The Intern (The Forbidden World Book 1)

by Garry Ocean

  “Perhaps, we are yet to see it, Sith,” Nick agreed with the boy.

  “Yes, of course we are!” the boy’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “So, where was I? Ah, yes… Ron didn’t have much time to watch, though. He ran back to the village. It started to go dark soon after that. So deep in the Forest, of course, it is light even at night. Not as during the day, of course, but one could see well about twenty steps ahead. And still, Ron decided to camp for the night. It was no joke – running for four days and three nights. He found a little meadow, dry enough and far enough from the hollowed trees and made himself comfortable there. He decided not to start the fire, lest to disturb the Forest. He started to doze off, tired and exhausted, and then he heard a very faint cracking. As if someone stepped on a tree branch. He said he should have run from there right then. But who could guess it were the cold-haters? So Ron pretended to be sleeping, but he was in fact peeking through his eyelashes.”

  “This is when he saw them. They were walking slowly, turning their heads around, as if they were trying to find and smell something out. But what can they smell or see with? They have neither eyes nor nose. And they are so white that they have a blue hue to them. Ron said that just looking at them made him shiver. And how could it not? They are called cold-haters for a reason. They were getting closer to Ron. And Ron said, he was sitting frozen, he could not get up or even raise his spear. He felt the cold coming from them. There must have been a lot of them in that meadow. If there had been only two or three, Ron of course would have run from them. What else could he do? Just sit and watch them approaching him,” Sith shivered at the image.

  “And what are these cold-haters?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sith shrugged. “The elders say that these are the souls of the disappeared hunters wandering in the Forest. They say that they are cold all the time, so they are looking for the living to warm them. Only, after this a person will become a cold-hater too.”

  “So what did Ron do then?” Nick was obviously intrigued.

  “What could he do?” Sith shrugged again. “In this situation, the only thing left was to call for Morok. Not yours, the Departed, right?”

  “And how does one call Morok?” Nick exclaimed, unexpectedly for himself.

  “Wow, Nick, you are so clueless!” the boy shot a serious look at him. “At a moment like this, everyone calls him in his own way.”

  “And? What happened?” Nick asked eagerly.

  “Ron does not like talking about this. I have overheard this story when he drank too much mead with his body hunters. He told that after he had called, he felt as if his whole body were engulfed in heat. And right next to him, at an arm’s distance, out of the thin air It appeared. Looked like an animal, but not anything like Ron had ever seen before. And you know, Ron had seen so many different beasts in the Forest; you can’t count them all. It roared so loudly that Ron could feel it in his bones, and the cold-haters stopped in their tracks. Despite his fear, Ron tried to look at Morok, discern it, but he couldn’t. He said, ‘I could feel it next to me. Could feel its body heat. Hot breath. I could see it out of the corner of my eye, but if I looked straight at it, it just blurred into a haze.’ Ron said he felt calm and at peace like never before. And suddenly, he said, ‘I could see as if I am an observer, my mother sitting next to my ill brother’s bed. It was so clear that I got scared, thought I’d led the cold-haters to my house. Then I saw myself running away from the herd of mad yellowbellies. I was looking at this as if from above, like I was sitting in a high tree. Then I see myself tearing the root out of the swamp, and that’s it. Don’t remember anything after that.’ Ron came to when the Orphius was already high in the sky, faraway from that meadow. Looking at his swollen and torn feet and scratches all over his body, he decided that he must have run like crazy for the whole night.”

  “And that’s how the story goes, Nick,” Sith finished his narration.

  “So, let’s see, Sith. What do we have here? It seems that your morok is a kind one and always comes to the rescue to those in need of help?”

  “What’s wrong with you, Nick, who told you so?” the boy looked at him, sincerely puzzled. “Some people say he snatches children away from their homes.”

  “But of course,” Nick grinned, showing all his teeth. “Let me guess,” he said, making a scary face, “and then he gobbles them up!”

  “You are a fool, Nick!” the boy was clearly offended. “And what is this stupid habit of yours to grin all the time? Morok can help, but he can also crush you like a tree worm. There are lots of stories like this. One time he lured the hunters from the Lower Village…”

  “Why are you telling your high tales so early in the morning?” Whisperer’s creaking voice interrupted, “Waking good people up, interrupting their sleep?”

  “It’s nothing,” Sith finally got off the bed. “We were just talking, right, Nick?”

  “Run along, wake up our hunters, lest they destroy the house with their snoring,” Whisperer got up with a groan and started to dress. “Tell them to get ready. We will go have lunch and in the evening Nick and I are expected by a very respected man.”

  ********

  Cleo opened her eyes. The tender Orphius's rays were breaking through the heavy canopy of her bed. She was in a joyous mood. The girl caught herself thinking that she was smiling for no reason. She frowned as if trying to remember something. She clearly had a good dream about something today, but what? Some light, a man’s face, as it seemed. Yes, a very handsome face. He seemed to be smiling at her. Yes, exactly. He was very pleasant, with an open and sincere smile. She tried to remember his facial features, but, as it happens, the more you try to remember your night dream the more elusive it becomes. She was only left with a pleasant feeling of something good and light.

  Cleo shook her thick hair and it fell on her shoulders in beautiful wavy locks. The girl got up from her bed, widely opening the canopy. The Orphius was pouring its light into her large bedroom. The marble floor, tiled by the skilful masters from the White Rocks, was sparkling in its rays. Barefoot, Cleo came up to a large window taking up the entire wall. Her bedroom was in the highest tier of the Main Tower.

  Down below, the Great City was spreading. She could see it like it was in the palm of her hand. Cleo smiled. The city was at full steam in preparations for the First Exodus celebration. The streets were full of cargo carts, masters were decorating the city walls with colorful flags. Ordinary citizens were trying to finish up their work. The celebration will continue for the whole three days and three nights. During that time, according to the old tradition, no one was allowed to work lest they call up the beasts from the Forest.

  In the northern part of the city, the Arena stood on a hill. Cleo knew that the preparation for the Ritual was going on there at full swing. The Ritual was the celebration’s main and most anticipated event. It would attract not only the city residents, but also folks from all nearby lands.

  Today, they expected a large delegation of alvars to arrive. They were the ruling cast of warriors from the White Rocks. The city was living in peace with alvars since the times of Archy the Wise who had put an end to the endless war for the iron mines.

  And tomorrow, they planned to meet the Leader of the High Ghurt of the steppe dwellers with his large entourage. Cleo wrinkled her little nose. She did not like these dirty, badly smelling salvages.

  When she was 12 and ran away from home, she had to wander around the endless steppe for over a month. Praise to the Departed, Gunn-Terr with his warriors finally found her. Several times, pining from the heat and exhaustion, the girl approached the stepp dwellers’ camps hoping to ask for help and shelter. But not a single one let her inside his tent. Even though there had been no open fights between the City and the High Gurt for over twenty years, the firm hatred of the city residents seemed to have been inherited by the steppe dwellers through their mothers’ milk.

  The only person who gave her shelter then was a very old woman, a herm
it. She lived alone and never told Cleo her name. When bidding her good-bye, the old woman put a crude clay figurine of a man into the girl’s hand. Cleo looked at it in surprise, and the old woman lisped in a whisper, “Take it, my girl, don’t be afraid. It’s an ongon, it will point the one destined for you when the time comes.” Out of politeness, Cleo asked, “How is it going to point him to me?” The old woman smiled with her toothless mouth and said, “When you meet him, the ongon will fall apart into dust.”

  “Should I wear this ongon to the Ritual?” Cleo wrinkled her forehead in deep thought. “Perhaps, some brave one will show up, taking up the challenge of the Big Hunt? Nonsense, of course, everyone knows that it is a sure death. And if something like this indeed happens, then, according to the Ritual’s rules, I will not be able to reject the winner, whether I like him or not,” Cleo smiled when she remembered her father’s words about the youngest daughter of Archy the Wise.

  “Ah, there you are!” the girl said excitedly. While her head was busy with the thoughts of the upcoming celebration, Cleo was rummaging through her numerous chests and jewelry boxes. “Let me try you on. It’s highly unlikely that you would go with my dress. Although, its high collar will cover all of my neck and I will be able to wear you underneath it.”

  Cleo came up to the mirror and tried to put the clay man to her chest.

  “Well, how do I put you around my neck?” the horse hair that the rope was made of would not want to tie.

  “Ops!” the knot untied and the clay man fell on the marble floor with a quiet thump.

  “So clumsy! I’ve been keeping it whole for so many years,” Cleo said with tightly closed eyes. Afraid it broke, she looked down squinting, expecting to see the broken pieces all over the floor. But no, the ongon was there, whole and without a scratch. It just rolled under the chair. Cleo sat on her knees and took it into her hands.

  “You are a tough one, aren’t you?” she inspected it for chipped pieces and scratches. It was just the way it had been. “I would have never thought!”

  Cleo carefully put it back into the box and closed the lid. “Now I absolutely have to put it on!” the girl decided. “I’ll just ask my maid to tie it on the back of my neck.”

  ********

  Nick was standing on the dusty paving stone and observed the locals with curiosity. The city was bustling with life. Nick, already accustomed to the slow-paced life in the Valley, now was turning his head to all sides in surprise. The first thing he noticed immediately was the colorful and completely different clothes of the local residents. It seemed like they were in “the most unique dress” competition. The concept of fashion seemed to not exist at all.

  The only exclusion was the guards who were standing out in the busy crowd. There were lots of them everywhere. In the middle of the square, there was a platform on which a crier stood and announced, not stopping for a second, an appeal to participate in some ritual. His voice was very loud and well trained. This is why, even through the loud crowd, Nick still could hear parts of his speech.

  “…to challenge the fate!” the crier was shouting. “To win the beautiful girl’s heart… to earn the Highest Request!”

  “Why is Whisperer taking so long,” Nick thought. He was already getting tired of the crowd around him. In addition, the air was full of stink from various wastes. Nick remembered reading in his schoolbooks about the Earth’s cities in Medieval Era. People at that time were just pouring their waste right in front of their houses. It didn’t look like that here, but Nick had no doubts that a septic hole was somewhere near.

  Valu, Ron, and Sith stayed to spend some time at the “Wine Cellar” pub, and Whisperer and Nick went to the city treasury to negotiate getting the reward for the mycelium the hunters had brought. The old man told him to wait at the main gate, and that’s what Nick was doing now for over an hour. It was getting dusk. The Orphius reddish disk was descending to the western city wall. To take its shift, the greenish crescent of the nearest planet was ascending. The locals called it the Dominia.

  Finally, the gate opened and unhappy Whisperer appeared on the stairs.

  “We’ll have to stay here till the end of the celebration,” he murmured. “They have a lot on their plate right now.”

  “And what is this celebration?” Nick was happy to see Whisperer.

  “To celebrate the beginning of the Exodus,” the old man mumbled. “What can you do about these city folk? They are celebrating they don’t know what, like little children. All right, Nick, let them have their fun, and we need to go meet one man. Remember I told you about him, the one with many books?”

  “Yes, thank you, Whisperer!” Nick was clearly interested. “He must know a lot of things?” Nick almost blurted out “about this world,” but stopped himself on time.

  “He knows enough,” Whisperer seemed to have wanted to add something, but just waved his hand. “Let’s go, Nick. We, of course, don’t have to rush, but it’s no reason to hang out in the square. I am not used to all this noise and hustle.”

  On the way, they met more criers who were calling the passer-bys to the local show. To kill time, Nick asked, “Whisperer, where are they calling everyone?”

  “It’s their type of entertainment. Once every ten years the most unbridled men come together and fight each other until they are half-dead.”

  “Why do they do this?” Nick was surprised.

  “Everyone comes for his own reason,” Whisperer mumbled, as always. “Some want a young bride, others – the Highest Request, and yet others just want to show off to the crowd.”

  “And what is this Highest Request?” Nick wanted to ask about the young bride, but was a little embarrassed.

  “Ah, the one who wins in all the challenges can ask for whatever he wants the most.”

  “What an interesting tradition.”

  “It’s just because they have nothing to do!” Whisperer was obviously not content with Nick’s interest. “So many healthy men cripple each other. And for what? When they call the Exodus upon themselves, we will see…”

  Nick decided not to ask the old man any more questions, and the rest of the way they were silent. It was already dark when Whisperer suddenly grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him through the decorative bushes. There, a little further away from the entrance, a man was waiting for them with a lamp in his arm. With a silent nod, the man turned his back to them and briskly walked toward the house in the dark. They quickly followed him inside.

  ********

  When Chat opened the door and let the guests into the room, Frice got up heavily from his chair and put on the most welcoming smile. He quickly nodded to Rich and looked at his protégé attentively. “He is large! No doubt here. When he was going through the door, he had to lean forward a little bit…” Frice pointed out to himself.

  The stranger stood at the door, smiling and flashing all his healthy white teeth.

  “Come inside, don’t stand there!” Frice exclaimed joyfully, trying to be as hospitable as possible. “Come, make yourself comfortable, wherever you want to.”

  Nonetheless, he showed Nick to a low sofa, inviting him to sit on it. Frice was short and did not like to talk with people who were taller than him. Years back, he ordered this sofa on purpose. When his guests sat on it, they found themselves lower. They had to look up at the host who was sitting in a high armchair, from below the host’s eye level, which gave him a certain psychological advantage. And if you take into account that the sofa was not really comfortable because the guest’s knees were almost at the face level, the effect was multiplied. Nick, thanking the host, sat on it, launching back and stretching his legs at the length of the sofa. He looked very comfortable there. Rich smiled inconspicuously. He had figured out Frice’s trick a long time ago and always sat on a chair next to him at the table.

  “So, let’s not break the tradition?” Frice skillfully opened a bottle of the Bay Wine and nodded to the table full of various dishes and snacks.

  When the glasses we
re filled, the host asked, “Are you going to stay for the Celebration? This time, the Ritual is going to be even more spectacular than usual. It will be attended, as I heard, by several alvar warriors. And there are rumors that the High Ghurt will send its warriors as well. I am afraid that ours will not even pass through the first challenge.”

  “We’ll have to stay,” Whisperer frowned. “These lazy bones at the treasury, you know, have not received a confirmation yet from the registrar’s.”

  “Oh, this is one of their favorite excuses,” Frice burst into laughter. “I will see to it, but only after the Celebration. Now it is useless, they most probably have started to celebrate already. What about you, Nick?” he asked with no transition, “Have you ever participated in the Celebration?”

  “Not yet, unfortunately,” Nick shrugged.

  “You must have arrived from far away,” Frice noted as if unintentionally.

  “It’s better to say, flown,” Nick corrected him, “but no one believes me anyway, even him,” Nick nodded at Whisperer.

  “Is that so?” Frice was not surprised at all. “You can fly?”

  “People can’t fly by themselves, they need specially designed…” Nick was thinking, “They need special devices. I am afraid I lack the words of your language to explain this,” Nick felt a little guilty and looked down humbly.

  “Not enough vocabulary, you say? Interesting. But it’s all right, fine,” Frice said as if trying to reassure him. “So, where did you live before this?”

  “We already talked with Nick about this,” Whisperer came to Nick’s rescue. “Do you still keep that map?”

  “You want to…?” asked Frice instead of an answer.

  “Yes. Show it to him.”

  Frice stood there for some time, thinking. Then he got up from his chair and went into the depth of the room. Some time later, he came back with a roll that looked like an old yellowed parchment. Frice unrolled the map carefully and, spreading it in the table, put heavy statuettes on the two sides. All three of them leaned over the map.