The Forest Beyond the Earth

by Matthew S. Cox

  In one of her books with magic and dragons, a ‘barbarian’ carried a great axe infused with magic that, according to the bard, could cut a mountain in half. She hadn’t pictured that weapon anywhere as big as this monster’s axe, and shivered in fear of how much power it might have.

  He could beat everyone in one big swing!

  Alina pointed her swords at him. “The thunder magic is going to ki… uhh, send you to the Other Place.”

  The man growled deeper, stomping toward her.

  “The thunder magic is going to take you!” yelled Alina.

  She wants me to shoot him. Wisp locked eyes with her and nodded.

  “Come on, big boy,” shouted Alina, backing up and clanking her blades together.

  The marauder chief leaned into his stride, walking faster.

  Wisp waited for him to get far enough away from the cabin that she could aim the long rifle properly at him, and lined up his helmet in the iron sights. Alina, noting the angle, stepped to the side and waved ‘goodbye’ to the man. As soon as the woman moved out of the bullet’s path, Wisp squeezed the trigger.

  Bang!

  The recoil pushed her a few inches back.

  Her bullet punched through the helmet, shattering the outer shell and leaving a fist-sized white spot of exposed foam with a small black dot in the middle. The huge guy’s roar cut off to silence, and he crashed face down into the street. Alina dove away from the giant axe, which rang like a bell when it bounced on the blacktop. After a quick nod to Wisp, she ran after another marauder who’d come out of a hut three rows closer to the courtyard, and attacked one of the male captives with a wooden bat.

  Wisp again tried to draw a bead on the fray; her gunsights landed on one of the female marauders who’d been at the worktable before, right as she rammed her knife into Olim’s gut. Wisp clicked the trigger, putting a slug into the woman’s chest. The marauder fell in a heap, Olim landing on top of her. Neither one of them tried to get back up.

  The roof wobbled under her. She twisted to look back, surprising a skinny male marauder covered head to toe in brown leather armor. The man had climbed up onto the roof behind her, and managed to sneak almost close enough to grab her. When they made eye contact, he pulled a large hatchet from a back sheath, his intention seeming to change from kidnap to kill.

  Wisp flung herself to the side, abandoning the rifle and rolling onto her back as the axe blade sparked on the metal where her head had been a half-second before. The man lunged, grabbing for her throat with his left hand. She raised both legs. Her feet hit his chest the same instant his hand closed around the front of her neck. Grunting, she tried to shove him away with her legs while clutching his wrist in both hands. Fingernails dug at her skin; warm sandy metal scuffed at her back. He held her down by the throat, raising the axe high over his head, but couldn’t quite line up his aim while she kept shoving her feet into his shoulders, trying to push him away.

  Wild eyes behind a leather armor mask widened. “It’s dyin’ time, slave! Go on and beg, eh? Maybe I change my mind again.”

  “Ngh!” gurgled Wisp, twisting her head side to side in a futile effort to get away from the axe.

  An instant before he brought the blade down into her forehead, she stomped him in the face. The kick faltered his balance, making him flail his arms to avoid tumbling backward down the angled roof. She gave up trying to pull his grip away from her throat and grabbed the pistol from her hip, raising it in two hands.

  “Die!” shouted the marauder, raising his axe for a killing stroke.

  The barrel of her pistol hovered inches away from his chest between her feet. She fired three times as fast as she could click the trigger.

  His arm fell limp; the axe banged against the roof and slid off to the rear of the cabin. All his weight crumpled down on her feet. A long, labored moan came out of his mouth as the focus in his eyes faded.

  Behind her, the continuous shouting and clanging of weapons continued.

  She shoved her legs out, tossing the marauder away. He flopped, bounced, and slid off the end of the cabin out of sight.

  Wisp lay still on her back for a moment, heart racing, breath rushing in and out. Dad couldn’t protect her from monsters anymore. He couldn’t make bullets anymore either. The ammo she carried could very well be the last ammo in the world. A gun let a twig of a girl like her send monsters to the Other Place no matter how big they were. Without them, what could she possibly do? That boy at the lake got one with a knife, but he fought with speed and fury like nothing Dad had ever showed her. Maybe she could take on a monster with a knife, but the idea of it frightened her. And the boy had been visibly bigger in the shoulders and chest, so he had to be stronger than her.

  She rolled onto her belly and peered over the roof edge at the battle. People and monsters tangled together to the point she didn’t want to fire into the crowd. Besides, the bullets she had left, she needed to save for her own defense, not use up on monsters other people could send to the Other Place.

  Always try to run, said Dad in her mind.

  Wisp put the pistol back in the holster and took hold of the rifle. She watched the fight over the iron sights, deciding that she would only use up bullets if a monster was about to kill someone, only if her not doing so meant a person would die. Alina and Daz fought the hardest, or perhaps the most skilled, the two of them taking out more monsters than all the other former captives combined. A few minutes later, the shouting and clanging of weapons wound down to a stop, without Wisp having fired another shot.

  Dead marauders lay strewn about the intersection. Some had arrows sticking out of them, most bled from sword or axe wounds. A few had died to gunshots, but she didn’t bother trying to figure out how many she’d sent to the Other Place. When it became clear the battle had ended, Wisp rolled around to sit up, and scooted down the roof to the low end. The monster who’d tried to kill her lay flat on his back in the narrow section of street between the cabin and the compound wall.

  She ignored him, climbing down the pile of junk on the side. Head bowed, she crept out toward the remaining people, careful to avoid stepping in any blood.

  Eight of the fourteen captives remained alive. Olim had perished, and Tavin lay wounded but alive. Five men had paid for the freedom of the others with their lives. Alina limped over, an arrow sticking out of her left thigh, but she smiled. Juliana bled from her mouth and nose, but kept cheering and whooping.

  “Nice work, kid.” Alina ruffled Wisp’s hair. “Where’d you get hardware like that?”

  She slung her rifle over her shoulder, clinging to it defensively. “Dad. Here, sit. I have yarrow powder.”

  Alina cringed. “Damn shame, that. Sorry, kid. These rubes have no idea what kind of, umm… magic you’ve got. So, don’t tell ’em. Your secret’s safe with me. I prefer blades. Quiet and they don’t run out of ammo.” The woman took a seat on the concrete steps and grabbed the broken arrow shaft.

  Wisp stared blankly at her.

  “You okay? Never killed a man before?”

  “I didn’t kill any men. I sent monsters to the Other Place. They were bad.” She glanced at the door. “I am sad because Dad has gone to the Other Place.”

  “Yeah. You got somewhere to go, kid?” asked Alina.

  She thought of Zen and his daughter, Lijuan. “Yes. But, I need to bring Dad to the shrine first. Mother wants me to.”

  “All right then. If you got a place to get to, good luck. Do me a favor first―let me have a bit of that yarrow?”

  Wisp pulled her backpack off, knelt, and fished out the jar of yarrow powder. It stung almost as bad as the wasp she once stepped on, but it made bleeding stop. Alina clenched her jaw and pulled the arrow out; fortunately, the poorly sharpened head hadn’t gone too deep. A hint of pain flickered across the woman’s otherwise stoic expression. She held up a wad of cloth to use as a bandage. When Alina nodded, Wisp popped the jar open and sprinkled some of the dust into the wound.

  The woman grunted and gasped
, clamped her hands over the bandage, and pressed down. “Damn, that hurts.”

  “Means it’s working,” said Wisp in a lifeless tone, quoting Dad.

  Falo walked by, waving at her. “One sec, kid. Be right with ya.”

  Alina kept pressing on the bandage, managing a little smile. “You’re still small. If you get into a scrap, take advantage of that. Being quiet is your best chance. That’s how I lived this long.”

  “Always run if you can,” said Wisp, her voice faint. “Dad told me that.”

  “Good plan.” Alina clapped her on the back, forced herself upright, and limped over to the row of buggies.

  Falo strolled by again, having put on most of a marauder’s leather armor, and went up the steps into the building. Daz led a raid on the marauders’ food stores, which turned into a feast among the remaining people. Noma and Kit hurried down the steps a minute or so after Falo went inside. Wisp turned away from the sight of the boy holding his mother’s hand. She sulked, staring at the ground and teasing a pebble around with her big toe. Not only had she never known the touch of a mother’s warm embrace, or heard the brightness in her voice, she had lost Dad.

  All those days spent journeying at Mother’s behest, and for what?

  Had she stayed home, nothing would’ve changed. Dad would still be in the Other Place, but perhaps she would be safer. At least there, she had the Haven, and could find food and water fairly easily. Though, she had never hunted before and they always weathered the winter months subsisting on boar, deer, or fish―sometimes even bear. Wisp sank into a squat, feeling afraid and exposed without bars around her. Bars that Dad had made with all his love to keep her protected.

  These people told her havens were cages, and only monsters put people in cages. Stupid liars! They don’t know about Tree Walkers. They’re gonna be sorry. She peered through a curtain of her hair at Kit, sitting beside his mother while devouring soup. He looked so innocent, so small… so happy. Wisp’s eyes narrowed. His mother won’t put him in a haven… she’ll be sad when they take him.

  “Okay, kid. Now what?” asked Falo.

  She looked up and to her left. The man stood behind her with Dad over his shoulder, as promised.

  “We bring him to Mother.” Wisp got to her feet.

  “Let’s eat first. And it’s dark. We should wait until morning. It’s pretty safe inside this compound now that all the marauders are dead.”

  “All right.” Wisp grasped Dad’s dangling arm and hugged it tight, hating that the skin against her cheek had no warmth.

  War

  -29-

  Instead of Tree Walkers, a new monster plagued Wisp’s dreams.

  The man who’d grabbed her by the throat, holding her down the same way Dad had butchered small boars, appeared over and over, leaping out of the trees and chasing her. She tried to run for the Haven, but he grabbed her by the leg before she could crawl inside. The instant he dragged her back from her safe place, she snapped awake.

  Falo shook her left leg side to side, having gripped her around the ankle like the monster in her dream. “Hey, kid. You ready?”

  The terrifying fog of a nightmare gave way to her present situation: lying on a dingy mattress inside one of the metal cabins. Falo let go and stood back up, waving her to follow him before walking outside.

  She wiped at her eyes, yawned, and wobbled upright. After collecting her things, she stumbled outside. Daz and two other men to the left let the bad water out all over the wall of a crumbling concrete building. Wisp walked to the end of their line and squatted, tugging her skirt out of the way.

  All three men made startled noises and turned their backs to her before hurrying off without looking.

  I guess they’re afraid of my ‘black magic.’

  She almost passed out again, but managed to stay awake long enough to finish. Yawning, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and peered around the compound. Falo waited for her over by one of the buggies. The former captives swarmed the area, gathering all the useful supplies they could get their hands on and packing them on the other buggies. Alina and Juliana struggled to carry a rectangular box out of the fortress-like building next to the gate. Despite it not being that large, it appeared to weigh quite a bit.

  Wisp tilted her head.

  “Coins,” said Falo. “Marauders had a stockpile. We’re gonna divvy it up.”

  Still squinting from the glare, she padded across the hot blacktop. “Where is Dad?”

  Falo gestured at the leather tent compartment. “In the back, ready to go. This is going to be a whole lot faster than walking with a dead guy on my shoulder.”

  She looked the buggy over from nose to end. “You can make this machine work?”

  “Yeah. Ain’t hard.” Falo collected some gallon jugs of water, and a few red plastic ones, which he tied to hooks on the triangular frame around the back compartment. “You can either stand on the backplate”―he pointed at a metal shelf beneath the leather flaps―“sit in my lap, perch behind the seat”―he pointed to a flat part of metal between the recessed driver’s seat and the triangular frame. “Or, I dunno…” He shrugged. “I could tie you to the frame so you don’t fall off.”

  Noma approached (with Kit by her side) and handed Falo a coffee can that rattled. She offered one to Wisp next.

  “Oof. This is heavy.” Wisp peered down at a bunch of round, metal discs. Some had a brownish or greenish tint while others appeared silver. “Money?”

  “Yes.” Noma hugged her. “We’re splitting up all the coins the marauders had.”

  The other captives continued packing stuff in buggies.

  “Thank you.” Wisp hefted the can. Putting it in the backpack seemed a bad idea. This can weighed almost as much as the rifle.

  While Noma and Falo discussed their plans to go off to different settlements, Wisp wandered around the side and peered into the opening containing the seat. It didn’t look big enough for two people, even if one was her size. Riding on top of the buggy behind the driver’s chamber would probably be the most comfortable idea, since it didn’t require standing the whole time. She headed around back and peeked in to make sure Dad was, in fact, where the man claimed. He’d been stuffed into the compartment standing, facing away, his body frozen in a slightly-sitting-upright position as he’d been in the cell. She poked his leg and found it quite rigid.

  Wisp frowned at the can. No sense lugging it around as they had the buggy. Carrying the can down the hill from where the marauders took Dad wouldn’t be too bad. She stashed it by his boot, and tied a bit of cloth over the top to keep the little metal bits from bouncing away.

  “We’re going home, Dad.” She couldn’t see his face past his thick black hair, which had a lot more new white strands than she remembered.

  “You okay, kid?” asked Falo.

  “No. I’m not okay, but I can’t do anything about what happened.” She trudged around to the side.

  Falo stashed his coin can in the back, tucked the flaps closed, and hopped into the driver’s seat while she climbed up to sit behind it on the metal plates. The hollow had some space on either side of the chair, so she stuck her legs in and braced her feet against the sides. She scooted back a little and reclined against the triangular compartment, clutching the rifle across her lap.

  The other captives came over to thank her again and wish her good luck. Alina made a shooting gesture with her finger, and winked.

  Kit leapt up onto the buggy, his bony knees thumping on the thin metal. The scrap of a child flew into a hug. “Thank you for letting me an’ Mama out!”

  It took all of Wisp’s self-control not to fling the boy off. He didn’t mean to make fun of her for not having a living mother, but seeing him so happy with Noma filled her with jealousy. Repeating not his fault over and over in her head, she returned a limp hug and managed a weak excuse of a smile.

  “I’m so sorry about your father,” said Noma.

  Wisp bowed her head. “Thanks.”

  �
�Ready?” asked Falo.

  She looked away from the boy and his mother, narrowing her eyes at the gate. “Yes.”

  He pushed the little black button. The engine roared to life, vibrating the metal under her butt. She grimaced at the sensation, having second thoughts about sitting there. Before she could say a word of protest, he stepped on the right pedal and the buggy lurched forward. She grabbed the lip of the driver’s compartment between her knees, holding on tight as the buggy whirled around in a turn and headed for the now-open giant doors.

  Falo followed the road she’d walked into the ruin on, passing the buggy she disabled the day before. The dead marauder remained where she’d left him, though someone had taken most of his armor.

  Crumbling buildings zipped by on both sides, a good deal faster than she could run. Each time Falo swerved around a hunk of debris, she lurched to the side, too petrified of being thrown to shriek. She briefly considered telling him to tie her to the frame so she couldn’t fall off, but he probably meant that as a joke since it would be a silly thing to do, especially if monsters attacked.

  Not long after they left the ruined city behind and entered scrubland, the metal beneath her backside heated up like a cooking pot. Despite her heavy leather skirt, it soon became intolerable. If she’d still had her dress, the metal probably would’ve burned her.

  “Stop!” yelled Wisp. “My butt is cooking!”

  He let his foot off the pedal, and the engine dropped from loud buzzing to a soft rumble. “What?”

  “My butt is cooking!” shouted Wisp.

  Falo peered back over his shoulder. “Oh. You’re sitting right above the motor.”

  “What?”

  He slowed to a gradual stop. “There’s enough room in here. Climb around and sit with me.”

  Wisp jumped up, fanning air across her backside for a moment. “Wow, it’s so hot.” She glowered at the shiny aluminum panel. “I think I could cook on that.”