The Weight of the World

by G M Archer

  Perplexed, Joseph relaxed as a woman came running out around the archway after them, the vibrant colors of her odd jewelry and vivid dress catching the light as she flew into the room.

  “Where’d it go!? How’d you lose it!?” she shouted, seemingly at the dogs.

  They stopped barking, all looking at each other until the fox-dog stepped forward and barked at her. She opened her mouth as several dogs turned to us, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

  “Who are you?” Her eyes fell on Joseph’s sword and he sheathed it, “Was it you?”

  The fox-dog yipped.

  “No? Then who are they?” She asked the dog.

  “What? Wait- was what us? Who are you?” Joseph gave a confused look as he questioned.

  The dogs congregated around her, her eyes narrowing at the shine of his visible armor and weapons as he stepped forward.

  “I am Neve. More importantly, who are you, and what business have here?” the woman said.

  “I am Joseph, of Forscythe.”

  “And her?” Neve asked.

  “I ask you to judge me without knowing my name,” I said.

  “You could have just made something up,” Joseph grumbled.

  “On the run, huh? Who do you affiliate with, warrior?” Neve asked.

  “None anymore, I fear the motives of all,” Joseph said.

  “Even the Guild?” I whispered, but Neve began speaking again.

  “Again, I must ask, if you are from Forscythe, then what brings you here? I have been terrorized by knights and guards before. They take what they can and have swept the legend of the Library of Souls under the carpets of industrial agony,” Neve crossed her arms.

  “The Library of Souls!?” I looked around in wonder, “This is the- Untold knowledge of myths, arcane spell books, chronicles of forgotten heroes, this place of itself is something of legend!”

  “A dying legend” She said bitterly, “Once the druids stopped coming everything, and the library especially started to degrade.”

  “The druids?” I asked, “The forest people of unimaginable beauty that live past the mountains? Suppose it would make sense that would be the visitors of such a library.”

  “Anything of myth is dying, especially the knowledge of such,” she looked up to where the vines crept through the glass dome.

  “Though knowledge and legend start to fade, it will not die. They are worth more than gold as the faith we put in wealth is something that will fade, and yet lore carries on. Mortal heroes fade away because they are history and not legend,” I said.

  Neve quirked an eyebrow with a slight smirk, Joseph looking at both of us and speaking again, “We were sent by Delilah of the Forsaken. Since this is a place of knowledge, have you any of what lies beneath the city?”

  “Yes, I do, actually. You’re seeking the Horn? Come with me,” she motioned for us to follow and turned.

  Joseph and I crossed the room as she exited the archway from which she had entered, my eyes trailing on the statue as we passed it. I wondered how she would react to us using it.

  The dogs gathered around us with an eagerness to be petted as we neared the hallway. The one nearest to me whirled and barked. I followed its gaze behind me, the hound frozen.

  The Journeyer stood beside the statue, still as the stone except for its gently rippling black cloak. The dogs went wild, flooding out around me, swarming after the Journeyer as it fled faster than any creature or machine I had ever seen.

  Neve and Joseph whirled around in time to maybe see its cloak whisk into the other hall, the dogs far behind but not relenting in their pursuit.

  The fox-dog turned around and barked repetitively at Neve.

  “I know! I saw it a second ago too!” she said.

  Joseph couldn’t stand it anymore, “Are you talking to the dogs!?”

  “It would be very one-sided otherwise,” She said simply.

  “I’m glad that someone else saw it,” I said.

  “Saw what!?” Joseph screamed.

  “A Journeyer,” Neve crossed her arms as the dogs all started barking at each other.

  “The Journeyer,” I said.

  “Wonderful,” Joseph groaned.

  “So it’s yours? You brought it here?” Neve blew a long feather charm out of her face as she turned to me.

  “I don’t think it’s ‘mine’ per se,” I said.

  “Interesting,” she mused.

  A dog ran out behind her, and after a moment of listening her eyes widened, “What do you mean it stole books!?”

  She took off running after the dog, and we followed her, almost losing her in the maze of rooms and hallways, but the fox-dog came and led us to her.

  She was in a round room similar to the first, but the dome above here was intact. She stood over a shelf with her hands wound in her dark hair, her dogs following her gaze. She pulled a thin board off the end covered in shelf numbers and book names, setting it on the ground next to the dogs.

  “Tell me what’s missing,” She commanded.

  A canvas scroll hit the ground by my feet, unraveling as it bounced to a stop.

  I stepped back, eyes widening. It was an incomplete portrait of I and the royal family, all of us younger but blatantly recognizable. Joseph stiffened when he turned.

  “Atlas,” a man’s voice said somewhere in the darkness above.

  Chapter 8- Chased by the Shadows of Our Past

  Neve turned slowly towards us, “You’re Atlas? As in Princess Atlas?”

  “Far, far from home you are,” the voice said. I could distinguish a man lounged out on the top of the shelf far above.

  “Come down, Serif, you’re going to kill yourself trying to be dramatic.”

  He slid down the vine at the end of the shelf, almost landing on his feet. His hands fluttered over his form as he dusted himself off, strutting over to us. His dark hair was unruly, his eyes perceptive but wild.

  I started to pick up the portrait but it was whisked away, Serif holding it up grudgingly as if it were a piece of garbage.

  “Remember me?” he questioned, addressing me, “I painted this. Couldn’t even get your whole family together- except you and Varrick, I did you two together, he followed you around like a puppy- So I painted you all separate and fused it together.”

  He flung it backwards through the room, its colors flashing like a banner. A dog got it and took off through one of the hallways with the canvas wadded up in its mouth.

  “The relations of the rich disgust me! No love, only necessity!”

  Neve sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “But really, Atlas, what are you doing in Voltaren?”

  “The kingdom is falling isn’t it!? That’s why you’re here! Varrick is dead and Lafayette is controlling us all!” Serif looked about as if awaiting soldiers to come rushing from the shadows.

  “Calm down,” Neve said.

  Joseph shot me a look.

  “Varrick is a good person. Something is wrong. Anarchy is inspiring to us. He would have never let it get this way, he has been corrupted,” Serif hissed.

  “That I can at least agree with,” Joseph said.

  “If you would stop being mad for a few moments, Serif, I would like to hear her answer,” Neve said.

  Serif started, “They called me mad in Forscythe too, banished me! The ignorant cannot stand wisdom because it challenges their comfort. They use their stupidity as an excuse for unjustified actions!”

  “They banished you because you killed a man,” Neve said.

  “They couldn’t prove it” he said.

  “Stop talking and let Atlas speak!” Neve threw her hands in his direction.

  “The corruption finally got to me, scared me. I could not be part of it, so I fled, but it seems all I have done is run headlong into the painful truth,” I said.

  “Clever one, speaking riddles, I like.” Serif sit down on the floor with the dogs, rubbing his chin.

  “Not that we can do a great deal, but we’re trying to hel
p a little at a time. The Forsaken are in dire conditions, and they are our current priority,” Joseph said.

  “On the run, fighting the law, dealing justice, I can respect that. So you here to find their sacred flute or whatever?” Serif pet the fox-dog as it walked over to him.

  “Horn of Valor,” I offered.

  “Whatever,” Serif said.

  “At least it exists.” I looked at Joseph with a smile.

  “Yeah, but people have died going after that thing,” Serif said.

  “So we’ve been told,” Joseph replied.

  A dog came in barking from where we’d entered.

  “Of course you can’t find it,” Neve said.

  It barked.

  “No, I’m not sure anyone could catch it, I’m not mad at you,” She said.

  “Catch what?” Serif asked, scratching a drawing into the ground.

  Joseph opened his mouth, not seeing Neve motioning for him not to, “The Journeyer.”

  “THE WHAT?!” Serif jumped to his feet, sending the dog scattering away.

  “Oh no,” Neve started.

  “The end approaches! The end! A Journeyer means the Order of Ouroboros lives!” Serif raved.

  “Wait!” I stopped him, “What is that?”

  Joseph leaned forward, his interest similarly peaked.

  “Those bathed in sin from the Garden of Eden, dragons trapped to the original forbidden fruit tree and their champions, swayed by endless gifts from sin. And the only ones that can kill them are the Journeyers- and they’re dead! We’re doomed! Doomed!”

  “Wait, dragons and their champions?” I asked for clarification.

  Serif looked out from a dark brow, “The dragons are those turned by the original serpent, they have champions, people they’ve lured in to murder others for dark magic and whatever the champion is granted for their deeds the dragon master receives as well, flight for example.”

  “Don’t all dragons fly?” I asked.

  “No,” Serif said as if it were common knowledge.

  “But,” Neve began, “Part of the druids that came here told that a group of people killed the snake, were cursed to be dragons as a result, and were bound to the tree- sacrificing their freedom to rid the world of the serpent. The Journeyers manipulated people into being dragon slayers for the glory of it, murdering the beasts that were once people just because of how they looked.”

  “Great, now we have more stories to confuse us about what’s going on,” Joseph grumbled.

  “Wait,” I fished the paper out of my pocket that I’d copied the tapestry on, “Can either of you read this?”

  Neve watched as Serif snatched it from my hand.

  He cocked his head and squinted, “Yes, I probably can. I’ll need translation books and such though.” He strode away, murmuring as he rubbed his chin.

  “Oh, I suppose we’re a little off-task, follow me,” Neve motioned for us, serval dogs gathering around her as she began to walk away.

  “Don’t die or I’ll be translating this for nothing!” Serif shouted as we exited the room.

  She again led us through the maze of the library, through rooms of countless volumes of books of every shape and size, some displayed on pedestals, some locked and chained, others crammed on shelves high as the castle towers.

  “Alex would love this,” Joseph smiled as we walked.

  “She would,” I agreed.

  “Who is that, your wife?” Neve asked.

  Joseph coughed, “No- No! That’s her maid.”

  “Oh, alright,” Neve shrugged.

  We reached a huge locked door, Neve drawing a keyring out of the folds of her dress and unlocking the door for us. She lit a lantern beyond the door, leading us down several flights of stairs. The air drew cool in front of a set of black doors, the ground finally leveling off.

  The dogs laid low to the ground, ears back and movements timid.

  “This is it,” Neve said.

  “The Horn of Valor is through there?” Joseph asked, “I didn’t know the entrance was in the library.”

  “Yeah, it’s this huge underground tower. I’ve only ever looked in there. The dogs say stay out of the light, no matter what.”

  Joseph shot me a glance.

  “Don’t look at her like that. I know it’s weird to take the advice of a dog for great warriors like you, but, trust me, you need to listen to them on stuff like this,” Neve crossed her arms stubbornly.

  Joseph raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes in response, “Good luck. Don’t die.” The whirling colors of her dress disappeared up the stairs, plunging us into darkness.

  Joseph opened his lantern enough to where we could see each other.

  “Stay here,” He commanded, starting towards the door.

  “Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow high, “This is my quest. Delilah sent me to do this, and I did not run away from sheltered monotony to be treated like a fragile doll.”

  “This was never meant to be an adventure, a trial, a dangerous situation. I was only trying to get you to safety.” His eyebrows furled together as he turned away.

  “The more you try to harbor me from danger, the more helpless I become,” I protested.

  “You can’t gain any experience if you rush foolishly into danger and die trying.”

  I frowned, reaching for the door, “Let me go, Joseph.”

  “I know nothing about what we are going into.”

  “Such is life.”

  He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Fine, I’ll let you go. But you will stay behind me. And at any sign of serious threat we turn back.”

  I wanted to argue, but supposed I should drop it at the permission of being allowed to go.

  “Do not tread the line between bravery and stupidity. Valor comes with grief,” his face was somber as he turned the knob and shut the lantern, once again surrounding us in darkness.

  The opened door revealed a distant light teasing the limits of my vision. Joseph stepped forward, as did I, not closing the door in the oppressing silence. We crept down a short hallway to a sloping balcony that wound all the way down the underground tower- just like Neve described.

  I peered down, flying lanterns of every shape and size bobbed and weaved through the space below us, some lethargic, and others zipping through the air like insects, casting eerie circles of multicolored lights over different parts of the space.

  “Fascinating things. What are they clustered around at the bottom?” I asked, Joseph’s hand on my shoulder as I leaned towards the edge.

  “I’m going to guess the horn wouldn’t be at the top”, he said.

  “Great, and we’re supposed to stay out of the light.”

  “Goals are always hardest at the end.” He took a thoughtful look at the bottom of the tower and turned around, “Stay close to the wall, unless you fancy every bone broken.”

  “I don’t really fancy that,” I followed him to the edge of the space, back into darkness, hand on the cold stone of the wall for guidance.

  Joseph’s footsteps stopped as we both froze, an ill sort of feel creeping into my bones as a lantern glided past us smoothly, the light never reaching us in the shadow of a pillar.

  “I’m not really sure why I’m so scared of a bloody light.” Joseph whispered.

  “Well it is a floating light, but you felt that too?” I winced at how loud my voice was, despite it being barely a breath of a whisper.

  “Well, I thought it was just my paranoia but now I’m wondering. I don’t like this place,” Joseph said, voice equally startling.

  After a moment of silence we continued, feeling doors and bars on the walls, hiding from each lantern that passed. The light revealed all sorts of weapons, chests, and shelves full of other oddities we had to step around as we continued.

  “That’s an ancient Guild sword.” Joseph watched the light pass over a shield and a giant rectangular sword laying against the wall, the pommel a golden roaring lion.

  I heard him pick it up as
we passed.

  “This is probably cursed,” he murmured to the sound of him buckling the sheath around his torso.

  “Cursed swords are quite the status symbol,” I affirmed.

  He scoffed, “Most of this is priceless. Why is it down here and why has no one taken it?”

  “Don’t think about such things,” I shivered watching the eerie lights twirl, “Plead ignorance because they’re better left unanswered.”

  We quieted as a lantern passed, a large round thing that bobbed oddly.

  “Philosophies like that are why people end up with cursed swords,” he replied.

  We’d reached the bottom before we knew it, stepping partway off the stairs to watch the wild concentration of lanterns brighten the round space. Their light was selective, leaving sharp black spaces untouched by illumination, but the ground seemed empty except for the intricately carved floor whirling around a pedestal holding a gold wrapped ivory horn.

  “The lights leave a path for a second. Just let me run up and get it-”I was cut off as his iron grip suddenly seized my arm.

  I followed his gaze to a corpse. A man dressed in oriental armor that had been cleanly torn through, body dried and eyes hollow, mouth in an eternal silent scream. A round lantern hovered above him, tendrils of light being drawn from his body. The green light flared and shook, a faint wailing moan emitting from behind the ribbed paper.

  Joseph’s grip grew almost painful, “We need to leave.”

  A lantern suddenly shot over us, pausing with us in its light. And it screamed.

  All the floating lanterns began to scream, a hundred peoples’ wails splitting across what was once humble silence. I ran out of Joseph’s grip, across the floor, and yanked the horn off the pillar, covering my ears as I turned to run back to him but he was already to me.

  Something moved across the room and we froze, watching the long limbed shadow spike across the wall like a cat. Joseph opened his lantern as it lunged, not able to be heard among the demonic chorus around us.

  He dropped the lantern and it went out as the creature hit him, claws screeching across his breastplate and drawing a line of blood on his arm as it sliced through his cloak. But there was no way it crossed the space, the shadow on the wall corresponded with no form.

  I stepped back, thinking quickly, “It’s invisible-I think!” I yelled, drawing out Alexandra’s pistol, watching the shadow on the wall and aiming the shot.