Dryland's End

by Felice Picano

  “Drink up.” P’al offered the pitcher of mead. “I’m most interested in the legend of the founding of this place.”

  “Peat Cutters’ Village? Founded five generations ago,” Nikhil said. “When the peat was exhausted below, the old village was abandoned.”

  “I meant this entire place. All of this Bogland – from its rim to its watery heart.”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “I have time. And the innkeeper has adequate mead, I suppose. Better yet, tell of before the founding. Tell me of the Great Falling Inward.”

  At his last words, several people nearby turned away and began to speak among themselves, uninterested in such old stories.

  “The Great Falling Inward?” Nikhil repeated.

  “In the old homeland.”

  “What is there to tell? There was a great falling inward. Most of the people of The Bog Way were killed or maimed. The canopy bled for years until farmland was flooded, crops drowned, livestock and people starved. Finally those remaining left their homeland. A great exodus with many travails. Leagues of harsh mountain, ice, wild beasts which fed off the sick and dying. Finally the New River was reached, but its land was harsh. The people wandered for a decade. They were chased off by the dwellers of the Old River settlements they came to. Many perished in skirmishes on the unforgiving plain, in the rushing torrents of the river, many more of privation. At last they came to this land, fresh and ready, as though prepared by the same hand which had destroyed them. Here the people settled amid plenty and made of themselves a new nation.”

  “It was formed by the same hand,” P’al said. “What is the true name of this place?”

  “Not to be spoken aloud,” the Legend-Collector whispered. “It’s called Maspiei’s Eye.”

  “And the land the people left – that became known as Maspiei’s Head, didn’t it?”

  “You already know!” Nikhil said.

  “The same Great Falling Inward that destroyed the old homeland carved out this bowl in the plain. Carved out the river that feeds it. Indeed, burnt the plain upon which this Eye sits, so rich and fertile.”

  “That is exactly what the old ones believed. And why they saw this new homeland as a compensation and a reward – at long last.”

  Thereafter, Nikhil seemed subdued. He continued to empty the mead pitcher and to tell legends, but P’al had lost interest. He found and enjoined the innkeeper to find them lodgings. Two rooms were available, and the boy was dispatched to tell ’Harles.

  The inn began to empty out, but ’Harles did not return. ’Dward and Oudma began to nod off, and all were led through a ceramic corridor with many high and split windows to one of several connected dwellings. Oudma went to her chamber, which she would share with her father when he returned. ’Dward half undressed and immediately fell asleep in a second large bed. Ay’r gestured to P’al, and they sat on the smaller bed, whispering.

  “One of us must be there when Alli Clark awakens, or she’ll –”

  P’al interrupted, “From what ’Harles told me, the effect of the Arach venom varies on those stung by it. It’s a powerful soporific and hypnotic drug. Some have never recovered their memory or wits. Others remembered all too well and became prey to terrors, visions of their experience. We must be prepared for the worst.”

  “And her mission?” Ay’r asked.

  “Mostly completed. The Fast would have records of all she found.”

  “And my mission?”

  “We will complete that, within the time period we possess. Now sixty-three days. Or return.”

  “And your mission?” Ay’r tried to shake him.

  P’al didn’t falter. “To aid you. That continues.”

  “Is knowing everything about Pelagia part of aiding me or Alli Clark? The Matriarchy or yourself? Or someone else?”

  “Whom else could it aid?” P’al answered infuriatingly with another question. And when Ay’r didn’t deign to answer, “Shall I join the lad?” he asked, with a Boglander lilt. “Or shall you?”

  “I will,” Ay’r said.

  During the night, ’Dward moved alongside him and wrapped an arm over Ay’r’s body and called him “’Nton.” Even with his “bold feat,” he was still boy enough to miss his brother.

  ’Dward was still asleep when Ay’r roused himself. Unaccustomed to any brightness since he had been on Pelagia, he was surprised to see the high slits in the bedroom admitting shafts of what might almost be called sunlight. Naturally, P’al was already up and gone: Ay’r had slept well following their adventurous day, yet he thought he recalled his companion getting out of bed much earlier, while it was still dark. A quick glimpse outside the room showed the day to be actually brighter than he had been accustomed to, doubtless because of the higher canopy over the Bogland bowl, or some other climatic irregularity.

  Oudma was having breakfast. She told him that P’al had already gone off to the doctor’s house. ’Harles had never arrived at the inn. All this according to the innkeeper’s wife.

  Before she could ask him the question he was awaiting – about Alli Clark and their relationship – Ay’r said, “Your brother sleeps hard.”

  “Dreamlessly,” she agreed. “Especially now that we’re traveling. I’ll wake him.”

  By the time the three had eaten and left the inn, yellow sunlight still shone, but now through a light mist raining down on them. Going through the streets, Ay’r noted that the roads in the center of the village were paved with some kind of ceramic similar to, but more durable than, the dwellings, with narrow gutters scooped out on the sides – perhaps because of the heavy peat wagon traffic.

  They passed several vehicles filled with mostly young male occupants heading out toward the peat fields. Among them was one youth whom Ay’r had noticed at the inn the previous night. Then he had been quiet, at times almost sullen looking, at other times utterly rapt, his handsomely featured face raised to not miss a word of ’Dward’s tale. This Pelagian morn, the youth seemed far more active and outgoing, although in the clearer light he was even more attractive than Ay’r had thought the night before, his body filling out the close-fitting Boglander garments even more voluptuously. He hailed Ay’r and ’Dward as the peat wagon he was in passed by, told the driver to stop, then dropped to the road.

  “These are the Mountain Valley lads I spoke of,” he told his companions. “They battled the giant Arach.”

  To Ay’r and ’Dward, he said, “My name is Varko. They didn’t believe me when I told them.”

  “We believed you!” one protested.

  “You didn’t! And aren’t they handsome as heroes, just as I said they would be?” Varko insisted.

  He threw an arm over both of their shoulders.

  “Tell them how you fought it!” he said, brightly, hugging them as though they were long-lost friends. Ay’r couldn’t help noticing that he all but pushed Oudma out of the way. Rather than protest, she dropped back almost into a doorway.

  Following last night’s exhibitionism, today ’Dward was being shy.

  “Go on, tell them!” Varko tried to draw him out. “This one” – letting go of Ay’r and holding ’Dward – “actually cut off the stinger! He brought it with him.”

  The other Boglanders looked at the Arach battler with respect and began to ask questions.

  Ay’r didn’t hear what one Boglander on the wagon said behind another’s back, but it set some of them laughing.

  “Who laughs at them?” Varko demanded.

  “Not at them, Varko, but at you,” Schorri said. “Only a hero will do for Varko! Though he makes his sisters’ bond-mates fight each other for one of his kisses!”

  The Boglanders all laughed at that. In response, Varko planted a kiss on ’Dward’s mouth. When he pulled away, Varko seemed pleased with himself, and ’Dward a bit embarrassed.

  “Come visit where we work in the peat fields,” Varko said. “We’ll show you much that strangers never discover about The Bog Way.”

  Again Schorri sa
id something that Ay’r didn’t catch, but which set some of the other youths to laughter again. This time Varko ignored the comment, got back onto the wagon, and shouted for the driver to go. He turned around as they lurched off, calling back for Ay’r and ’Dward to come visit them at the peat hills.

  When they were gone, Ay’r said, “They seem a friendly lot.”

  He thought ’Dward was about to answer when Oudma joined them again. Her brother asked where she had gone to.

  “These Bogland boys need to learn some manners,” she said, not hiding her irritation at how they had treated her. To Ay’r she added, “In Monosilla, they don’t ignore unbonded females.”

  Ay’r was about to tell her that, in the Matriarchy, young women were even ruder in shoving aside young males and ignoring them.

  “Perhaps we should have told them you battled the Arach,” ’Dward suggested.

  “While you two cowered, weeping,” she added. And laughed at what seemed to her a ridiculous picture.

  ’Harles was in the infirmary when they arrived a few minutes later. He was sitting by a pallet upon which lay Alli Clark. She had been bathed, wrapped in sheets, and now lay sleeping fitfully. ’Harles looked as though he had been awake most of the night. Dr. Seppi was out on morning visits to the elderly infirm at their dwellings. P’al had come and gone, ’Harles said. He thought to visit Nikhil, the Legend-Collector.

  Oudma immediately began to fuss around Alli Clark, rearranging her bedclothes and sending ’Harles out, insisting that he eat something and rest. She would nurse until the doctor returned.

  Before he left, ’Harles took Ay’r aside.

  “Dr. Seppi has hopes for her. She awakened into fever dreams and began to see what wasn’t there. Naturally, she didn’t know us, but she was too weak to resist, and the fever exhausted her.”

  Ay’r began to say, “I don’t know if it’s your way here, but you have been more than generous with your care and concern for our companion.”

  “Her plight touched me to the heart,” ’Harles’s eyes glanced toward the bed. “Her –” He stopped. “She spoke wildly of strange matters, none of which the doctor or I could understand. Doubtless, she will awaken more comfortably if you are by her side.”

  Ay’r wondered about that. Nevertheless, he sent ’Harles out of the room, surprised by the depth of feeling the older Drylander had expressed.

  “It isn’t our way, usually,” Oudma said. “But I noticed my father’s glances at your companion from the moment you brought her to the Colleys yesterday morning. I’ve not seen him look at anyone like that since Gitte, our mother, died.”

  “To answer your unspoken question, Oudma. Alli is not my bond-mate. Nor P’al’s. The three of us joined up at the last minute for our trip. We scarcely knew each other.”

  “Even so, the two of you possess some familiarity. Therefore, the three of you also shall.”

  “Perhaps.”

  ’Dward felt restless and, after making certain his father had eaten and was resting at the inn, returned to tell them that he might join the friendly peat cutters who had invited him earlier. As ’Dward was leaving, Dr. Seppi arrived, her small son in tow, and after checking her patient, immediately asked if the story he had told was true.

  Before ’Dward could react to the possible insult, she went on, “Because if you still have the stinger, I could try to get some of its venom. That’s how the antidote is made, and it’s very hard to come by.”

  ’Dward returned to the inn and came back carrying the arm’s-length stinger, and offered the trophy to the doctor.

  “I need only the venom,” she said.

  “Take it!” he insisted. “I need no trophy.”

  She inspected the deadly-looking stinger, then took it to another room.

  “If you’re truly going out of doors, be careful!” Oudma instructed her brother as he left. “The Gods!”

  After a while, Alli Clark began to murmur, then mumble in her sleep. Her tossing and turning increased and suddenly she sat up, staring wildly ahead.

  “Alli Clark! It’s Ay’r. You’re safe! P’al is here, too!”

  She looked from him to Oudma.

  “A friend. Her family helped save you from the Arach.”

  To his surprise, Alli Clark pulled Ay’r close. Perspiration had broken out all over her face, and her skin was burning to his touch.

  “There is much you must know if I die,” she whispered fiercely into his ear.

  “You won’t die,” he insisted. “The antidote to the Arach venom will soon help you. Rest now.”

  “No. Listen!” And she pulled him closer, whispering loudly into his ear. “Whatever happens, you must find your father. It is essential – otherwise the Matriarchy is doomed!”

  “But we will find –”

  “Quiet! Listen! A great plague has spread across the galaxy. It strikes Motherhood at its very heart and soul. Reproduction is impossible. The Cybers did it. The plague is itself a Cyber-construct. Every resource in the Matriarchy has been expended to cure it, to no avail. The mechanos knew they couldn’t win the war, so they sent this to us, hoping to outlast us. If no cure is found, this generation will be the last one.”

  “Who shot down your pod?” he asked her.

  “Humes. But that’s unimportant. Wicca Eighth Herself believes that your father alone can save Humekind from this plague. Centuries ago, his findings in mammalian reproduction were already highly sophisticated. So much so that his work, like that of his own teacher Relfi, was considered a threat to the MC. He was banished. Exiled. Wicca believes you yourself may be the result of one such experiment. You must find him and bring him back to Melisande, or the time of our doom is at hand.”

  Ay’r had been trying to follow her words. Now he asked, “Humes shot you down. How?”

  “From T-pods of some sort. With weapons.”

  “Pelagian Humes?”

  “Like us, Ay’r!” She grabbed him tighter, “They were like us, before the ’xchange! Find them! They will lead you to your father. Who is this woman?”

  “Oudma. I told you. A friend. Her father and brother helped us to bring you here?”

  “There was an older woman. And a male, too. He was kindness itself.” She seemed shocked. “Why would he be like that to a stranger?”

  “The woman is the doctor. The man is Oudma’s father, ’Harles Ib’r. Did the males in the T-pods use laser weapons?”

  “Like those on our T-pods, yes. I’m tired. Eve, but I’m tired!” Alli began to close her eyes and fell back.

  “Rest now!” Ay’r said.

  Alli Clark’s eyes opened again, and again she grasped his tunic front and whispered fiercely, “Promise you’ll fulfill my mission and find your father and bring him back to Wicca World. If you fail, all womanhood perishes!”

  “Yes, of course. Rest now. Don’t worry.”

  Oudma mopped Alli’s forehead with cool water, removed the sweat-stained sheets and swabbed Alli Clark’s hot limbs and torso, then covered her with fresh sheets.

  She had just finished when Dr. Seppi came in with a goblet. “We must awaken her enough so she’ll drink this. The venom was fresh, and this antidote should be far stronger than what I had. Her cure will be certain.”

  Ay’r got Alli to drink the liquid. It had no immediate effect, and she fell asleep again. He left the room and went outside where the mist had congealed into a light rain. There he stood, the little Boglander boy at his side, and attempted the seemingly impossible task of sorting out and thinking through all that Alli Clark had just told him.

  Dr. Seppi joined him. “Your friend P’al went with me on my morning visits. He’s very knowledgeable about medicine.”

  “Indeed!” Ay’r would have to talk to P’al about Alli Clark’s rantings, if that’s what they were. Why did they seem to connect, if only in the most random kind of pattern? To make some sort of paranoid sense?

  “He was especially useful with my maternity visits.”

  “Really?” No
w Ay’r was more than politely interested. “In what way?”

  “He knew not only each stage in the seven-month gestation period by sight, but other matters only the most experienced midwives among us know.”

  “He inspected pregnant women?”

  “Three of them. Tomorrow we visit more, in Bottom-most, and at Bog Bay.” He’s a wise man. “He knows much.”

  Exactly how much, Ay’r wondered.

  Ay’r mounted Colley, and though the animal seemed sluggish, it still evinced interest in moving. He planned to head for the Legend-Collector’s dwelling, to which the innkeeper had directed him with a rough map drawn with a finger of spilled mead upon a ceramic tabletop. But almost out of Peat Cutters’ Village, heading north on the same road that had brought them here, other Boglanders hailed Ay’r, stopped him, recognized him as one of the strangers, and said that if he were looking for his hero friend, they had seen him in the Upper Bog, not far away. The road he was on would lead right there.

  He would prefer to face P’al alone, now that his mind was awhirl in questions and speculations fueled by Alli Clark’s blurted confession, and the seemingly supporting information about P’al that Dr. Seppi had added. But the road he was traveling on passed close by an area under peat cultivation, and in the distance, Ay’r could see a half dozen young men at work, standing out among them the taller and more slender figure of ’Dward.

  Ay’r stopped to let Colley nibble gorse at the side of the road and was watching them at work when Ay’r thought he heard a peculiar, yet familiar whizzing sound overhead. It must be the Gods! Now was his chance to see who they were. And more, to warn ’Dward.

  Ay’r dismounted and began running through the lumpy ground in their direction. He had barely gotten out a single shout, which none of them seemed to hear, when his nostrils picked up a sensual and heavy odor, unlike any he had encountered in Bogland before. Although it was sweet, something about it bothered him, setting off alarms in his mind. Ay’r stopped where he was and turned on Alli Clark’s force-field belt to “shield.” He shouted at the young peat cutters once again, but again they seemed not to hear him. In fact, they seemed to have gone perfectly still, as though also listening, or as though they thought that if they froze, they wouldn’t be discovered.