by K M McGuire
Rastz’s eyes darted between Voden and Andar, frantically scanning them. The rest of the village remained quiet, standing behind Rastz in an anxious semicircle, timidity holding back their tongues. Voden guessed there was about twenty people total, and none of them seemed to have considered stepping into the water a few hundred feet from the village to wash.
“So, where yous say yous from?” Rastz asked. A quick flash protruded from Rastz’s mouth and vanished before Voden could think to react.
“We came from Adetia,” Voden blurted. Andar nudged him quickly, his brow slightly furrowing.
Rastz’s eyes widened, and a murmur swished across the townsfolks as they stiffened to attention. “Adetia,” he whispered dreamily. Again, he smiled, the remaining teeth glistening against the sun’s rays. “Your King- wha’ ‘is name? Don’t matter! ‘e brings us food ever’ so offen.”
“We don’t have a king,” Andar said defensively.
“Not accordin’ to ‘im!” Rastz laughed and turned to his people. They nodded quietly, affirming his claim.
“Yeah, ‘e said we could join the city,” one of the taller men said. He was a brutish character, stocky, and if Voden were being honest, mentally lethargic. “’E said we ‘ad a lot to work on first, but one day we could be cit’zens.”
“I don’t understand,” Andar said thoughtfully and gave Voden a queer look.
“It’s not so ‘ard, innit?” Rastz said. “Com’mon, let’s sit by the fire. After all, you seem friendly enough.” The villagers agreed rather eagerly. “Scelus, ‘elp out getting more wood for the fire. ‘opefully we can ‘ave a feast tonight.”
“Rastz, you sure?” the brutish man said, looking at the guest. “We don’t ‘ave much to eat.”
“Take some of the men and fish, then,” Rastz said, softly patting his back. Scelus nodded.
“Com’mon,” Scelus said, looking back at Andar. The villagers turned their attention away from Voden and Andar as they all went back to their homes, leaving Rastz alone with them.
“Sorry,” Rastz said, as he ushered the boys up the slope. “Anyways, what were we talkin’ ‘bout?”
“You mentioned something about going to Adetia?” Andar said.
“Yes,” Rastz nodded. “Like I says, your king—at least that wha’ ‘e was callin’ ‘imself—says we could one day live in Adetia. We’s just not ‘proper’ yet.”
Voden curled his lips, unwilling to say anything. He had always thought that anyone who wanted to enter Adetia could. They walked past a home where a couple of children were laughing, chasing each other around to the other side. They seemed to take little notice of their depravity, enjoying their fun even in the worst situation. Voden couldn’t help admiring them.
“That seems a bit unfair,” he said quietly.
Rastz laughed sadly. “You tell me,” he said, and offered them a seat on a log placed near the smoldering bonfire roughly at the center of the hamlet. The women were clustered together on the other side, stealing inquisitive glances at the trio, turning back to one another to chatter away when they were caught. “The problem is, ‘e says it every time ‘e comes. What ‘ope is there?”
“You don’t remember his name?” Andar asked. “Ouch!” he yelled suddenly, pulling his hand from the mouth of a tiny little girl. Voden wasn’t willing to bet on her age, but she couldn’t have been more than six. “She bit me!” She stared at Andar, her eyes wide as she held her crusty doll resembling a rabbit.
“Oy! Annelyse! ‘ow many times we’s tell you not to bite!” shrieked a bony woman, hobbling over to the girl. She could have been a pretty lady, had she known to take care of her teeth, and the complexion of her skin was blotched with a pinkish rash that crept from under her garments. Her fingernails dug at the discolored skin on her neck, and she glanced meekly at Andar, trying to apologize with her embarrassed expression.
The little girl looked blankly at the woman, more confused than remorseful, “But momma; I’s tastin’ ‘im.”
The woman pressed her soiled hand against the child’s mouth and shook her head, “That’s not proper! We aven’t gotten to know them for yous to be doing such things!” She looked at Voden and Andar, her eyes speaking differently than the weak smile she offered.
“It’s okay,” Andar said kindly. “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.” He patted her crusty head, and she smiled in response. He turned to Rastz. “So, you can’t remember the man’s name, but he told you you’re not welcome in Adetia?”
“Well,” he stammered, looking away, “not in so many words.”
“Have you tried to just go there?”
Rastz stared at Andar. He remained quiet as his tongue suddenly emerged from behind his mouth, retracting as soon as it left, like a snake tasting the air.
“The man in white says we would die if we tried,” Annelyse said matter-of-factly. She seemed hardly bothered by the comment, though everyone else near her turned their attention away from each other. All but Voden. He stared at the girl picking at a clump on her doll. She began to poke its stomach, becoming distracted, when her mother finally led her away from them.
“That’s closer to the truth,” Rastz said somberly, his shoulders falling heavily. His eyes swam with drunken looking tears that he struggled to hide, but it was hard to hide the path it cut through the grim on his face. “We’s just not good enough! E’s come ‘ere for years, bein’ kind to us, brin’ food and stuff. But ‘e won’t let us go to Adetia. He says we’s sick.”
“This man in white? He said that to you?” Voden asked.
“Yeah,” Rastz responded, “’Is name was odd. Wha’ was it, Egon, or –,”
“Eigan?” Andar blurted.
“That sounds right,” Rastz affirmed slowly. “’Ell of guy, always said we could go wit’ ‘im ‘ome time though…” He trailed off longingly.
He looked around his town, as if a dream was trying to bend his reality, but the glaze in his eyes told how far away that dream felt to him. He shook his head. Some of the villagers had walked down to the shore, throwing nets into the water, while others weaved through the trees, picking up twigs and dumping what they gathered near the fire. The children seemed to be the only ones who were happy. Blissful, maybe. At least that false sense of happiness could dampen what they needn’t understand. Voden began to wonder if all happiness was just the outcome of ignorance, wondering why knowing brought such a burden. He didn’t know which of the two was better, but felt if he had an answer, it would hurt all the more.
“Rastz,” Andar said after a moment, “Would it be okay if we stay with you for a time? If, of course, we help out around here?”
Rastz didn’t budge. His eyes were forlorn with a glazed reflection of the village. Finally, he looked them over, and a slow longing sparked in his eye, perking him from his thoughts. “What kinda ‘elp yous offerin’?”
“I think we could fix up some of your tools and fishing nets,” Andar said kindly. “I know I can’t offer you your dream of entering Adetia, but the least we can do is make your time waiting here easier.”
Rastz’s face scrunched with consideration. His head rocked back and forth as though a scale shifted in his cranium. “I guess that could work. We’s don’t ‘ave much to offer, though.”
“We have some of our own things,” Voden said. “We really only need somewhere to sleep for a bit. A few days at most.” Andar nodded in agreement.
“Alright,” Rastz said thoughtfully. “S’pose there are some ways yous can ‘elp us.” His tongue flashed from his mouth again. “I’ll go set up the arrangements.” Voden and Andar thanked him, and he walked off, leaving the two by the smoking smolders.
“So, Eigan’s been here,” Andar muttered, throwing his bag in front of himself and digging through its contents. The fire, if it could even be called that, hissed like bubbles escaping a drowning man, popping as they broke the surface to their heaven. “You think there’s a reason he hasn’t mentioned that to us?”
“I’m not
sure,” Voden mumbled, propping his chin against his hand. “He must have his reasons.”
“He always does,” Andar said. “It just adds more questions when you aren’t open.” Voden glanced at him as Andar shook his head, unwilling to speak further.
Andar pulled a small loaf of bread from his bag, unfolding the cloth wrapped around it. He broke off a tiny piece and pressed it into his mouth. It was then Voden noticed one of the villagers, a small little woman, staring timidly at the bread in Andar’s hand. Andar glanced at the bread. “Here,” he called, holding the loaf out for her. She inched over and placed her hands around it, as though to verify its existence, and then she snatched it from his hand.
“Thank you,” she wheezed softly, and scurried over to the children, splitting the food with them.
“I just don’t like the feeling of having to hide your actions or your reasons,” Andar said. He watched the woman a moment while she shared her new fortune before he turned back to Voden, “Your truth will always explain the depths of your lies, and your lies explain how far you reach for truth. The strength in a lie is its power of oppression. It always tries to find a way to bind to the truth, finding justification within your reasons for coping. The looser the line between the two becomes, the less we ask about their differences. Our sense of justice proves greater than what we are willing to compromise, and what we feel we deserve validates our lies, molding what we consider to be our own truth, even though these compromises only make the truth look more fractal, easier to form the broken pieces to our own mosaic of perception.”
Voden considered the coals. There was little they could deceive. “So,” Voden said, through the lump in his throat, “you think it was wrong we told our families what we were told to tell them?”
“The more I consider it, yes,” Andar said quietly. “We are only following the directives we are given, and we have been given reasons from both Eigan and Koruza that seem to justify lies. I mean, if we could have been allowed to explain what was happening with the Well of the Will the way it was explained to us, would they all really go into a panic? In a round-about way, he said they were too foolish to understand and with that broad stroke, he raised us up to make us feel superior. He fooled our sense of justice to meet his ends.”
“I think you are getting a bit too thoughtful with this,” Voden said, irritated.
“Maybe,” Andar whispered.
Voden stood to stretch his legs. He was getting a bit bored sitting there and felt inclined to look around. “Think I’m going to go for a walk.”
Andar shook his head in acknowledgment as Voden walked away. He hadn’t any sort of direction in mind. All he wanted was a moment to soak things in. Voden started for the woods, walking towards the closest hut. There was no door attached to it, nor windows other than holes that accounted for them. He glanced at the white, thin decorations hanging from the roof through the window, chiming with hollow clicks at the nudge of the wind. He continued slowly, watching the children zip around the mud structures, chaos controlling their motion. Even as depressing as the village looked, Voden had a small sparkle of hope that things could, indeed, be better for them. He peered around the corner of the house when something strange caught his eye. A pile of yellowed—
“Oy!” Rastz called suddenly, pulling Voden’s eyes towards the sound. His thin legs rushed over to Voden, as Rastz put his arm around his shoulder, “It’s been a long trip for yous! Please, relax. I’d ‘ate for our guest to wander off. Always a pain tryin’ to find your ways outta the woods.”
“What’s back there?” Voden asked, glancing back at the yellowed pile. He had a strange suspicion it was exactly what he thought it was.
“No-nothin’ boy,” Rastz said quickly, dragging him back to the fire.
“It looks like bones.”
Rastz stared at Voden, frozen in place. His eyes rushed across Voden’s face as his tongue flicked out, his eyes shuttering quickly. “They are…no! It’s not what you think! It’s ‘ard out ‘ere!” He threw up his hands in defeat, though it made Voden shrink a little, fearing Rastz was about to attack him. “Look, they is our people we lost. We ‘ave little memories of anything. We use them as tributes to their memories.”
Voden gave Rastz a stare that dug at the timid looking man. The villagers watched the sudden outburst, and an intangible silence pushed between Voden and Rastz. The villagers’ intense scrutiny and the heavy tension burrowed into Voden’s stomach, wringing out a queasy sensation he couldn’t ignore.
“Voden,” Andar whispered as he slowly approached them, “let’s just take a seat. Figure this out.”
Voden looked at Andar. He was calm. Voden took a breath and looked at Rastz. He made no attempt to attack him. Voden nodded and sat down. Rastz joined them cautiously. “I’m sorry if it scared yous,” he said, trying to assure Voden. “Things are difficult out ‘ere.”
“I guess so,” Voden whispered. He could smell the fire. Such a pleasant smell. There was something in the smell that had a touch of home for him, something that seemed to calm his nerves. He looked again around the village and saw it for its melancholy. “Look, maybe it would clear the air if you could tell us more about your people.”
Eagerly, Rastz nodded. “Y-yes, I could try.” He looked around the village nervously, but the villagers had already gone back to their business. “If you can promise us passage to Adetia.”
Voden shot a grimace towards Andar. His brow sloped over his eyes, mindfully brooding. “Rastz,” said Andar quietly, “I don’t know if we will be able to, but we can try.”
Rastz shook his head knowingly. “Well, that may be a better attempt than that Eigan,” he agreed. “Alright, well inn’t much to tell other than we’re simple people. Probably be, we don’t know much more than fishing and gathering wat we can. We make do with nuts and berries but farmin’- hah! There’s not a guess ‘ow that works. Mum and Pa always ‘ad a black thumb. Surprised they could even ‘ave kids!” He laughed fearsomely. Voden felt obligated to join him, forcing the emotion, not wanting to make Rastz feel uncomfortable, though he felt it would be rather hard to do so.
“Your mom and dad?” asked Andar, looking quizzically at him, “They live here, too?”
Rastz laughed again. “Well, not ‘ere, exactly, just through the woods. They ‘ad a ‘ell time getting ‘ere. Still ‘ard to say why they settled ‘ere. Nothin’ all that great.” He shook his head and looked at the fire. “Well, I guess you can see the shimmer of your city at night.”
He looked at Voden and Andar, his eyes glossed with the memory of a generational dream. “It’s like seein’ the sun peekin’ through the night, just to remind me it’s not so bad. It’ll be better one day. You won’t ‘ave to feel the growl of a stomach questionin’ when it’ll eat.” He smiled timidly at the boys. “What’s it like there?”
Voden saw the glimmer of wonder spinning through his mind, like a snowflake that feared to touch the ground. He sighed. “It’s home,” Voden finally said. Rastz’s face was transfixed, waiting for more. Voden realized how difficult it was to describe it to someone who had never been to Adetia, and guilt hit him, realizing that perhaps that was not the best use of words.
“Always told ‘ome was where you were free,” Rastz said quietly as if he started to understand what Voden couldn’t explain.
“Yeah,” Voden said, realizing much more about Adetia than he ever had. “We have land used just for farming. We have shops with really great food, not to mention the Well! That’s what protects the city.”
“The Well?” Rastz asked. “It protects yous?”
“Yeah.”
“From what?”
Voden fell silent. He actually stopped himself from coming up with an answer and realized how good of a question Rastz posed. He couldn’t answer it. “I guess it keeps out wickedness,” he muttered.
Rastz shook his head. Voden could tell Rastz held little favor for this answer. Voden felt the strangest cloud of disappointment he had ever experienced, one
that pained him worse than any other. It wasn’t that it was the grandest mistake, but it pained him to see how much it disheartened Rastz. He had never seen someone droop so sadly. He racked his brain for something to comfort the man. All he could focus on was the sad ebbing glow of coals in the pit before him. It only compounded what he saw in Rastz. He felt a nudge against his side.
“Look,” Andar said as he pointed towards the sky. Rastz stood up abruptly, face contorted, and Voden turned to witness a plume of smoke stirring through the canopy, a crying, grey beacon reaching for the heavens.
“Oh, Beyond,” Rastz muttered softly as crows broke from the trees, screaming at the gaseous pillar. Rastz glanced at Voden and Andar, his face pale behind the crusty dirt exterior. “Mum is out that way!” Rastz cried, his face falling into a panic as liquid crystal slid through the dirt on his cheek. “She won’t know what to do!” His eyes darted back and forth, struggling to focus.
“Rastz,” Andar exclaimed, “Voden and I will get her! We need to know the quickest way to get there!”
“Right,” Rastz stammered, “Just…just follow the path. It’ll take yous to ‘er ‘ouse.” He pointed a shaking finger towards a thin trail cutting through the trees, leading through the thick woods. “I’ll gather some men and meet you there!”
“Right,” Andar said, setting his teeth. With a nod, the boys snatched up their bags and dashed through the village and into the woods towards the billowing smoke.
Voden’s breath paralleled the repeated motion of his bag smacking against his back. His lungs expanded quickly with each stride and cast out air as suddenly as his foot hitting the firm dirt. The path Rastz had directed them towards was hardly worth the name. Shrubs encroached on the sliver of pressed vegetation, where roots menacingly broke the surface to snag the feet of the unsuspecting. Voden had quite a different expectation of what a proper path ought to be. It was a gauntlet of woody switches, some covered in crooked fingers that pierced Voden’s cheek and arms, slashing at his skin to find the rosy fluid coursing through his nervous heart. Voden harkened to Andar in front of him, his breath paced and eyes focused on the charred vapors spilling into the sky.
