The Weight of the World

by G M Archer

  Joseph had bought them from someone on the outskirts of town, a simple tailor on the verge of closing shop, but still willing to sell to us at the hour. Alexandra was distraught at not just the sight of me in trousers, but Joseph had made her hand over her apron bearing Varrick’s roaring wolf, and her polished leather shoes, something she was quite fond of, but he convinced her they looked too rich. She immediately retaliated about his armor, to which he claimed a warrior traveling was far less questionable than a castle maid.

  He wanted to buy her cheaper glasses too. She told him that he could take the current ones from her cold dead body.

  “I’m selling this dress and apron when we get into town”, Joseph said, Alexandra having stowed her shoes in her satchel, “They’re excess weight, and they’ll probably pay for our passage. Not that we don’t have the funds, but that way they can be dedicated to pursuing better pleasures for ourselves, such as food. Or water.”

  “What market is going to be open this late?” Alexandra questioned.

  “If you read about anything useful, or”, he scoffed, “got out more, you would know that this city is alive all hours. It is a town where the residents are poor, especially with the war. They don’t know if they’ll see tomorrow, or if they’ll end up in a factory or on the battlefield. Sleep is irrelevant, and the present is to be celebrated,” he looked back at us and smiled, “Don’t take samples, don’t try to reason with anyone you can’t understand, don’t take anything even if they say it’s free, and check your pockets if anyone bumps into you.”

  “This sounds barbaric”, Alexandra said, with an expression of dread.

  “This sounds exciting”, I replied.

  Sure enough, the air began to buzz with activity, the sound of voices and distant music growing louder as we approached the inner city, travelers and wagons appearing on the road in greater concentration around us.

  “Are you aware that it’s going to take days to get to the western side of Viafinis?” Alexandra said, eyeing distant masts of ships that rose like sailed towers.

  “No, it never occurred to me.” He accented his sarcasm with a wink as she frowned.

  Meanwhile I had become entranced by the city, the movement, the life, all so thrilling. The smell of foods whisked through the air with the smells of perfume, and other odd things, the sound of speaking blurring with the wild movement around us.

  “This place is awful compared to Wolfsden”, Alexandra began.

  Joseph took on a high-pitched mocking version of her voice, “Full of lovely estates where you were born to a prestigious line of maids and butlers, and all women acted daintily and all men were groomed like great stallions-

  “Don’t mock me, Joseph”, she acted as if it greatly angered her, but I knew it didn’t.

  A man bumped into me and apologized, his eyes lingering on my face for a second before turning away. It then occurred to me how much I felt the looks directed my way were accusatory now. Did anyone know my face? Were we going to get caught?

  I stayed even closer to Joseph until we reached the square, my attention peaked again by the fresh sight, lit by so many different lanterns and lights that it was like daytime in the square. The people were packed even closer than before, but not too tightly for dancers to weave about, for ribbon to fly through the air. There were masked chanters, men that breathed fire, whole bands, all their sounds mingled. Some stopped to observe, to others the displays were meaningless.

  Booths rimmed the edges and wherever they could cluster, boasting everything from textiles to exotic fruit and shining weapons, the men and women themselves just as rich in verity. Joseph grinned when he saw my mesmerized smile.

  As we moved my hands stayed lingering out, constantly brushing against Alexandra and Joseph, desperate not to lose them in the beautiful chaos. Joseph stopped three times haggling prices, talking once in a language I had never heard. He sold the apron, but apparently wanted a better price for the dress.

  Each time we stopped we were encouraged to buy or participate in something. Dancers wrapped silk around my neck, a woman pushed jewelry towards me, and chocolate was brought to my lips. Joseph helped me refuse, Alexandra responding less sheepishly than I and refusing his help.

  He finally found a trader’s stand that pleased him, arguing the price of a dress I was not sad to see go.

  I finally noticed the group of boys beside me, all dressed in drab clothing except for a colorful rag tied somewhere on their body, and a blue bomb painted over their hearts. The tallest approached me, carrying himself in an obviously authoritive way.

  “Got any coin for some hungry kids?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t, I’m sorry”, I did feel sorry for him and his group, wondering if Joseph would be willing to spare some minor funds.

  I expected the boy to leave then but he stayed put, “Anything else then?”

  “Like food? . . . No.” I gave him a puzzled look.

  “Nah, like stories, or riddles. Treasures of the mind,” he shrugged, “costs you nothing but undervalued time.”

  Perplexed but interested in the request, my eyes flicked to Joseph to see how long he was from finishing up, having started in on some story about war veterans with the vendor.

  “My favorites are riddles. You any good at ‘em?” The others leaned forward eagerly with his request.

  “I would say I’m adequate, I’ve read quite a few books,” I said.

  “Well that’d be good. We ain’t got those around here. I wouldn’t be able to read them if we did”, he grinned, “Tell you what, tell me three riddles from your books, we’re pretty good at solving them. If I get all three,” He motioned to Joseph, “We get a few coins from him. If you stump me, I’ll give you a treasure.”

  I glanced again at Joseph, Alexandra watching a fiery haired lute player with her arms crossed.

  “I either gain coins or a new riddle, so I like the game,” he grinned.

  “Alright”, I said, thinking for a moment while he watched me rather smugly, “I’ll accept your terms.”

  Surely Joseph wouldn’t be too angry at me for gambling a few coins.

  “What has a single eye but cannot see?” I said, having recalled for a moment.

  The others watched him expectantly as he pondered, “A cyclops can see, but has one eye. A potato, perhaps? No, that can have more than one eye. A needle!”

  “Yes,” I said, nervous that he’d gotten it that fast.

  The others jumped and hooted with his victory as I began to think again.

  “What belongs to you but is always used more by others?” I asked.

  “Your sense of self-worth?” One offered.

  “No, but that’s perhaps a bit deeper than the answer”, I replied.

  The leader boy scrunched his eyebrows as he thought, rubbed his chin, than snapped triumphantly, “Your name!”

  I cursed under my breath and checked Joseph’s progress. He wouldn’t be long now.

  There was one Varrick had told me multiple times, a good one at that, but there was a problem with it. I didn’t know the answer. In fact, he’d told it to me those times as if he himself didn’t know.

  As much as I could remember, I spoke, “Warrior made still,

  Who sits on a hill

  And smothers all of our seas.

  Whose land is poor,

  But full of lore,

  And roars with hardship and pleas.

  He knows of the dark plans

  And all but demands

  That money be pressed to the ground.

  Silver and gold

  Are built up to mold

  What future sees when past found.

  Who is he?”

  He seemed impressed, if not deeply perplexed, and I began to wonder if it was cheating to ask a riddle with no answer. Or perhaps I’d accept his answer anyway if I dubbed it an acceptable one.

  Suddenly the sound of a sword bashing against a shield drew the attention of the square, the wild activity coming to a halt as head
s turned towards a guard who was now standing on the edge of the center fountain. Several other guards were gathered at his feet, waiting stoically for silence.

  The boy looked at me, as if in a trance, “The storm in the west disturbs the spirt. The myths say the sky, but it looks more like you’re about to have the weight of the world.”

  “Hear ye! Hear ye! A raven from His Majesty, King Varrick has just been received!” the guard called.

  I continued to listen, paling as the boy turned to me with a sly smile. I felt a small piece of metal in my hand, a delicate chain rippling over my fingers as he pushed a necklace into my palm.

  “There is great fortune and praise for the information and capture of Princess Atlas! Any information should be brought to the nearest guard station, and posters will soon be available for identification! If any-”

  Heads turned, voices began to speak as Joseph seized my arm, Alexandra’s jaw slack. We started to move out towards an ally, the group of boys waving at me.

  “Good luck, Atlas!” He called, “You’re going to need it.”

  I felt Alexandra grab my hand as reality itself seem to be swept away around us, our group of three falling into oblivion as the people and the square vanished.

  Chapter 5- And Tears Away From All We Held as the Truth

  My feet hit the ground, as if I’d actually fallen. My ankle buckled and I barely caught myself on the edge of a thick table, feeling Alexandra’s hand slip loose from my arm. Not knowing what had happened I looked around wildly.

  Where was the town? The people?

  Alexandra and Joseph stood to my side, and I looked down at the necklace in my hand, the metal hot and the liquid sky inside of it now about halfway full.

  Alexandra jumped to her feet, shouting hysterically, “What just happened!? Where are we?”

  Joseph’s eyes combed the room, and his hand hovered over the hilt of a sword.

  It was a large circular room full of curtained alcoves with numerals above them, and two doors were to our south. It was rimmed at the base with what appeared to be the Moontear from before, refined as trim on the wall and around the table. Above us the roof was supported by crossed beams, rich wood with the veins of blue through it. The room was lit well as a result, but everything was dulled, being covered in a thin layer of dust.

  Alexandra went ballistic towards Joseph, wailing about how we were almost caught, how his head would’ve looked rolling down the steps of the courtyard, right before hers. His only response was that beheading was much less common than a firing squad or hanging, so those two were much more likely.

  Turning away from his answer, she grabbed me again, seeing my eyes turn back to the cooling necklace.

  “Why are you staring at that?” Her finger trembled as she pointed.

  “I- um- I think it brought us here. It was full of that odd liquid, now it’s not. I know that’s not great logic but-”

  “Aren’t you pleased with yourself, wanting magic in your life and now you’ve got a cursed necklace”, she scoffed.

  Joseph cleared his throat, moving the first curtain aside. It was the nude forms of Adam and Eve fleeing a dark tree with a golden fruit, a snake forever silently screaming for them.

  Alexandra and I looked at one another.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” She asked.

  He shrugged and moved the next one aside. A man approached the tree holding a piece of paper, now a dead thing lacking fruit, the huge serpent watching him with indigo eyes, a tongue the color of blood flicking free from its mouth.

  “What does the paper he has say?” I asked Alexandra as we moved towards Joseph, knowing she was adept in reading several languages.

  “It’s Latin, you’ve been learning it for years now,” she crossed her arms.

  “I’ve never paid much attention”, I stretched the back of my head with a slight smile and a wince.

  Joseph laughed as she rolled her eyes, “Of course you haven’t.”

  She adjusted her glasses and squinted, “Ad Occidentem. It just says ‘go west’.” She shrugged.

  “What does that supposed to mean? It’s awfully vague.” Joseph asked her.

  She narrowed her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I don’t know, that’s why I shrugged, Joseph.”

  He shot her an unamused expression as I moved the next curtain. The serpent dripped venom upon the man, the dark substance congealing to wings on his back and horns upon his head, his face turned upward in a silent screech.

  The next painting was a town fleeing, people with blazing violet eyes and dragons with similar features slaying them as they fled, blue fire and blood contrasting each other as they poured on the streets. The image after that was the creatures and people gathered together, all clothed different, from different times and places. They were leaned close, conspiring something.

  The results of showed after, dragons ravaging and slaying the serpent on its tree. On the next they were afraid, seemingly stuck to the tree, stretched like dogs on a chain as they strained and roared at one another.

  “What do these mean? How do they pertain to us? How did we get here?” Alexandra crossed her arms.

  “You know dragons were very real once” Joseph said, “My great grandfather killed one.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Kind of like how you slew a hundred men army by yourself in a battle, and how your father took down a gryphon?”

  “Yes”, he said, pointedly, “Exactly like that.”

  He motioned for me to keep going and I did so. People came to individual dragons with letters in hand, all languages but I suspected they said the same thing, for I recognized a few- “Go west”. They were shaking the talons of the creatures, their own palms bloody, most of them holding weapons. The dragons appeared to be gifting the people something, some gold, shimmering beauty for one, wicked weapons, women, and other things left to interpretation.

  The next painting was cut into three frames, a man entering, refusing a white dragon, and slaying it.

  We all gasped as I revealed the next. He was skinning the beast, taking the hide to make an armless robe on his body, and as a heart-shaped mask on his head. The other dragons watched on with diligent glares, but were still as stone.

  “Are you telling me that it’s purely coincidental you supposedly saw one of those”, Alexandra looked at me and then motioned to the man in the white robes, “And now we have no idea how we got in this place but there’s a painting of a Journeyer here?”

  “Maybe we’re all part of Atlas’s illusion”, Joseph suggested.

  I stopped, “Don’t do that to me.”

  “Keep going.” He encouraged.

  In the next frame the white Journeyer charged upon the tree of dragons, an army of Journeyers bearing every color going forth with him.

  The next was a grim scene of flaming robes and bodies upon the ground, very few of them dragons. And the very last picture was wounded Journeyers gathered around a maroon tapestry with strange writing, all looking at one holding a picture of giant black owl fighting a dark dragon.

  “13 nonsense paintings, how lucky”, Alexandra murmured.

  “It didn’t end very lucky for them either”, Joseph pointed out, “Some of those dragons were still alive in the end.”

  “What does that tapestry say?” I asked.

  “I don’t know”, she said, “I’ve never seen that type of writing before.”

  “That’s my Journeyer” My finger brushed across the surface as if I could touch it, a picture within a painting.

  “It does look like the one from your nursery wall”, Alexandra confirmed.

  “And the one I saw.” I shot them a look.

  Joseph shook his head as he started towards one of the doors.

  “Where are you going?” Alexandra followed him, I tailing her.

  “I’m going to find a way out of this ridiculous den of owl people, so I can figure out where we are,” he replied.

  Excitement bubbled forth within me, “
Do you think that there are Journeyers here?” I asked.

  He opened the left door, cobwebs trailing off with it, and dust swirling on the floor.

  “I don’t think there’s been anything here in a long time”, he said.

  It opened to a common area with dusty coals in its fireplace, bedchambers to one side, and a kitchen to the other, full of rustic but well-built fixtures, and a functioning water tap. The final room, connecting back to the mural area, was a library, much to the delight of Alexandra. There was a huge, textured map of Viafinis in the middle of the room, overseen by a large odd owl statue of no recognizable breed. Its outspread wings overshadowed the land, and a dead serpent lay limp in its claws.

  “Great, there’s no bloody exit” Joseph grumbled.

  Alexandra did not have similar concerns, studying the map, “What are these?” She pointed to small owl statues dotting the map, each beside a small hole in the land.

  Joseph began to rap his knuckles against different walls, listening hopefully to each, but receiving no response but that of unbreakable solidity.

  I shrugged, “How would I know?”

  She turned to the books and papers littering the ground around the map, flipping through them till she found one she could read, pushing her glasses up her nose and squinting.

  “It describes falling . . . moving, going across the land . . . faster than any bird or beast”, she said.

  “Yes, we’ve experienced that part now how do we get out? You’re the worrier of the group, Alex, I’m surprised you’re not more concerned”, Joseph peered behind a bookshelf.

  “I worry about relative things like getting put out of my job, or executed because I kidnapped a princess, not how to escape a seemingly safe place.”

  “What if it’s not safe?” Joseph asked her.

  “At the first sign of that I will panic,” she assured him.

  I scoffed at their bickering as I began to explore, pausing before a desk in the corner. The red tapestry from the last painting hung above it-or a copy of such- sewn through with the alien gilded letters Alexandra couldn’t read. It spoke importance to me in a way I couldn’t understand, and for some reason I yearned to know what it said.