get up, she took a step, and another, breathing in sharply with each movement, walking forward gingerly until she had reached the doorway. Pausing, one hand on the smooth jamb, glancing about for any creatures that might be watching or hunting her, she saw that she was, indeed, at the threshold to a garden.
A path led between lush growths either side, ending at a nearby fountain, whose sparkling waters caught the light and chattered at her softly, as if laughing at her concern. The lawns were clipped, the bushes and trees all around well maintained. Her father would have been proud. In fact, this quiet place was so much like the gardens of Elegia that Deidre harboured a momentary hope she might actually be home, or that she might yet wake up from this final dream, but when she looked skyward and could not see the familiar suns, suspended from their cradles, nor the sky they hung from, her hopes were dashed.
Instead, overhead, a single reddish orb glared down at her, set against a pale cerulean that appeared infinite, with no visible walls or boundaries . . .
She looked away. Afterimages, burned onto her retinas, eventually faded from her vision. What she had also seen, just above the treetops, was unmistakably a shimmering barrier.
She was in a cage.
That voice, almost whispering in her ear now, said, “Do you like it, Deidre? We made this just for you.”
“I do not,” Deidre said. And then, because she could not help herself, “I want my mom. And I want to see my dad. He’s an Orchard Keeper, you know. He can have your head on a platter, so you’d better arrange for me to go home. You better let me go. You’d better.”
“Deidre, that isn’t possible. Your biological, uh, parents, they remain inside.”
“Inside? Inside what? Where are they?” Through the trees she saw two of the horrid angels now, flying high beyond the barrier, and she cowered. “Can they get in?”
“Who? Your mother and father? No, they . . . Oh, I see. Those creatures. No. They can’t get in. You’re safe here. And Deidre, I want to make this very clear. It was never our intention to harm you. The creatures were instructed to go in and retrieve you with no injuries whatsoever.”
“They are monsters.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that, Deidre. They were all we had to work with. But you’re here now, you’re healthy, and you’re perfect. That’s all that counts.”
“I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in a cage.”
“No. The seed terminal is not a cage. It’s here to protect you. It’s large enough to roam around in freely. I’m sure the accommodations will meet your approval. Conditions outside are arid and hot, to say the least. All the provisions you’ll ever want are