A Rarefied View At Dawn

by David Farland

  He could see the Valkyries patrolling the walls of the sanctuary. Their grim weapons were legendary, as was their tenacity in battle.

  Bann wandered near the wall, in its shadow. A spigot shot out of the wall, dripping precious water. A great red rose bush grew beside it and around it, its blossoms coloring the sandstone like blood.

  Bann almost missed hearing them coming. He heard the single scuff of a shoe, turned, and saw the girls from his class--all of them but Maya.

  "Oh," he grunted in surprise, just as one girl clasped both hands together and clubbed him in the stomach. He collapsed to the ground, holding his stomach, trying to imagine what he had done to deserve such treatment, when the girls circled him and attacked.

  Some fell on him and clawed at his face. One girl his arms. Others kicked at his exposed parts. Bann curled up in a ball, trying to protect himself, and shouted, "Hey? What's? What's?"

  But he didn't ask the question. He knew why they had to do it. And so he bore the pain and tried to wait it out. The girls did not beat him in anger, but did so silently, the way that a craftswoman will work at her weaving or pounding out her dough.

  He was a danger, and they were removing him. They scratched at his eyes and kicked his ribs until he could hardly breathe. Some of them wrestled his arms behind his back, thin arms that almost looked like porcelain, and a girl produced a pair of scissors from the classroom, which she used to hack off his long hair.

  The girl with the scissors shouted, "Spread his legs for me. Spread them. Let's get rid of the cock!"

  And suddenly the were trying to pull his legs wide. He locked them together.

  Bann gritted his teeth, and considered fighting back. He knew that he was stronger than most of the girls.

  But they got his legs spread, and the girls were still kicking and scratching, and the girl with the scissors--Amayah--came for him with a malicious gleam in her eye. White hot anger flared in his chest. Bann reached up with a foot and fended her off, no longer caring if he hurt her.

  "How many?" he growled, grunting. "How many pecks for you, and how many for me?"

  One of the girls who was holding him down and biting gasped and backed away in horror. Another loosened her grip. But others still fought him.

  Bann shouted louder. "How many pecks for you, and how many for me?"

  Others backed off, but still three tried to hold him down. Amaya lunged with her scissors, and he used his foot to push her back. He threw the girls off and climbed to his feet, roaring, "How many pecks for you, and how many for me?"

  The girls looked at him, their faces drawn and pale from shock. Bann felt wetness at his nose, wiped with his arm, and saw that it was bleeding. He silently took stock of himself. A few bruises and scratches, a bloody nose, bite marks on his arms and cheek. The girls had not done any serious harm, only surface damage.

  Then one of the girls screamed, as if afraid that he would kill them all. Suddenly the girls were fleeing, scattering like sparrows from a cat

  Then they were gone.

  Bann felt almost no anger toward them, only bewilderment, sadness, and a void.

  He went to the spigot by the rosebush and wiped the blood from his face and from the scratches and bites on his arm. He could not get them clean, so he gave up.

  He went back to his classroom, and found the muysafed still talking with Maya, her arms around the girl, as if to offer comfort. The teacher looked up at him as if in shock, but he knew that there was no surprise in her eyes. This is what she had wanted: She'd held Maya here, the only girl who would have protected him, and then aimed the other girls at him like bullets from a gun.

  "I have come to turn in my assignment," Bann said. "I have thought about the experiment, and I have figured it out. This is what I have learned: I should not exist."

  The musfayed's eyes widened, and her nostrils flared just a little, as is she had not expected such clarity. She nodded. "You are wise."

  Bann turned, went to the cage that held Yusaf, and removed the chick. He tucked it under his arm, and stroked its head.

  "Bann?" Maya said, trying to rise from her seat. But the teacher held her down and whispered, "Let him go."

  *****

  Maya half-crouched, half stood in shock as her teacher held her. Bann was out the door for the space of twenty heartbeats before Maya realized that she had to go after him.

  She tried to rise again, but the Musfayed held her back a moment longer. "Let him cool down," she said. "He will make the right decision. You'll see."

  Maya held the teacher with her eyes for a long moment. She was revered by other women, held in honor. But Maya suddenly felt as if she saw behind her veil.

  "I have learned something to," Maya said. "Bann says that he should not exist. But I know a secret. . . ." she leaned forward and hissed, "You are no better than he."

  The Musfayed stepped back in astonishment, as if she had been slapped, and Maya leapt up. The teacher sought to grab her, but Maya dodged beneath her grasp and raced out into the sunlight.

  She peered across along the wallwalk and down the lanes, but Bann was nowhere to be seen.

  Maya searched all of that night for Bann. She went to his home that evening and found his mother.

  "I left food, clothes and money in a pack on the bed," his mother said, "in case he decided to leave. He took everything but the money."

  Maya studied the woman's sad face. Bann's mother was a poor woman, a pariah. Bann would not have wanted to take her money.

  She thought at first that he might still be in the city, but there was no sign of him. The Valkyries that guarded the gates swore that he had not gone out that way. At last she circled the vast city, walking along the upper walls.

  "I saw him leave, but I did not stop him," the guard upon the east wall told her.

  "Where was he when he jumped?" Maya demanded. The Valkyrie rolled down the walkway. "Here," she said.

  Maya looked into her face, a face that projected so much warmth and concern, but really was really all metal and plastic and cold hard wires underneath.

  "Thank you," Maya said. She peered down, could see nothing but clouds. Their roiling surface was not more than a dozen yards below her, and after that, all was a mystery. On the horizon, the sun of Lucien struggled once more to climb into the sky, an effort that would fail all too soon.

  In the distance, in the high and rarified air so far above the canopy of rust-colored clouds, the lights of floater ships winked on and off like fireflies as they made for distant ports. She worried that Bann might already be on one of those ships, heading beyond her knowledge. Or even worse, he might be lying at the base of the cliff, killed upon some sharp rocks, or wounded at the edge of the jungle, just waiting for some predator to end his pain.

  She considered going down to the gates, seeking an exit. But the Valkyries that guarded the gate would never let her go. She was a girl, after all, and served a higher purpose.

  So before the Valkyrie could stop her, she ran two steps and leapt into the air, following Bann's path into the unknown.

  Notes on A Rarefied View At Dawn

  The genesis to this story goes way back. Years ago I knew a young woman who had a destructive relationship with men. She had married and had several boyfriends, but she would soon become abusive in any relationship. She had four sons, that I was close to, and on one occasion she told one of them that she hated him and wished that he was dead. I asked her why she would say such a thing to a nine-year-old, and she said, “When they were babies I loved them, but now that they’re turning into men, they make me sick.” I thought that this was terribly sad, and when her youngest son reached age nine, she ended up abandoning all of her children.

  The interesting thing to me is the way that society as a whole tends to abandon young men. There have been entire books written upon the subject, so I won’t belabor the point. But in every society, young men are sent out to be warriors. They’re sent out to work. They’re neglected by social services. (Notice that i
n America we have a program called “Women, Infants, and Children” that helps feed women and children, but men are forbidden even the basics, such as food.) If you study social trends, you’ll notice that if a young man and a young woman get arrested for the same crime—burglary, theft, arson, assault—the man woman will almost always go free while the man serves time.

  So I’ve long been interested in alternate societies. What would happen in a world where women dominated and men were treated as second-class citizens? A number of fine writers have tackled the subject, including Ursula K. LeGuin in Always Coming Home and Pamela Sargent in one of my favorites, The Shore of Women. But I haven’t seen any men deal with it.

  So that interest of course percolated for a long time, and I’ve long thought about doing a novel on the topic, especially during the 1980s and 1990s, when it was more topical. Back in the early 2000s, a friend told me that he had gone to a Orson Scott Card’s writer’s boot camp, and that it had been a huge help for him. I’d studied under Mr. Card when I won the Writers of the Future, and had long kept abreast of his work, but I hadn’t studied under him in 15 years. Since I was teaching my own workshops, I became interested in studying Card’s teaching method, so I registered for the workshop. Mr. Card, a very generous soul, insisted that I come for free.

  While I was there, as part of the workshop I was asked to write a story—this one. I did a little research into ancient Persia, and that became the inspiration for the world that I created. I had just been to China at the time, and had met a young woman who was raised as a boy until she was eleven, which added a further bit of inspiration.

  So I began to write a coming-of-age story about a boy who has been raised as a girl, never knowing his gender, in a world where men are . . . frowned upon. I actually ended up liking the story a great deal, but I have to warn people, some folks are totally freaked out by it. Mr. Card apparently liked it, too, though. It was first published in his Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show.

  What I like most about this story is its’ ability to transport a reader to a strange and wondrous world. I was able to envision the cloud cover above the planet, the lights of zeppelins, like ships of old, lost above seas of mist. The Valkyries are fixed in my imagination, as are the sky whales. So for those who are studying writing, look at the world creation here. I’m afraid, though, that the society that I created is just too distressing for most people—but of course that’s what supplies the conflict for this tale. I’d love to go back and take the tale to its logical conclusion, but it’s probably one of those stories I’ll never have time to finish.

  About the Author

  David Farland is a New York Times Best-selling Author with nearly fifty novel-length works in print, whose work has been translated into dozens of languages.

  He has won various awards for his work, including the Philip K. Dick Memorial Special Award for "Best Novel of the Year," the Whitney Award for "Best Novel of the Year," the L. Ron Hubbard Gold Award for "Best Short Story of the Year," and others.

  In 1991, Dave became a judge for the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of The Future Contest, the largest contest in the world for beginning authors of science fiction and fantasy. He soon took over the position of Coordinating Judge, where he selected stories for publication, trained new writers, and oversaw the publication of the annual anthology.

  In 1999 he began teaching creative writing at Brigham Young University, where he trained several students who went on to become superstars, including fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, young adult author Dan Wells, and international sensation Stephenie Meyer.

  In 1999, Dave also set the Guinness record for the World's Largest book signing.

  David has worked in a number of writerly jobs—as a prison guard, an ice-cream pie maker, meat-cutter, missionary, movie producer, video game designer, and editor.

  His Runelords novel series is one of the most popular fantasies of our time, but he has also worked with other major properties, including Star Wars, the Mummy, and various video games.

  David currently lives in Utah with his wife and five children. In addition to writing, David likes to hike and fish.

  Enjoy more works by Dave Wolverton as David Farland. Visit DavidFarland.net