The wondrous farm lands and smooth hills stretched as far as he could see. For some reason his eyes continuously went to the wall of mist in the distance. When he really thought about it, this did not seem that far away. Was the world so small?
Maybe there was a reason for the living to ascend or descend the lift. What worlds might lie beyond? He imagined a level filled with cybernetic animals like Arnold, another full of warriors wearing animal heads as the Wolfhead and Boarheads did here. Dread filled him. What if there were worlds full of savage raiders and mechanically augmented animals bent on mischief?
The panel inside the lift had power. He ran a system check and marveled at how quickly the numbers scrolled across the screen. Arnold leaned against Ryan’s ankles, oddly terrified of the darkness.
“You’re a rat. You like dark, scary places,” Ryan said.
Arnold whined and shook his head several times.
Something didn’t smell right. For a nearly magical structure, the air reminded him of a body being reclaimed by soil.
He finished his work, then closed the panel. No one was going to come inside and see that he had opened it, but he carefully reversed his procedure so that it looked as though it had never been tampered with.
Arnold took several tentative steps into the darkness and disappeared.
Ryan searched for his strange little friend in the darkness. There wasn’t much light coming through the crack in the door or the small control panel he had recently closed. He waited until his eyes adjusted, then explored the small space.
During the two years he had been the Manager for Ascension, he had pushed many corpses into this space. The wheeled funeral pallets were easy to pull back once their spirits had gone up the dark shaft, and more importantly, once the families and friends went on with their lives.
No one wanted to come in looking for bodies and ghosts. And yet it seemed strange he had never been inside.
He inhaled deeply. Goosebumps crawled up his spine. A strange metallic taste coated the inside of his mouth and nostrils as he exhaled.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness.
He looked down and saw a body that was not on a funeral pallet. The clothing was strange and he did not recognize the face. The man had not been dead for long.
He knelt to examine the body, knowing he was going to get exiled from the settlement if caught.
Several minutes passed before he decided what was strange about the corpse. It appeared emaciated despite its freshness. Perhaps the dead stranger had been sick.
Ryan leaned closer, touching the face with his fingertips, then closing the eyes. He didn’t pray or curse or think.
A revelation arrived without emotional fanfare. This man had never eaten well.
The clothing was strange—like a replica of the uniforms he’d seen in ancient manuals. There was one thing he did recognize, however. The dead stranger wore a holster on his belt. It was empty, but the idea of an armed person inside the Funeral Lift for Ascension disturbed him.
Ryan started to sweat. “Arnold, is it hot in here?”
The rat’s nose quivered and wrinkled. Servo-gears in its rear legs twitched softly.
“Nothing to say? No judgement to pass?” Ryan asked.
The rat trembled.
Ryan considered—for about five seconds—removing the body and burying it in the fields beyond the settlement.
He resumed his inspection of the strange corpse. “Looks like he fell.”
Endless darkness filled the shaft above. A few steps in the wrong direction would doom Ryan to the same fate as the dead stranger. Maybe he would fall in to the abyss where Arnold and other creatures came from. The idea was both exciting and horrifying at the same time.
Ryan held a cable as he looked down. “Hello down there!”
Echoes cursed him with his own words.
He stared upward for a time, then returned to the body.
Arnold sniffed a security badge hanging from a lanyard on the man’s neck. Ryan took it and slid it into his pocket. One of the first lessons taught to all Managers was that the badges could open or close new worlds.
“Should I throw the body down the shaft?”
Arnold raised a furry eyebrow.
“So no one finds it.” Ryan forced a laugh. “That’s right, no one will ever come in here to see it. It’s against the rules. That kind of behavior is what gets a fool banished from the settlement. Do you think they would take me in one of the marauding war clans?”
Arnold trotted toward the door.
“Fine. I’ll decide next time.”
Arnold spun around and chittered angrily.
“I have to come back and fix this,” Ryan said, waving a hand.
Arnold chittered and chattered for a long time before shaking his rat head and slipping through the door crack.
Ryan peeked out, waited until he was sure no one was watching, then escaped the forbidden place. He walked back to the village as the sun set. Clouds drifted on the horizon exactly as they did every other day. Nature was the machine that never failed. The thought comforted him after his strange day of discovery. He looked back only once, and only to be sure the elevator tower still went all the way to the sky-ceiling.
Like it always had.
Since the beginning of time.
The road into the village curved so that one end was never visible from the other. During his training to become a Manager he had read an explanation for this design paradigm. All infrastructure followed similar rules. He didn’t understand the logic, but knew the builders had wanted the illusion of endlessness.
What he didn’t understand was the implication that there was an end to the world—an edge beyond which nothing existed. He thought of the wall and the travelers and their stories. There had not been a traveler for some time, which made sense because they went dangerous places and were unwelcome in most settlements and villages. Not even the war clans dared the edge of the world. Fortune didn’t always favor the bold.
Neat rows of dwellings lined the road. Every shop was organized according to the code of the ancients. Some enterprising men and women had built on top of the original structures with new materials. Structures leaned when they should stand straight. Most were far older than Ryan.
Around the first corner came Esmerelda, her blonde hair flowing over the shoulders of her green tunic. Even from this distance he could tell she was smiling just for him. Gentle spots—a leopard pattern of soft brown, tan, and maroon—crossed the bridge of her nose, complementing her humanity and connecting her to other natural creatures. She moved with the grace of a cat, he thought, and purred when she was happy with him.
His heart beat faster. Celibacy was an implied oath for the Ascension Manager. It was, in fact, expected of all managers but only his caste followed the unspoken rule. He wished he could go back in time and punch the first AM in the face for this dumb tradition.
Esmerelda never hurried. Not when anyone could see her enthusiasm.
He proceeded forward with all the dignity he could muster and forgot about the corpse in the lift. Arnold complained about his pace. Ryan picked up the cyborg rat and bounced him on his shoulder.
Esmerelda greeted him and laughed. “Arnold sets off your wardrobe perfectly. Are grease stains also in fashion?”
He looked at his work smock and realized he had made more of a mess in the darkness than he realized. “I had to make some repairs. That’s never clean work.”
“I guess not,” Esmerelda said. “Have you spoke to the council about the silly traditions of your caste?”
Ryan wanted to tell her he had, but it would be a lie.
She saw his answer before he could speak. “I don’t know why you are afraid of them. You succeeded in manager training when few others did. They cannot doubt your devotion.”
He started to speak but she beat him to it.
“I don’t see that many of them are devoted. They do what they want when they want and would never put their betrothed as
ide for the sake of duty.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” he said.
She didn’t look convinced.
Several respected men from the settlement passed by, bowing as they acknowledged Ryan.
“Blessings, Manager,” one said.
The others voiced similar greetings.
Esmerelda curtsied then stuck her tongue out at their backs.
Ryan laughed.
“What?” she asked. “Should I respect them when they ignore me? They act as though I’m still promised to you, which is impossible, as we all know.”
“It’s not impossible,” he said.
“So you talked to them?”
“I didn’t. Listen, I have other problems right now.”
“Oh really? Is one of those problems a young lady who desires to be an apprentice manager?”
“You can’t be jealous of me,” he said.
“I can, and I will. You told me many times that I was irrational. I thought it was a cute compliment at the time.”
He took her by both arms and looked her in the eyes. “I will always love you, even if we can’t be married.”
She laughed a bit crazily.
“The Wolfhead Clan is coming. I received a message that the clan leader’s son-in-law died in battle and they desire to see his spirit ascend in the lift. But the lift isn’t working right,” he said. “The doors won’t glide open. I have to pry them apart.”
She froze and stared back at him. “Can you fix the problem?”
“I think so.”
“I hate the ceremony,” she said. “When I die, you can just bury me in the field. Plant flowers on top of me.”
“I won’t need to plant flowers. They will know where to grow.”
She took his hand as they walked.
Feeling defiant, he continued to hold her hand even when prominent members of the settlement gave him the eye as they passed.
He walked her home, returned to his own cottage, and slept poorly. He was grateful the Wolfhead Clan had not arrived but knew is luck could not hold forever.
* * *
WOLFHEADS arrived in force. They camped near the road leading out of the settlement, blocking anyone from coming or going. Ryan watched them from the porch of his cottage and sipped his first coffee of the morning. Arnold sunned himself lazily. Esmerelda had not made her morning visit. She came later and later each month.
The Wolfhead clan leader was called Cannon and he was fierce even from a distance. Broad shouldered and taller than most men, he rarely let go of his battle axe. The bone structure of his face and arch of his back resembled the animals his people loved dearly. With long, powerful legs and coarse hair, he appeared lupine and deadly.
The wolf head he wore as a helmet was old but well kept. A piece of the creature’s nose was missing, victim of a sword slash. The long mane of fur was faded from weather and other abuse. A trio of young women with sharp faces and gray eyes stood behind him brushing the wolf pelt with expensive ivory combs as he sat on a portable stool.
His favorite warriors occupied shorter stools and listened to him talk. Ryan did not know their rituals but suspected this was something they did each day. Most of the chief’s audience seemed young and fit. Older warriors patrolled the camp and gave orders to their subordinates.
Ryan smelled fresh baked bread before he saw Esmerelda approach his cottage. She opened the gate at the front of the small yard and walked up the carefully arranged stones. On one arm was a basket full of fresh pastries in the other was a picnic tablecloth.
She hugged him without putting down their breakfast.
He didn’t want to let go of her.
After several moments, she twisted free and put the basket and the tablecloth on the railing of his porch. Then she embraced him again and gave him a proper kiss. “I have been thinking that kissing is not against your vows.”
“I agree completely. Come to think of it, I only the promise not to marry. Never said a thing about actual chastity.”
She smiled mischievously. “Then let’s go inside.”
He kissed her again and after another long embrace they sat on the porch and ate breakfast.
No food ever tasted as good as Esmeralda’s breakfast.
“You should go speak to the Wolfhead chief before he meets with the settlement elders,” Esmerelda said.
He nodded and put Arnold inside.
“You’re not taking your pet?” Esmerelda asked.
Ryan shook his head. “For people who wear animal heads, they’re squeamish about mechanical rats.”
Arnold jumped up and down, squeaking and shaking his head madly.
“Stay.”
“Squeak, squeak, squeak.” Arnold hopped up and down as he gesticulated his forepaws.
“Fine. But be quiet,” Ryan said as he slipped the creature into the folds of his shirt.
He sipped his second coffee of the morning as he walked out of the settlement. Wolfhead Clan sentries met him at the edge of their camp. He raised the steaming cup in salute. They bowed and stepped aside.
He waited a respectful distance from the chief as the man finished the story of a great battle. Once the young warriors and the gathering of attractive young women were suitably impressed, Cannon waved Ryan closer. “Welcome, Manager.”
Ryan again lifted his coffee in salute. He had learned by accident the last time the Wolfhead Clan visited that this gesture amused the barbarians. He had seen them toast each other with mugs of ale and mead but never during daylight and never preceding a battle.
It seemed that every day was a day before a battle for the war clans.
The only thing that prevented bodies from piling up outside the Ascension lift were the rules of warfare. Injuries were common and death did happen, but not like in the histories. This world was not so vast that human life could be wasted. We of the war clans stand ready to defend the realm from invaders whether they come from above, below, or beyond, they said whenever they had an audience—as though the mantra made any kind of sense.
“Greetings, Chief Cannon,” Ryan said.
They exchanged pleasantries and honorifics. The mild morning weather made it feel like a friendly reunion. Ryan waited as long as he could before breaking the news. Timing was important. Too soon would be interpreted as a deliberately rude offense. Delaying too long would be considered an effort to hide treachery.
Three representatives from the settlement council arrived and quietly took their places according to custom. They did not speak or salute the chief with coffee. They sat on stools even shorter than those of the young warriors and kept their hands folded in their laps.
“I honor and respect the fallen of your clansmen,” Ryan said. “It saddens me to inform you that the Ascension Lift is closed for repairs.”
“What?” Cannon grunted.
The three representatives from the settlement stared in horror. During that frozen moment, Ryan thought they looked like Arnold’s litter mates—bigger but just as cunning.
“Unacceptable,” Cannon said. He stood, causing the young women who had been combing the wolf mane to scatter.
Ryan Priest made apologies, letting them argue until they nearly forgot about his presence. Nearly forgotten was not the same thing as all the way forgotten.
“Manager Priest,” the settlement spokesperson said. “When will you have the lift repaired for the most honorable Chief Cannon?”
“I don’t need you to speak for me,” Cannon said. He stood and pushed out his broad chest as he loomed over them. “I have brought the corpse of my son-in-law. Did you not receive my message? How could you let this happen?”
“I received the message. Nothing is more important than the ritual. It is a great honor to receive your son-in-law. His return to the soil will ensure three seasons of superior crops.”
Cannon stared at him—clearly aware of the complement Ryan had paid him and his clansmen—then the settlement elders for many long moments. “When will the Funeral Lift for Asce
nsion be ready?”
“As soon as possible,” Ryan said. “I should return to my work.”
* * *
THE Boarhead Clan arrived before Ryan could leave the Wolfhead camp. He rose to his feet and watched the solemn parade marching down the road to the sound of drums and metal chimes.
“Those fiends have no respect for the old ways!” Cannon roared, coming to his feet with clenched fists. “They have already taken my son. Can they not leave us to grieve in piece?”
Cannon’s bodyguards held him back, tumbling several of the settlement leaders from their chairs in the commotion.
Ryan searched for a quicker way to extricate himself from the scene. All around him were men wearing wolf heads and pelts as they shouted and cursed the new arrivals. Women screamed, tore their hair, and pounded their breastbones.
“They do not care about the sacred ceremony of tradition. They come only to humiliate us as we grieve!” Cannon said. “Bolo, send your fastest runners to each of our allies. If the Boars want to fight on sacred ground then we will irrigate it with the blood of our enemies.”
Ryan Priest ignored the people from his settlement who tried to calm the chieftain. “Come on, Arnold. Let’s get to work.”
The rat peeked out from under his arm, sniffing the air skeptically.
The women around Chief Cannon hissed and pointed at the cyber-rat. Ryan covered the rat with his hands and hurried away from the chaotic scene.
Ryan heard the drums and cymbals of Canon’s people competing with the drums and chimes of the Boarhead Clan. Arnold chittered in his ear as though trying to tell him something, but he didn’t listen. All he could think about was the disappointment in Esmerelda’s eyes and the disaster that was about to befall the settlement.
Dealing with the Wolfhead Clan would have been bad enough, but now the Boarheads were here and Hawkwing clan was not far behind them. The Hawks were by far the largest and most technologically advanced clan but he doubted they would take sides. Some of the men in the settlement spread rumors that they would take over all the clans after the Wolfheads and Boarheads destroyed each other. It was whispered that the leader of the Hawkwing Clan had traveled to other worlds and stolen weapons from the gods.
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