F. Wilson - The Tery

"But that's all changed now."

"Right. But it shows us a way to get into the Hole without going through the fortress.

"The Hole? Who'd want to get into the Hole?"

"We do. So we can get to the weapons."

"Go through the Hole?" Rab said in an awed whisper. "No one goes through the Hole."

"We have to. There's no other way."

"But it's impossible. We'll be torn to pieces."

Jon broke his silence. "What is this Hole?"

He remembered his mother mentioning it from time to time, but she would never explain anything about it.

"Mekk's fortress is built on the ruins of what used to be the headquarters of the old Teratol regime," Tlad said. "That was where they performed most of their shaping experiments. From what I can gather, all their failures, along with their special experiments, the ones they couldn't risk setting free, went into a sealed cavern below. The special teries were the ones they had shaped inside and out — deformed their bodies without, and drained off all decency, mercy, empathy and compassion from within. They let monstrosity mate with monstrosity in the Hole to form new and even more monstrous offspring. It's concentrated depravity down there."

"It's full of teries?" Jon said. "Why doesn't Mekk eradicate them?"

Rab laughed. "I'm sure he'd like to. And I'd wish he'd try. But he can't risk it. His troops won't go near the Hole and he'd risk a mutiny if he tried to force them. So he's left them alone."

Jon was struck by the irony of it: Mekk the tery-killer forced to live over a huge nest of teries.

"It's hell pure and simple in there," Rab said, visibly shuddering. "I once had a glimpse of its denizens through one of the grates that provide ventilation for the Hole."

"Apparently the Teratols enjoyed watching them," Tlad said, pointing to one of his maps. "And this is where they did it."

Rab and the tery crowded around. Rab seemed to understand the squiggles on the map, but they meant nothing to Jon.

"What's that?" Rab asked.

"A viewing chamber. They built an underground corridor with a transparent wall through which they could safely watch the goings-on in the Hole. That corridor is our way to get to the Hole without Mekk's or his troopers’ knowledge. From there it shouldn't be far to the cache."

Rab shook his head. "Do you know what you're asking? I don't care how near or far it is, it can't be done. The foulest, most depraved teries in existence live down there in constant warfare. The only thing that can bring them together is the sight of a normal human — they will act in concert to pull that human to pieces, then resume fighting over the remains." He lowered his voice. "That is how vagrants and petty criminals in this region are executed — dropped through one of the grates into the Hole."

Tlad grimaced. "They throw people into the Hole?"

"Only those not important enough to crucify."

"Still," Tlad insisted, "it's a risk that must be taken."

"Forget it. I can't ask anyone to go in there."

"Then I can't help you," Tlad said angrily and turned to go.

Jon placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Wait. Perhaps a tery could reach these weapons through the Hole."

"No," Rab said. "Not even you could survive in there, Jon."

"I want to try."

He realized that he wanted very badly to do this.

"Why? You're risking your life."

"It is my life."

Rab waited a long time before answering.

"It could work," he said finally. "But how could one man accomplish anything?"

"He could bring back a few weapons," Tlad replied, "and with those at hand, we could clear a path through the Hole — nothing could stand in our way — and get the rest."

Rab's eyes lit with growing enthusiasm. He put his arm around Jon's hulking shoulders.

"Brother tery, you're about to save the Talents once again." — XVIII-

Later that night, Jon sat by the central fire with Rab and Tlad after the rest of the camp had drifted off to bed.

"Why must it be like this, Tlad?" Rab said softly. He had a pile of small pebbles in his hand and was throwing them into the fire one by one.

"You mean war?" Tlad shrugged. "It seems to be part of the human condition."

"Think so? I wonder. Why must we be out here in the forests struggling to stay alive while Mekk and his priests and his troops are in their fortress scouring their brains for ways to find and kill us?"

"The True Shape sect seems to be at the root of your problem."

"Ah, religion. I could think of a better way to use religion, I assure you. Besides numbers, our greatest disadvantage is that all our religious myths have been turned against us. The True Shape faith says that the Great Sickness was an act of God through which He branded all those who displeased Him. Therefore all those bearing the mark of the Great Sickness are offensive to God and must be eradicated."

"We're all afraid of the strange, the misshapen," Tlad said. "Even you aren't sure your fellow Talents won't reject Jon once you tell them he's human."

"I know. But it used to be considered wrong to hurt or kill others. Then the True Shape priests wormed their way into Mekk's brain and convinced him to order the extermination of all teries. I guess it was inevitable that Talents would be added to the list. So it's now an act of devotion to go out and kill a tery or a Talent. Everything is twisted."

"I'm sure Talents were included in the extermination order for political reasons as well," Tlad said. "If Mekk is as suspicious and fearful as you say, he probably wanted to eliminate those subjects who could plot against him without ever saying a word."

"I suspect that's true. But if the present is bad, the future could be worse."

"Worse?" Jon whispered, unable to stay out of the discussion any longer. "What could be worse than the present?"

"Well, at this point the provinces are complying with the extermination decree out of fear of Mekk's wrath. But as time goes on, the practice of killing on sight anything that doesn't bear True Shape will become traditional and customary and routine. It will continue long after Mekk is gone because it is entwined with religious myth. How do we fight a myth?"

"With another myth," Tlad said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rab laughed. "Just like that? Another myth? Ah, if I had that power. I'd create a religion that could bring us all together, not drive us apart. Or better yet, I'd do away with all religion and let us live for ourselves."

"That would be unrealistic. Myths exist because people want them, cling to them, need them. To supplant existing religions, you'll have to come up with a bigger and better god, one who could push the others aside, one who could implant the idea that teries and Talents are every bit as human as the rest of us, implant it so deeply that it could never be uprooted."

"If I can get our hands on those weapons," Rab said with sudden intensity, "I'll show Mekk and his priests just how human we teries and Talents can be!"

"Is that what you want the weapons for? To make yourself the Overlord?"

"No, of course not," Rab said quickly. "But we can use them to change things around to our benefit. We won't have to run anymore — from anyone."

Tlad made no reply. As Jon watched him gaze into the fire, he noticed a worried frown on his face.

Jon sought out Tlad the next morning and learned that he had departed at first light, no destination given. He struck off into the forest and made for Tlad's hut. It was already mid-morning but he knew he could easily catch up. No human could move through the forests as quickly as –

He'd have to get used to classifying himself as human. He had come to accept that now, and he wanted the other humans around him to accept it. But Rab said go slow, go slow, go slow.