The Weight of the World

by G M Archer

  “We could guard a group, right?” I looked at Joseph.

  “I don’t believe I was speaking to you, Atlas,” she said, “You can leave us now, and don’t eavesdrop again. You are meant for marble towers, not the fields of war.”

  I bristled, “Am I now?”

  Joseph made a motion for me to stop.

  “You know no more of the fields of war than I do! What have you done but cower in this cave and wait to die!?” I spat, fueled more on entitled anger than reason.

  She stood so fast that her chair wobbled, “And do you think you could do any better!? You haven’t the slightest idea! Rebellion means death! There are no heroes in this land, only fools that die seeking justice! So shut up!”

  “You’re wrong,” I said stubbornly, “Nothing changes because people like you live too scared to change it.”

  “You think you’re brave, don’t you? You think you’re clever? You can’t fight just because you’ve got a sword and your hand and you’d do well to learn that. But very well, if you think you are a hero, I’ll let you test it. Prove your honor. Any with righteous intention can enter the temple under Voltaren and retrieve the Horn of Valor. Take in to the Eastern base of Phoenix Peak and summon something to aid you. Many men have died trying. Would you like to attempt to prove yourself? I’ve always been curious of the results of such a legend anyway,” she said flippantly.

  “Not like I have anything better to be doing,” I reflected her tone.

  She frowned, “We move down the mountain in two weeks. You will not be able to find us then, so do that and bring us rations by then.”

  “Move your people sooner. I’ll do it in one week,” I was unflinching.

  “Alright,” She moved forward and shook my hand in a death grip, “It’ll be a miracle if I see you by then. You almost impress me with your boldness, but I almost wish you fail to be taught a lesson about your foolishness.”

  “Why? You eat if I succeed,” I said pointedly.

  “Good thing I am used to starving,” she stood.

  Joseph looked alarmed, getting up as she opened the flap and motioned for us to leave. The giant man watched us wordlessly.

  “We’ll tell your story,” she said “Whether you become that hero or our villain. Goodbye, false heir, I will be interested to see if our paths cross again.”

  “Goodbye, forsaken queen, may your people be saved,” I exited the tent without another word, Joseph catching up to me outside.

  “Atlas,” he huffed, “You and your mouth-”

  The feeling similar to the remorse I got when I jumped out in front of Varrick was slowly returning.

  I resolved past it, “I’ll prove I’m greater than my mistakes.”

  “She’s sent you on a wild goose chase,” he grumbled, “She means to make you look like a crazy for chasing after fantasy.”

  “I’ve done so my whole life, and I’m just starting to see proof of legends. I’ll put some faith in miracles,” I said.

  He opened his mouth the reply, and paused, his face slacking in sickened shock. I followed his gaze to where a mother lay sobbing. The girl that grabbed his arm earlier, searching for a hero, was dead.

  Chapter 7- Fighting Agony for Absolution

  A mixture of the unfamiliar bed and vivid nightmares had given me a pitiful night’s rest. Alexandra had made us a modest breakfast of cheese, bread and broth, and then we were off on the road to Voltaren.

  Joseph had woken up silent and stirred, but he quickly morphed back into his lively self, leading the way down the mountain under the guidance of Alexandra’s hand-drawn map. The city was a distant thing, hopeful and disheartening, a goal in mind but never seeming to get any closer.

  “You ate too much breakfast, Atlas,” Joseph said, dressed the same as yesterday, armor concealed, “You got to stop right before you’re full, so that you’re nourished but not lethargic. Put’s a good edge on you.”

  “I think I’m just soft as well,” I grumbled, “Meant for marble towers.”

  “Good walking will take that off of you as well,” He handed me the map, “Where do you suppose that statue is? It looks like it’s on the edge of town, and that may make it hard to be inconspicuous.”

  “Maybe it’s in a building,” I suggested, “Although, it almost looks like it’s on the side of the mountain, considering it’s right where the town sits against the mountain’s feet.”

  Farmers were remote moving figures on the fields around us, mules pulling plows slowly. We passed one cart and two travelers, the activity of people dull. A train exited the station on the edge of the city with a careening whistle, flying across the landscape trailed by churning smoke.

  “Are we ever going to get the opportunity to ride the train?” I asked.

  “Maybe. But it is costly. It’s meant for supplies more than for people, so the charge is high for passage.”

  I frowned like a disappointed child.

  I turned the map over, a grocery list inscribed in Alexandra’s neat writing on the back.

  “Did you hear her talking about that ice-box in the kitchen that stays cold without having any ice in it?” I asked him.

  “It was probably cursed by a witch,” Joseph said.

  “She’s affectionately nicknamed the place ‘The Rook’ too.”

  “Appropriate with the owl theme.”

  “Also she thinks I’m the one with the ‘poisoned blood’ or whatever it was, because I used the statue alone yesterday” I shrugged as Joseph raised an eyebrow.

  “Well it doesn’t seem to be of any disadvantage to you yet,” he gave a slight smile.

  “Yeah, the one thing I can thank my birth parents for,” I grumbled.

  We traveled in silence for a while, a chill breeze rushing over the hills.

  “Do you think she’ll catch my pigeon?” I said.

  “Considering she’s the one that let it go, yes. It’ll become a matter of personal principle for her, though I would’ve liked to watch her climb into the rafters,” he smirked.

  I put the map in my pocket, placing it alongside my copy of the tapestry and my piece of Moontear.

  An old man passed us on an equally aged horse, eyeing us with a suspicious eye as he passed. I tensed, despite Joseph having reassured me that Varrick’s ravens couldn’t have flown this far this fast.

  “If Delilah recognized me who else could?” I asked.

  “Delilah actually traveled to the castle once, she had to have seen you or your portrait hanging somewhere, or you. I’m sure most of the people here have not had such an experience,” Joseph assured.

  He sighed, and looked at his hands, “Atlas, this is going to sound selfish, but I was afraid when we almost got caught in Trammelfell. If you were brought back to the castle, your punishment would be suffering through your old life- which I hope I’m doing the right thing in taking you away from- but the punishment for me and Alex would have surely been death.”

  “I don’t see how that’s selfish if you feared for me and Alexandra too. You had fair intentions,” I said.

  “Well, I feel like a manipulator of fate anyways, thinking I know what’s just,” he said solemnly.

  “Obviously this is better than having to pick who gets executed,” I said.

  He gave a dry smile, “I’m starting to think you were right when you said there is no escape from madness and war. I fear every path leads there.”

  “You experiencing fear is new for me, Joseph.”

  “I always have, I’m just good at hiding it,” he winked, “It keeps me alive. Fear for something you love is noble, fear for things you cannot change is needless worry, and fear of things you can change fringes upon cowardice.”

  “What is my fear of what I’ve done and where I’ve came from?” I asked.

  “Useless regret. Change the future with what you’ve learned; stop heeding your insecurities,” he suggested.

  A woman with a limp passed us, breaking our conversation, her eyes lingering.

  “Is ther
e any acceptable way to cover my face? We’re going to need to eventually,” I said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Wearing a helm would mark you out as a warrior, which is noticeable, but perhaps less than who you are when the ravens get here. The Terminus people wrap their faces traditionally, but seeing as though we’re at war . . . We could say you’re a leper and bandage you.”

  “Perhaps” I said, “And what about you? They’ll be searching for you eventually too. You should consider shaving,” I smiled, knowing what a forbidden subject that was.

  Joseph sputtered, “No! Never! A true man, and knight especially would never cleave away his mane!”

  I laughed.

  He rolled his eyes, “Did Alexandra ask you to say that?”

  “No, but I bet she’d be proud.”

  As we came closer to the city our conversations grew trivial and innocent as we grew constantly in hearing range of someone.

  The attitude of the city once we entered the gates reminded me of that of the castle stables when I had visited. There was movement, people carrying on with their lives, but it was all done with mundane purpose.

  “I feel like the real world is quite bleak. Such sorrow is so. . . Depressing.” I said.

  “Usually you have to search for it. I do not know why suffering is so prevalent in these times. I have been as sheltered as you as of lately” Joseph looked uneasy.

  The most obvious feature of the town was the lack of men. It was mostly women mulling about, and the men were either typically quite old or young boys. The more I searched the more I noticed the lack of teenagers too, as if I needed something else to set me apart from everyone else.

  We entered the square, a spacious area surrounding a statue of a man with a ridiculous moustache slaying a wild boar. The shops and stalls bordered the area, but many were vacant, and only two carriages were unloading goods, hay and sugar.

  Joseph and I stepped under the awning of an abandoned textile shop, the price of the business nailed to the door, the low price of a few thousand gold.

  “Why is there such a lack of men?” I asked.

  Joseph swallowed, “I have my suspicions but I can’t believe they’re true.”

  “What?” I asked, “And the children too?”

  “The children, I haven’t the slightest clue on them, there would be none with no men, but the men couldn’t have been gone long enough for the adolescents to be missing. The men, I think they were drafted.”

  “All of them? That seems so . . . excessive,” my gaze slowly combed the area, as if some answer would present itself.

  “I wouldn’t put it beyond the realm of possibility,” Joseph’s eyebrows were closely furled in concern.

  A patrol of guards entered the square, a roaring wolf on their breastplates. The mood stiffened, the people dulling to almost silence. Joseph urged me on silently, and we started to move out of the square.

  The guards approached the man and boy unloading sugar from their cart. The boy turned as they started to address the man, a dirty cloth tied across his eyes.

  The old man walked with a limp and an arched back, and it didn’t seem possible that his frail arms were capable of lifting the bags of sugar, but he did.

  “Have you paid the tax on these goods?” the lead guard questioned.

  “Of course”, the old man nodded quickly, his hands shaking.

  “Then you wouldn’t mind displaying documentation of doing so?” the guard crossed his arms.

  The man shuffled through the cart for a while, the boy standing dumbly, and the man finally giving up looking, “It seems I accidently left them at the farm, I’m very disorganized. You men wouldn’t mind if I just brought them by you tomorrow, right?” His sweat betrayed his smile.

  The lead guard made a motion and the others began to take the sugar from the cart. The old man wailed, the boy groping towards him confusedly as he did so, “You took my sons and their wives for your war and their children for your factories, and now you would take my way of life so that I will die too! My wife and I are old, we are weak, and with what we have we can barely feed ourselves and my grandson with what we have! Please, I beg you!” He turned into a blubbering mess, falling to his knees.

  Joseph crossed the space between us and them so fast I had to jog to keep up. He unwound the cloth covering his bracers as he did so, flashing the lion of the Guild before the guards. They all snapped to attention.

  “Return his goods at once,” Joseph commanded.

  “Sir,” the lead guard bowed, “The law dictates that we have to have proof-”

  “Then take my word, I met this man just yesterday and he displayed proper documentation. So be on your way.”

  The lead guard saluted with a nod, his group returning the sugar to the cart with haste. They all saluted and walked away, starting to approach the woman selling hay. They turned back and caught Joseph’s glare, thought better of it and exited the square.

  Joseph tied the cloth back over his bracers, concealing the glare of the golden lion.

  People pretended to stop watching us, failing to be inconspicuous as they returned back to whatever they were doing. The boy turned his head towards us as the old man drew close to Joseph.

  “Thank you, thank you,” his voice drew to barely above a whisper, “Are you he who would kill a knight of the Guild for that armor? I’ve heard rumors of rebellion, but didn’t think any so bold.”

  I shuddered, he was suggesting something as blasphemous as the murder of a Guild knight?

  “Why do you think that?” Joseph said, flinching back.

  The man took a few nervous glances around, “A knight would never lie, they adhere to the code like the Bible, and sin at every loophole they can. The law of man must be broken to take care of people like that. Some must dirty their hands so the innocent can live in peace, we do not speak of them, we only live in silent, eternal gratitude.”

  The blind boy and Joseph had similar sickened expressions as the man paused, his eyes darting amongst the people in the square.

  “Are you the man brave enough to destroy a knight?” the old man’s voice rasped.

  Joseph’s eyes flickered as if he was in pain, “Yes, you could say I did.”

  The man’s eyes widened for a moment, he nodded quickly, and urged the boy and horse along as he hobbled away.

  I looked at Joseph, his eyes lost.

  “Joseph. . .” I said quietly.

  “Yes, Atlas.”

  “Why would you tell him that? What if he tells the guards?” I said quietly.

  “He despises them too much to aide them. He respects me now enough not to tell,” he said.

  “But,” I moved to catch up with him as he started across the square again, “But, he was right, Guild knights don’t lie. So why would you-”

  “Sometimes it does less harm than the truth. The price for peace,” he cut me off quickly.

  I looked down, feeling uneasy.

  “What has Varrick done?” He whispered, “Enough to turn the people against the knights.”

  “What did that man mean earlier when he said ‘children for the factories’?” I said, thinking back.

  “Lafayette’s factories.”

  “Child labor?”

  “Yes” he whispered with revulsion.

  I started to say something else when he turned towards the mountain, “Let’s find the statue so we have a way back to Alex.”

  We walked under the guidance of the map, the population growing less dense the further away from the square we moved; the quality of buildings slowly degraded. Joseph kept me close as we passed paranoid beggars, and then houses that looked almost completely dilapidated, but movement could occasionally be seen flitting behind the window. It was a depressingly eerie sort of place.

  “How much of the town do you think has electricity?” I asked.

  “I thought the streetlamps around the square were electric but I’m not sure. Icarus Industries produces many modern marvels, but that doesn
’t mean Lafayette is willing to share.”

  “Lafayette,” I said slowly, thinking of children covered in soot in a dark factory, “I’ve only met him a few times and I didn’t care for him. Even more so now. He’s flamboyant from a distance- awkward up close.”

  Joseph frowned, “I’ve never cared for him.”

  We paused at the base of the mountain, nothing but solid stone overrun by ivy before us.

  “So I suppose the only way is up?” Joseph shSerifded his face against the sun as he looked up.

  “I guess,” I said, looking around at the mountain and the ground. A pattern of cobblestone caught my eye, rocks lined almost as if a road ran into the cliff-face.

  I walked forward, brushing aside the ivy to reveal a door in the stone, an etched sign beside it scratched away to illegibility.

  I grinned as Joseph raised an eyebrow.

  “Odd place,” he said.

  “Not surprising, though,” I said.

  I opened the door, peering into the darkness beyond, a long hallway leading to a large lit room.

  Joseph eyed the door as he passed the threshold, “It opened quietly, which means someone’s been keeping up with it.”

  “Well, let’s hope they’re friendly.”

  “I’ve found in my experience that that’s usually the minority of people, especially when you need something,” he scowled.

  He led the way into a hallway outlined with pieces of rubble, both of us shuffling our feet across the ground as we went to avoid hitting our feet. I pointed as we approached the room, the statue of the owl was in the center, lit in its still battle with a serpent like the last.

  Light from a glass dome above lit the room, part of the thing shattered, allowing vines and branches to encroach upon the large amphitheater below. All around us the walls were rimmed with shelves and piles of books and several other halls, and round geometrical patterns circled the statue, the grooves full of running water.

  A racketing sound bounced about the area as a group of dogs came caterwauling in from one of the side halls barking, Joseph drawing his sword instinctively with the clamor. Led by a small fox -dog, the pack of canines circled the statue, their yaps bouncing across the walls.