Red God: The Voice Of Wakanda
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xp_logsOroro plays a part in a very old story. Nathan's reminded that when there's a fight to be had, the battleground shouldn't matter. And Jean proceeds to be the biggest badass the dream-Wakanda has ever seen.
It's inevitable, Nathan supposes, that the path would cease to be simple and undemanding at some point. Still, he thinks they could be forgiven for not expecting this. It is a crossroads, but also a spiderweb, massive and twisting between things that might be trees, if trees could be black and smooth and taller than even the tallest sequoia. Nathan looks around edgily, noting the size of the strands. It says alarming things about what might have spun them.
Spiders are friendly in African mythology, aren't they? he asks Ororo warily.
Africa is a large continent. What is friendly at one part may not be friendly in another, Ororo answers vaguely, feeling the strands vibrate under their feet. As if something is coming.
I may not have ever mentioned that I'm actually not a big fan of spiders, Nathan says. There was this cave one time, and - no, not finishing that sentence right now. He steels himself, wondering just how quickly he might be able to react if what comes out of the darkness is -
- a cow. Nathan pauses, blinking as the cow regards him placidly. It is brown and perhaps twice the size a cow should be, with impressive curved horns but curiously mild eyes.
Huh, Nathan says, unhelpfully.
Cows, on the other hand, are usually quite friendly. Ororo lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, the slight absurdity of the situation making her want to laugh. Perhaps the way it came from is the way we should go.
Nathan can't help but roll his eyes. Why don't we ask it? he says, meaning the suggestion to be sarcastic.
Why don't you? the cow asks, in the same clear not-English as Achebe. The cow's voice, in contrast to Achebe's, is deep and soothing. Almost wise. You don't look like the type who should turn down guidance.
The cow talked. Now Ororo does laugh, and it sounds foreign in this landscape. I think we have found a guide, Nathan.
It's a cow, Ororo, Nathan protests weakly. There are ways to rationalize much of what they have seen and experienced, or at least to begin to provide possible explanations. But there is a talking cow watching them patiently, and he just doesn't know what to do with that.
One of Enkai's cattle, the cow corrects him, seemingly unbothered by their reaction. I walked to earth down a long bark rope, when Enkai divided the sky from the earth. I know the direction home.
Do you know where the Panther is? Ororo asks, ignoring Nathan's disbelief and throwing herself into this reality fully. It isn't as if there is much other option, after all. We seek him.
The cow paws the ground for a moment, thoughtfully. Are you looking for the Panther or the Panther? it asks contemplatively. One is not usually to be found in the same place as the other. It has been a long time. But things are changing.
Well, that's helpful, Nathan mutters.
Ororo shoots him a daggered look, feeling the threads beneath their feet sway. They may be together now. This world is merging in ways we cannot predict. Please, where can we find him?
The cow inclines its head to the west. Where the water falls. I would hurry, in your place. Things are changing very quickly. It looks back, not at them but at the web. And there are better place to be uninvited guests. I think I will go now, myself. And with that, the cow ambles away slowly, at an unhurried pace.
Thank you, talking cow, Nathan mutters, wishing he didn't feel like he was on the verge of hysteria.
Balancing carefully, Ororo starts towards the west, glancing back at Nathan as she goes. Let us hope nothing stranger comes of this adventure, no matter what happens, shall we?
--
No matter what the state she is in, Ororo can always sense some things. The presence of a large body of water ahead of them is apparent even before the low roaring of the waterfall reaches their ears, and her steps quicken to take her towards it. It is not as dark there, as the moonlight on the water reflects like a hundred twinkling stars, and for a moment all she can do is stand and marvel at its beauty.
She doesn't even notice the cat until it yowls. Then, every sense on edge, she sees it. A massive panther is crouched by the rocky wall, so shackled by heavy chains that all he can do is twitch his tail in anger. Ororo feels the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. We found him.
Nathan comes up behind her, staring in disbelief. The panther is enormous - ten times or more the size of a real animal, and its eyes blaze with unholy fury. That's T'Challa? Transfiguration, on top of everything else. He would like this to stop now, or at least for some sanity to inject itself into the proceedings.
Ororo starts to respond, but is interrupted by a coughing fit - she doubles over and the panther snarls. Straightening again, she turns on Nathan, her expression contorted and livid. Get away from me.
Ororo- But she is changing, he can feel it before any visible alteration takes place. Things are moving beneath her skin, rising up in her eyes. In the distance, growing suddenly closer, is the same roaring from earlier. Sekhmet.
The giant panther answers it with a roar of its, baring its teeth in a snarl. Its eyes burn red like the setting sun, full of anger, and it strains at the chains.
For a moment all Ororo feels is pain, any awareness of her surroundings blocked by things shifting, growing, changing. She hears Nathan's voice distantly, and the sound of the waterfall, and then the scent of the panther fills her nostrils and she feels a flare of rage. With a scream she flings herself at him, claws bared.
Claws?
Nathan is reduced to staring, shocked, his mind going silent at the near-impossibility of the massive silver lioness, charging past him and down towards the chained panther. The roaring is so loud that it dwarfs everything else, even the sound of the waterfall. The panther snarls again, throwing itself against its chains. Some snap, cracking like thunder. Not enough to free it, but enough to let it meet the lioness's charge.
And Nathan is bowled over, the whole world around him warping at the impact.
Suddenly everything is noise and light, and Ororo fights to fit her jaws around the panther's throat, teeth gleaming. She remembers nothing, thinks nothing except of her hatred for the other feline and her desire to see him dead. The panther is chained, but strong, and she feels a fiery slash land across her face. It only makes her angrier.
Stop! Nathan shouts after them desperately as the two giant felines clash, clawing and biting at each other. The panther is hampered by its chains, but larger than the lion. Angrier in a different way, part of Nathan's mind registers. Trapped and angry and desperate, and protective.
In the chaos of Ororo's mind, there is a sudden, fierce point of clarity, rising out of unspeakable depths. Thoughts not her own form, made up of images and emotions. Not words, but even so, the meaning is clear.
Kill him. Betrayer. Kill him. Taste his heart.
Suddenly that is all she wants, to kill this infidel, to crush his heart between her jaws, to feel his life's blood seep over her lips. With a snarl she redoubles her efforts, battering him back against the rocky wall and lunging once again at his throat. Time has stopped, or at least ceased to matter now. The only thing of import is victory, and the taste of his heart as she devours it slowly.
The panther falters before her attack, shrieking out his pain as the lioness closes her jaws around his throat. Thrashing, fighting to get free, he smashes a heavy paw across her face again, and then throws all his weight at her, bearing them both back to the ground. It breaks her grip, although the blood flows freely.
The two great cats struggle, locked in a furious battle that neither seems able to win. Only violence seems to rule here; whatever humanity had followed her through the transformation is gone, replaced by ferocity and feral rage.
--
The pursuit is a long one, and fast. They move at the speed of the wind, both of them, and the world seems hard-pressed to keep up. The ground beneath their feet flickers and changes from moment to moment, thick ground cover to patchy grass to... bare rock? Bare rock, the summit of Mount Wakanda, but warping to fit the needs of the moment, into a vast rocky field in which two combatants may face each other.
Achebe whirls on Jean with a howl of anger and fear. Away! he shrieks, bony hands reaching towards her, clenching. And the rock flows like water, into vast simulacra of those clutching hands, snatching at her. Catch you, break you, throw you down the mountain!
Jean doesn't even have time to think; not a bad thing given how difficult thinking is here. Reacting is much better, much easier, and if the ground becomes unsound, well, Jean is not unfamiliar with air. The wings which seem to flicker and move as she leaps up out of the reach of the rock hands are composed of little more than wind and sunlight, and they hold her long enough to settle back onto the solid surface. Little man, you'll not be rid of me so easily.
For a moment, there is something close to wonder in Achebe's mad eyes as he sees her, surrounded by light. Then those eyes harden again. Little bird, he spits. Little bright bird. This is not your story. Not your world!
The edges of the summit erupt, spears of cold black rock pushing upwards, curving inwards. In the distance, there is roaring, the voice of a lion. Of the Lion. Achebe's face lights up with something transcendent and gleeful at the same time, and his hunched, wizened form starts to change. He stands up straight and grows, grows until he is taller than Cain Marko and more broad. A mountain of a man, standing on top of a mountain. Gray stringy hair becomes a blazing white mane, and the symbols painted on his body start to glow.
You have no idea how wrong you are, Jean says, sounding almost amused, contemptuous. You may shape it into your own image all you like, but at its foundation this is almost more my world than the other. The spears of rock don't stop, don't shatter, don't do anything so overt, their shifting off course so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable, except that they don't come near her as he'd intended, the cage he'd tried to make becoming a hallway of jagged rock. This little bird does not like cages, I warn you now. It is the only warning you will get.
Achebe howls again, his voice far deeper than it had been a moment before. He walks towards her, each step shaking the mountain. Behind him, the light of the meteor is brighter and closer than it had been before their chase began. Time is marching on, even here.
And as he approaches her from the front, something else strikes from behind; something vast and dark-winged, its giant reptilian face that of a vulture. If a vulture can have a wingspan large enough to cast an entire mountain into shadow.
Two to one? Surely those odds are uneven... You're going to need more backup. From the outside the fight looks massively unfair; Jean hasn't moved, hasn't stepped away from the giant stomping towards her. She's built no visible defenses, taken up no weapons.
The truth is, the fight is massively unfair, but Jean thinks he deserves what's coming to him. It's been so odd, being so deeply immersed in pure astral thought/matter, been so hard to track single ideas and keep her thoughts separate from this other world that is so familiar that she could melt into it if she isn't careful and spend all eternity, it seems, flying between thoughts and emotions, experiencing the entire universe of conscious thought from the inside out. But now she has a focus, and as she brings her full attention onto Achebe, no longer fighting to keep her mind wholly her own, the solid edges of her skin blur, fade in and out, her feet sink down into the ground. A little smile drifts onto her face and somehow it seems the sky is smirking down at the giant as the wind itself becomes a restraint around the great bird.
The giant stops in his tracks, looks around. The almost furtive look of fear seems very alien on his altered features. Sekhmet! he shouts, eyes darting back towards Jean. Sekhmet! The roaring is very distant now, or perhaps it is only the sound of thunder after all.
Achebe's face contorts with rage and desperation. He reaches for one of the rock spears, tears it loose from the ground as it reshapes into something much closer to a spear. I will eat your heart! he snarls at Jean and charges her, spear outstretched.
No, my heart is safe from you, she says, although oddly her hand reaches up to press gently against her temple in a kind of caress. Safe and secure and somewhere you can't reach. Perhaps he thinks she is distracted, is trying to take advantage, but she isn't; she knows when the spear is launched towards her, feels it flying directly for her, and simply removes his constraints upon the matter, allows it to return to that perfect, gray, featureless matter, to fall to the ground before being absorbed again into his dream of a mountain. Foolish man. I'm not afraid of dirt.
Achebe's blazing eyes narrowed as he staggers to a stop. What then? he asks softly. Fire? But no, you do not flinch from the fire in the sky... He watches her intently, as if studying her reactions. Not earth or its beasts, not fire... water?
Clever little man, can add two and two and find the sum of not all it's parts. Now think on this... Do you really want to see me get angry? Jean asks, eyes focused, tight little smile on her lips and the whole world seems to pause and watch him to see which way he will jump.
Achebe smiles back at her, cruelly, and the summit of the mountain breaks, rock pulling aside to reveal a stream that first bubbles, then boils. Water flies upward, taking a new shape, the form of a tall slender woman. Jean herself, sculpted from water. The simulacrum smiles just as cruelly as its maker and streams towards Jean, arms open wide.
Jean gazes up at the image of herself and suddenly laughs out loud. Water and myself. My two greatest fears. You are clever. Or supremely unlucky. Or both! Certainly unwise... She giggles again as the monstrous echo of herself moves towards her, leans down and envelopes her in cold, watery hands. Which, when they open, are empty, Jean has vanished.
The cold, deep blue eyes blink, then close again and when they open they're as green as the sea before a storm. The water-Jean straightens, looking briefly surprised as the river of blue water hair cascading down her back boils away in an instant to reveal dancing flames of red and gold. No, little man, she says, and suddenly he is, his giant form evaporating around him to leave him staring up at his own creation gone rogue. You can't win here. You may be good, but I'm better. The ground below him reaches up, tendrils of earth twining and twisting, forming a cage of golden light around him.
No! the much-shrunken Achebe howls in despair. He throws himself forward, grabbing at the golden bars - only to be flung back in a flash. Like a broken toy, he falls to the floor of the cage, unmoving. In the distance, the roaring is all but inaudible now. A mere whisper.
Jean smiles faintly, shrinking back down into herself, at least as far as she can, and if her hair dancing in the breezes which don't exist crackles like flame or the pale edges of her skin fade in and out into the blue water of the sky, well, there's no one to see that she's slipping now, and Nathan won't care, wherever he's gone to. It will be okay once they get out of this overwhelming press of energy and, if they don't, well, that will be ok, too. Better than. Too much better than and it's a dangerous thought, so once again her hand reaches up to press against her temple, recalling her to herself a bit more firmly.
She glances back up at the mountain as the warps and twists Achebe created subside. It's a beautiful land you all created, she tells his unconscious form, turning to gaze back down on the golden land below. A lovely corner in our grey, edgeless plain of thought. And what is, is, and will remain. A new landscape in the endless mind. People rebuild, minds recover. She pauses, then smiles. About time.
--
This is not happening, Nathan mutters to himself, pulling himself up to his hands and knees and watching helplessly. He can hardly keep his gaze on the battling panther and lioness; their struggle reshapes the world around them, tearing and twisting. As if the fight is only the image on the surface of the water, hiding the nature of the true battle below.
He has to do something. His friends are there somewhere, caught up in all of this. Maybe he can reach them. Nathan stretches out his mind, seeking Ororo first - and finds himself bowled over again as his thoughts, his tiny, puny human thoughts, brush a Presence that dwarfs him.
And it roars. Roars in rage and contempt, hurricane winds of pure hate slamming into him.
And he is
drowning
drowning in red. And he is
PREY, NOTHING BUT PREY
And then he is flat on his back on the ground, staring blindly up at a crimson sky. Disintegrating, like a burning man crumbling into ash.
giving up already? says a casual voice, seemingly right beside his ear. Nathan shudders, fighting to pull himself together. not like you, is it?
He manages to turn his head - and sees a plant. It is tiny, low to the ground with dark green leaves that are delicately shaped, almost like hearts. Sitting up slowly, Nathan stares down at it as it starts to glow, gold radiance gathering around its leaves. He can feel what isn't really blood, pouring from his nose and ears, but the pain it symbolizes fades into the distance somewhat.
I am not talking to a plant.
of course you're talking to a plant. you were talking to a cow not too long ago, weren't you? The glow grows stronger, brighter. or you could just call me your subconscious trying to talk some sense into you. it wouldn't be the first time, would it?
An ear-splitting roar and a shriek of pain from the direction of the waterfall, and Nathan flinches. Please tell me you have a point, he says to the plant. I can't let this go on, but they're- A shudder racks him again, and this time he doesn't even pretend it's not fear.
course i have a point. The heart-shaped leaves wave slightly in a breeze Nathan doesn't feel. seems to me your problem is simple. jean threw herself into this world, and that's why she'll win. ororo knows other rules, and that's what got her in trouble. you, on the other hand... are holding back.
Then what should I do? Nathan says, and it is perhaps a mark of his desperation that he doesn't question the fact that he's asking a plant for advice. I've got to help them. Jean is far away, too far to reach. He's alone with two entities he doesn't understand.
stop holding back.
I don't know what that means! Nathan's hands clench in the grass. It feels so real, even though he knows it's not.
oh, you know perfectly well what that means, and you know perfectly well what's happening. The voice is filled with a strange mixture of scorn and compassion. you remember the last time you fought on a landscape like this, and you're afraid.
Nathan shudders again, remembering Cain's mindscape, and chasing Trask-who-wasn't-Trask. The claws, the teeth, the sense of utter helplessness as Farouk's parasite turned on him, revealing the trap.
you know deep down that what's making the rules here is even bigger. and you don't think you're up to it. The plant's leaves wave again, almost mockingly. if you want to try and live with that, go right ahead. if this isn't stopped, it's moot anyway.
Nathan looks up, jaw tightening. The meteor is a second sun now. So close. Almost close enough to touch.
stop trying to see it through the eyes of the real, the voice says, sardonic even in its curious formality. stop trying to make sense of it. you're not jean, but you have strength here, too. more than you think. what's happening below is not entirely beyond your experience.
What do you mean?
eat me and see. Nathan blinks, and hears a sigh. i'm a symbol, you stubborn ass. these aren't your people, and you're not the black panther. but you fight for your people every day. the two of you are more alike than is comfortable. why else do you strike sparks? just to drive ororo insane?
Dimly, he remembers the half-told story from his last stay in Wakanda. The heart-shaped herb that the Black Panthers of old were supposed to eat during their religious rituals, to gain their abilities. T'Challa had walked into the room halfway through and reassured him that his abilities were garden-variety mutation, Nathan, I'm no walking piece of folklore.
come on, eat me, the plant urged. buy into the dream. it's the only way to control it.
Oh, screw it, Nathan thinks, half-dazed, and tears off a leaf, stuffing it in his mouth.
--
There is something happening, not far away - another tear, a rip, a twist in the fabric of earth and sky and time. The lioness pays it no mind, however; whatever it is can wait until she has triumphed and grown stronger yet.
She feels flesh between her teeth and snaps down, tearing the panther's ear in a long, bloody gash. He roars and shakes his head wildly and the lioness is thrown off, into the dirt, her silvery coat now marred by blood and dust. Still she rises and the big cats clash once more, the meteorite overhead seeming to give off a bright, intense heat that wilts all it touches.
Nathan is standing on a ridge that wasn't there a moment before, gazing down at the battle. I see, he says, and he does; Ororo and T'Challa are there, but beneath the Lion and the Panther. Being ridden by the Presences, whatever they are. They need the human bodies, Nathan realizes. They are shield and weapon, all at once. If the two Presences clashed directly, it would shatter the world around them. This world, perhaps even the real world.
Instead of daunting him, it makes him angry. His friends trapped, captives in their own minds. Being used. Ororo, T'Challa, neither of them are meant to be tools, or victims. They are meant to be free.
Freedom.
He is standing on a ridge, here and now.
He is standing on the Kazakh steppes, nineteen years old, free for the first time in his life. Watching a golden eagle soar, hunting, far above him.
His symbol of freedom. His weapon. Nathan closes his eyes, all fear and anxiety melting away, replaced by stillness. He feels the change wash over him, but the wings that fling outwards are not made of fire, but feathers.
And there is a golden eagle in Wakanda's skies, perhaps for the first time.
As massive as the battling great cats, it dives at them, claws outstretched. Not to rip or puncture, but to fling the combatants apart. To buy breathing space, a single precious moment to decide what to do next.
Suddenly her paws are not on the ground - she is flying through the air, away from her enemy. Pain pricks her sides and brightness flares in her eyes. The sky is filled with light, light reflecting off the eagle's golden feathers from the meteorite's fire, blinding her. She screams in anger, frustration, hate - this was not supposed to happen. This was not meant to be.
They cannot clash directly, the eagle that is Nathan thinks, landing in the open ground between them. They know this. This whole scenario has been carefully arranged, manipulated to reach this very point. A body for the Lion, and the Panther chained...
The Panther, chained. The Lion needs the Panther to be chained, needs that advantage to defeat it. This is not an equal battle. It never was.
Simple enough, then. The eagle launches himself at the sprawled panther and tears at the chains, ignoring the shock of cold that chills his bones. Free the panther. Make the fight fair, and see if the combatants remain quite so invested.
The chains shatter like ice under a hammer. The panther, still trying to regain its feet, rolls away and upright, and swells, doubles in size.
The roar it - he gives is very different from the lion's. Not a challenge, or a scream of anger. It is the massed hoofbeats of gazelle and antelope, the trumpheting call of the elephant. The howl of the wind. Thunder over the mountains.
The voice of Wakanda.
The lioness stops, almost mid-spring, the blaze in her eyes dimming. The thirst is still there, the hunger for victory, but now it is being overshadowed by something else, something unrecognizable.
Fear.
The charge never comes. She backs away, tail low. And then suddenly, fitfully, the lionness begins to change again, the silvery coat shimmering and seizing, the body buckling.
It hurts
There is light, and noise, and the air splits again, revealing a pinwheel of stars and night and sun and moon.
and she cannot breathe
The cat screams again, rending the waterfall, the cliff, the hill and mountain.
and she is two
The meteorite shudders and blinks. The heat, once enough to roast flesh on the bone, starts to fade.
and then one.
Ororo is on her hands and knees on the ground. To Nathan's left, the Panther shimmers, starlight in its black fur, and then the shadows and the cat are melting away, and T'Challa is toppling to the ground with a groan, shaking. Nathan watches them both for a long moment, eyes wide, barely registering that he has hands and fingers now, instead of talons.
There is light all around them, the light from the meteor. But it softens, becomes sunlight. Something has changed in the distance - Jean, what are you doing? Are you all right? - but for the better, Nathan realizes almost immediately.
The world eases back towards sanity, towards solidity. There is soft chanting in his ears, a gentle prayer. A prayer of thanks? The air has weight in his lungs again, and Nathan looks around and see that they are standing
the waterfall
The waterfall was beautiful, even in the sunlight. The light sparkled off the water, and Nathan sighed deeply, tottering over to the edge and falling to his knees. He splashed water - cold, clear water - on his face. "There's real and there's real," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I think this is the latter. Are you two properly de-catted yet? I don't want to look."
T'Challa pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his eyes wide and dazed as he looked around. "I was at home," he murmured, clearly disoriented. "About to leave, to meet you at the airport..." His eyes went even wider as he saw Ororo on the ground, and he scrambled to his feet, making his way over to her. "Ororo!"
The silver-haired woman's first reaction was to flinch, then to moan, and when she opened her eyes to look around recognition didn't dawn for several long seconds. "The night is gone," she mumbled, pushing herself into a sitting position with T'Challa's help. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand. "We are... back?"
"Back is entirely in the eye of the beholder," Nathan said groggily, splashing more water on his face. "A relative concept. I have absolutely no idea where I am."
"Warrior Falls," T'Challa said automatically, the look in his eyes still dazed. "It is a... historic site. It was a battlefield, once."
Nathan's laugh was definitely a little disturbing. "Well, I hate to tell you, but the more things change, the more they stay the same."
"If they change one more time..." Ororo grimaced and stood, one hand on her throbbing head. "I quit."
It's inevitable, Nathan supposes, that the path would cease to be simple and undemanding at some point. Still, he thinks they could be forgiven for not expecting this. It is a crossroads, but also a spiderweb, massive and twisting between things that might be trees, if trees could be black and smooth and taller than even the tallest sequoia. Nathan looks around edgily, noting the size of the strands. It says alarming things about what might have spun them.
Spiders are friendly in African mythology, aren't they? he asks Ororo warily.
Africa is a large continent. What is friendly at one part may not be friendly in another, Ororo answers vaguely, feeling the strands vibrate under their feet. As if something is coming.
I may not have ever mentioned that I'm actually not a big fan of spiders, Nathan says. There was this cave one time, and - no, not finishing that sentence right now. He steels himself, wondering just how quickly he might be able to react if what comes out of the darkness is -
- a cow. Nathan pauses, blinking as the cow regards him placidly. It is brown and perhaps twice the size a cow should be, with impressive curved horns but curiously mild eyes.
Huh, Nathan says, unhelpfully.
Cows, on the other hand, are usually quite friendly. Ororo lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, the slight absurdity of the situation making her want to laugh. Perhaps the way it came from is the way we should go.
Nathan can't help but roll his eyes. Why don't we ask it? he says, meaning the suggestion to be sarcastic.
Why don't you? the cow asks, in the same clear not-English as Achebe. The cow's voice, in contrast to Achebe's, is deep and soothing. Almost wise. You don't look like the type who should turn down guidance.
The cow talked. Now Ororo does laugh, and it sounds foreign in this landscape. I think we have found a guide, Nathan.
It's a cow, Ororo, Nathan protests weakly. There are ways to rationalize much of what they have seen and experienced, or at least to begin to provide possible explanations. But there is a talking cow watching them patiently, and he just doesn't know what to do with that.
One of Enkai's cattle, the cow corrects him, seemingly unbothered by their reaction. I walked to earth down a long bark rope, when Enkai divided the sky from the earth. I know the direction home.
Do you know where the Panther is? Ororo asks, ignoring Nathan's disbelief and throwing herself into this reality fully. It isn't as if there is much other option, after all. We seek him.
The cow paws the ground for a moment, thoughtfully. Are you looking for the Panther or the Panther? it asks contemplatively. One is not usually to be found in the same place as the other. It has been a long time. But things are changing.
Well, that's helpful, Nathan mutters.
Ororo shoots him a daggered look, feeling the threads beneath their feet sway. They may be together now. This world is merging in ways we cannot predict. Please, where can we find him?
The cow inclines its head to the west. Where the water falls. I would hurry, in your place. Things are changing very quickly. It looks back, not at them but at the web. And there are better place to be uninvited guests. I think I will go now, myself. And with that, the cow ambles away slowly, at an unhurried pace.
Thank you, talking cow, Nathan mutters, wishing he didn't feel like he was on the verge of hysteria.
Balancing carefully, Ororo starts towards the west, glancing back at Nathan as she goes. Let us hope nothing stranger comes of this adventure, no matter what happens, shall we?
--
No matter what the state she is in, Ororo can always sense some things. The presence of a large body of water ahead of them is apparent even before the low roaring of the waterfall reaches their ears, and her steps quicken to take her towards it. It is not as dark there, as the moonlight on the water reflects like a hundred twinkling stars, and for a moment all she can do is stand and marvel at its beauty.
She doesn't even notice the cat until it yowls. Then, every sense on edge, she sees it. A massive panther is crouched by the rocky wall, so shackled by heavy chains that all he can do is twitch his tail in anger. Ororo feels the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. We found him.
Nathan comes up behind her, staring in disbelief. The panther is enormous - ten times or more the size of a real animal, and its eyes blaze with unholy fury. That's T'Challa? Transfiguration, on top of everything else. He would like this to stop now, or at least for some sanity to inject itself into the proceedings.
Ororo starts to respond, but is interrupted by a coughing fit - she doubles over and the panther snarls. Straightening again, she turns on Nathan, her expression contorted and livid. Get away from me.
Ororo- But she is changing, he can feel it before any visible alteration takes place. Things are moving beneath her skin, rising up in her eyes. In the distance, growing suddenly closer, is the same roaring from earlier. Sekhmet.
The giant panther answers it with a roar of its, baring its teeth in a snarl. Its eyes burn red like the setting sun, full of anger, and it strains at the chains.
For a moment all Ororo feels is pain, any awareness of her surroundings blocked by things shifting, growing, changing. She hears Nathan's voice distantly, and the sound of the waterfall, and then the scent of the panther fills her nostrils and she feels a flare of rage. With a scream she flings herself at him, claws bared.
Claws?
Nathan is reduced to staring, shocked, his mind going silent at the near-impossibility of the massive silver lioness, charging past him and down towards the chained panther. The roaring is so loud that it dwarfs everything else, even the sound of the waterfall. The panther snarls again, throwing itself against its chains. Some snap, cracking like thunder. Not enough to free it, but enough to let it meet the lioness's charge.
And Nathan is bowled over, the whole world around him warping at the impact.
Suddenly everything is noise and light, and Ororo fights to fit her jaws around the panther's throat, teeth gleaming. She remembers nothing, thinks nothing except of her hatred for the other feline and her desire to see him dead. The panther is chained, but strong, and she feels a fiery slash land across her face. It only makes her angrier.
Stop! Nathan shouts after them desperately as the two giant felines clash, clawing and biting at each other. The panther is hampered by its chains, but larger than the lion. Angrier in a different way, part of Nathan's mind registers. Trapped and angry and desperate, and protective.
In the chaos of Ororo's mind, there is a sudden, fierce point of clarity, rising out of unspeakable depths. Thoughts not her own form, made up of images and emotions. Not words, but even so, the meaning is clear.
Kill him. Betrayer. Kill him. Taste his heart.
Suddenly that is all she wants, to kill this infidel, to crush his heart between her jaws, to feel his life's blood seep over her lips. With a snarl she redoubles her efforts, battering him back against the rocky wall and lunging once again at his throat. Time has stopped, or at least ceased to matter now. The only thing of import is victory, and the taste of his heart as she devours it slowly.
The panther falters before her attack, shrieking out his pain as the lioness closes her jaws around his throat. Thrashing, fighting to get free, he smashes a heavy paw across her face again, and then throws all his weight at her, bearing them both back to the ground. It breaks her grip, although the blood flows freely.
The two great cats struggle, locked in a furious battle that neither seems able to win. Only violence seems to rule here; whatever humanity had followed her through the transformation is gone, replaced by ferocity and feral rage.
--
The pursuit is a long one, and fast. They move at the speed of the wind, both of them, and the world seems hard-pressed to keep up. The ground beneath their feet flickers and changes from moment to moment, thick ground cover to patchy grass to... bare rock? Bare rock, the summit of Mount Wakanda, but warping to fit the needs of the moment, into a vast rocky field in which two combatants may face each other.
Achebe whirls on Jean with a howl of anger and fear. Away! he shrieks, bony hands reaching towards her, clenching. And the rock flows like water, into vast simulacra of those clutching hands, snatching at her. Catch you, break you, throw you down the mountain!
Jean doesn't even have time to think; not a bad thing given how difficult thinking is here. Reacting is much better, much easier, and if the ground becomes unsound, well, Jean is not unfamiliar with air. The wings which seem to flicker and move as she leaps up out of the reach of the rock hands are composed of little more than wind and sunlight, and they hold her long enough to settle back onto the solid surface. Little man, you'll not be rid of me so easily.
For a moment, there is something close to wonder in Achebe's mad eyes as he sees her, surrounded by light. Then those eyes harden again. Little bird, he spits. Little bright bird. This is not your story. Not your world!
The edges of the summit erupt, spears of cold black rock pushing upwards, curving inwards. In the distance, there is roaring, the voice of a lion. Of the Lion. Achebe's face lights up with something transcendent and gleeful at the same time, and his hunched, wizened form starts to change. He stands up straight and grows, grows until he is taller than Cain Marko and more broad. A mountain of a man, standing on top of a mountain. Gray stringy hair becomes a blazing white mane, and the symbols painted on his body start to glow.
You have no idea how wrong you are, Jean says, sounding almost amused, contemptuous. You may shape it into your own image all you like, but at its foundation this is almost more my world than the other. The spears of rock don't stop, don't shatter, don't do anything so overt, their shifting off course so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable, except that they don't come near her as he'd intended, the cage he'd tried to make becoming a hallway of jagged rock. This little bird does not like cages, I warn you now. It is the only warning you will get.
Achebe howls again, his voice far deeper than it had been a moment before. He walks towards her, each step shaking the mountain. Behind him, the light of the meteor is brighter and closer than it had been before their chase began. Time is marching on, even here.
And as he approaches her from the front, something else strikes from behind; something vast and dark-winged, its giant reptilian face that of a vulture. If a vulture can have a wingspan large enough to cast an entire mountain into shadow.
Two to one? Surely those odds are uneven... You're going to need more backup. From the outside the fight looks massively unfair; Jean hasn't moved, hasn't stepped away from the giant stomping towards her. She's built no visible defenses, taken up no weapons.
The truth is, the fight is massively unfair, but Jean thinks he deserves what's coming to him. It's been so odd, being so deeply immersed in pure astral thought/matter, been so hard to track single ideas and keep her thoughts separate from this other world that is so familiar that she could melt into it if she isn't careful and spend all eternity, it seems, flying between thoughts and emotions, experiencing the entire universe of conscious thought from the inside out. But now she has a focus, and as she brings her full attention onto Achebe, no longer fighting to keep her mind wholly her own, the solid edges of her skin blur, fade in and out, her feet sink down into the ground. A little smile drifts onto her face and somehow it seems the sky is smirking down at the giant as the wind itself becomes a restraint around the great bird.
The giant stops in his tracks, looks around. The almost furtive look of fear seems very alien on his altered features. Sekhmet! he shouts, eyes darting back towards Jean. Sekhmet! The roaring is very distant now, or perhaps it is only the sound of thunder after all.
Achebe's face contorts with rage and desperation. He reaches for one of the rock spears, tears it loose from the ground as it reshapes into something much closer to a spear. I will eat your heart! he snarls at Jean and charges her, spear outstretched.
No, my heart is safe from you, she says, although oddly her hand reaches up to press gently against her temple in a kind of caress. Safe and secure and somewhere you can't reach. Perhaps he thinks she is distracted, is trying to take advantage, but she isn't; she knows when the spear is launched towards her, feels it flying directly for her, and simply removes his constraints upon the matter, allows it to return to that perfect, gray, featureless matter, to fall to the ground before being absorbed again into his dream of a mountain. Foolish man. I'm not afraid of dirt.
Achebe's blazing eyes narrowed as he staggers to a stop. What then? he asks softly. Fire? But no, you do not flinch from the fire in the sky... He watches her intently, as if studying her reactions. Not earth or its beasts, not fire... water?
Clever little man, can add two and two and find the sum of not all it's parts. Now think on this... Do you really want to see me get angry? Jean asks, eyes focused, tight little smile on her lips and the whole world seems to pause and watch him to see which way he will jump.
Achebe smiles back at her, cruelly, and the summit of the mountain breaks, rock pulling aside to reveal a stream that first bubbles, then boils. Water flies upward, taking a new shape, the form of a tall slender woman. Jean herself, sculpted from water. The simulacrum smiles just as cruelly as its maker and streams towards Jean, arms open wide.
Jean gazes up at the image of herself and suddenly laughs out loud. Water and myself. My two greatest fears. You are clever. Or supremely unlucky. Or both! Certainly unwise... She giggles again as the monstrous echo of herself moves towards her, leans down and envelopes her in cold, watery hands. Which, when they open, are empty, Jean has vanished.
The cold, deep blue eyes blink, then close again and when they open they're as green as the sea before a storm. The water-Jean straightens, looking briefly surprised as the river of blue water hair cascading down her back boils away in an instant to reveal dancing flames of red and gold. No, little man, she says, and suddenly he is, his giant form evaporating around him to leave him staring up at his own creation gone rogue. You can't win here. You may be good, but I'm better. The ground below him reaches up, tendrils of earth twining and twisting, forming a cage of golden light around him.
No! the much-shrunken Achebe howls in despair. He throws himself forward, grabbing at the golden bars - only to be flung back in a flash. Like a broken toy, he falls to the floor of the cage, unmoving. In the distance, the roaring is all but inaudible now. A mere whisper.
Jean smiles faintly, shrinking back down into herself, at least as far as she can, and if her hair dancing in the breezes which don't exist crackles like flame or the pale edges of her skin fade in and out into the blue water of the sky, well, there's no one to see that she's slipping now, and Nathan won't care, wherever he's gone to. It will be okay once they get out of this overwhelming press of energy and, if they don't, well, that will be ok, too. Better than. Too much better than and it's a dangerous thought, so once again her hand reaches up to press against her temple, recalling her to herself a bit more firmly.
She glances back up at the mountain as the warps and twists Achebe created subside. It's a beautiful land you all created, she tells his unconscious form, turning to gaze back down on the golden land below. A lovely corner in our grey, edgeless plain of thought. And what is, is, and will remain. A new landscape in the endless mind. People rebuild, minds recover. She pauses, then smiles. About time.
--
This is not happening, Nathan mutters to himself, pulling himself up to his hands and knees and watching helplessly. He can hardly keep his gaze on the battling panther and lioness; their struggle reshapes the world around them, tearing and twisting. As if the fight is only the image on the surface of the water, hiding the nature of the true battle below.
He has to do something. His friends are there somewhere, caught up in all of this. Maybe he can reach them. Nathan stretches out his mind, seeking Ororo first - and finds himself bowled over again as his thoughts, his tiny, puny human thoughts, brush a Presence that dwarfs him.
And it roars. Roars in rage and contempt, hurricane winds of pure hate slamming into him.
And he is
drowning
drowning in red. And he is
PREY, NOTHING BUT PREY
And then he is flat on his back on the ground, staring blindly up at a crimson sky. Disintegrating, like a burning man crumbling into ash.
giving up already? says a casual voice, seemingly right beside his ear. Nathan shudders, fighting to pull himself together. not like you, is it?
He manages to turn his head - and sees a plant. It is tiny, low to the ground with dark green leaves that are delicately shaped, almost like hearts. Sitting up slowly, Nathan stares down at it as it starts to glow, gold radiance gathering around its leaves. He can feel what isn't really blood, pouring from his nose and ears, but the pain it symbolizes fades into the distance somewhat.
I am not talking to a plant.
of course you're talking to a plant. you were talking to a cow not too long ago, weren't you? The glow grows stronger, brighter. or you could just call me your subconscious trying to talk some sense into you. it wouldn't be the first time, would it?
An ear-splitting roar and a shriek of pain from the direction of the waterfall, and Nathan flinches. Please tell me you have a point, he says to the plant. I can't let this go on, but they're- A shudder racks him again, and this time he doesn't even pretend it's not fear.
course i have a point. The heart-shaped leaves wave slightly in a breeze Nathan doesn't feel. seems to me your problem is simple. jean threw herself into this world, and that's why she'll win. ororo knows other rules, and that's what got her in trouble. you, on the other hand... are holding back.
Then what should I do? Nathan says, and it is perhaps a mark of his desperation that he doesn't question the fact that he's asking a plant for advice. I've got to help them. Jean is far away, too far to reach. He's alone with two entities he doesn't understand.
stop holding back.
I don't know what that means! Nathan's hands clench in the grass. It feels so real, even though he knows it's not.
oh, you know perfectly well what that means, and you know perfectly well what's happening. The voice is filled with a strange mixture of scorn and compassion. you remember the last time you fought on a landscape like this, and you're afraid.
Nathan shudders again, remembering Cain's mindscape, and chasing Trask-who-wasn't-Trask. The claws, the teeth, the sense of utter helplessness as Farouk's parasite turned on him, revealing the trap.
you know deep down that what's making the rules here is even bigger. and you don't think you're up to it. The plant's leaves wave again, almost mockingly. if you want to try and live with that, go right ahead. if this isn't stopped, it's moot anyway.
Nathan looks up, jaw tightening. The meteor is a second sun now. So close. Almost close enough to touch.
stop trying to see it through the eyes of the real, the voice says, sardonic even in its curious formality. stop trying to make sense of it. you're not jean, but you have strength here, too. more than you think. what's happening below is not entirely beyond your experience.
What do you mean?
eat me and see. Nathan blinks, and hears a sigh. i'm a symbol, you stubborn ass. these aren't your people, and you're not the black panther. but you fight for your people every day. the two of you are more alike than is comfortable. why else do you strike sparks? just to drive ororo insane?
Dimly, he remembers the half-told story from his last stay in Wakanda. The heart-shaped herb that the Black Panthers of old were supposed to eat during their religious rituals, to gain their abilities. T'Challa had walked into the room halfway through and reassured him that his abilities were garden-variety mutation, Nathan, I'm no walking piece of folklore.
come on, eat me, the plant urged. buy into the dream. it's the only way to control it.
Oh, screw it, Nathan thinks, half-dazed, and tears off a leaf, stuffing it in his mouth.
--
There is something happening, not far away - another tear, a rip, a twist in the fabric of earth and sky and time. The lioness pays it no mind, however; whatever it is can wait until she has triumphed and grown stronger yet.
She feels flesh between her teeth and snaps down, tearing the panther's ear in a long, bloody gash. He roars and shakes his head wildly and the lioness is thrown off, into the dirt, her silvery coat now marred by blood and dust. Still she rises and the big cats clash once more, the meteorite overhead seeming to give off a bright, intense heat that wilts all it touches.
Nathan is standing on a ridge that wasn't there a moment before, gazing down at the battle. I see, he says, and he does; Ororo and T'Challa are there, but beneath the Lion and the Panther. Being ridden by the Presences, whatever they are. They need the human bodies, Nathan realizes. They are shield and weapon, all at once. If the two Presences clashed directly, it would shatter the world around them. This world, perhaps even the real world.
Instead of daunting him, it makes him angry. His friends trapped, captives in their own minds. Being used. Ororo, T'Challa, neither of them are meant to be tools, or victims. They are meant to be free.
Freedom.
He is standing on a ridge, here and now.
He is standing on the Kazakh steppes, nineteen years old, free for the first time in his life. Watching a golden eagle soar, hunting, far above him.
His symbol of freedom. His weapon. Nathan closes his eyes, all fear and anxiety melting away, replaced by stillness. He feels the change wash over him, but the wings that fling outwards are not made of fire, but feathers.
And there is a golden eagle in Wakanda's skies, perhaps for the first time.
As massive as the battling great cats, it dives at them, claws outstretched. Not to rip or puncture, but to fling the combatants apart. To buy breathing space, a single precious moment to decide what to do next.
Suddenly her paws are not on the ground - she is flying through the air, away from her enemy. Pain pricks her sides and brightness flares in her eyes. The sky is filled with light, light reflecting off the eagle's golden feathers from the meteorite's fire, blinding her. She screams in anger, frustration, hate - this was not supposed to happen. This was not meant to be.
They cannot clash directly, the eagle that is Nathan thinks, landing in the open ground between them. They know this. This whole scenario has been carefully arranged, manipulated to reach this very point. A body for the Lion, and the Panther chained...
The Panther, chained. The Lion needs the Panther to be chained, needs that advantage to defeat it. This is not an equal battle. It never was.
Simple enough, then. The eagle launches himself at the sprawled panther and tears at the chains, ignoring the shock of cold that chills his bones. Free the panther. Make the fight fair, and see if the combatants remain quite so invested.
The chains shatter like ice under a hammer. The panther, still trying to regain its feet, rolls away and upright, and swells, doubles in size.
The roar it - he gives is very different from the lion's. Not a challenge, or a scream of anger. It is the massed hoofbeats of gazelle and antelope, the trumpheting call of the elephant. The howl of the wind. Thunder over the mountains.
The voice of Wakanda.
The lioness stops, almost mid-spring, the blaze in her eyes dimming. The thirst is still there, the hunger for victory, but now it is being overshadowed by something else, something unrecognizable.
Fear.
The charge never comes. She backs away, tail low. And then suddenly, fitfully, the lionness begins to change again, the silvery coat shimmering and seizing, the body buckling.
It hurts
There is light, and noise, and the air splits again, revealing a pinwheel of stars and night and sun and moon.
and she cannot breathe
The cat screams again, rending the waterfall, the cliff, the hill and mountain.
and she is two
The meteorite shudders and blinks. The heat, once enough to roast flesh on the bone, starts to fade.
and then one.
Ororo is on her hands and knees on the ground. To Nathan's left, the Panther shimmers, starlight in its black fur, and then the shadows and the cat are melting away, and T'Challa is toppling to the ground with a groan, shaking. Nathan watches them both for a long moment, eyes wide, barely registering that he has hands and fingers now, instead of talons.
There is light all around them, the light from the meteor. But it softens, becomes sunlight. Something has changed in the distance - Jean, what are you doing? Are you all right? - but for the better, Nathan realizes almost immediately.
The world eases back towards sanity, towards solidity. There is soft chanting in his ears, a gentle prayer. A prayer of thanks? The air has weight in his lungs again, and Nathan looks around and see that they are standing
the waterfall
The waterfall was beautiful, even in the sunlight. The light sparkled off the water, and Nathan sighed deeply, tottering over to the edge and falling to his knees. He splashed water - cold, clear water - on his face. "There's real and there's real," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I think this is the latter. Are you two properly de-catted yet? I don't want to look."
T'Challa pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his eyes wide and dazed as he looked around. "I was at home," he murmured, clearly disoriented. "About to leave, to meet you at the airport..." His eyes went even wider as he saw Ororo on the ground, and he scrambled to his feet, making his way over to her. "Ororo!"
The silver-haired woman's first reaction was to flinch, then to moan, and when she opened her eyes to look around recognition didn't dawn for several long seconds. "The night is gone," she mumbled, pushing herself into a sitting position with T'Challa's help. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand. "We are... back?"
"Back is entirely in the eye of the beholder," Nathan said groggily, splashing more water on his face. "A relative concept. I have absolutely no idea where I am."
"Warrior Falls," T'Challa said automatically, the look in his eyes still dazed. "It is a... historic site. It was a battlefield, once."
Nathan's laugh was definitely a little disturbing. "Well, I hate to tell you, but the more things change, the more they stay the same."
"If they change one more time..." Ororo grimaced and stood, one hand on her throbbing head. "I quit."
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