by CW Tickner
‘It’s time we went back,’ Harl said, wondering how they were to navigate through the deep darkness and wishing he had Gorman’s talents.
Harl threaded his way through the dark woodland, Sonora’s hand clutched in his own. But there seemed to be a storm brewing. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was that life seemed so perfect at the moment? Something like that couldn’t last forever; everything withered and died in the end. But there was a growing uneasiness in the back of his mind over the last few cycles and he had to get to the bottom of it. He had a feeling that Gorman was as the heart of it.
If only he knew what the old man was hiding.
Harl knocked on Gorman’s bedroom door to announce their return. The fire was crackling in the hearth to cast the only light across the room. A heaviness filled the air as though a thousand ears were straining to hear what came next.
When the old man opened the door and shuffled into the room, he looked tired, as if he had been waiting patiently all cycle for them to come home while dark thoughts weighed on his mind.
He looked at them knowingly once Harl had asked the question.
‘I have wondered how long it would be before you came to me asking this,’ he said. ‘I will tell you what I know. Much of it I have been told by others, but a lot of what follows are the thoughts that have plagued me through the darkness of my life.’
He sat as usual in his chair by the fire and leaned back. His face darkened in the flickering light.
‘Firstly, I know that life has not always been this way. How it was before I cannot say, but I do know there was a time when the people knew much more than they do now.’
He pulled the small knife from his tunic and toyed idly with it in one hand, rolling it expertly across his knuckles.
‘The tools and weapons humans used in the past were more potent than any now in existence, maybe with the exception of my knife. I believe that the gods, as we think of them, are nothing but a different race, such as we are from the cows or the goats. They ensnared us using their greater strength and cunning and imprisoned us in these worlds. Also, as you now know for certain, the world is bigger than anyone realises. I remember Harl, that you spoke to me of a group of strangers placed in your own land who died within a short space of time from unknown respiratory problems.’
‘The tale of the three men, yes,’ Harl said, eager for more information.
‘Since you have come,’ Gorman continued, ‘much has been revealed to me. I believe these strangers came from outside all the worlds you saw out in the vision. I think they may even have come from further than the vision.’
He took out a small flask from his robe, unscrewed the top and took a swig before continuing.
‘For where do the gods go at the end of the cycle? To their own world is my guess, whether or not they themselves are trapped in a cube, I know not. I am not a philosopher or priest and cannot fathom as much as that.’
Harl was trying to take in what the old man was saying and leaned forward in his chair to focus on Gorman’s words.
Gorman paused for a long time before continuing.
‘There is a world beyond the vision, one that is as for the gods as our own world is to us. In that land there once dwelt an advanced tribe of people. They created works of intricate skill that none alive can now reproduce. My knife is an example of such work, although I am sure they made objects far more complex than a simple blade. They are not trapped by the constraints of barriers and walls as we are here and it is my guess that the strangers you spoke of came from those people. Why they died is another matter, but from what you told of your own experience within the vision, I would hazard a guess that the air is poisonous and deadly after a short time. I can deduce then that the wild folk have adapted to that air, just as we have adapted to ours within the barriers, and to force a person from one realm to breathe the air from the other would mean eventual death. Seeing as you suffered no ill effect coming into our land, I believe all the cube worlds contain the same air to a similar degree.’
Harl was so overwhelmed by this information and the guesses that the old man presented, that he wasn’t able to respond right away. But he longed to test the theories. He felt even more trapped than before. Did people really exist beyond the Sight?
Gorman must have sensed his thoughts and frowned. ‘It is only a guess, mind you, and I cannot confirm any of it. Venturing outside without precautions would be unwise, Harl.’
Sonora spoke up at this. ‘I too feel the longing grandpa, at least to see further than the vision’s end on the other side of the barrier.’
‘Of course, my dear,’ Gorman continued. ‘You’ve been adventurous as long as I have known you and wandered the forests every turn, even as a child. But I ask both of you to delay such thoughts for the moment. I fear the time may soon come when no choice is left but to try.’
With that he broke off the talk and sat in his own thoughts for a time.
‘Has it anything to do with the blacking illness that I have seen in the town?’ Sonora asked eventually.
‘It does,’ Gorman said, shifting in his seat, ‘but the first case was reported many cycles ago, so I think time is on our side. He took another swig from his bottle and sat back. ‘I spoke with one of the roofers at your new place Harl, and at least two of the other men had not come into work that cycle. I did some investigating among the other workers and they all confirmed that the disease has spread among the farmers of the valley. Specifically those who worked the fields, pulling weeds and such, and that it started in their hands. The tips would blacken and the discolouration would spread up their arms, then their close family members would contract it.’
‘I have heard the same,’ Sonora said. ‘Mendle passed away ten cycles ago and he was a healthy man to start with. Now his brother has come down with it.’
‘How go things down in the town?’ Gorman asked.
‘People are starting to realize this illness might stick around unless serious action is taken,’ she said, ‘and I haven’t seen the council doing anything to try and stop it.’
‘And the guards?’ Gorman asked. ‘I heard from the workers that Felmar has been causing you trouble.’
‘Yes,’ Sonora admitted. ‘He’s approached me twice now, both times while drunk and boasting of his bedroom exploits.’
Harl didn’t like where this could all lead.
‘I don’t think it is safe for you to go into town at the moment,’ Gorman said, obviously sharing Harl’s concern.
‘What about my potions?’ she asked. ‘The people need them.’
‘Have one of the letter boys take them,’ he said. ‘It may cost a bit more, but it will save a lot of trouble as things worsen in the town. Both of you must stay out of there as much as you can. We have everything we need for a few turns and with Felmar stumbling around tanked up on Olger’s brew, things will be dangerous in town. Harl, will you go hunting next cycle? Sonora, you go with him. Afterwards you must both scout the town and farms to see what is happening. Have a look from a distance and keep away from anyone you might see. We need to know how fast the disease is spreading. Then we can better guess how much time we have left.’
Sonora shifted in her seat. ‘What happens when we run out of time Grandpa?’
‘Then the tank will turn on itself and we’ll have to run to escape the chaos.’
Chapter 16
I have begun to categorize the lesser creatures I found living alongside them. It seems that like the jig weevil they have developed a crude form of husbandry.
Harl held the arrow fully drawn on the bow, the tension in his arms threatening to give way as he made tiny adjustments to the angle. The deer crept into sight again, its ears twitching for suspicious sounds. They had tracked it through the forest and it was only by Sonora’s skill that they had not spooked it. She had suggested a path to cut through the trees that intersected perfectly with where the deer now cropped at the lush grass.
He released the arrow and watched as the
deer toppled sideways, the arrow lodged deep in its head.
Sonora let out a cry of triumph, hunching low as she slipped past Harl into the clearing and knelt beside the crumpled animal, pulling a knife from her belt.
‘A clean kill,’ she said, tucking the knife away, obviously pleased she did not have to finish it off. She tugged the arrow free and inspected the head before handing it to Harl.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ Harl said, looping the bow over his shoulder as he bent to pick up the carcass. He slung the heavy load over his other shoulder and walked back through the woods.
Gorman had sent them out to hunt knowing that it would save Sonora a trip into town to buy food and supplies. Harl’s own work had dried up due to the lack of farmers tending the fields. Whatever had happened, he did not want to go down to find out.
They headed for a spot just on the edge of the forest that overlooked the rolling fields around the town. Harl placed the deer on the ground and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Sonora as she stared down across the calm river. Something was out of place, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
‘There is no one in the fields,’ Sonora said.
She was right. Usually the fields around the town were a bustle of workers and oxen, but he couldn’t see anyone weeding, ploughing, or gathering in the over-ripe harvest.
‘No guards at the gate either,’ he said, shielding his eyes from the light as he peered towards the end of the bridge where it ended by the gates.
They could still see a scattering of people moving around below, but compared to forty cycles ago it was desolate. Tall weeds sprouted above the neat rows of plants and the water mills along the river bank stood still.
The fear of going down into town to find out the truth knotted his stomach. When he didn’t think of the disease, life up in the forest was idyllic. But when he thought about town and the disease festering in the streets he just shivered all over. He wished the three of them could survive up here alone forever, but he knew in his heart that they would have to deal with town in the end.
They reached the cottage just as the light above the world cut out. Harl opened the door to let Sonora pass and light the candles. He squeezed through sideways to avoid knocking the deer on the door frame and used his foot to close the door.
‘Any luck?’ Gorman asked from his chair by the fireplace.
‘Yes,’ Harl said, slinging the deer on the stone floor. ‘But it was difficult. The fields around town are completely deserted, but we did spot a few people in the streets.’
‘I meant for dinner,’ Gorman said, chuckling to himself. ‘But I can smell something. What is that?’
‘A deer, grandpa,’ Sonora said as she finished the candles and sagged into a chair.
‘Well done, both of you,’ Gorman said, raising his flask in tribute and taking a long swig. ‘Start a stew going, my child, and we’ll talk about what you saw down in the valley.’
Sonora smiled, but it failed to cover up the tiredness in her blue eyes. She rose and headed for the kitchen counter as Harl grabbed a handful of vegetables from a bucket in the pantry and began chopping.
Gorman sat in silence after the meal. When their tale had finished, he had walked over to his fireside chair and slumped into it, his face clouded with worry. Sonora was clearing empty plates from the table and kept glancing at Harl in concern as Gorman’s silence continued.
‘Gorman?’ Harl asked.
The old man sighed. ‘I’m sorry, my lad. I didn’t realise that the disease had grown as bad as that. It has shaken me.’
Without saying a word, Harl and Sonora moved over to sit down next to him.
‘The time for action is nearing,’ he said, ‘but I must ask a favour of you both. It is essential that you make one final trip into town before the rule of law breaks down and looting begins, if it hasn’t already. You must take the cart and bring back all the supplies you can. Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. We will need food and equipment for what we must do. Purchase sturdy clothing and satchels to carry what you need if you must leave.’
‘But,’ interrupted Harl, ‘we have no way to escape. We’ve talked for many cycles about it. There’s no way to leave this damned prison.’
Harl slumped back in his chair and pulled his knees up under his chin. Just waiting to be struck ill by the blackness chilled him to the bone, but the thought of watching Sonora and Gorman blacken and die from the sickness… He had to clench his fists to stop them from trembling.
Gorman must have heard the strain in his voice.
‘Don’t worry, my lad,’ he said. ‘I have a plan, but first you must find the supplies.’ He leant forward in the chair. ‘This blacking disease will be the end of our world. There is no fighting it. But men’s souls will blacken long before their bodies. In the final days people will turn to dark deeds.’
Sonora looked as worried as Harl felt. He moved his hand into hers and she gripped him back tightly.
‘Take what you need from my valuables,’ Gorman said. ‘The trade prices will be excessive, I’m sure, but it will not matter any more.’
‘We’ll leave early,’ Harl said.
Gorman leant back into his chair and closed his eyes. Harl had never seen him look so old and frail. The old man turned towards the window and opened his eyes to gaze sightlessly out into the dark.
‘We are racing death, Harl, and I fear we have already lost.’
Chapter 17
I’ve collected the flora they seem to use and have started to create a compendium of the various species and sub species.
The gates to the town were sealed shut as Sonora and Harl crossed the long stone bridge that led up to them. Black smoke lingered above the houses from a recent fire. It felt like a grim shadow of the disease creeping over the streets. A single thin-looking guard eyed them suspiciously as they stopped the squeaking cart in front of him.
‘Why are the gates closed?’ Sonora asked.
‘Orders,’ the young soldier said. He opened his mouth as if ready to recite a mantra.
‘Well open them up,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘People inside will need healing.’
‘I’ll ‘ave to speak with the ‘igh ups and get permission to-’
Sonora took a quick pace forward, startling the man. He stumbled backwards, rattling the wooden gates when he collided with them.
‘Open these doors,’ she said, standing over him and poking a gloved finger against his chest. ‘Or you and those closest to you will be last on the list for medicine should they be struck down.’
Her words had an instant effect on the man and he clasped the iron ring set in the door and tugged it open.
‘S-sorry, miss. It’s just things ‘ere ‘ave been bad. I meant nothing by it.’
‘Bad how?’ Harl asked. He eased the hand cart down and rubbed his back.
The guard shook his head.
‘Grim. I’ve not seen the like before. People are turning on each other or refusing to ‘elp.’
‘It can’t be that bad, surely,’ Sonora murmured. ‘These people are friends and neighbours.’
The guard shook his head.
‘Not acting like neighbours no more. Fear clouds the mind, miss. I’ve seen friends murder each other out of fear. I guess when a man’s back is against the wall, there ain’t no telling what ‘e’ll do.’
He turned to Harl and slashed a finger across his throat, then shrugged. ‘But I’ve not seen it this bad. People is scared, miss. Scared. There’s not much can fix that.’
‘And the smoke?’ Harl asked.
The guard shifted uneasily.
‘Bodies,’ he said. ‘Too many to bury. Glad I got outside duty. The smell don’t travel through the wall.’
When they passed the gate, Harl was shocked at the quiet that had been cast over the streets. A few stalls were open for trade, displaying a meagre mix of supplies, but of the people he could see, most were wrapped in layers of clothing as if to hide their features undern
eath. The stench was as bad as the man had said, a rancid, festering taint that assaulted the nostrils. He attempted to pull his coat collar up over his mouth and nose, but gave up, accepting the foul odour with a grimace. Carts stacked with bodies lay abandoned at the side of the road. Flies were crawling over them in a black shifting mass. Some people were slumped against the sides of buildings as though their strength had left them, while their neighbours hurried past ignoring their pleas for help. One of the figures rose on unsteady legs and staggered her way towards Harl and Sonora.
‘Elaine?’ Sonora asked as the ragged woman approached. The old lady’s legs gave way and Sonora swept in to support her.
Harl almost pulled Sonora back when he saw the woman’s headwrap slip. Dark, shadowed lines streaked her craggy skin as if slowly engulfing her face.
She saw Harl’s look of shock and grabbed at the dirty shawl, drawing it tight about her face.
‘Have you anything to help?’ she asked, glancing hopefully at Sonora then at the satchel which usually carried Sonora’s potions.
‘I only have something to ease the pain,’ Sonora said.
Elaine burst into a fit of phlegmy coughs. Her blackened fingers balled into a fist and a splatter of crimson flecked the dark skin.
‘Can you wait until we come back?’ Sonora said, once the hacking cough had passed. ‘We won’t be long. Meet us here on our way out.’
Elaine nodded and shuffled back towards the spot against the house wall, where she slumped down once more onto a jumble of ragged cloth scraps.
‘This is dreadful,’ Sonora said as they headed across to one of the remaining market stalls.
They passed two men arguing over a small sack of food. One of the men had drawn a knife, shielding it from view and keeping an eye out for the guards while he forced the other man to hand over the bag.
Harl touched a gloved finger to his belt, feeling for his own knife, glad that he had brought it with him. His bow was a visual deterrent on his shoulder, but at close range it would be useless against a determined attacker.
