Cathartis Ch. 2

Chapter 2 – Uprising

Sperea held her arm in front of her face as another rotten tomato rushed towards her. It hit her greying blouse and splattered down her brown skirt. She reeled back from the assault, as more rotten fruit came her way. She searched for shelter and ducked down behind a wooden crate. She held her hands over her head, trying to block the barrage.

“Shut your mouth, girl!”

“Keep your thoughts to yourself!”

“You'll get us all killed!”

She had carelessly asked her father if the Catharts had always lived this way, under the total rule of the Ondus. It seemed a simple enough question at the time, but some of the others had overheard. While attempting to defend her question, and refusing to back down, she had incurred the wrath of a mob. Now they were yelling and throwing things in such a furor as to keep her from talking.

“Leave the girl alone, she was just curious. There's nothing wrong with that; she just needs to channel it better.” Her father stood in front of her wooden shield then stood up on the box. “And I take responsibility for her. I will teach her to keep dangerous thoughts to herself.”

“You do that Hurns, or next time we won't be so kind,” another member of the crowd shouted.

After a brief standoff, the angry people began to disperse. They went back to their homes or open-air crafting stations. Hurns glanced back at his cowering daughter. “Come now, lets get you cleaned up.”

“I'm sorry, but...”

He cut her off, “No buts, I don't want to hear your excuses. Don't say a word until we get home.”

She sullenly lowered her eyes to the ground and trailed after her father as they walked through the dusty street to their small dilapidated home. They passed Jaena's paintings on display near the street. Sperea had little interest in the brightly colored canvases; the intricate pictures seemed so frivolous to her now. The art was renowned in the village, and the Ondus always selected her paintings first among the offerings on Supply Day. While trudging home, she glanced at all the common sights of her sleepy little village: brightly colored glass vases, porcelain figurines of various animals, multicolored rocks attached to wooden backdrops in detailed designs, but nothing of any practical use. None of it could be used to grow food, hunt animals, build shelters, filter water, start fires, or make weapons. Especially not weapons. The Ondus Overseers saw to that. Anything of any use was immediately taken and destroyed, the owner punished, and in some cases, never seen or heard from again. Most of the Catharts were perfectly content to just make objects of art and beauty, and in return all of their needs were provided for. They never had to work or labor, so long as they didn't anger the Ondus.

Her thoughts were wandering again, which is what got her into trouble earlier. She had been making similar observations to herself when she blurted out the inciting question to her father. She couldn't help but notice the animals on the outskirts of her village as they gathered food, built nests, and fought or fled from predators. The Ondus brought food to the Catharts, created their homes with magic, and defended them from outside threats. They were sheltered from dangerous weather and deadly beasts were kept at bay. She probably should have been grateful; she should just enjoy her peaceful existence, but she didn't. Something about it had just become so dull and … unsatisfying. Yes, that was the word, unsatisfying. She rarely had to do anything for herself, and the arts and crafts of the village held little interest to her. She had no interest in painting, making figurines, or arranging rocks.

“Get inside and sit down,” her father's throaty voice suddenly snapped her back to the present.

“I didn't do...” she started, and was cut off again

“I didn't ask you what you did, I told you to sit down. Maybe I've been too soft on you. You want the reed on your behind?”

“I'm sorry, I just...I don't know,” she started sniffling, tears clouding her dark-blue faintly glowing eyes.

Her father sighed; the large man's shoulders began to hunch forward. “Ok, ok, just calm down. I didn't mean it. I was just, you know, worried. I thought they were going to kill you.”

“You know the Ondus wouldn't allow that. They're fine with public humiliation, but they wouldn't let us resort to violence.”

“Yeah, yeah, besides, none of them would really hurt you. You are a daughter of this village. It's just, you know, with questions like that, you might, you know...”

“Disappear.” she sniffed and wiped away the budding tears.

“Yeah. They don't like questions. You know that. You need to remember that.”

“I know. They don't want us to think. They don't want us to question. They just want us to make pretty trinkets to keep us busy, or for us to sit and watch the holotube, or...”

“Enough! Haven't you gotten the message yet today? Just be quiet for a change.”

“Fine, I'll just sit here.”

“You do that. I'm going to the town square to pick up the evening meal.”

“Oh, great, more porridge. I can't wait”

“You're not so good at this quiet thing. Just watch the holotube and stay out of trouble. Stop thinking so much.”

She sighed and leaned back in the chair as her father walked out of the austere wooden house. The air smelled musty and stale, like it hadn't moved in a while. She asked the holotube to show her something new. The little black box buzzed, and an image of the nearby forest appeared in the air above the box. The image panned above the treetops then swooped down to the ground. She saw a stream gurgling down an embankment through the gnarled tree roots. She sighed again. She'd seen this stream many times, but probably not this exact part of the stream, so the box had fulfilled her request, technically.

“Show me something else, something more interesting.”

The image changed to a desert landscape. A few desert wildflowers scattered around in every hue, and she saw a strange creature scuttling across the sand. It had claw-like pincers, a black shiny body, and a curved tail that came out from its back and lingered over its body, which ended in something pointy. A scorpion, she had heard one of the Ondai mages call a similar figurine once. The Ondus didn't like the Catharts knowing the names of animals. Calling a creature by its name might lead to more questions, like where it lived, how it survived, and the purpose of its tail. These were all dangerous questions according to the Ondus because they might lead to some sort of practical knowledge.

“No, something interesting, and something that involves people doing anything other than arts and crafts.”

The image shifted again; this time she could see over a sprawling city of tall buildings, towers of black and white, and marketplaces. She could see people making things that didn't look artistic, but were more like tools or weapons. She saw Ondai mages practicing spells in the training yards, and then she knew! It was Beshir, the capitol city of the Ondus! She wasn't supposed to be able to look in on the city. She knew she should stop, change the image, shut down the holotube, anything but continue to look. She continued to look in awe at the bustling city full of life and all the wonders she wasn't supposed to know. The image panned over a grassy meadow near the central tower, and she could see some people standing there. The image closed in, and she could see three old men in black and red robes talking to two young men. One was tall, pale-skinned, with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. He was definitely Ondai. The other was in rags, with dirty blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. He was a Cathart, and she recognized him! It was Anjor, her childhood friend who had gone missing over eight years ago. He was so tall now and handsome, even through the dirt and grime. He was still tan, but looked wan and skinny compared to the last time she saw him. Two guards took him away in chains, as the young Ondai mage bowed and walked the other direction.

She stood up and went towards the image. How could she be seeing this? The holotube had never shown her anything like this before. Anjor. What were they doing to him? He had been seen talking with one of the Ondai mages the day before he disappeared. No one had seemed to know what had happened to him, and they weren't supposed to question it. At least he was alive, but from the looks of him, he might not be for much longer. She wanted to find a way to go to him, to hug him, to find out where he'd been all this time. Suddenly the image changed. The air above the holotube glowed gold, and in the center was an shape. A simple design with one horizontal line and a half ring on the top, placed in such a way that the two lines stuck out a short ways on either side of the half ring. The image vanished, and the holotube went dark just as her father walked back in the door. He was carrying a large bowl of porridge, as expected, and looked at Sperea with concern as he entered.

“Is something wrong? Why are you standing there looking at the blank holotube?”

“It's, I, nothing. I thought I saw a bird.”

“A bird. Are you feeling ok? Did you eat some of that rotten fruit?”

“No, I don't think so. I was just thinking-”

He cut her off. “There you go, always thinking. Can't you just stop? Let's eat some porridge in silence, then we can find something to watch on the holotube.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I'm sure we can find some section of that stream we haven't seen yet.”

“Just eat your food and be quiet.”

They sat and slurped down the gruel in silence. It didn't have much flavor, and the texture was somewhat unpleasant, but it was filling and nutritious. She looked over at the half-finished wooden horse on the shelf behind her father. How long had that been sitting there? Since her mother and brother had gone missing, of course. She had almost forgotten. It seemed like so long ago. One day they were all here, eating at the table, and the next day it was just her and her father. She had been too young to question it much at the time. She had asked her father where they were, and he gave her a cold hard stare and told her never to ask again. He hadn't been able to finish any of his wooden sculptures since then. So many half-finished or barely started blocks of wood sat on shelves around the house. He hadn't bothered to color most of them. He said grinding wood against the stone slab by the house took too long, and he didn't want to spend the time to finish them. He was forbidden a carving knife, but that hadn't been an excuse before their disappearance. Many finished sculptures sat in the closet, ground and sanded with intricate detail and color, but he put those out of view long ago. Now, they sat amongst the half-finished projects all around; projects that would never be finished. Her parents used to dance and sing into the night, and maybe that was the problem. They were too happy together, and the Ondus didn't like that.

Sperea helped her father clean up after dinner, and she went to her room. She laid down on her straw-stuffed canvas bed as she began thinking about Anjor and the symbol she had seen. She faded into a dream where she was surrounded by the faces of the people in her village. They looked at her questioningly, asking why she couldn't just be normal. Just pick a hobby or craft and do something to occupy her time. Put away her childish questioning. When she didn't respond, they grew angry. Rotten fruit assaulted her from every angle, and she was covered in rotten slime. She screamed and saw the half-ring-on-line symbol again just as she was startled awake. Her father was in her room looking at her.

“Were you having nightmares again?”

“It's nothing.” She grimaced and rolled out of bed. Her neck ached and her back was cramped. How long had she been out? Motes of dust danced on a ray of light coming through the dirty window pane. Had she slept through the entire afternoon and night? Of course no one would care that she slept through more than half a day; it just meant less time for her to get into trouble.

“Hurry up, we have to go to town and gather provisions. It's Supply Day, remember?”

“Ok, just go out so I can get dressed.”

He left quietly, and she threw on a pair of dusty brown pants and a white shirt. Soon after, the two of them left the house for the town square. They plodded along the dirt road and passed the multicolored houses, colors that faded with time and neglect. She glanced over at Jaena's paintings again and stopped in her tracks. She saw the symbol from the holotube and her dream. The horizontal line with the half ring on top, gold against crimson. She looked towards her father, who had continued onwards, and then back at the painting. The symbol was gone, in it's place an ordinary picture of a dove flying over a tree into the sunset. She frantically scanned the paintings for the symbol, but it was nowhere in sight. She turned and hurriedly caught up to her father, who gave her a sidelong glance as he continued on.

The town square was bustling with activity. Ondus mages appeared one by one in the circle of symbols in the center of the square. Each one brought a crate filled with goods. They brought food, old clothing, paint brushes, glass blowing equipment, and so many other crafting tools and supplies. Finished art was on display for the Ondus to take in return. They selected the best paintings, sculptures, beaded jewelry and glass baubles they could find. The people hurriedly gathered up the things they wanted and needed, but Sperea's attention was drawn to movement in the shadow of a nearby building. Someone was there, beckoning to her. She glanced around, but no one was paying attention to her. They were bustling around the pile like ants, taking what they could back to their homes and shops in lines. She slunk over to the shadow, and the hooded person backed up while motioning for her to follow. They walked along the back streets, and she realized she had never come to this part of the village. There was usually no reason to. Everything she and her father ever needed was between their house and the village square. The murmur of the crowd receded behind her. After a time, they arrived at the back of Jaena's home. The figure disappeared into a back entrance leading to a cellar. She hesitantly followed.

The basement was dark and smelled of wet dirt and roots. A lantern flared, and she could see there were four other people in here with her. She panicked for a moment. What did they want with her? Had she wandered into a trap, to be taken away, never to be seen or heard from again? What would her father do? Would he care? Would he come looking for her? Would he sink into an even deeper depression? So many thoughts flooded her mind all at once, and before she could form any answers, the hooded figure revealed herself. It was Jaena! Maybe it shouldn't have been too surprising, since it was Jaena's home, but why had they taken such a strange path to get here.

“Sperea, how are you?” Jaena patiently waited for a response as the others watched intently.

“Fine, I guess. Who...What's this about?”

“I've been watching you for some time. You certainly know how to get on people's bad side.”

“Well, I don't mean to. Sometimes questions just slip out, and they overhear me, and they get mad.”

“Yes, I know. I was like you once. Perhaps I still am. I've just learned to control my mouth better.” The others scoffed in amusement.

“Ok, so, what's this about. Why are we slinking about like slithering animals through the village and meeting in your basement?”

“Draw it for me.” Jaena gave her a curious look.

“Draw... what? I'm not an artist. Especially not like you.”

“You know what I mean. I want to see you draw it. Right there in the dirt.”

Sperea looked around warily then knelt to the dirt and drew the symbol she had seen earlier. The others nodded as they gave approving sounds.

“This symbol means you have a gift. A gift long lost and forgotten. You can see what most others cannot.” Jaena let a faint smile touch her lips.

“But, what does it mean? Why am I seeing this?”

“All in due time. The answers you seek are far more complicated than can be explained here today. I want you to look at this lantern carefully.” Jaena held up the light before her.

Sperea stared into the light and realized it was not a burning flame. It was a ball of light, hovering in the center of the lantern. It gave off a brighter and more pure light than a flame. She had seen this kind of light before, but only when the Ondus lit up the town square for celebrations.

She started panicking again and looked around at the other three in the room. None of them had the pale skin and black hair typical of an Ondai mage. Still, something was wrong here.

“How did you do that? Are the Ondus here? What's going on...”

“We have gifts too. You are not the only one. It's in our blood. The Ondus have tried to suppress our powers, but it seems magic is not that easily controlled.”

“Magic! How? Catharts cannot use magic. Even if we could, it's forbidden!” Sperea stared wild-eyed at the woman.

“We can use magic, just as well as the Ondus, and we have learned to hide it from them so they cannot detect us.”

The blue-skinned Cathart man stepped forward and spoke suddenly, “We have shown you this in confidence. You are to tell no one of what you have seen here. Is that clear?”

Sperea nodded slowly, locking eyes with the man.

“Sperea, our people were not meant to be subservient to the Ondus. We were not always like this. We were once a proud and noble people, equals to the Ondus. They have taken everything from us, made us like cattle. Fattening us up until we are ready for the slaughter, to feed their appetites.”

“Appetites? You mean, they eat the Catharts that disappear?”

“Not physically, but emotionally. They take emotions from us to fuel their magic, or to regain their strength after casting magic. Magic has a way of draining the user, making them tired and weak.”

That went against everything Sperea had ever been taught. Her father had taught her from a young age that they were born to serve the Ondus. They were allowed to live and craft art because the Ondus allowed it. They were sheltered, protected, and cared for by the Ondus. They were less than the Ondus in every way, less intelligent, less attractive, less talented, and so on. Her mind began reeling. How could everything she had ever known be a lie? It couldn't be. Her father wouldn't lie to her like that for her whole life. They had to be tricking her.

“No, I don't believe it. You're trying to get me in trouble again, aren't you?” Sperea stomped her foot in the dirt for emphasis.

“Please, listen to me. Your father and everyone around here have not been lying, at least not intentionally. They don't know any better. We have rediscovered the truth.”

“This isn't possible … I … I … have to get home. Father will be wondering where I am. He'll be upset...I have to go.” Sperea backed towards the exit as she spoke; she began sweating and shaking. She felt like vomiting. The purple skinned Cathart woman stepped forward, a puzzling look spread across her face.

“I told you Jaena, she's not ready. She'll blow our cover. She can't leave now.” The woman raised her hand out in front of her, palm out, and her eyes flashed maroon to match her paranoia. As Sperea continued backing towards the door, her back hit a wall. She glanced over her shoulder, but there was no wall there. She spun around and began pushing and clawing at the invisible wall. There was nothing to grab. It felt smooth, like polished glass, and her fingers and hands slipped along it. She couldn't get out! She began panicking again, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt light headed. She collapsed to her knees, grasping at the dirt, struggling for air. The darkness closed in on her, and the light faded to black.