The Weight of the World

by G M Archer

  I started to open my mouth to speak to Delilah in the silence, but she caught me completely off-guard as she dove forward and embraced me. I raised my arms awkwardly.

  She pulled away, tears streaking down her face, “You’ve saved my people. You’ve saved the Forsaken. I mocked you and sent you on a fool’s errand and you saved us all. I was wrong about there being none left, you’re a hero.”

  I shook my head, “Joseph did a lot.”

  “He did not defeat Maul. He did not get the rooster, as strange as it is, he seems to be a powerful animal,” Delilah motioned.

  I was guilty that my victories were Icarus’s ideas, but I nodded anyway, “yes, I suppose I did.”

  “There are not words to express how sorry I am for how I scorned you, Atlas. Nor can I express how grateful I am. I told you that we would tell your story, and I see how true that is now. You have my eternal gratitude,” she took a knee, the guards and Asa following suit.

  I bowed back slightly- the same protocol as reacting addressed as a princess that I’d done back at the castle- not sure what else to do.

  She rose, addressing the men close to us, “Tell the others that we are not moving today.”

  The men nodded to her and dispersed out through the camp, excited voices rising up in the quiet cavern.

  “Wait here,” she told me, walking swiftly back into her tent.

  Asa looked at me, a smile breaking his stoic face, and he gave me a slight nod. I returned the motion. Children had gathered around, peaking from behind tents and other fixtures, watching me and Ram especially.

  Delilah came back out of the tent, holding a ring on a silver chain.

  She held it out to me, “I present this to you, Atlas, and with it I consider you an honorary Forsaken.”

  I noticed a similar couple of bands on her hand, and on Asa’s. It was a simple ring, with a few swooping patterns, but it almost glowed, a remarkable blue polished circle of ice. I took it, sliding it onto my right hand. It fit perfectly and was, surprisingly, not cold, not any more so than metal.

  “This ring represents the loyalty of the Forsaken. We will come if you so call, and assist in any ways that we can,” Delilah said.

  I looked down at the band on my hand, the ice catching the light and reflecting a color similar to Moontear, “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  Delilah looked to the rooster in the moment of silence, “How did you get here before Hirsh?”

  “I-” she caught me off guard, “I’m sure Ram runs faster that their horses.”

  She nodded, but I could see her eyebrows quirk when I had hesitated.

  Ram clucked behind me, and laid down, neatly tucking his claws underneath his feathered breast. His head quirked to the entrance as the man from earlier escorted three horses in. Hirsh waved from across the cavern and I returned the gesture. Dressed in their dark leathers, they were a startling contrast to the light fur-clothed colors of the Forsaken.

  Hirsh got to us and dismounted, bowing at the waist first to me, and then Delilah, “Your Highness, and Delilah, I must assume?”

  “Yes,” Delilah said, eyes narrowed.

  “I am Hirsh, an agent of Maul, and well, Atlas too,” he smirked at me, “First and foremost, we must apologize for the state of your people. It was never our intentions to harm the Forsaken in our raids, but to upset the supply lines of the crown. I am sorry that you suffered as a result,” Hirsh was actually sincere.

  Delilah relaxed slightly, “As angry as I am about the state of my people, I cannot continue to point fingers. I can relate to your disposition towards the crown.”

  The leathersmith and other man had dismounted their horses, passing out bread to the children and bottles of ale and wine to the adults along with various other foods. Celebratory shouts rose up through the cavern, people overjoyed at the simple sight of food.

  “Maul has a request, however,” Hirsh started, “A proposition.”

  Delilah raised an eyebrow, “Of course he does. Go ahead.”

  “From this point forth we will take from the royal caravans and give to you whatever the Forsaken need, or want, and in exchange Maul would like you to provide gunpowder to us. Bombs and fire arrows too, if you can spare them, if not, the components are fine.”

  I paused. I did not know that Maul had such intentions, but it made sense.

  Silent, Delilah watched her people cry out in joy, picking up their children, holding their families, and she spoke, “The Forsaken have made a point of neutrality.”

  Hirsh stepped forward, petting Ram, “and you yourselves could remain that way. You do not have to engage in the battles we wage, simply help fuel them. You hold access to vital materials like sulfur, and gunpowder is the only thing Varrick is smart enough to send only on the trains. We can’t get it, but we need it. It would turn us from a nuisance into an actual army. Give that resource to us and let us strike the blow you know you desire to.”

  Delilah stopped, “It pains me how right you are,” she looked down, and with a long breath her chin rose, “No more will I watch history past while we crumble to dust. My neutrality was to protect us, but it has done just the opposite,” she motioned to me, “I have seen what taking action has accomplished.”

  Hirsh leaned on Ram, but with the rooster’s hiss he drew back, “So what say you of our arrangement?”

  Delilah looked around, “Asa, Atlas, Forsaken!”

  The attentions drew to her.

  “What say you of aiding Maul wage his war on the crown by providing him with gunpowder?” she asked out in a loud voice.

  There was murmuring all around us, and the hunter from the first time stepped forward, “Hypothetically, let’s say Maul succeeds in his campaign, will he still honor such pacts, and take into account the needs of all groups, even small ones like ours?”

  “Yes,” Hirsh said, “We were once a struggling group of a dozen deserters, we understand.”

  “But Maul overlooks such things usually, that is why we are starving now,” the guard at the tent said.

  “You starve no longer,” Hirsh defended.

  “Because of Atlas, not Maul,” the other guard said.

  “Who would sit on the throne if Maul took it?” the hunter asked.

  Hirsh motioned forward, “There’s an heir right here, and I think that would please both parties.”

  In a moment of dumbness, it took me a moment to realize that he was referring to me. Icarus’s words came rushing back.

  Smiles moved across face, the voices growing louder in approval. Delilah, eyes glazed over in thought, looked up and nodded slowly.

  “I- I’m honored, but I have little experience-”

  I started but was cut off by one of the Forsaken women, “She is of the same rearing that oppresses us now, she has been taught the same way. I approve of your actions in aiding us, Atlas, but I fear you would become a second Varrick.”

  “Of the same rearing, but not of the same blood,” I said.

  Before I could finish Delilah started, “If she was the same as he, she would be in the castle and not standing before you here.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, she’s riding a giant bird, wielding glowing swords, and wearing a forsaken ring and deserter armor, how could you compare here to Varrick?” Hirsh threw his hands in the air, and several around laughed.

  Delilah brought us back to the discussion, “I will agree to these terms. If the revolution is one day successful, Atlas will hold the throne,” she turned to me, eyes sharp and serious, “And in doing so, you must vow to treat the people of Viafinis, all the people of Viafinis, better than they are treated now. You will not be another Varrick.”

  “I vow to do so,” I said simply, never thinking that I’d come that far.

  The thought of Varrick not being king was a bizarre and eerie image. The thought of a revolution was a frightening and bloodstained idea. My uncomfortableness with them fell away at the memory of the soldiers attacking me, the treatment of the cane farmer and his son, the
screams of protesters at the castles the guards fired upon them, and the little Forsaken girl dead in her weeping mother’s arms.

  I spoke louder, “I vow that if I am ever upon the throne I will value people, their rights, and their lives far more than the spoils of war and the riches of suffering. I vow that I can at least do Viafinis better than that.”

  Nods and approving hushed voices rippled through the camp, Hirsh clapping first and the others following suit.

  Delilah strode forward, extending her hand, and Hirsh shook it.

  “I agree to your terms. Tell Maul of Atlas’s and mine,” Delilah said.

  “Of course,” Hirsh smiled.

  “I’ll light the fire of your revolution, you just must bear the torch,” Delilah told him.

  Revolution. It was a frightening word, for the violence it carried with it. The Journeyer’s words came back to me. It was right, death was a tragedy, but sometimes necessary.

  Delilah started helping unload the horses, Asa following.

  Ram got up, coming after me.

  “See, told you,” Hirsh sauntered after me, “You can’t go anywhere without being nominated queen or something.”

  I rolled my eyes, turning to Delilah, “Farewell, Forsaken queen, may your people continue to be saved.”

  She smiled at the memory, less than a week ago, the words under different terms, “Goodbye false heir, may our paths cross again.”

  I waked through the camp, shaking the hands of Forsaken happily wolfing down dried meat and bread. Children played with Ram’s tail, men and women laughed, I thought I could hear someone singing.

  It was a place of long-forgotten joy, and hope ran rampant through the streets. I could have never imagined at the time that it was the beginning of the end.

  Chapter 15- And Consumed by the Jealously of Entitlement

  “You know how I assured you that your words weren’t something that would lead to anarchy?” Joseph looked upwards, eyes trained on the guard tower’s waving flag, Varrick’s roaring wolf on its field of blue painted over with the blood red image of a rooster.

  “Yes,” I crossed my arms.

  “Well, I was wrong,” Joseph scuffed his boot in the dirt, brushing a hand over his chest.

  He had his golden breastplate back on, his cloak hiding the Guild’s lion, his new huge broadsword strapped across his back. He’d also accepted my swords from the smith at Maul’s camp, the two blades at his waist.

  An old man jumped by laughing, a mug of ale in his hand, pursued by a crowd of children with fistfuls of candy and chocolate, looted from the guards’ stocks.

  Alexandra eyed their departing forms, then turned to me, “So they want you to be queen? What’s your plan for that? That doesn’t end with us three getting killed, preferably.”

  “I also prefer that,” Joseph inputted, “But she’s got a bandit tribe that now has gunpowder on her side, so that’s something.”

  “That does not began to rival the royal armies, not in the slightest,” I shifted, “I question starting a war to end a war.”

  “Cauterizing a wound is painful in the beginning, but the benefits show in the long run,” Joseph assured, “With the way things are going, tensions are building, I believe a revolution was inevitable, I would just rather someone like you be at its head.”

  I looked down, feeling exhausted already in body and in mind, “I feel my sway will only lead to suffering.”

  “We’re all going to hang,” Alexandra rubbed the bridge of her nose, “It is unfair to put this pressure on her. To throw the weight of the world on her shoulders and burden her with the salvation of Viafinis.”

  “As long as you try the best you can, Atlas, that’s all we can hope for,” Joseph winked at me.

  “What if that’s not good enough?” I winced.

  “Then it’s been a damn good run with you two,” Joseph pulled us to him.

  Alexandra frowned at first, but gave up, embracing Joseph and I. We pulled apart, stopping and listening to the sounds of the festivities in the square below.

  “Someone’s going to hang over all this,” she looked up at the vandalized flag, “I just hope it’s not us.”

  “It might be Varrick,” Joseph shrugged, starting to walk off.

  I stopped, it hadn’t even crossed my mind up to this point-

  “I don’t want to kill Varrick,” I shook my head, sick at the thought of it.

  “You probably won’t personally have to,” Joseph said as we walked to catch up.

  “He might kill you, though,” Alexandra scoffed.

  Joseph turned, “I highly doubt, with what he’s offering for her return.”

  “I don’t want Varrick dead,” I said quietly, “But I don’t see him ever surrendering.”

  “I bet he’d see us dead,” Alexandra motioned between her and Joseph.

  “I don’t know,” Joseph laughed, “There’s a pretty nice price for us alive,” he clapped a hand onto Alexandra’s shoulder, pulling her to him.

  She gave a blush barely visible in the dark, the town lit by a sliver of a crescent moon and haphazard street lights.

  “Imagine that,” she smirked, “A Wolfsden maid worth as much as a Guild Knight.”

  “A branded ex-Guild Knight,” Joseph corrected.

  She batted him playfully, “Bah, you can’t let me have anything.”

  A train drifted by on the fields below, smoke turned silver by the moonlight. I stiffened slightly as if went through Voltaren’s station, but it never slowed, its lights churning on northward. It was a reminder that word would eventually reach Forscythe of these people’s treachery.

  “Will Varrick send troops here?” I said, “Will he attack these people over what I’ve done?” I watched the dancing forms of people weave through the square.

  “Perhaps,” Joseph said, “If he can spare them. His grip, especially on the further towns, is weakening. You’ve spurred these people out of submission and I don’t think they plan on going back.”

  Alexandra looked back, “Have you noticed that there’s a lot more people here now? A lot of them were hiding. Like Serif said, they could hold their ground.”

  I shook my head, “People hid their families so they wouldn’t be shipped off to die on the battlefield or in a factory.”

  The solemnness of our conversation faltered and fell away as we entered the square, immediately struck with the vibrancy and joy of the celebration. The dreary city reminded me more of Trammelfell now. The boards had been taken from the windows of the closed shops, people danced between, into and out of buildings, and light and color filled the air.

  Children danced barefooted alongside old men and women, ragtag bands bumbled out upbeat music from the surrounding establishments, and the smell of sweet foods and spiced meat teased on the wind. Joseph paused, taking a long satisfied whiff of the air.

  Alexandra and I bowed as a group of girls skipped by and placed flower-crowns on our head.

  “Thank you, Atlas!” the girl said as she placed a ring of chrysanthemums on my head, the orange flowers vibrant in the lantern light.

  “No, thank you,” I smiled as she and her friends jogged away laughing.

  Alexandra thoughtfully touched the ring of carnations around her bonnet, Joseph starting across the square towards the tavern, the place roaring with laughter and voices.

  “Why don’t you pick the busiest place here?” Alexandra trudged after him.

  “C’mon, Alex, loosen up, have a little fun, if that’s possible for you,” Joseph grabbed her arm, pulling her along.

  With an unamused expression, she grabbed my arm and pulled me along with them. We moved through the square and into the open doors of the tavern, crossing its crowded porch. People filled every chair and table, dancing in the spaces in-between. A huge fire blazed in the main hearth, a whole pig winding on a spit. Wenches bustled around with huge trays of drinks and food. The story above us was just as populated, people leaning over the balcony rails and shouting things at anyon
e they knew underneath.

  A huge muscled man behind the bar paused, handing a pot of steaming potatoes to a kitchen boy.

  “Atlas!” he boomed, “The estranged knight and the adventuring maid!”

  “No,” Alexandra muttered under the noise.

  “Welcome to the White Horse Tavern! I’m Jace, the owner, what can I get you?!” he asked.

  A few nods and some attention was directed to our party at the utterance of our names, but many were distracted as a band entered and started setting up on the tavern’s raised stage.

  “Ale?” Joseph smiled.

  Jace nodded, pulling three mugs out and turning to the tap.

  “Wine,” Alexandra said coolly.

  He nodded, pulling out a bottle from under the bar.

  Joseph gave her a wry smile.

  “I will have none of your rotten smelling ale,” she said indignantly.

  “Cider,” I inputted.

  Jace finished our drinks off, handing them to us.

  “Cost?” Joseph asked.

  “Free till the guard’s stock runs out!” Jace laughed.

  The men around us roared with applause, lifting their glasses.

  Jace leaned close, “Not that I’d charge you three anyway,” he clapped Joseph on the shoulder, “I’ll send out a round of food, go find a seat!” he turned back to the kitchen door.

  We looked back at the crowd, Joseph taking a content swig of his ale. Alexandra spied some seat and led us off to it, a place against the wall where we could watch the rest of the people gathered. She and I had barely finished half of our drinks when Joseph finished his second, his booming voice joining the others as the bard of the band went into some deep-drumming song about a dragon slayer.

  Several people came by and chatted with us idly, thanked us, or thanked me. We finished off a round of seared pork and vegetables, the band falling into an instrumental song with the thrum of the lute and the singing voice of a fiddle. Alexandra watched Joseph push his chair out and stretch.

  He took a look at her, “Do you want to dance, Alex?”

  She froze, looking out at the crowd that stomped around the floor, “I do not know how to dance like that.”