by Travis Smith
“You are letting your life of royalty get the better of your judgment,” The Stranger replied sternly. “You are behaving naively, not rationally. The dynamic of our world is changing around us, and we already live each day in more danger than you’ve experienced your whole life!”
“What danger are we in here, son?” Robert’s voice rose to an incredulous falsetto that caused his wife to look on anxiously. “The Baron seized control days ago! We set out from Krake long before messengers would be able to spread the word overseas. What are the sheer odds that the inhabitants out here in these tall timbers dust bowls are sympathetic to his villainous cause?”
“It is not that I think them supporters of Bernard, father, I simply worry that we are out of our jurisdiction here, and there may exist dangers from which you and I are not prepared to defend our loved ones.”
“Rubbish,” Robert said levelly. “We’ll set out together at dawn.”
The next morning, the five set out with just enough food to keep them comfortable for a full day. The Stranger attempted to give his father the White Sword, but Robert insisted that he keep it. “You’re much younger and fitter than I, son. If you think we’ll meet trouble, it’s best you keep it. I’ll do just fine with my own.” He wielded a much smaller, much less adorned blade that he’d found upon the stolen ship.
Laura approached wearing a smile and holding their sleeping infant. “You look thrice as pleased as you should right now, my lady,” The Stranger said, kissing the side of her mouth.
“I’m just trying to make the most of things,” she said somberly, “as should you. We’re breaking the routine and going off on an adventure. We get to meet new people.”
The Stranger nodded but didn’t return her smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of …”
The town was as vacant and desolate as the previous evening.
“Boy, you weren’t lying, son,” Robert mused as he bobbed his head side to side among the derelict houses.
He kept expecting Laura to become frightened or uneasy by their ominous surroundings, but her contented smile persisted. He couldn’t comprehend how she could be so at-ease after all she’d been through. In truth, he himself was more than a little uneasy being in this unfamiliar, unsettling town, especially after his encounter with the foul old man last night.
As the group neared the small cabin outside the main costal village, The Stranger put himself between his family and the building. He subtly tried to push the group a safer distance away, in the hopes that the old man wouldn’t spot them and come out rambling again and wake William and scare everyone.
“This is where I spoke with the old man yesterday evening,” he announced quietly.
“Should we go see what he knows about yon settlement?” Robert asked.
The Stranger forced a laugh. “Trust me, the man is beyond reason, and he’s doubly painful on the eyes and nose.”
As they rounded the small hut, The Stranger found the rocking chair to be empty. He thanked their fate and carried on as smoothly as he could manage, casting a number of uneasy glances over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.
After a modest walk across the hot desert, Diana asked with some concern, “What is that ahead?”
Robert strained his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t see anything but the town.”
“Dask,” The Stranger said darkly.
“No, it’s nearer than that,” his mother insisted. She pointed ahead unhelpfully. “In the sand.”
The Stranger squinted and indeed saw some vast, dark, wavering line across the sand. “Must be a mirage,” he conceded. “It stretches right across the horizon.”
His father grunted and stopped walking. He turned to look behind them and observe the dark clouds coming off the sea. “Shame t’ be stuck out here in the middle of the desert when the tempest rolls in.”
“Perhaps we should turn back,” The Stranger tried.
“Nonsense!” Robert countered. “That’s not what I meant at all.” But Laura met his gaze and for once looked a trifle apprehensive.
“Come, now. Let us take William back inside before he’s awake and screaming in the rain,” he insisted.
His father threw his arms up impatiently. “If we head back now, we’ll hit the storm squarely head on. Let’s just get to the city and find an inn for the evening with a nice warm meal and a soft bed!”
“And if there is no inn, father? What then?”
“We’ll post up in an abandoned building for the night to stay dry! We’re on our own out here, son! We have to get used to living like this.”
The Stranger sighed. He looked at Laura, who still seemed a little restless but shrugged nonetheless. “He has a point.”
His mother too stood quietly and obediently by her husband, as she always had.
“Fine,” he allowed. “On we go.”
5
After a short walk, however, a new debate commenced. What The Stranger had mistaken for a mirage was in fact a vast chasm in the earth. It stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, and it spanned at least twenty body lengths across. The group approached it despite The Stranger’s fervent pleas to give it up and turn around. A single rope bridge stretched across the pit. Though the bridge was intact, the ropes were frayed in many locations, and countless boards were missing from the walkway. The pit itself descended into a rocky, cavernous abyss with boulders and outcroppings pointing in every direction. The two walls opposite each other converged gradually in their descent until they met in jagged darkness, from which thumps and thuds and dreadful whispers softly emanated.
“Absolutely not,” The Stranger said.
Laura looked backward at the approaching thunderhead apprehensively and caressed William’s back. The boy was beginning to squirm and whine in earnest in her arms.
“Come. We’ll hurry back and endure the rain for but a few moments.”
Robert Vaga flapped an arm toward the expansive town on the other side of the bridge. “We can find shelter right there if we just cross this bridge, which, by the way, was built for just that—crossing!”
The Stranger turned on his father impatiently for the first time in life. “I will not risk my son’s life for an inn and a meal that may not exist!”
“Fine!” Robert countered. “You and I will hurry across and ensure there really are kind people here who are willing to help us.”
“And leave my wife and son in the rain? See reason! I implore you.”
“So it’s settled, we’ll all go across together.” He spread his arms and prodded Laura and Diana forward. “Come now, one at a time.”
The Stranger seized him by the shoulder to stop him. “Father,” he lowered his voice, “did you never think that this village behind us is deserted because that bridge is impassible?”
Robert paused, seeking a suitable retort. “The bridge is still intact,” he said, slightly defeated.
“But just barely. Those villagers may have watched their own fall from its infirm structure before deciding to remain on their own side.”
“Or perhaps they’ve always remained.”
The Stranger sighed and dropped his arms to his side.
“Come, I will test the strength first. If I make it, any of you can.”
“Robert.” Diana, ever the quiet soul, finally stepped forward to voice her concern.
He took her in his arms in a firm embrace. “I will be fine, love. I’ll go slowly. Just watch!”
Without another look back, Robert stepped cheerfully onto the first plank. He made his way carefully forward, squeezing the ropes on either side of him for balance and support.
“It’s really quite firmer than it looks,” he called back when he was about a quarter of the way across.
Here he was forced to step across a gap where two planks had long since cracked and fallen. He braced himself using the ropes and stretched a leg across the gap. After gingerly increasing the pressure on his leading foot, he proclaimed the next pla
nk strong enough to support his weight.
The Stranger watched the grueling trek with ever-increasing anxiety.
6
By the time his father was halfway across the bridge, The Stranger had nearly talked himself out of the whole affair.
“Father, come back,” he called, “I won’t subject my son to this unnecessary risk!”
“It’s fine!” Robert called back. He hopped lightly up and down to emphasize his next point. “Its condition is not nearly as poor as it appears!”
“All it takes is one misstep, and we’ll be forced to watch as you plummet! Be reasonable, father! Even if we make it, we’ll eventually have to come back!”
Laura touched him on the shoulder. “We can do this,” she assured him. “’Tis only a bridge.”
“Will you look over the edge?” he challenged her. “Below is certain death. I cannot watch as you take such heedless risks knowing not what we’ve to gain on the other side!”
“Would you watch as we all starve to death above the stormy sea, then?” his wife countered.
And so The Stranger watched as his mother, wife, and son trundled slowly across the rickety, swaying bridge. The sky turned to black in the mere moments it took them to cross, and The Stranger crouched on the near side of the bridge struggling not to get sick. His heart raced, and his stomach churned as he imagined how swiftly his wife and son could be ripped from this realm and hurled to the bottom of the jagged chasm.
Just as Laura neared the far side, William stirring softly in her arms, the first heavy drops of rain began to fall upon The Stranger’s head. He looked down into the abyss below and noted movement amidst the jagged rocks. Sand and rocks crumbled from the walls as thin, frail bodies began climbing their way from the cracks and caves below. He could not discern whether the creatures were human or animal or something in between, but he certainly did not want to find out tonight.
The Stranger stood and hurried across the decrepit bridge. The journey itself was far less torturous than watching his loved ones make it.
“Come,” he said as he hurriedly reached the other side, “before we drench ourselves.” He ushered his family toward the cluster of buildings not far ahead. He made no mention of the things he saw ascending from below the bridge and had no intention to until they were to venture back across toward the pier. Whether the things posed a threat or could even reach the top, he knew not, but he saw no reason to frighten his family any more for the time being.
7
Skuttler’s finely tuned desert eyes watched expressionlessly through his dirty window as the small group made their way through the abandoned villa across the expansive desert. He gnawed on his scarred, calloused thumb compulsively, shoving it deep into his mouth to reach the few sparse gnashers that still remained near the back. He found a gap where one had recently rotted out and wedged his dirty fingernail into the socket, scraping the healing gums to satisfy a deep, odd itch and produce a not altogether unpleasant pain.
When the group reached the nearby bridge, Skuttler made his way to the door. He plucked his thumb from his mouth with a hearty smack and galloped deftly on his hands and knees toward the door. He cracked the door and peered around the frame with one eye, unmoving.
One man was halfway across the bridge while the others waited on the far side. Sure that no one would notice his movement, he wedged his thumb back into the side of his mouth and continued chewing. His sharp ears detected the soft groan of the sand people far below the bridge. He heard disturbances in the sand as they began coming out of their caves to investigate the passersby. Would they dine? Likely not. The bridge could withstand a few more passes yet, despite its infirm appearance.
The older man had reached the other side, and an older woman followed, a bit more swiftly. Next came a very pretty young woman carrying an infant. Skuttler took pause in chewing his thumb to watch her properly as she crossed. At last, the final man hurried across just as the rain began to fall overhead. He greeted his party and began to rush them out of the desert and into the small city.
Skuttler removed his thumb once more from his gob and slinked back into the darkness, allowing the door to close softly behind him.
8
The rain had just begun to fall heavily upon the travellers as they reached the first few buildings in the city. The Stranger was crestfallen to find no more signs of life than had the previous town. Nothing moved for as far as he could see, and everything looked run-down and unused.
“This way!” he called over the increasingly heavy rain. “Try the doors and see if we can get inside out of this storm!”
William had just begun to squall, perturbed by the abrupt change in weather. The group turned toward a house on the side of the dusty street before Robert called out, “Ho!”
The Stranger stopped and glanced behind him, where his father was pointing at a building on the opposite side of the street where a lamp had just flickered on inside. The door swung open and a man waved to them. He shrilly called, “Come on in out o’ this! Ye’ll find naught ova’ yon!” The words all blended together in a strange dialect The Stranger had never heard.
They turned without a second thought and rushed into the man’s home and out of the rain. He closed the door behind them and glanced around blinkingly. “Feroo!” he called in a greeting The Stranger had also never heard. “Name’s Miles Cutler.”
The Stranger found that the man’s dialect wasn’t so strange as was the speed at which the words left his mouth. Each word blended into the last, and his voice was shrill and breathy and peppered with nervous laughter. The man was quite tall, but stood slightly hunched, working his hands together incessantly in front of his chest. His garb, tattered and dirty, looked to be on its last few threads.
The Stranger stepped forward as politely as he could to shake Miles’ hand. “Very well, sir, we’re—”
But Miles stumbled backward as The Stranger approached. He remained just out of reach and blew a single nervous chortle through his nostrils. He brought his hands up to his neck’s height but continued kneading and working them restlessly. The Stranger noted the man’s thumbs were distinctly crooked and raw. His face, which may once have been handsome, was covered in small sores and lacerations, and his lips had chunks of dried skin hanging off them. His long, thin hair hung in clumpy tatters. Chunks of it appeared to be missing.
Miles tittered nervously and addressed them all in a short, rapid speech wrought with stutters and unintelligible words. “Yer t—tired’s what ye are. I c’n see it. T—tired ’n’ hungry! But ain’t no f—food to sp—spare ’round ’ere. C—c—city’s moved on, ’n’ it’s p—purty much just me whil—w—w—whilin’ away the days!” While he spoke, the man twitched and blinked, struggling to make eye contact with anyone in the room. An unabashed smile sporadically lit his thin face, and he repeatedly flicked his tongue across his dirty front teeth.
“Dear, boy,” Robert spoke up kindly, appearing unfazed by his oddities, “how do you make a living? What do you eat?”
Miles let out another titter and continued working his hands. “This ’n’ that!” he exclaimed. “Yer m—more ’n welcome t’ sleep in the g—g—g—guest quarters through t’ storm. Ain’t been used i—in a while.”
Robert stepped forward and extended an arm to pat the man on the shoulder. Miles winced and looked away, but he allowed the expression of gratitude. “Thank you, my boy. We all thank you very kindly.” He seized a lamp from the entry room table, turned back to his family, and ushered them back toward where their host had indicated the guest quarters were located. “’Twill be quite fine to sleep in a real bed again!”
Miles’ restless eyes finally locked on Laura’s, and he flicked his tongue swiftly across a smile that was both charming and hideous. Laura returned the smile as warmly as she could, and her husband took her gently by the shoulder and ushered her to their quarters.
9
“I told you we’d find nothing across that damned bridge, father!” The Str
anger whispered brusquely once the door was closed.
“Have care how you’d speak to me!” Robert replied. “We’d be fools not to try, and now we can at the very least dry off and get a good night’s rest!”
“We are bunking in the home of a deranged man.”
“There is no telling how long it’s been since that man has seen another human. He didn’t ask to be stuck in this decrepit city in a desert!” As Robert spoke, he took the lamp to the small table in one corner of the room and lit another lamp that was resting upon it.
Laura stepped forward and touched her husband’s arm. “Come, we will get a good night’s rest and figure out our food tomorrow.” William had stilled and was blinking at his father sleepily, begging to be put to bed with his tiny, expressive eyes.
The Stranger opened his mouth to remind his family of the obvious fact that they needed food just to stay alive, but at that moment Miles tapped on the door. “There’s anotha’ bed c—cross the hall!” he practically squealed at them.
“Thank you, kind host!” Robert called, opening the bedroom door. He seemed eager to be off to bed before his son could argue their way right back out into the storm. “We will see you lot when the sun returns!” With that, he took Diana by the arm and marched gaily to his quarters for the night.
The Stranger accepted defeat and decided to embrace the man’s kindness. “We do appreciate your most gracious hospitality, sir.”
Miles licked a small sore at the corner of his dry, cracked mouth and nodded in response, though he never looked at The Stranger. He simply stood in the hallway, rubbed his hands together, and gazed intently at Laura until The Stranger closed the door.
“Odd man,” his wife muttered as she turned toward the bed in the corner and went to place little William upon the soft sheets.
“Indeed,” The Stranger agreed. He felt supremely uncomfortable around the man, and the thought of sleeping in this derelict city did nothing to allay this feeling.
