Dispocalypse

by M. A. Rothman

  “And we’ve had sixteen years to get used to his sniffing about.” A gruff male voice echoed from somewhere behind her.

  Willow nodded. “All of this is new to me. I was born in New Memphis, a frontier town located aboveground, in the Dominion territory. I’ve never even heard of barrier fungus.”

  Immediately a storm of conversations rattled through the eating area as people debated.

  “I told you Ramai knows what he’s talking about!”

  “She’s gigantic, much bigger than Raz.”

  “If she found us, what about others?”

  “What’s Ramai going to do with her?”

  Raz pointed at the bowl of still-steaming mushroom stew. “Eat. You’ll need your energy.”

  Willow continued eating. As her stomach filled, she wondered who this Ramai was and how in the world he could have predicted her arrival.

  Raz lifted his bowl, tipped it against his lips and slurped whatever his spoon hadn’t reached.

  “Raz!” One matronly dwarf scolded him as she wheeled a cart over with a small metal cauldron full of the steaming stew. “Mind your manners and ask for more if you want some.” She shook her head. As the woman ladled a second helping for Raz, she muttered, “Just because you’re an aboveworlder doesn’t mean you need to act like a barbarian.”

  A tiny laugh escaped Willow before she could stop it and the woman studied her with an amused expression. “Would you like a bit more as well?”

  Willow held up her bowl and nodded. “If there’s enough, I’d love more. It was delicious.”

  A toothy smile grew on the woman’s face as she ladled stew into Willow’s bowl. “Well isn’t that a beautiful thing. An aboveworlder with proper manners.” She shot Raz an accusatory look. “Something not all aboveworlders seem to possess.”

  Raz erupted with a loud wheezing that Willow took for laughter.

  As Willow blew on the hot spoonful of stew, a familiar voice echoed across the din of the dining hall. “Willow, whenever you’re done, I’m here to escort you to Ramai.”

  She turned to see Edmund take a seat at one of the tables closest to the door. Someone handed him a large mug, and Edmund sipped at its contents, striking up a conversation with others at his table.

  She leaned to her right and whispered to Raz, “Who is Ramai?”

  Raz glanced at her between spoonsful of stew and sniffed loudly. “An important man.”

  She frowned at Raz.

  He grimaced and his shoulders twitched oddly for a moment. Raz gazed up at her and tilted his head, returning the frown. “But he is. He’s older than stone. A wizard too.” He turned away from Willow’s frown and laughed, grabbing his spoon.

  Willow watched as her companion shoveled more stew into his mouth. It was obvious that Raz wasn’t going to give her a straight answer. She turned back to her own bowl and forced herself to eat. Even though she wanted to immediately leave and find out who this Ramai was, Willow felt like it would be a criminal act to have asked for more stew and not finished it.

  Willow absorbed the conversations occurring around her as she chewed on a succulent mushroom.

  After a few minutes, she couldn’t eat another bite and Willow felt a tap on her left shoulder. “Are you full yet?” Edmund asked.

  Willow nodded and Edmund waved for her to follow.

  Willow stood and barely stifled a groan. She’d eaten more than she had in ages.

  Edmund winked. “You’ll work off some of the stew. We’ve got some trekking to do.”

  Ramai

  Willow stared at the twenty-foot-tall statues of bearded men standing like sentinels, guarding the enormous central hall for Eer Ha’ehven. Shaking her head, she couldn’t believe she’d actually thought the dining hall she’d left behind nearly twenty minutes ago was one of the main areas of the city. The gigantic statues were expertly carved from the bedrock, and both depicted proud, stoutly-built dwarves watching the heavy traffic with tremendous hammers in each hand.

  The bustling sounds of hundreds of dwarves pushing heavy wagons through the main hall to other parts of the stone city left Willow stunned by the enormity of it all.

  A small group of four dwarven soldiers on patrol stopped, their leader had a brace of daggers strapped across his chest along with a pair of spiked maces holstered near his waist. His attention fixed on Willow and he frowned. “What in all of the hells are you?”

  Before Willow could respond, Edmund responded, “Take it easy soldier, she’s with me. Ramai’s asked for her to be brought to him.”

  Upon mentioning of the name “Ramai” the soldiers all took one step backward. The leader of the patrol harrumphed, shook his head and motioned Willow and her companions away.

  Edmund glanced in her direction and waved for Willow to follow. “Come, let’s get this over with.”

  “But what ... who is this Ramai? Everyone talks about him,” Willow hitched her thumb toward the group of soldiers who’d stopped them, “and that guy seemed spooked when you mentioned his name. Is there anything I should know about him?”

  Edmund glanced at Willow as they walked toward the large tunnel between the giant dwarf statues. He stroked his beard and made a humming sound. “Let’s just say that Ramai was the Elder who facilitated bringing our people here. He’s got powers to know things that nobody has yet figured out how he knows them, and he’s everywhere at once. Heck, he could be watching us right now and we wouldn’t even know it.”

  “But I thought your people have been here for hundreds of years, isn’t that what you said to me earlier?”

  Raz darted ahead, aiming for the yawning entrance to the dwarven city, and as Willow followed her companions, Edmund muttered, “Trust me. Ramai is older than the dirt itself, and those damned prophecies of his ... let’s just say that most people who have any sense know that they should listen if that old man talks.”

  The air felt thick with the smokeless heat given off by the giant furnaces. Following Edmund and Raz as they skirted past the smelting area on the outer portion of the mines, Willow couldn’t help but stare at what the workers were doing. Dozens of heavily-muscled dwarves shoveled large slabs of wood-like fungus into the gaping maw of the six red-hot furnaces. Sweat poured from their shirtless bodies and the pungent smell that hung in the air reminded Willow of the time she’d witnessed a grass fire.

  There were other dwarves manning a series of accordion-like bellows. As they pushed and pulled on massive handles, their grunts of exertion were only surpassed by the sound of the air being blown into the furnace. The dwarves worked as a team; one yelled out a cadence, while the rest all pulled or pushed in sequence. With each gust of air blown into the giant drop-shaped furnaces, Willow felt the heat spike even from over one-hundred feet away.

  Willow wiped her sweat-covered face and wondered how those workers could stand being so close to the heat.

  As they passed the far end of the smelting chamber, she noticed a stream of dwarves shoving cartloads of freshly mined rocks into an opening in the furnace. A small stream of liquid metal dribbled down a stone chute and into a passage in the chamber’s wall.

  Edmund wiped his forehead with a cloth he’d tucked into his belt and grumbled, “I hate taking this shortcut. I’m too damned old and fat to relish the heat anymore.”

  Willow studied Edmund as he marched them through one of the exits leading into the relatively cooler tunnels. Even though he was probably a little thicker around the waist than he needed to be, she didn’t think he was particularly fat. If anything, he looked as strong as a horse, and whatever his age, it didn’t seem to affect his movement. “You don’t look any older than my parents, and if they were still alive, they would have just turned forty.”

  Raz snarled and spit on the ground as he made stomping noises with his feet.

  Willow stared at Raz and Edmund glanced in his direction and shrugged. “Ignore our friend’s outbursts, he sometimes gets lost in his own thoughts.”

  Raz muttered something unintelligibl
e and spit once again as he increased his stride, moving ahead as Willow detected the sound of many voices chanting.

  Edmund turned toward Willow and gave her a smile. “We’re almost there. I’ll be leaving you in Ramai’s capable hands. Even though he tells some rather fantastic stories, I’d suggest you only believe half of them. And trust me, that man has forgotten more than I’ll ever know about this world and others. He makes me think my seventy-five years have been but a moment.”

  “Seventy-five, hah!” Willow laughed.

  Edmund gave her a look as if to say, “What’s so funny?”

  Willow stared at him and realized that he wasn’t kidding. “B-but you can’t be seventy-five ... you don’t look half that age.”

  A look of understanding flashed on Edmund’s face. “Oh, I didn’t know aboveworlders were so short-lived. I’m actually in my middle years. In the underworld, you aren’t considered an elder unless you’ve passed one-hundred years. And even then, my old Grandpa Rockfeist lived till he was one-hundred-forty-eight.”

  The chanting grew louder as they turned right, into a dimly-lit chamber. Several rows of long tables spread in a half-circle across the thirty by forty-foot room. Seated at the tables were approximately fifty young, beardless dwarves who were focused on the open books lying in front of them. They murmured words that Willow didn’t understand, yet they sounded oddly familiar.

  Leading the group was a white-bearded dwarf standing at a lectern in the front of the class. A strange white glow surrounded the dwarf’s hands as he looked up at Willow. Standing next to him was a younger dwarf in white robes.

  Edmund tapped Willow’s elbow and waved as she glanced toward him. Just as he backed out of the room, the chanting grew louder and the words echoed in her head. The strange words suddenly began to make sense.

  “Ve-ruach elohim, m’rachphet al-p’nei hama’im.”

  And the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters.

  “Ve-yomer elohim, ‘Yehi or,’ va-yehi or.”

  And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

  The white-bearded dwarf looked up from the lectern and his gaze landed squarely on Willow’s. The barest hint of amusement peeked through his white whiskers and the torches in the room suddenly seemed brighter.

  Willow’s gaze was riveted on the old man. As if to confirm her thoughts, Raz pressed against her right hip and pointed up at the lectern. “Ramai.”

  Ramai leaned toward the dwarf standing next to him and the dwarf nodded. As Ramai stepped away from the lectern and walked toward Willow, the other dwarf’s voice rose in volume as he led the class in what sounded like a story of some sort.

  For an instant, she wondered how she understood the strange chanting, but Willow’s attention was drawn to Ramai as the white-robed, three-and-a-half-foot tall dwarf walked toward her. In the otherwise dim chamber, Ramai seemed to carry a light with him. Almost like a second skin, the old man shimmered with a barely perceptible glow. It was as if he’d swallowed a torch and it had refused to go out.

  Willow felt the room almost fade away as Ramai’s brown eyes locked onto hers. Something about him demanded attention. A strong spark of intelligence gleamed behind those eyes, and she sensed something much more. It was almost like he could sift through her thoughts and read her life’s story.

  Out of nowhere, a comforting voice echoed in her head.

  “Welcome, young child of the apocalypse. I’ve been waiting for you for over five centuries.”

  Willow’s eyes widened and Ramai nodded in greeting. She gasped as the same voice she’d heard rattle in her head suddenly echoed from the tiny man.

  “Willow Park, it’s good to meet you in person.”

  Raz wheezed with amusement as Willow stared at the enigmatic dwarf. “Did I just imagine your voice in my head?”

  Ramai’s amused expression broadened to a smile. He turned and waved for her to follow. “Come with me, dream walker, you have a lot to learn about yourself and the world you live in. Not everything is as the Dominion has taught you.”

  A History Lesson

  Willow’s mouth hung open as Ramai snapped his fingers and a series of torches suddenly bloomed around them with a smoldering light. It was a large ten-by-twenty-foot bedroom with an adjacent room that had floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with all variety of books and scrolls. More reading material was contained in the room than Willow had ever seen in her life. Having led her and Raz into his private chambers, Ramai pointed to a nearby table that had a large pile of roots and a bowl of oblong red berries. “Raz, I’m sure you’re hungry again. Help yourself.”

  Without hesitation Raz hopped onto the bench, grabbed one of the roots, and began chomping noisily.

  Willow shook her head as Raz stuffed himself. “How in the world can you eat so much? I’m still full from an hour ago.”

  Raz’s eyes opened wide and he pointed at himself with a sheepish expression. “But it tastes good.”

  Ramai hopped onto a large chair and leaned into the red sponge-like cushion. “Wildlings are known for their insatiable appetites and fast metabolisms.”

  Ramai’s voice had an accent that Willow couldn’t place. Between his clipping of some words, trilling of his r’s, and other unusual speech mannerisms, it took a lot of Willow’s concentration to understand what he was saying. “Raz doesn’t seem so wild. However, those creatures in the Forbidding, now I know why lots of people call them demons, they’re horrifying.”

  Ramai motioned for her to take a seat. “Oh, your friends in the aboveworld don’t quite know what they’re talking about. I’ve seen true demons, and that’s not what those poor rabid creatures are. I’d be fancying the word ‘wildling’ more because it reminds me of some very old tales. Parents used to make up stories about wildlings coming to eat children if they were wicked.” Shaking his head, Ramai sighed. “Who’d have thought that the Great War would have brought about such an ugly result? The poison in the aboveworld has leeched into the core of mankind. Perverting them into creatures none would recognize as human anymore.”

  Willow glanced at Raz as he shoveled a handful of berries into his mouth, their juice dribbling down his chin.

  “Our friend Raz was spared some of the worst of the effects,” Ramai volunteered.

  Willow replayed in her mind the images of the creatures invading the cave she’d hidden in with the other exiled people. The memory of the giant blind monstrosity with poisonous saliva that had nearly discovered her sent a shiver up Willow’s spine. She glanced at Raz, and even though he resembled some of the wildlings she’d seen, he was different somehow. He spoke intelligibly and seemed nice enough. “How ... how did Raz get spared?”

  Raz chewed one of the roots, pointed at the roof, and made a clicking with his tongue. “Ramai found Raz when he was lost up there in the dead city. He helped Raz find his place here.”

  Ramai chuckled and nodded. “Aye, our friend couldn’t even remember his name, quite strange I must say. There’s something special about our friend. Although he’d obviously been turned, mutated by the disease and poison that remains above, he’d not completely lost his grip on his humanity. However, our friend Raz was lost to himself. He no longer remembered who he’d been, nor could he reconcile what he’d become. You’ll notice that he constantly refers to himself in the third person. I’ve wondered whether buried deep inside, he still has memories of who he was. It’s all quite a mystery. That’s actually how his name came to be. Raz in the old language translates to mystery. As far as I know, he’s the only wildling who has turned and not gone rabid. And because of that, sixteen years ago, I led him to the safety of this hidden world.”

  Willow gasped as a new understanding flooded through her. “You mean to tell me, the creatures ... the wildlings, all used to be humans? It’s the Forbidding that has changed them?”

  Ramai looked at Willow with surprise. “Of course. Didn’t you know? Where else would they have come from?”

  “I can’t ... it a
ll makes sense.” As a spark of anger ignited within her, Willow’s jaw clenched and her hands tightened into fists. “The Dominion has been exiling people into the Forbidding where they’ve been claiming the enemies of humanity live. Yet as they exile more and more people, they are just making the situation worse. Adding to the strength of their enemies.”

  Ramai leaned forward and pointed a stubby finger at Willow. “And because of you, that’s a cycle that is prophesied to end soon.”

  “Because of me? I don’t understand.” Willow brushed her hair back and touched the points at the top of her ears. “Can you explain what happened to me? All I know is that the radiation had just about killed me. I remember collapsing in the forest and afterwards, all I remember is waking at the edge of a lake and feeling completely different.”

  Ramai gave her a lopsided smile. “And I’d wager you found yourself able to hear and see more than you ever had before.”

  Willow’s mind raced as she relived those moments after having awoken. “The werebits ... I understood what they were saying.”

  Hitching his thumb toward the room’s exit, Ramai asked, “Did you understand what was being said in the classroom?”

  Willow nodded.

  Ramai walked over to one of the nearby shelves, grabbed a scroll and began reading a passage.

  “There will come a time when a child of man will be sacrificed at the altar of the apocalypse and she will be reborn.

  Into this poisoned world will step forth the first of a new people. Once again, an elven dreamwalker will walk the Earth. Only she will be able to complete the pact and see the creation of an Asherah completed. A second hope to a world that has fallen from grace.”

  Ramai rolled the scroll up and set it aside. “That was a prediction dictated to me by a powerful seer at the dawn of the apocalypse, over five centuries ago.” He panned his arm across the hundreds of books and scrolls. “There are other predictions which speak of the coming of a genuine Asherah, a tree of life. It would be the only thing which might cure some of the poison left from the apocalypse above.” Ramai wagged his index finger at Willow. “However, there has never been an Asherah without an attendant. You, my young elf, will most certainly be that person.”