by William Cali
“You did not force me to bring you here,” Hanar said with a smile. “You can’t apologize for a choice you didn’t make.” He waved Pent along. “Come, let me show you to your home for the time being.”
Chapter Ten
When Pent stepped into Hanar’s home, he couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had seen closets that were bigger. His room in his house was bigger. He’d seen bigger bathrooms than this home. He didn’t have a tape measure on him, but the house was maybe six feet by four. A single roll of hay lined the wall opposite the entrance, a wicker basket in the corner nearest the entrance.
Hanar gestured dramatically, “Welcome!”
“You’re kidding, right? How are we both supposed to fit in here?” Pent was picturing himself lying down in the hay that served as the bed. He wasn’t sure if he could even lie down flat without hitting his head against the wall.
“We’re not. I’ll sleep outside,” Hanar said. Pent shot him a concerned look. “Don’t worry. I spend most of my nights outdoors anyway. This is the least, and maybe even the most, I can do for you.” He nodded towards the basket. “I keep my clothes in there. I suppose you’ll need one too. But for now, you can just leave your stuff in here. No one will disturb you. People in Somerville are very respectful of privacy.”
“Thanks, much obliged, man.”
“It’s been a lively day, you must be exhausted. Treat this place as you would your own home, but for now, I must take my leave and attend to some things in town.” Hanar darted out through the doorway before Pent could ask where he was going, leaving him alone in the small house.
Pent sat on the roll of hay, a moment of calm in a day full of activity. His mind was anything but calm though. Alright, Pent, you’re in it deep this time. What the hell are you gonna do now? He felt his chest rise and fall against his will. Although he tried to control his breathing, clammy, cold fingers of panic were reaching into his chest. He stood back up and began to pace the tiny hut from one side to the other.
“What are my options here…” He raised a single finger to help catalog his thoughts. “Go back to that wizard?” Not a chance, that fool barely helped at all. Plus, don’t think I could find my way back through that forest.
He raised a second finger. “Go look for that big village Hanar was talking about?” No, no. That’s just stupid. Look where? How? And I’m not about to drag my ass through woods I don’t even know, to look for a place I’ve never seen before.
He raised a third finger and paused. “Well, damn.” Try as he could, he all at once had run out of options. He was, for all intents and purposes, stranded in an unknown village, in a world that was not his own. And without that Hanar dude, I’m basically as helpless as a lost child. Damn. Damn!
He sat back down on the hay bed and sighed. “Well, here I am.” To keep himself busy, Pent took stock of everything he had on him. A Bic lighter, mostly full. That was something to be thankful for. His Kershaw knife, reliable, sturdy, sharp as a razor’s edge even after a full day’s use. Two sets of keys, his own as well as Greg’s. Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have swiped these. Dude is probably flipping out, wondering where they went.
He ran his hand over his shoulder holster. James, what would you say about all this? Different worlds. Magic and wizards. An old school village full of white people who have never seen a black dude before? He chuckled to himself. “Probably something like, ‘you should have gone onto school, stayed away from all this mess.’ I’m starting to wish I would have taken your advice.” Looks like my college plans might be on ice. Whatever put me here, there has to be some way to get me back, but I don’t think it’s gonna be easy. I might be stuck here for a while.
He mulled over the gun he had holstered. Something about the gun, it just felt like too much of an attention grabber. I want to be safe, but maybe this is overkill. Don’t think there’s many people packing heat in this village.
He didn’t want to have to explain what it was over and over again to people. And if I’m gonna live here for a while, I should live like the people here. “When in Rome, right?” Pent muttered to himself. He took out the gun, unstrapped his holster, and placed it under the hay bed. He wasn’t sure how true Hanar’s claim of privacy rights was, but he didn’t feel comfortable walking around town with a loaded handgun. He would go strapless for a while.
* * *
Pent waited for several minutes, unsure what to do with himself. Before long, though, he grew tired of sitting in the closet-sized room. I’m just collecting dust in this place. May as well get some fresh air and make nice with the people here. Might even get some answers on how to get home.
He stepped out into town and began to approach one of the buildings Hanar had pointed out earlier. He paused at the entrance to the building. There was no door, and smoke was escaping through the top of the structure. He took stock of the other buildings in this would-be neighborhood; they were mostly blocky, but this one was more rounded.
“Hello?” He knocked on the doorframe, unsure how the resident would take it if he just barged in.
He was a moment away from doing just that when a stout, middle-aged man with thick arms approached the entrance.
“Help ya?” The man furrowed his bushy eyebrows. He had a thick, brown mustache and a round face. Pent was sure he hadn’t seen the man when he had entered town.
“How are you doing? My name is Pent, I’m new here.” He offered his hand for a handshake. The man ignored it. When the man responded, he spoke rapidly, his eyes trained on Pent’s.
“Aye, Cenk.”
Pent blinked. “Asink?”
“Cenk.”
“Cenk. That’s your name, right?”
“Aye.”
“Ah, I got you,” Pent said, laughing awkwardly. “You said that and then your name. Sorry, never heard an accent like that before.”
“How canna help you?”
“I’m just trying to get a feel for how everything works here. It seems like Hanar gets the food, at least the stuff you don’t grow yourselves. What do you do?”
“Aye. I make dings.”
The smells and smoke escaping from the hut made that pretty clear, but Pent didn’t want to just leave. He had already misinterpreted the man’s accent, and he wanted to get on good terms with as many of the villagers as he could.
“Stuff like the bridge we took to get into this place? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Hanar told me someone else made that. What kind of things, Cenk?”
“Come in.” He disappeared from the doorway, beckoning Pent to enter his hut. The house was rounded, forming a complete circle. There was a hole in the center of the roof, which made Pent think of an ice cream cone with the bottom broken off. The interior of the house was blanketed by a cloud of smoke; it billowed throughout the house and escaped slowly through the roof. Pent squinted through the haze, and his eyes began to water. Regardless of what he tried, he couldn’t escape the burning fumes.
“Down, down!” Cenk grabbed his arm and yanked him hard to the ground. His teary eyes began to feel better instantly.
Pent stammered between his coughs, “I’m too tall for this place.” Cenk was at least two feet shorter than Pent—the perfect height for him to stand upright in this smoky hell. Pent was at eye level with the densest part of the smoke. When he leaned over, he got a much better look at the place. There was an anvil towards the middle of the room, dulled from constant use and distinctive among the brown dirt floor. He could make out other designs of metal, maybe iron or silver on the walls: cups, buckets, plates, and other silverware. A furnace close to the anvil was blasting out the insidious smoke in a constant flow.
“Okay, you’re some kind of blacksmith. You make things out of metal.”
“Aye.” He took a heavy hammer and smashed a piece of red-hot metal on the anvil. Pent found himself mesmerized by the rhythmic hammering. He wondered how strong Cenk had to be to swing the hammer constantly.
“What are you making, some kind of swor
d or something.”
Cenk shot Pent a fierce glance, but in the smoke-filled room he couldn’t be sure if it was anger, confusion, or just Cenk’s normal face. “Poker.”
“A poker?”
He grabbed the molten piece of metal and doused it in a bucket of water. Steam danced with smoke and filled the air. Cenk pointed over towards the wall to Pent’s left. “Poker.” He was pointing at a series of fire pokers. Pent walked over and studied them close up. They were expertly crafted and seemed to be made out of steel.
Pent lifted one off the wall and was swinging it around like a sword.
“This is really well made. Where’s the fun stuff though? I don’t see any weapons or armor.”
Cenk stared at Pent, and he was so distracted that he absentmindedly dipped his hand in the scalding water where he had dropped his poker. He yelped in pain and then jammed his finger into his mouth. Sweating and cursing, he approached Pent.
“Das forbidden.”
“Forbidden? That’s the chief’s rule?”
“Nice meetin’ ya.” He waved Pent out, who was happy to oblige.
It was sweet relief to be outside of Cenk’s forge. He breathed in deeply and rubbed his sore eyes. He considered how dismissive Cenk became towards the end. That was ominous. I guess every place has its secrets, but what kind of secrets could this small village really be hiding? Pent stumbled away from the house, his head spinning from the noxious smoke. He wondered how anyone could stand to be in that house for more than five minutes at a time.
“Seems like a lot of dedication to make new pots and pans for everyone,” Pent said to himself.
* * *
The next house Pent visited was more inviting than Cenk’s place. The pleasant aroma of cooked meat made him aware of how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten since they had left the woods.
“This is more like it.” He knocked on the door and a slim woman with red hair answered. She was tall, with delicate features on her face. Her nose was thin and pointed, and her smile was disarming. Her appearance was very different to the haggard figures he had seen so far in Somerville. Definitely the most attractive person I’ve seen since all this craziness began.
“You’re the man Hanar found wandering in the forest. Please come in.” She invited Pent in and sat him on a chair made of fine wood. “I’m sure you’ve gotten your fill of people staring at you by now. I’ll spare you that at least.”
Pent’s first thought was that the red-haired woman kept a much nicer home than Cenk or Hanar. He felt like he had been transported back home, the house was so warm and cozy. A brown fur rug decorated the floor; the animal was unfamiliar to Pent, but it was as big as a bear, with clipped claws at the end of its fingers. One of those treehoppers Hanar was talking about? Paintings of landscapes and castles adorned the walls, and a few candles burned dimly on end tables made of roughly sanded wood.
The woman had returned to an easel and was calmly painting. Pent felt awkward interrupting her. When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.
“I’m Lyle. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She trailed off at the end, inviting him to speak.
“My name is Pent. Don’t mean to disturb your painting, just figured I should try to get to know the people who live here.”
She laid her paintbrush down at the edge of the easel and said, “I’m more or less finished. I’m disturbed so frequently, I’m used to it by now. It’s rare to hear anyone apologize for it.”
“Your kids, right? I remember Hanar called you Mother Lyle.”
She chuckled to herself before continuing: “You’ve been here for the shorter part of a day, and you’re already calling me that. No, no kids for me, not a single one I can claim by blood. I guess people just call me that because I’m so… motherly.” She folded her hands in her lap, “And when people need advice, they come to me.”
“I could use some good advice myself. But given who I’ve heard from already, I doubt you know a way for me to get home.”
“It would help to know where you’re from, for starters.”
Pent shared with her the impossible story that he had lived. He told her of his own world, and the myriad of differences he had already encountered. He told her of his trip to the library, and of how he fell from the sky.
At the end of it all, she stared at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“That is quite some tale. I’ve heard and told plenty as I make a habit of telling them to others. Some find wisdom in old tales, especially the children. But I’ve never heard any tale like yours. You had it right before. I wish it weren’t true, but I have no advice that can send you home.”
“I figured as much,” he said. “All of this is so crazy. I’ve heard fairy tales growing up, I’ve read some books, seen some movies. And all of this, it’s just impossible. People don’t just up and vanish from their world and show up in another one, right? I thought it was a dream for the longest time, but I’ve been pinching myself every once in a while, just to check, and nothing has happened. Maybe I died leaving that bar? I could have tripped and broken my neck on that wet curb. Or maybe… maybe I didn’t grab Greg’s keys? Maybe he drove us home, and I didn’t make it back. Is this some kind of screwed up dream, the afterlife, or is it actually happening?”
Pent looked up and noticed Lyle’s wide eyes locked on him. He shuffled nervously in his seat.
“Uh, sorry about that. Guess I’m cracking a little bit here.”
She smiled, her face returning to her gentle expression from before. “No apology is needed, these are stressful circumstances, and I have no answers to give. I would say you’re handling this as well as anyone would.”
“Thanks. I just didn’t mean to ramble or anything.” He glanced around, desperate to change subjects. “I asked Hanar earlier, but my town is also called Somerville. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? Why is this place called Somerville?”
She rubbed at her chin, flipping the question over in her mind before answering. “Hm, that’s a fine question. But I’m afraid I have no answers there either. I imagine you have not heard the story of the Dread Urgornite. I’ve shared that one with the children quite a few times. But I don’t know why Urgornite is named Urgornite. Why is your Somerville named that?”
Pent stared at her for a moment, his mouth gaping open. “Uh, I guess I don’t know. Damn, you’ve got me there.”
“Sometimes a name is just a name. I couldn’t tell you why I was named Lyle. Just the fancy of a man or a woman lost to the passages of time. But it has little bearing on the life I live now.” She shrugged. “Names can have power, sure. But sometimes a name is just a name.”
Pent mulled the words over in his head. She has a point. It’s hard to believe that it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t think I’m gonna find the answers I need here. He waited some time before speaking.
“Sometimes a name is just a name. That’s sage advice.” He shifted in his seat. “Speaking of that, if you’re known as Mother for giving sound advice, what does the chief do?” Pent’s only experience with the elderly head honcho was him chewing out Hanar. Not the most inviting person I’ve met.
“He gives great guidance as well, but he can be a bit terse,” she said. “I think people might enjoy talking to me more. I can’t see why. The both of us say what’s on our minds, and we speak truly. But truth can have all kinds of flavors… perhaps my truth is a bit easier to swallow.”
“I see, so you’re the good cop to his bad cop.”
She blinked twice. “What?”
“Never mind. I really like your place, Lyle, it’s very homely. Reminds me of this cabin I visited when I was a kid. Whenever I would watch a show or read a book and see a family in this ideal big house, sitting on a big couch, running up and down the stairs, I would think about that cabin. My home was never really like that, but the cabin had a warmth to it. Just sitting around the lit fireplace, getting lost in the stoked flames… it felt like what a home was supposed to be.”
“Well, I’m sure that I screwed up his schedule, what with falling out of the sky. I owe him big time. He saved me from those woods. Don’t think I would have made it out there,” he said.
“He’s a dependable man. Dependable to a fault, I sometimes fear. Men like him seem designed to be taken advantage of, and it’s a wonder he’s lived so long in this world.” She trailed off on that last word, concern in her eyes.
“You all seem to have each other’s backs. I don’t see him being taken advantage of here.”
Lyle walked into the adjacent room and pulled out a pan of some broiled animal. She placed cut links on the table in front of Pent, inviting him to have some, and he grabbed one and eagerly took a bite. It tasted kind of like pork but without all the gristle. She smiled as he chewed the sausage.
“You might be surprised. All this safety isn’t free.”
“How so?” He wiped grease oozing down his chin with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Tell me a bit more about where you’re from.” Her stare pierced through him. “This other world you referred to. What is it like?”
“Uh, I dunno. It’s kind of like this. I live in a small town. There are more people there than there are here. A lot more.” He paused, trying to find the words. “It would be so difficult to explain all of the things that are different there. I don’t want to be rude, but I would say it’s a more ‘advanced’ world than this one.” He used his fingers as air quotes when he said advanced, and he wasn’t sure if she understood the meaning.
“And there you’re safe?”
A flash of a young man stilled forever. The air was cold, the last frosty breaths coming from his dying lips. A death rattle in the darkness. Blood dripping from Pent’s hands.
