Distopia (Land of Dis)

by Robert Kroese

  “I’m the bishop!” cried Wyngalf. “How can I not be allowed to make statements about religion?”

  “You’re allowed,” said Evena. “I just wouldn’t advise it.”

  “Why have a bishop, if he can’t talk about religion?”

  “People love the idea of a wise, benevolent spiritual leader watching out for them,” Evena explained. “But they tend to freak out about specifics.”

  “Ugh,” Wyngalf groaned. “Why are we even doing this?”

  “No choice, remember,” said Evena. “We play the game or we die.”

  “We could run away,” said Wyngalf. “It worked for Tobalt.”

  “Tobalt felt a responsibility to look after Shelly,” said Evena. “Your responsibility is here.”

  “What about your responsibility?” asked Wyngalf. “Don’t you need to get back home to Skuldred?”

  “The threat to my home town has passed,” said Evena. “When Verne doesn’t come back, my parents and the rest of the townspeople will go back to their lives.”

  “But they’ll worry about you.”

  “I knew that when I ran away,” said Evena. “If I go back now, they’ll never let me leave again. Maybe someday I’ll go back home, but not yet. Anyway, you need my help. Somebody’s got to run this city, and you’re the only one I’d trust with the job.”

  “Really?” asked Wyngalf. “Why?”

  “Because you don’t want it.”

  Wyngalf groaned again.

  “Look, I’ll be here with you. It will be okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

  Wyngalf managed a faint smile, and she kissed him on the forehead.

  “Study your speech. I’ll come get you when it’s time.” She turned and left the room.

  Wyngalf read through the first page of the speech again and sighed. He set it down and swallowed a spoonful of cold porridge.

  Twenty-seven

  Wyngalf didn’t bother to memorize the speech. There was so little actual substance to it that he was in little danger of missing any key themes. The greatest risk was that in ad-libbing he might inadvertently make some sort of point, which Evena would then have to spend a week attempting to explain away in meetings with the city’s various political, religious, and business groups.

  Evena and Javik helped him to a balcony overlooking the street. He hesitated a moment at the doorway. Down below, he could hear a huge crowd murmuring excitedly. The people would be anticipating an inspirational address from the new bishop of Skaal City, explaining the events of late and detailing plans for the future—such as what the government planned to do about the gaping abyss in the center of the city. But Wyngalf was going to leave them disappointed. Or, worse, he was going to give them the impression that the city was in good hands, and that he and the city’s other leaders had some kind of plan to deal with the problems the city faced. Other than the abyss, though, he didn’t even have a good sense of what those problems were. Crime? Poverty? Raw sewage in the streets? The threat of Verne was gone, but would his absence embolden the goblins to the east? Would it prompt the barbarian tribes to the south to attack? What would become of the relations between Skaal City and Brobdingdon, now that both dragons were dead? Would the two cities become allies against the other monsters that threatened civilization, or would they remain enemies? He supposed Evena had spent no small amount of time over the past few days considering these issues, but he they were only hinted at in the broadest terms in the speech she had written for him. Hopefully at some point he could actually work on addressing the issues, but first he needed to get the people on his side. Before he could solve their problems, he needed the people to believe he could solve their problems. Another self-fulfilling prophecy, he thought ruefully.

  “Ready?” asked Evena, holding his right arm.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he said.

  Evena nodded to Javik, who released his grip on Wyngalf’s other arm, saluted, and walked to the corner of the balcony.

  Wyngalf took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. The pain wasn’t too bad as long as he avoided any sudden movements. He only hoped he could stand long enough to deliver the entire speech. He could lean on the railing of the balcony if he needed to, but Evena had stressed the importance of projecting an air of strength. Only by appearing vigorous and confident could Wyngalf effect the illusion that he was actually saying something. His mind wandered to Tobalt’s words: The source of power in Skaal City is the shared delusion of a powerful central authority in Skaal City.

  That’s all my power is, he thought. An illusion. I’m not standing on this balcony because some divine entity ordained it, and I’m not here because the people of Skaal City want me as their bishop. I’m here because of sheer dumb luck. I was in the right place at the right time, and now everyone in the city is looking to me for answers—answers that I don’t have, and couldn’t act on if I did. But if I wasn’t here to perpetuate the illusion, someone else would step in to fill the void. Probably someone less scrupulous. Maybe an old kook like Orbrecht, or a feckless, preening aristocrat like Lord Otten Popper, or one of the cynical, manipulative leaders of the SAURIANs or the SMASHERs. If someone has to be in charge, he told himself, it might as well be me.

  And yet this argument seemed as vapid as the speech he was about to deliver. Appearances to the contrary, he wasn’t in charge of anything. Here he was, barely able to stand, being forced to deliver an insipid speech filled with meaningless slogans and empty assurances. And he wasn’t doing this in service of any sort of grand plan or principle, but merely an attempt to try to stay alive for a few more weeks. If he accepted this role, he suddenly realized, he and Evena would be prisoners in Skaal City forever. That was what Tobalt had missed in his analysis: power was an illusion, but the illusion went both ways. The real fools weren’t the people down in the street, who would go back to their normal lives once Wyngalf’s vapid speech was done; it was the people who had to continue to live the illusion forever, if they were going to live at all.

  “Are you okay, Wyngalf?” asked Evena. Wyngalf had no idea how long he had been standing there. The crowd had gone silent in anticipation.

  “Yeah,” said Wyngalf. “I just… I don’t want to do this.” He imagined tearing up the speech and telling the crowd what he really wanted to say—that he was just a wandering preacher who didn’t know anything about politics, and that they shouldn’t trust anyone who would set himself up as some sort of messiah. Maybe the people were as sick of platitudes as he was. Maybe they were ready for some real leadership for a change. Someone who would take real risks, and stand up to the entrenched interests in Skaal City. But as the thought occurred to him, he realized he was succumbing to yet another delusion: the idea that somehow he was different from the other politicians in Skaal, that he wouldn’t fall victim to the desire to use his office for self-preservation and personal gain. If he really intended to tell the truth, he’d have to start by telling the people of Skaal City that he had no more business delivering a speech to the citizens than any of them—less, in fact, since he had only been in the city for a few days. Any random blacksmith or innkeeper would have a better understanding of the issues facing Skaal City than he did. If he really believed he wasn’t just another politician, then the sensible thing would be to stop acting like a politician, right now, before he even got started.

  “I know you don’t want to do it,” Evena was saying. “But you have to. Just deliver this one speech and then you can rest for a few days.”

  He shook his head. “No, I mean I don’t want to do this. Any of it. Ever.”

  Evena looked at him sternly for a moment. “Wyngalf, you need to understand what you’re saying. I know a little something about running from responsibility, and let me tell you, it comes with a cost.”

  “I’m not running from responsibility,” said Wyngalf. “I’m embracing it. Ever since I left Svalbraakrat, I’ve been looking for some kind of shortcut to my supposed destiny. First I thought I was being guided toward
greatness by the Noninity. Then I fell for the Ovaltarian prophecy. And now I’ve fallen into a position of authority that I didn’t earn and don’t deserve. The people of Skaal City don’t need me to solve their problems for them.”

  “But you realize that if you abdicate your authority, they’re just going to fall for some other charlatan. I mean, for some charlatan.”

  “If they do,” said Wyngalf, “that’s on them. I can’t force them to make the right decision. For the first time in a thousand years, the land of Dis is free of dragons. The rest is up to the people.”

  “What do you want to do, then? Run away?”

  “I hadn’t really thought it through. I guess so, yes. We need to get out of the city somehow. Far away from here and anybody who knows us. Maybe go find Tobalt. I know, the odds of us escaping the city are slim, considering my current condition, and I won’t blame you if you want to leave without me….”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Evena. “I’m not leaving without you. If we do this, we’re doing it together. But I need to be sure this is what you want to do.”

  “I’m sure,” said Wyngalf. “I can’t stay here.”

  Evena let out a relieved sigh. “Thank the Noninity,” she said. “Let’s go.” She took Wyngalf’s arm and led him past Javik, who stared at them in confusion. They went back into the mansion.

  “What… where are we going?” asked Wyngalf.

  “I may have put together a contingency plan,” said Evena.

  “You mean you knew I wasn’t going to deliver your speech?”

  “I wanted it to be your decision,” she replied. “I didn’t want to stand in the way of your destiny, but between you and me, the sooner we get out of this city, the better. There’s a carriage waiting in the alley. I appropriated it and two horses from the city guard, along with three weeks of supplies. Oh, and a chest containing 3,000 gold pieces that I found under Orbrecht’s bed while you were sleeping. I already bribed the guards at the gate, so it will be some time before anyone realizes we’re missing.”

  As she helped him down the stairs, Wyngalf turned to stare in amazement at her.

  “What?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s just… I think I might be in love with you.”

  “Oh, Wyngalf,” she said. “For such a smart man, you certainly are a bit slow at times. You’ve been in love with me since the day we met.”

  Wyngalf nodded, realizing it was true. “But you weren’t in love with me,” he said.

  They had reached the first floor, and Wyngalf was shaky and exhausted. He was looking forward to lying down in the carriage.

  “I saw potential in you,” said Evena.

  “Potential to do what?”

  “To overcome your limitations. Specifically, your need to let other people decide your fate.”

  “And?”

  “To be honest, I’ve had my doubts at times. But recent events have taken a positive turn.”

  They exited the mansion through a servant’s entrance. As promised, a carriage and two horses waited for them in the alley. Evena handed something to a man who stood holding the reins, and together they helped Wyngalf into the carriage. He lay down on the cushioned bench and she tucked a pillow under his head. “Try to get some rest,” she said. “I doubt anyone will care enough about our disappearance to come looking for us, but we should try to get a few miles outside the city before nightfall, just in case.”

  Wyngalf nodded, barely able to stay awake.

  “Sweet dreams, Simply Wyngalf,” said Evena, with a smile. “I hope you’re up for an adventure.”

  AFTERWORD

  The rest of Wyngalf the Bold’s adventures with Evena are, sadly, lost to history. It isn’t known whether they ever reunited with Tobalt, although that seems unlikely. They simply disappeared from Skaal City, never to be heard from again. We can, of course, hope that they had many more exciting adventures.

  Skaal City fell into chaos for several months after their disappearance, until order was finally reestablished by a coalition comprised of several prominent families and the city guard. A few learned patricians from these families assembled a convention to establish the future government of the city. A written constitution, declaring Skaal City to be an “independent republic dedicated to peace and liberty,” was adopted. The republic lasted for three weeks, at which point the city was overrun by barbarian tribes from the south. Garvin, the leader of the recently disbanded city guard, assembled a contingent of armed men to repel the barbarians and then declared himself dictator. He began the practice of pressing young men from the surrounding villages into military service to defend the city. To counter the resentment from these towns, Garvin’s agents began promoting the idea of a region called “Greater Skaal,” which encompassed most of the southwestern part of Dis. Eventually this region became known simply as Skaal, and Gavin’s grandson is generally said to be the first King of Skaal. A similar course of events took place in the north, culminating in the founding of the Thoric Dynasty at Brobdingdon, and Brobdingdon becoming the capital of the nation of Ytrisk. Eventually, both nations were incorporated into the Avaressian Empire (now known as the Old Realm), but the rivalry between them continued for a thousand years, climaxing in the War of the Itchy Coat, with which you are undoubtedly familiar.

  A few sketchy accounts from explorers venturing into the Kalvan Mountains in the first few years after the First Sack of Skaal City tell of encounters with a one-handed goblin engaging in abstruse philosophical discussions with a winged lizard whose size varies from that of a housecat to that of a house, but these stories have generally been dismissed by historians as the delusions of lost travelers deranged from hunger and thirst. In any case, sightings of the eccentric goblin and his dragon grew scarcer over the years, and eventually ceased altogether; goblins—even those of a philosophical bent—don’t live very long. Dragons live much longer, and the fact that Shelly was not seen again for nearly a thousand years after Tobalt’s death is often given as proof that the whole story is a fiction. Dragons don’t simply disappear, after all.

  Another explanation, though, is that Tobalt was largely successful in his training: that he managed to overcome Shelly’s natural tendencies toward avarice and violence, so that even long after Tobalt’s passing, Shelly refrained from attacking human settlements.

  Eventually a dragon did reappear in this region, and there can be little doubt that this dragon, which briefly terrorized several towns in northwestern Blinsk, was the very same Shelly that Tobalt had trained from a hatchling. How do we explain Shelly’s sudden reemergence and change of character, after nearly a thousand years of peaceful solitude? Theories on this abound, but I suspect, based on the desultory nature of the dragon’s offensives, that she was not attempting to subjugate the populace so much as trying to provoke a challenge from Clovis, the Prince of Blinsk, who was widely known as a master swordsman. And of course, anyone familiar with the history of Dis will know that she got her wish.[5]

  Why would Shelly deliberately provoke the encounter that was result in her own doom? Perhaps she feared that in her old age, her natural tendencies would overcome her training, or perhaps she had simply decided that she had lived long enough. Either way, far from being proof of Tobalt’s failure, Shelly’s reappearance can be taken as further evidence that even a dragon can change its ways. And if a goblin can help a dragon overcome its murderous nature, even for a time, then maybe there’s still some hope for the rest of us.

  Review this Book!

  Did you enjoy Distopia? Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon.com! Reviews are very important for getting the word out to other readers, and it only takes a few seconds.

  Other books in the Dis series:

  Disenchanted

  Disillusioned (coming in August 2015)

  More books by Robert Kroese you might enjoy:

  Mercury Falls

  Mercury Rises

  Merc
ury Rests

  Mercury Revolts

  “Mercury Begins” (short story)

  Starship Grifters

  “The Chicolini Incident” (short story)

  Schrödinger’s Gat

  The Foreworld Saga: The Outcast

  The Force is Middling in This One

  Get email updates!

  Want to be the first to know about new books I have coming out? Sign up for my mailing list! Don’t worry; you won’t be barraged with spam. I’ll just email when I have a new book out and for occasional other exciting news. And if you sign up now, you can get free copies of three short books: Into the Dark (And Two Other Stories), Mercury Swings, and Monday Morning in the Mailroom of Good and Evil. These books are only available to mailing list subscribers, so sign up now!

  * * *

  [1] A breed of ray once thought to subsist on sailors who fell overboard, death rays in fact feed on mollusks, crustaceans and, occasionally, naughty children who stray too far from shore.

  [2] Abasmos the Creator, the first person of the Noninity. The name of Abasmos is considered too sacred to speak aloud, so Noninitarians usually refer to him simply as “The First Person.”

  [3] By Xandiss the Auditor, who evaluates the sum total of each person’s actions upon their death using a system that only Xandiss himself fully understands. Orthodox Noninitarianism teaches that Xandiss simply compares a person’s good deeds with his or her wicked deeds and, if a negative balance is found, passes the person’s soul on to Shotarr the Purifier. More recently, some liberal theologians have posited the idea that Xandiss also gives the individual credit for various sorts of obstacles in life that may have made it more difficult for the individual to live a virtuous life. This school of thought, known as Standard Deductionism, is considered heretical by mainstream Noninitarians.