by Eric Black
He had no idea of the density of the forest (he didn’t want to get turned around and lost). He also recognized that there were probably Klopph positioned in the surrounding area. He didn’t think he could slip past them and he would be questioned when captured as to his deceptiveness.
Instead, he continued to walk forward. He was thirty feet from the building and still trying to decide what he would say when a Klopph stepped from the forest and stopped him. Soon that Klopph was joined by two others from the trees. Then, two more Klopph exited the building and joined the circle around him. Intimidation was one of their tactics and Babel had to admit it was working.
He didn’t have time to talk. He knew it wouldn’t do any good anyways. Anything he might say to them, they knew this world and he didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to lie with any success. Instead, he did what came natural to him. He started a fire.
The Klopph were in a circle ten feet from him and closing. Babel watched as they disappeared in a wall of fire that completely surrounded him. The flames were unbearably hot and he felt his skin begin to singe.
The Klopph screamed, first in surprise and then in pain. He pressed the flames outwards – something he didn’t know he could do until that moment. The flames chased and engulfed the five Klopph, roasting them alive as they ran. The heat lessened as the flames moved away from Babel and he watched as the Klopph screamed their way to expiry.
When he was sure all of the Klopph were dead, he extinguished the flames – something else until that moment he didn’t know he could do (he had always assumed the flames burned out on their own).
He knew he needed to make a hard decision on what he was going to do. The Klopph would know of the fire and they would respond. He couldn’t keep wandering. The road ahead turned northwest and would lead him further into the Outerlands, he had no doubt. But the road would also be watched. He didn’t expect that this was the only Klopph posting in the Outerlands.
He made up his mind. He would have to risk the forest. He did not know the makeup of the animals in the forest. He did not know if he would find any people in the forest. But he didn’t have much choice.
With the bodies still smoldering, he turned his back to the road and entered the forest.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
As the world began to darken, Babel knew that he had to stop and find shelter.
So far he had not seen any of the swamps that he had expected which gave him a firm ground, but he was leery of that choice. On the ground, even hidden well, he would be exposed for discovery. Plus he would be open game for any animal in the forest, as well as the insects that dwelled near the coppice floor. Instead, he opted for the trees.
He made his way up a solid tree that he didn’t think was too obvious. It did not stand alone, rather was part of a tight cluster of smaller trees. Babel was able to collect some green limbs from the top of that tree and use these to weave a makeshift floor between the forked branches. Then, he filled in the underneath of the new platform with leaves so that it would be undetectable from below. He tested his weight on the shelter and found that it would hold.
He had purchased a backpack before he left the city as well as food and a water bottle. He ate quickly and then hung the backpack in an adjacent tree, masking with leaves and making sure it was difficult to reach from the ground. If an animal came, he didn’t want the reason the creature attacked him to be because of the food.
He was well disguised but being in the open left him feeling vulnerable. He would have loved to have a fire to fragment the dark night but knew the flames would attract unwanted attention. This brought his confidence down even further.
It was a long night. The temperature dropped, not to an unbearable temperature but enough to give him a slight chill. Mixed with his own fear, he shivered most of the night. He did not sleep much and nearly cried when he saw the first light of the morning through the trees. Tired but alive and well, he climbed down from the tree and gathered his food.
He had fared lucky so far. Nothing had bothered him and he had not been attacked. He considered that it might have something to do with his energy but he could not be sure.
He walked the entire morning and began wondering if the forest went on forever, when around mid-day the forest began to grow more spacious. The trees began to decrease in size and the space between the trees grew. Soon, he was in an open field littered with only a few lesser trees. It was then that he saw his first sight of civilization in the Outerlands.
On the far side of the field, Babel watched a stream snake across the ground, finally reaching a village about a half-mile from where he stood. He considered briefly trying to bypass the village but knew that he had been seen.
He continued forward cautiously, keeping his eyes peeled for danger. As he got closer to the village, he noticed the homes were similar to what he had seen just outside of the city – shacks built from diverse items, mostly wood and scrap metal. There were about twenty homes in all, set into a circular fashion. In the center of the village was an open area that Babel assumed was some sort of common gathering area.
In the village commons, people milled, each of them with their eyes on him. None, however, made an attempt to come forward, they simply allowed him to reach and enter their village.
Once inside, the people of the village stilled and regarded Babel. No one spoke. Then, Babel noticed a man moving slowly forward through the crowd. No one else in the crowd moved or spoke.
The man was huge. He appeared to be about fifty and had long black hair, streaked with grey. Lining his face was a neatly trimmed grey beard. The man smiled as he reached Babel. Nothing in the smile showed deceit or violence. In fact, it was one of the warmest smiles Babel had experienced.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
Babel turned to run; he had walked into a trap. The man saw the fear in Babel’s eyes as he spun around. “Wait.” the man said, reaching his arm out to stop Babel. But Babel was too quick.
He was in full sprint back towards the field when a voice stopped him. The voice rang of familiarity and spoke his name. Babel slowed and turned, looking at the direction in which the voice had come. The voice came from a face that he recognized and as he gazed up that face, disbelief filled him in what his eyes were showing. It was the voice and face of a dead man. The voice belonged to Quentin.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“You can’t be here. You’re dead. I heard it announced over the intercom in the city.”
Quentin looked at Babel seriously. Babel could see the pain in his eyes. “My family is dead. Murdered in front of me. My little…” Babel watched as tears accosted Quentin’s eyes and marked his face. He knew he was speaking of his children. Babel didn’t speak, he gave Quentin time to gather himself. It took Quentin several tries before he was able to compose his next words. “Everyone is dead.”
“I thought you were dead, too.”
Quentin’s expression turned serious – stone behind a wet surface. “You remember how I told you that many people in this world have abilities?” Babel nodded. “I die only to come back.” He paused giving Babel time to consider his words. He didn’t expect Babel to understand. “I can’t explain how it works, I just know that it does. You remember how I told you that my father faked my death as a boy to protect me?” Again Babel nodded. “It was easy to fake because I actually did die. But then I came back, and my father used that as an opportunity to protect me. He sent me to this village where I was raised.”
Babel wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead, he avoided the question he wanted to ask and asked the more obvious question. “How did you escape from the Klopph after you died?”
“I killed a Klopph in the morgue and used his uniform to exit the building. Then, I came here.”
Babel looked at Quentin seriously. “I’m sorry for your family. I’m sorry for Triana. It’s my fault they are dead.”
Quentin gave Babel a look that told him that Quentin held him to blame as well. “It is the way of t
he Klopph.” Quentin answered, evading his true feelings. He lowered his eyes briefly before raising them again, staring hard at Babel. “You will lead the people against the Klopph and the Keeper. You are the only one who can defeat them. My family will not have died in vain.”
Babel wanted to refuse but saw the look in Quentin’s eyes and knew it would be unwise to make a refusal. He didn’t mean it when it said it but in time he would grow to believe the words he spoke that day. He started that process with a simple, “Okay.”
Next Babel was introduced to Jims, the man who had welcomed him when he first entered the village. Jims had pulled his hair back into a ponytail and Babel thought he looked a bit like Sean Connery in the movie Highlander, only twice the size. Jims showed Babel to the small shack where he would be sleeping. “Thanks, Jims.”
“No problem. By the way, I would keep a tight tongue around Quentin if I were you. He has welcomed you to his village because of who you are. But he also blames you for the death of his family. He knows deep down it’s not your fault, it’s the Klopph. But all the same, he hasn’t worked it out yet.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Just doing my part to keep the peace, mate.”
“Who are you Jims?”
Jims smiled. “I’m his brother. Not his blood brother, of course, but he was sent to live with my parents. My parents died many years ago. He’s all the family I have left.”
Babel nodded in understanding. “What do you think about his claim that he dies and comes back?”
Jim considered Babel’s question before answering. “The Klopph don’t wound mate, they kill. If he was taken in by the Klopph, he was killed. They don’t make mistakes.”
“Could there be some other explanation?”
“Look, I understand your confusion. I was confused at first also. That was until I saw it myself. That Quentin is an unlucky fellow. It’s not often a man is killed three times and gets to live to talk about it.”
“Three times? When was the other time?”
“About two years after he first arrived. He and I were hunting in the forest; on the south side of the forest are several bluffs. He was stalking a deer but got too close to the bluffs. He missed his footing and fell thirty feet, landing on the rocks below. I watched him die. But by the time I got down there, he was up and fine.”
Babel and Jims spoke for a while longer before Jims excused himself to help with the dinner. Babel thought on Jims’ words after Jims had left. It appeared it would take some time sink in.
Babel walked back to the small one room shack that would house him. It was contained sparse furniture with only a low bed in the corner (Babel was thankful there was at least a blanket) and two crates of different sizes, designed to be a simple table and chair. Jims had told him that dinner would be ready in a few hours, so Babel took the opportunity to lie down and rest.
He was awoken three hours later by Jims. “Dinner is ready. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Babel rose and shook the sleep from his head. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I don’t think I realized how tired I was.”
Jims nodded in understanding. “We’ll eat in the commons area. A meal prepared in your honor. This will also be your last meal unless you help with harvesting and hunting.” Jims winked at Babel. “Your status as a Chokka only goes so far.”
Babel smiled at but got Jims’ point. If he was going to stay with these people, he would have to chip in.
In the commons, Quentin motioned him over and Babel sat in a chair next to him. “This looks great.” A plate of food was brought over and sat in front of him. He was so hungry that he nearly started eating before noticing that no one else had their food. Quentin smiled slightly at Babel’s uncomfortable moment.
“Don’t worry about it. Go ahead and eat. I know you’re hungry.”
“I can wait.”
It took several minutes but finally everyone had their food. No one took a bite. Instead they looked up at Quentin who rose from his seat. “Today we are honored to have a Chokka among us. It has been many years since a Chokka was with the people. Now, I will simply say eat and enjoy this evening. Tomorrow we begin our preparations.”
The people of the village began to eat and Quentin sat back down. “I take it you found my letter?”
“I did.”
“You were a fool to go back to the house but I appreciate you coming to check.”
“In truth, I was looking for Triana. She left early to go to the market, before I rose for the morning. I came to your house to see if you had heard from her.” Quentin winced at the mention of Triana’s name and Babel felt his guilt rise. He leaned closer to Quentin. “I’m sorry about Triana. I shouldn’t have let her leave without me.”
“You were asleep, right? It’s difficult to keep tabs on someone under those circumstance. Triana is a grown woman. She lives on her own and knows the world. Even if you were there, there was nothing you could have done for her.” Babel could hear the pain in his voice.
“I could have done something.”
“Listen to me,” Quentin said harshly, “if you would have been there, you would now be dead and there would be no hope for the people of this world.”
Babel remained silent.
“Listen, Babel. There are no coincidences in this world. Triana was taken for a reason. My family was killed for a reason. I pray that you are that reason but I have not yet seen you act.” Quentin locked eyes with Babel. “It was no coincidence that you found this village. Of all the places in this world you could have gone, you walked straight here. Now, you already told me once that you were ready to lead the people. You owe me nothing and I ask you again – and this time I want your honest answer. Are you ready to become the Chokka Császár?”
Babel thought about the question for several moments before answering. When he had his answer, he looked soberly at Quentin. “I have given you my answer. That answer remains yes.”
Quentin’s face softened and he smiled. “Then I shall have to teach you how.”
“I don’t understand. Your letter said I had to find the power within me.”
“And so you do. But wouldn’t it be easier to find with someone who knows where to look?”
“It definitely would.” Babel agreed.
“Then it’s agreed. Tomorrow we start your training. Now eat, your food is probably cold.”
Babel looked at his food and realized he had not yet taken a bite. He looked out over the group of people spaced throughout the commons and then took his first bite of food as the Chokka Császár.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Keeper was concerned. He was pleased with the work of the Cancellarrii but the Chokka had still not been found. Additionally, the body of the son of the former Minister of Science – the professor – had disappeared from the morgue following the death of a Klopph. That disturbed him most; how could someone enter a secure facility and escape with a body undetected?
He knew that none of the Klopph would remove a body from the morgue. The order stood that all bodies of guests of the Klopph were burned. The Klopph would not disobey that order. Unless a Klopph did.
In the many years since he had organized the Klopph, no Klopph had ever disobeyed him. The Klopph were selected at birth and throughout their life, given the best of everything. Men feared them and nothing was beyond their reach.
The Keeper was confused but still felt deep down that it had not been a Klopph who disobeyed him. That meant something else. He was not sure what that something else entailed. It was the something else that created uncertainty within him. He was not used to elements of his world being out of his control. He had to be careful of how he reacted to the uncertainty because he knew it would bring insecurity – and then anger. The anger would lead to rash decisions and mistakes.
He left his office and went back to his personal quarters. He would need time to think it through. He was sure there was a rational explanation for the missing body.
For most of
the night the Keeper sat in the large chair in his den. He knew he should be asleep but he couldn’t quite manage to get there. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.
After several hours of staring out of a dark window and thinking, he rose and went to the kitchen. He conjured a glass of milk and sat down at his kitchen table. There, he reread the report from the Cancellarri. He had brought the file back from his office, something he rarely did (he thought of his personal quarters as his one place of solace from the rigors of ruling an entire world). As always, admired and appreciated the efficiency and preciseness of the Cancellarrii. The report included a complete transcript of the interrogation.
He read the transcript carefully, not wanting to miss anything. He had nearly completed the entire document, when something he had a read a few moments prior triggered in his mind. He searched back over the document and found the part of the interrogation where the professor was asked about his fake death when he was a child.
“I was killed in an accident as a child, only it wasn’t a real death.” the Keeper read Quentin’s words aloud. “My father took care of the paperwork, then I was sent away to live in the Outerlands.”
The Keeper read this aloud twice. Something about the way that the professor said “it wasn’t a real death” sounded strange. He didn’t come out and say that his death had been faked. Plus he said that he was “killed in an accident as a child.” Again that was a strange response.
The Cancellarrii had included photos from an old Chokka file taken of the accident when the Minister of Science’s son was killed. The photos were very graphic.
He looked closer at the body in the photos. There was no doubt that the body belonged to the professor as a child. “These are very realistic. Almost too realistic.”
Something didn’t feel right. He read the transcript of the interview of the Minister of Science after the death of his son. The words of the Minster didn’t sound as if they were just said to cover up a fake death. The words seemed sincere and full of sorrow. “No one is that good of an actor.”