A New World

by Brendan O'Neill

  In my time in the Weald, I’d gotten the impression it must be about the size of North Dakota. The Wizard’s Consortium showed their support by having an elf spellcaster use his magic to speed our journey. Even with their ability to cover miles in seconds by magically transferring from tree to tree, the journey took four days. The elf spellcaster left us at the northeast border, taking a moment to give each of us a heart-felt handshake before departing.

  We made camp on a lightly forested hill overlooking the borders of the Deadlands. A fast flowing river snaked its way along narrow channels between the low hills. Just after mt tent was pitched and the elves made something similar from the local leaves, an unseasonably warm rain started to fall. It was light at first, but soon the plans for a hot meal were abandoned. Most of the party found their tents in the driving rain. I stood in the torrent at the edge of the hill, staring out toward the dead hills of the Deadlands.

  Light was dying quickly as I tried to make out the dim outline of the distant castle ruin through gray rain. The land beyond the river looked as desolate as its supposed inhabitants. Grasses, shrubs, and the few, solitary trees were all stunted, twisted, and mottled. Not a single green shoot, not a single insect, not a single sign of natural life could be seen anywhere beyond the river.

  “Not a pretty sight is it?”

  “I’ve seen worse,” I lied, not turning around.

  Lanisa stepped next to me and looked out over tomorrow’s trek as well. “Your world must be a horrible place then,” she said.

  I glanced over at the athletic elf, the dying light and rivulets of rain on her face hiding her massive scar. For a moment, I saw what she must have looked like in the past. With the scar she’s beautiful. Before it, she must have been absolutely breath-taking.

  “Sometimes… and in some places, yes,” I said. “But we do have a few areas that are close to your forest. Mount Rainier for example.”

  “An elf forest in your homeland?”

  “Not quite,” I said with a quiet chuckle. “It’s a volcano with a forest paradise around it. One of the most beautiful places you can find. Where I come from, at least.”

  We fell silent, listening to the rain fall around us… on us. The patter of the drops on Lanisa’s lamellar armor was almost hypnotic. It kept drawing my eyes to her instead of the ruined castle that once held my attention. She seemed to sense my gaze and her lavender eyes found mine. I figured maybe conversation would help keep my attention where it belonged.

  “I don’t get why we’re not putting out sentries,” I said. “What’s to stop creatures from the Deadlands from coming over here while we sleep?”

  “Naiads won’t allow their taint in the river. If the undead try to cross, the naiads would destroy them. Even the fastest of the deadland creatures would take weeks to travel around the river’s headwaters. So, they wait to see what we do.”

  “Ah,” I said, not at all comforted. Perhaps a change in topic. “Are naiads like the watery people we saw when we were trying to escape that damned swamp? Melina was obsessed with asking them for passage across their river.”

  She nodded. “Naiads don’t mind us. We learn to swim and play in their rivers as children. She needed to get permission for you. They’re especially hard on humans, darklings, and liskoja.”

  “Do they live in other rivers?”

  “They used to. Now the naiads only exist in the rivers within the realms and borders of the Weald. Humans and darklings have destroyed them everywhere else through their greed, cruelty, and pollution.”

  “I’m starting to understand why you hate us so much.”

  “That’s not why,” she said and turned to look toward the castle ruins now lost in darkness and rain. For the first time since I’d known her saw something on her face I’d never seen before. Vulnerability.

  “When the humans first began to steal our resources about ten years ago, they built a compound not too far from here,” she said with an almost imperceptible tremor in her voice. “It was similar to the one you helped destroy.”

  “Normally, we’re quite aggressive in the defense of our homeland, but the king worried about starting a war. After all, there are so many humans and so few of us. So, in spite of the human tendency for cruelty and destruction, the King decided to extend the hand of peace. He sent a royal delegation to that lonely little outpost, headed by the queen. She was as influential and skilled a diplomat as she was beautiful. I received the honor of being named as the head of her personal guard.”

  “When we arrived at the compound, we didn’t receive the distinguished reception due to a royal diplomatic procession. The governor was mocking and insulting. I warned the queen we needed to leave, but she insisted we stay and ensure our peoples future through her diplomatic efforts. The queen believed in the diplomatic process, the reaching of common ground by individuals over their baser natures.”

  “But the governor had no intention of rising above his baser nature. It took less than a minute for the humans to overwhelm our force. Just afterward, the governor opened the first Lounge.”

  Lanisa’s arms wrapped around herself as though she were cold in spite of the warm rain. “The queen spent her first month as the governor’s private concubine before he put her in the Lounge with the rest of us. I did my best to keep her spirits up, but she was already broken. There was only one woman aside from myself in the lounge who hadn’t lost her fight and we staged a breakout to save the queen. I made it. They didn’t.”

  She turned toward me and looked deep into my eyes. “This…” she said tracing a finger along the scar on her face, “…I earned in the escape. It’s a constant reminder of just what humans are and what they will do. I swore my vengeance on that human and to eradicate any that I ever found in our forest.” Lanisa gave me an appraising look up and down my body before her gaze locked on my eyes. “I was not at all happy when the king put the fate of the queen’s despoiler in your hands.”

  My jaw dropped in shock. “The governor from your story was the same one that I… ended?”

  Lanisa nodded. “Same man. And while I wanted to be the one to destroy him, I have to admit your punishment was far more inventive and humiliating than anything I would have designed.”

  “You probably would have just killed him,” I stated.

  She gave me a small smile before turning in the direction of the ancient ruins. “Very possibly, although I would have drawn it out a bit. I was always leaning toward disembowelment.”

  We went silent, staring out toward the field again. The patter of rain descended over us again, but less mesmerizing this time. We stared into the distant darkness until Lanisa decided to speak.

  “You’ve shown me something,” she said that small smile returning in my direction yet again. I raised my eyebrows in response. “It appears that Melina was right in that not all humans are the same. You’ve earned my respect.”

  “I’m glad about that,” I said with my own smile for her as well. “I just wish that was true of everyone.” Lanisa cocked her head in puzzlement. “Don’t you find it strange that the king would put the fate of that governor in my hands?” I asked.

  “I have to admit, that took everyone by surprise.”

  “And if I hadn’t been so severe, what would have happened to my sister and I?”

  “Well…” she trailed off as she considered it.

  “Would the Consortium still be able to protect my sister and I, or would the king have the leverage he needed to have us banished?” I asked. “Or even executed?”

  Lanisa stared quietly at me, eyes hard and burning as she considered my words.

  “And why hasn’t a diplomatic procession been sent to the Deadlands before?”

  “It’s suicide,” she said quietly.

  “Uh-huh. Did you notice how much detailed information he gave me on the Deadlands and its inhabitants?” She nodded. “Did you also notice he gave me almost no information about the mage or the darklings?” This time Lanisa didn’t even shake her he
ad. She just looked toward the distant castle lost in the driving rain. I gave her a moment’s contemplation before continuing quietly. “He was very adamant about his son not joining us.”

  Lanisa turned to me, equal parts anger and betrayal on her face. “I’m going to my tent,” she said, a quiet rage heating her voice.

  I watched her walk away over my shoulder. She was trying to walk proudly as she always did, but there was more than a slight slouch to her posture. It was easy to see she was fighting to ignore a screaming voice of common sense in the back of her head that’s saying I’m probably right. I didn’t like hurting her. In spite of the fact that she used to be a royal pain in the ass, she was honorable. She had my respect, and deserved to know.

  “We’re meant to die there, you know,” I called.

  Lanisa froze at my words for just a few seconds, half in her tent. When the flap closed, I noticed a familiar face with uniquely radiant auburn hair watching me from several tents away. The moment my eyes found her, she matched my gaze for only a moment before also disappearing into her tent of leaves. I was leaving me alone to stare off into the dark, warm rain.

  The Deadlands

  I woke in the morning to the smell of something delicious. For one blissful moment, my mind told me I’m camping in one of my favorite spots back in Washington, like Greenwood Lake or Granite Lakes. But that blissful smell wasn’t a frying brook trout.

  I crawled groggily out of my tent onto the moist moss, smacking my lips noisily. The whole delegation had gathered around the morning campfire blocking my view of the fire pit. That delightful smell of herbs and spices tugged my nose forward, though the crowd of gawking onlookers. I had to grin when I saw the mystery chef.

  “Since you didn’t set up a watch, I thought I would make myself at home,” Tallus said with his usual easy smile. He’d look naked without it. “Breakfast includes katterroot in an arrowleaf sauce, tava rinds fried in wildbean oil, and the tava fruits in a frostberry puree.”

  I inspected the contents of our breakfast carefully. In spite of the delicious smells, I couldn’t help but notice the meal was once again entirely vegetarian. “You seem to be lacking the protein,” I said.

  “You’ll not find a better source of protein than the tava,” Tallus proclaimed with gusto. “The rinds have a somewhat neutral flavor, and the flesh is a bit sour. Trusts me. You’ll like it.”

  As doubtful as I was at that statement, I couldn’t ignore the delicious smell. After a few experimental bites I wolfed the breakfast down. To my surprise, I found myself taking a second, then third helping. The tava rinds tasted a bit like fried beef, and the tartness of the tava flesh was offset by the sweetness of the frostberries. The katterroot remind of a cross between squash and potato. In all, it was the kind of meal I imagine you’d find in a five-star restaurant.

  It would have been nice to enjoy some time to savor the flavors after our meal, but we struck camp immediately. Within twenty minutes our supplies were packed and we were standing on the bank of the river.

  It was Tallus, this time, who asked the naiads permission to pass their river. Like last time, they railed against the idea of letting humans pass. I could understand their point since I wouldn’t want some random bastards traipsing through my living room either, but I didn’t appreciate their attitude toward me. They held the elves in great respect and looked upon the dwarves with some disinterest. But I was the point of contention just like that day in the swamp.

  I didn’t bother to listen as the watery people railed against the injustices of having a human in their realm. My attention drifted away from the river to the beautiful emerald grasses we stood upon. It was like a satiny carpet that cushioned my feet. Then my eyes drifted across the twenty or so feet of crystal clear river water.

  The little vegetation that could be seen of the river’s far border were sickly and diseased. Bare, jagged rock shards stuck out of the barren ground like daggers waiting to shred anyone foolish enough to enter. Heavy and dark clouds hung eternally in its accursed sky, as if waiting to drown anyone foolish enough to enter.

  The threatening environment didn’t bother me as much as the lack of any undead. Lanisa had said they knew we were here. She said they were probably watching us all night. I was guessing that they were still watching us at the river’s edge. But I couldn’t see them anywhere. And there were almost no places to hide. Where the hell could they be?

  “Not a pretty sight, is it?”

  The voice was melodic and kind, and not one I’d heard before. I turned to find an angelic face framed by uniquely radiant auburn hair.

  “We got places similar to your forest back where I come from, but nothing like that,” I said. “I’m surprised even plants can survive out there.”

  “They can’t. They’re afflicted by the same perversion as the rest of the Deadland’s inhabitants.”

  “Undead plants?” I said in disbelief. “I didn’t know that was even possible. But then, not too long ago, I didn’t know any of this was possible.”

  “Yes, Melina tells me your people are lacking a few of our world’s best and worst features,” the woman said with a smile.

  I gave a quiet chuckle. “Very true, but after what I’ve experienced, I think we’re missing far more of the good than bad. My name’s…”

  “Jacob Martin,” she finished for me, while looking at me as though I were a curiosity. “It wasn’t hard to find out. You may be the most popular human ever to visit elvin lands. I’m Kiinna, and I owe you thanks. I was looking at a short future and miserable existence without your intervention.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. No matter the circumstances, atrocities can never be permitted. The moment you’re willing to overlook them you’re as guilty as anyone.”

  “Which is why you decided to kill the female guards of the compound as well?”

  “You’d have let them go?” I asked in surprise.

  Kiinna turned her attention to the bleak lands across the river. “No, but I’m not entirely sure I would have executed them either. Still…” she turned back to me, her warm smile washing over me, “… I don’t mean to judge, only understand the man whom I owe a life-debt to.”

  “You don’t…” I started to say, but she waved away the rest of my words with an abrupt wave.

  “My dignity was stained by the humans of that compound,” she said so quietly I almost couldn’t hear her. “Denying me the chance to honor my debt to you would deepen that stain.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, turning my attention to the beautiful forest we were about to leave. I stared in silence at the verdant paradise for a moment before Kiinna spoke again.

  “Looks like we’re ready to cross,” the young elf Ranger said. I turned and looked past her auburn hair at a shimmering floor of solid water formed a bridge over the river just wide enough for one person to pass. The rest of the elves were already across, only she and the dwarves were waiting on me.

  “Do you mind if I ask you one more thing?” Kiinna asked as we started to cross the shimmering bridge of solid water.

  “Knock yourself out, kid.”

  “Why haven’t you asked about my ordeal?” In the middle of the narrow magical bridge, I stopped and turned to look at her questioningly. “Most others asked either me or someone else about some detail. But you haven’t asked anyone. Why?”

  “Because it’s none of my damn business,” I said as I turned back. “You’ll talk about it to who you want when you want. Until then its nobody else’s business.”

  When the last of our group crossed, we began our long march into oblivion. Deadland grasses crunched under our feet as we tromped through the heart of hell. We had no idea how we were going to make peaceful contact, or if that was even possible. The king said our best chance lay in the old castle at the center of this wasteland and, whatever his motives actually were, I had to agree.

  At first, we moved slowly, expecting an attack at any moment. We watched every direction for any sign of u
nlife, but there was nothing. No movement, no birds, no insects; nothing but a vast expanse of ugliness and decay. We continuously glanced behind us as the safety of the river and the Weald steadily shrank in the distance. Even the unflappable Lanisa and stoic Sheildwall became more and more agitated as we drove deeper into the Deadlands.

  “Maybe they don’t know we’re here,” whispered one of the elvin Rangers.

  “Or maybe they’re knowin’ that we’re here on a diplomatic mission,” one of the dwarves whispered.

  “More likely,” I added in an equally hushed tone, “they know we’re here and are waiting for us to get even deeper into their land. They’ll be able to get troops behind us, and the deeper we get the less chance we’ll be able to fight our way out.”

  I knew I didn’t have to say it; everyone knew the situation we were in. The others were just talking their vein hopes out loud. Coping with stress. At least my statement got them to shut up. I knew the undead must have already known we were there and a few whispers couldn’t hurt. But, I was terrified and couldn’t help feeling like every sound, no matter how small, was the inhabitants of this wasteland where we were.

  We were several miles in when we started to notice signs that we weren’t alone. Fleeting glimpses out of the corner of the eye, the sound of shuffling steps, sliding rocks, and the transient smells of rotting flesh kept catching our attention.

  Long seconds turned into long minutes. Long minutes grew to long hours. By the position of the sun, it was well past noon when we reached the loose-shale base of the Deadland’s rocky foothills. The castle ruins rested on a foothill that rose above all the others, about an hour away at our current pace.