by William Cali
“I was starting to think it was just me. I wonder why he stays cooped up in that hut.”
“Of the many times I’ve asked, I’ve never gotten a real answer. For any other man, I would call it fear. It’s impossible to imagine what a man like that would have to fear. It could only be something truly horrible. He talks of ages long past, sometimes with a hint of longing, but other times with a feeling of regret. I’ve pondered that he shares some kind of connection with—” Hanar cut himself off as he jumped through a clearing, and he shouted for Pent to watch his step before proceeding.
Pent parted the brush with his hands and realized why Hanar had cautioned him. They both stood at the edge of a cliff. He watched as dirt and rocks Hanar had disturbed tumbled over the side, clattering and bouncing down the precipice. He pictured his own limp body tumbling down the forty-foot drop and shuddered.
Pent studied the chasm below and could not contain his awe at the sight. The chasm housed a village with several structures made of stone and wood. Pent counted over two dozen small structures scattered throughout the valley. The chasm ended on the left, with houses pushed against the mountain wall, and opened up on the right. A river ran down the opening of the chasm, at what appeared to be the entrance of the village, running perpendicular to the chasm itself. It looks like something straight out of the history channel.
There were handfuls of people walking around, carrying things, talking with each other. One large building towards the front of the town caught his eye. A flag, marked with a black and yellow cross, stood proudly atop the roof, billowing in the wind. Pent saw animals that were similar to pigs, wandering in a fenced off area by the chasm wall closest to him. Adjacent to it was a long stretch of land, covered with some kind of planted wheat or corn. People were carrying baskets to the river, dipping them in, and bringing them back. It was a bustle of activity, without any cell phones, cars, or any semblance of modern technology.
“That’s Somerville, then?”
“Indeed, that’s where I was born. And I imagine that’s where I’ll pass from this world to the next if I’m so lucky.”
“I never use this word, but it’s… quaint. How many people live there?”
Hanar stared off in the distance, taking his time before answering.
“It’s the biggest village I’ve ever seen, but I’ve heard talks of larger places. Particularly to the north, that place Vinalhaven is a large village. There are about a hundred villagers here, perhaps a bit less than that.”
“This is so nuts. Why is it called Somerville? It looks nothing like the Somerville from my world.” And this is not the past. My Somerville is too big to fit in this chasm.
Hanar frowned. “I am not sure. I think most founders and settlers have some amount of pride and end up naming their homes after themselves. But none of the founders were named Somer. Perhaps someone else in town knows.”
Hanar pointed around the town with one dirty finger.
“We’re standing above the south side of the village. You can see the farms below. Marall could tell you more about them if you asked.” He pointed off to the side, the western part of the village. “You see the holes in the rock wall? There’s valuable ore to be mined in there. Although, of late, we haven’t been making much use of it.” He pointed at one of the huts which had billowing smoke coming from its tip. “If you had any questions on that front, you should ask Cenk.”
Pent pointed at a clearing towards the center of the buildings. “And what’s that right there?”
“Ah, the village square!” He furrowed his brow as he stared at it. “You know, it looks like more of a circle from here. I’d never made that connection before.” He pointed off to the side. “And grimly, there lays the graveyard. Placed near the front of the village, lest we forget those who came and fell before us. Or at least that’s what the chief says.”
There was a vast forest across the chasm and a tall spire in the distance that drew Pent’s attention. It was blacker than the night; Pent was chilled as he stared at it. Shadow-colored smoke poured from a window at the top of the spire for an instant. Pent rubbed his eyes, and the smoke was gone. Must be my imagination.
He shook his head and said, “How are you planning on getting down, I’m looking at a forty-foot drop here.”
Hanar pointed to the right.
“We’ll have to make our way down this edge. The cliff lowers as it nears the river. Faldo made a bridge that can take us across. The entrance to town is just beyond the bridge.”
A shoddy path ran along the edge of the cliff, leading out of the forest to the bridge Hanar had pointed at. Pent moved to head along the path, but Hanar seemed deep in thought.
“I usually like to wait here for a moment and take in the whole of Somerville before I return. It’s a very pleasant view.”
Pent couldn’t disagree with that; it was a beautiful view. He felt like he was in a National Geographic documentary about some native people undisturbed by technology. That’s probably not far from the truth. The air was fresh and untouched by pollution, he breathed in deeply as he took in the sight. He looked down at the villagers and wondered about their day-to-day lives.
“You’ve lived here your whole life, but how are these guys gonna react to me?” Pent asked.
“They’re a kind, loving people for the most part. But I’m honestly not sure. They’re very much used to things as they are. Things don’t change much around here, and you’re definitely a change.” Hanar shrugged. “In truth, I don’t really know.”
A chill ran down Pent’s neck, and he shuddered. Although he appreciated the honesty, some reassurance would have been nice too.
“Well, let’s go find out.”
Chapter Nine
“This is a minor injury, nothing to worry about at all.” Riven smiled as he dressed the hole in the woman’s hand. “It seems an odd injury for you to have at all. How did you come upon this stab wound, Mother Lyle?”
Lyle shook her head.
“I was trying to build a new fence around the animals with Faldo. Some of the children came around seeking attention. I suppose I let them distract me. I took my eyes off the hammer for only a second, but that was enough for me to become closer with the jagged edge of the fence.” She grimaced as Riven bandaged her tightly. “It doesn’t feel like a minor injury.”
“You appear to have missed the bone entirely. A puncture like this will heal up completely with time. But you mustn’t overexert yourself. You’re such an important figure in the village, dear mother,” Riven said.
Mother Lyle sighed. “I wonder what will happen if I ever have children of my own. Will they call me ‘Mother Mother’?”
“We all accept our roles as they come to us,” Riven said, shrugging. “People look to you for guidance. You’re like a mother to us all.” He held her hand up by the wrist. “And people come to me when they’re hurt.”
“That’s very wise, Riven. Sometimes that’s all we can do. Accept what we’re best at and try not to overstep the boundaries that fate has set for us,” Lyle said.
Riven let her wrist down gently and frowned. He stared at the ground, his voice more withdrawn, “That’s not entirely what I meant.”
There was a startling noise outside of Riven’s home, a sudden commotion coming from the villagers. Riven was quick to acknowledge it, eager to change the subject.
“Something is amiss out there. Hanar must have returned.”
“More excitement than I’ve heard him gather before. I hope he hasn’t done anything rash.” She quickly made her way outside, Riven right behind her. There was Hanar, as expected, and…
Mother Lyle’s eyes went wide as she saw the tall, muscular man walking behind him.
“Who in the world is that with Hanar?” Riven asked, not expecting a real answer.
Mother Lyle shook her head, glancing sidelong at the doctor.
“Oh, the chief will not be happy about this.”
“No, no he will not.” Riven stared at the
two walking into town, gathering the attention of the villagers, and he couldn’t help but smile.
* * *
Pent and Hanar had made their way down the slope, crossing the small bridge over the river, and trekked in through the entrance of the chasm. The river’s water was as clear as crystal, so clear fish could be seen swimming through it. The path from the forest was shoddily paved, while the bridge itself was well made and carved out of fine wood. Another path diverged past the bridge to the north, and that path seemed even more poorly maintained.
Pent turned to Hanar as they walked past the bridge: “You get a lot of visitors in these parts?”
“Few. Some traders on occasion, some travelers as well. But Somerville is not the most exciting of places to visit, and if you didn’t already know it was here, you would have a hard time finding it.”
Pent glanced from side to side, nodding his head in agreement. The town itself was obscured by the cliffs that surrounded it. It was protected on three sides by high natural walls, and the front was narrow with a river blocking half the entrance. There weren’t a lot of ways to actually get into the town, but that meant there weren’t a lot of ways out, either.
“Seems like a good enough place to settle down,” Pent said. “Safe and tucked away.”
“For the most part. The chasm does well enough to guard from errant threats.” Speaking low, nearly under his breath, he added, “And our dealings with another group protect us from everything else.” He ignored Pent’s questioning look and pressed on. “Come, let us enter the town.”
Pent stayed close to Hanar as they approached. Their appearance was comical. Pent’s frame much wider and larger than the thin Hanar, so there was no chance of hiding behind the woodsman.
Hanar pointed at the first building at the entrance of the town, the one with the flag flying above it. “This is Chief Pohk’s house. He’s the leader of Somerville.” The flag was still billowing calmly in the breeze. A black and yellow cross was pressed over a white background. Never seen a flag with those colors before. Looks kind of like… Switzerland? Or Norway? Pent scratched his head. It’s definitely not the stars and stripes, that’s for sure.
Leading Pent through the two parallel rows of small houses, Hanar kept up a steady stream of information. “This is Marall’s place. And Janeen’s is over there. Two of our farmhands. Lyle’s is over there, you’ve already had the pleasure of experiencing her cooking. And Faldo’s place is right there.” Pent stopped as they passed this last house and glanced up and down the homes. Most of them were uniform and simple, formed of wood and some kind of clay. But Faldo’s place was on a completely other level. The walls were well sanded, and there were columns next to the entrance, a paved walkway to the front, and even one of those European style knockers on his front door. Clearly a guy with a sense of style. Why is this house so different?
Before Pent could ask, Hanar was dragging him along. This time he was pointing towards the smoking hut they had seen from the top of the cliff. “And there’s Cenk’s workshop, he makes all manner of metal trinkets that we use around here.” Hanar dropped his voice a bit lower. “He made my knife too, used to be very skilled on the anvil, but…” He shook his head. “Well, don’t worry about that for now.”
Pent noticed the attention he was getting from the villagers. Some were sending glares, others seemed more curious than concerned, and all were whispering amongst each other. It was trying on his nerves.
“I’m getting post-Civil War vibes here.”
“Hm? What was that?”
“Nothing, never mind.” Pent glanced at the large farming field behind one of the structures. He could not identify it from above, but from here he could tell that it was corn. “Nice farm, glad to see you guys are eating your veggies.”
“It’s some kind of farm all right, but not one for eating.” Hanar laughed. “That’s Lemen’s Still. The hard drink he creates is just about the only important thing that’s made here.” Hanar pointed out the larger plot of farmland further in the distance, closer to the wall of the chasm.
Pent smiled. There were plenty of conveniences that he had taken for granted, and he wasn’t ready to give up the idea of modern comforts, so the thought of booze excited him. He considered asking Hanar if it was beer, wine, or maybe scotch but decided against it. Keep your eyes on the prize, man. Need to find your way out of here.
“Hanar, all of this is really nice, but is there, like, a school? Some place for your wise men to go? Uh, do you have sages or some kind of council of elders or something? Throw me a bone here.”
Hanar blinked twice. “Why would I throw a bone at you?”
“Ugh, never mind, never mind! I’m just trying to figure out where I can go to get more answers.”
Hanar rubbed his beard as he pondered the question.
“A school, wise men, and sages? Lyle is wise. The chief, Faldo, and Riven, they’re all wise men. But they spend their time figuring out what’s best for the town.” He pointed down the row of houses to a newer structure at the end of the row. “Riven lives there. I’ve heard him mention a school before. He used to live far to the north before he came here. If a school is what you need to find a way home, maybe he can point you to one.”
More of the villagers had left their homes and stopped what they were doing to gawk. A few waved to Hanar. A handful had gathered in a circle, close by what Hanar had identified as the village square. Most of them seemed more confused or scared than angry. As their eyes locked on to Pent, he felt his earlier nerves turn into embarrassment. It was the first time in a long time he had felt embarrassed. Being a star in high school felt deserved, he was a champ and he loved reaping the benefits. But here, he was just a guy who didn’t belong. Scaring the local populace, but hey, it’s not my fault that I’m here.
They slowly approached an elderly man with serious posture problems. His hair was thin and white and not well maintained, curling in every direction. His clothing was similar to Hanar’s and the rest of the villagers’, but looser fitting and with a more decorative design. Hanar cleared his throat before speaking.
“Chief, I have returned.”
“I can see that, and it appears that you have not returned empty handed.” He stared at Pent. “Who is this?”
By now, a crowd of villagers had formed. Pent noticed fur boots and caps on many of their feet and heads, similar to Hanar’s. “He’s huge!” A little kid near the front of the crowd shouted, and a woman who could only be his mother hushed him and jerked him to the side. Pent sensed tension, but more than anything the onlookers wore open curiosity on their faces. A group of thin, lightly tanned white people. Europeans, or at least this world’s equivalent. Judging by the looks he was getting, Pent could tell they had never seen someone like him before, just like Hanar.
“His name is Pent. He’s a lost wanderer, and one in need of help. So, I gave him what help I could,” Hanar said, head tilted down and eyes on the chief’s boots.
“And so, you brought him here? You know nothing of who this man is, and you bring him here?” The chief’s tone was not exactly warm and welcoming. No wonder Hanar seems worried.
Pent stepped forward, gently pushing Hanar to the side.
“Look, I’m a stranger here, I get that. I’m not from around these parts. But Hanar did me a great kindness out there. I was lost, afraid. I mean I still am, to be honest with you.” He glanced around at the crowd. “I’m not here to hurt you. I couldn’t if I tried.”
“So where are you from?” Chief Pohk barked the question aggressively.
“I doubt you’ll believe this, I barely believe it myself. I dropped here from another world entirely.” He pointed one finger into the air. “I literally dropped from the sky into this world. Funny stuff, right?” The chief didn’t seem to find the humor in it. Pent cleared his throat, “I know this is a difficult position to be in. You’re the leader of all these people, and I’m a stranger. But I just want to try and figure out why I’m here, make sense of all
this, and try to find a way to get back home.”
The villagers stared at the chief, awaiting his response in silence. He puffed his chest out and marched towards Hanar, his shoulder brushing up against Pent. He smacked Hanar across the temple.
“I don’t understand your mind Hanar. Your behavior will lead us to ruin, bringing a stranger like this to our village.” He shook his head and scoffed. “You are a fool.”
“Yes, sir.” Hanar stood at attention. Pent grimaced at the treatment he was getting. All he was doing was sticking up for a stranger. He seems to be handling it well though. This must happen often for Hanar, the way everyone is acting all familiar about this.
“He may stay under your care and under your eye. If he causes any trouble, we’re sending him back to the woods and you along with him!” In a huff, the chief marched out of the square, returning to his home at the edge of town. Most of the villagers dispersed from the center, but a few children remained.
“Are you an ogre? Do all ogres have brown skin?” The same child who had pointed out the difference in size between Pent and the villagers had asked the question.
Pent laughed. “Don’t ogres have green skin? I hate to disappoint you, but I’m just a guy. Just a normal, human person. Like you.”
“People can’t be as big as you are.” The boy ran off laughing with several other children in close pursuit.
“And yet, here I am,” Pent spoke to no one in particular. The people were accepting enough, but the chief had his number. It would be difficult to adapt to this new world, and as long as he was here, he was sure the chief would be a constant thorn in his side.
Hanar grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a tug.
“Don’t mind the young one. He’s Marall’s son, Bart. And he’s always in the middle of some trouble.”
“From the way your chief was prodding you, sounds like you’re a kindred spirit. Sorry for getting you into all that.”
