waterfall of silver locks flowed down deceptively delicate shoulders, framing an oval face set with emerald eyes. She was both breathtaking and otherworldly.
“You still insist on eating that goop,” she snorted, sitting cross-legged on the bench next to Blair. She slapped a haunch of meat from what he guessed might be a goat on the table before her. “We are carnivores. We eat meat. You need to hunt.”
She seized the haunch with both hands, ripping off a mouthful and chewing blissfully as the rest of them gazed on in a mixture of horror and jealousy. His stomach rumbled.
She opened her eyes and blinked twice. “Why are you staring at me?”
“It’s not important,” Blair interjected, surprised again at the vast gulf between the Mother’s culture and their own world. “We found survivors in Cajamarca and did our best to set up a sanctuary for them. While we were there we ran into something strange. Zombies that were faster and stronger than the others. A more evolved version of the walkers.”
“Evolved,” the Mother replied, cocking her head as if tasting the word. She picked a piece of fat from between her teeth before continuing. “That doesn’t quite fit. They have fed upon the flesh of others, which gives them strength. The more they feed, the stronger and smarter they become. This is why they were a more challenging opponent than the shamblers you first encountered."
“How large can they get?” Liz asked.
“I’ve seen a deathless 30 spans high, this one a primate from the Cradle. It took Ra two millennia to grow it and me another six to destroy it,” she said. Blair’s jaw dropped at the cavalier way she discussed such a time span.
“Mother, I know this might be rude but how old are you?” he asked, bracing himself for a possible explosion.
“I have seen the length of an entire longest count, roughly twenty-four millennia,” she said, continuing her meal.
Blair wasn’t the only amazed face. “We must be like children to you. The oldest living human is barely a century. Our entire recorded history is around five thousand years. You’ve seen nearly five times that amount of time.”
“Not truly,” the Mother replied between mouthfuls of raw meat. “I was only awake for eleven millennia. I slept for thirteen between ages, when the sun was dim and cold. But enough of me. Tell me more of your journey. You say you’ve helped these survivors find sanctuary? How many are there?”
“We only located a handful, but there are almost certainly others,” Liz interjected, eyeing the Mother as she waved steam away from her bowl. “We wanted to stay and find more, but you insisted we return. I’m still not sure I agree with that. We should be out there protecting people, but instead we’re back here relaxing.”
“I understand your feelings,” the Mother said, heaving a sigh. She stopped eating and divided her attention among them. “You want to protect and that is to the good, but you must learn to take a longer view. I’m afraid I do see you as children, though there is no insult in that. You think in years or perhaps in decades. I ruled this continent and the one to the north for sixty centuries, and spent another fifty in the land you call Africa. I have learned the ugly patterns of our race. The people in this city are important, but not nearly so important as your learning to hone your abilities. I cannot risk you being overwhelmed when you are untrained. That is why I needed you to return, why you are not there protecting those who cannot protect themselves.
“Fear not, though. On the morrow we will return to Cajamarca and I will create champions from those willing,” the Mother explained. “They will help protect the city as you watch over this Ark.”
“Can’t you watch over the Ark?” Bridget asked, eyeing the Mother sidelong. “I mean, you’re stronger than all of us. We could help the city while you protect this place.”
“Would that I could,” she
“You still insist on eating that goop,” she snorted, sitting cross-legged on the bench next to Blair. She slapped a haunch of meat from what he guessed might be a goat on the table before her. “We are carnivores. We eat meat. You need to hunt.”
She seized the haunch with both hands, ripping off a mouthful and chewing blissfully as the rest of them gazed on in a mixture of horror and jealousy. His stomach rumbled.
She opened her eyes and blinked twice. “Why are you staring at me?”
“It’s not important,” Blair interjected, surprised again at the vast gulf between the Mother’s culture and their own world. “We found survivors in Cajamarca and did our best to set up a sanctuary for them. While we were there we ran into something strange. Zombies that were faster and stronger than the others. A more evolved version of the walkers.”
“Evolved,” the Mother replied, cocking her head as if tasting the word. She picked a piece of fat from between her teeth before continuing. “That doesn’t quite fit. They have fed upon the flesh of others, which gives them strength. The more they feed, the stronger and smarter they become. This is why they were a more challenging opponent than the shamblers you first encountered."
“How large can they get?” Liz asked.
“I’ve seen a deathless 30 spans high, this one a primate from the Cradle. It took Ra two millennia to grow it and me another six to destroy it,” she said. Blair’s jaw dropped at the cavalier way she discussed such a time span.
“Mother, I know this might be rude but how old are you?” he asked, bracing himself for a possible explosion.
“I have seen the length of an entire longest count, roughly twenty-four millennia,” she said, continuing her meal.
Blair wasn’t the only amazed face. “We must be like children to you. The oldest living human is barely a century. Our entire recorded history is around five thousand years. You’ve seen nearly five times that amount of time.”
“Not truly,” the Mother replied between mouthfuls of raw meat. “I was only awake for eleven millennia. I slept for thirteen between ages, when the sun was dim and cold. But enough of me. Tell me more of your journey. You say you’ve helped these survivors find sanctuary? How many are there?”
“We only located a handful, but there are almost certainly others,” Liz interjected, eyeing the Mother as she waved steam away from her bowl. “We wanted to stay and find more, but you insisted we return. I’m still not sure I agree with that. We should be out there protecting people, but instead we’re back here relaxing.”
“I understand your feelings,” the Mother said, heaving a sigh. She stopped eating and divided her attention among them. “You want to protect and that is to the good, but you must learn to take a longer view. I’m afraid I do see you as children, though there is no insult in that. You think in years or perhaps in decades. I ruled this continent and the one to the north for sixty centuries, and spent another fifty in the land you call Africa. I have learned the ugly patterns of our race. The people in this city are important, but not nearly so important as your learning to hone your abilities. I cannot risk you being overwhelmed when you are untrained. That is why I needed you to return, why you are not there protecting those who cannot protect themselves.
“Fear not, though. On the morrow we will return to Cajamarca and I will create champions from those willing,” the Mother explained. “They will help protect the city as you watch over this Ark.”
“Can’t you watch over the Ark?” Bridget asked, eyeing the Mother sidelong. “I mean, you’re stronger than all of us. We could help the city while you protect this place.”
“Would that I could,” she
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