by Jared Ravens
The Edge of the World
The world was a giant disc, slowly expanding its outer ridge in all directions. It begins with a darkness blacker than night, a color so dense it would suck an onlooker into a trance simply by glancing at it. Those that stood for too long at the edge of the world and look across the edge had a feeling of falling, or being pulled into, a dark vortex.
There was a line that separated the known world and this unknown, and drawing back from that was a dark grey and black ocean that pulsed with energy. Flashes of light extend into the crimson red sky as the waters poured violently at the rocky beaches. When the high tide of this electricity occurred, the waters bubbled over with excitement, and from its rising mounds of water came tentacles, hands, and faces of all types. They extend into bodies, sometimes hard as armor, sometimes soft as mud, that encroached on the shore and introduced themselves to their new home with great cries and the waving of appendages.
Some of these new beings were deadly. Many of them, as we would see them, were deformed and unable to function. A few were intelligent, and some even harmless. But all were anxious to emerge from the treacherous black ocean and make a home for themselves in this new land regardless of who now lives there. Nearly all were unwelcome.
This was the spot where all new life was formed, in the world that was called Holm. It was place littered with what we would call monsters, or even demons. And to defend against these unwanted beings a guard of elite soldiers was sent to the furthest reaches of Holm to keep them at bay. In the south and west the soldiers eventually met water. Normal ocean, without menacing creatures emerging from it or electrical storms hovering over it. It meant that the dangerous act of life creation was, for the time being, someone else's problem. In the North there were mountains, and if the edge of the world extended beyond them no one bothered to find out; it was assumed the cliffs were steep enough that nothing would pass them. But in the east, across vast deserts, where the edge of the world was first formed, they knew they had to do something to keep these things at bay. The desert could only be relied on to do so much.
There were forts and walls and villages created with the meager natural resources available in the dusty land. Over time, these posts were forgotten about in the bureaucracy, mostly because they did their job so well that invasion from the east was no longer an issue worth thinking about. Their supplies were reduced to a dribble and they were forced to live off the land more, and killing the things that came out of the black ocean became as much a hunt for food as it was a hunt for security.
By the time a hunched over stranger reached the furthest points of the land these units were mere remnants of anything that could be called a brigade. Only a few at the top communicated at all with anyone in the urban areas. The residents were now villagers of various tribes that lived off the land, trading the unique remnants of these animals that they killed but otherwise keeping themselves entirely isolated. They were allowed them to do what they wanted, so long as they kept the problem away from the rest of the population.
The man arrived dehydrated and limping, attempting the same thing as nearly everyone that came that way: He was walking as far as he could to get away from whatever it was he needed to escape. No one came close to the hellish red night sky unless whatever they came from was worse. He would have been unnoticed. What was different was the shape of him: he had a right shoulder so distorted and large that some mistook him for a monster from the black sea. And though he was quite short he was also very large, wide across his chest, and he was obviously quite powerful despite his condition.
Gim’s job at that time was to cut the meat out of the creatures and hang it on racks to dry, a difficult job for someone of his diminutive size. It was dirty work, since the meat that came from the insect-like beings was tough and clung to the cartilage and bone of the creatures like a tick to skin. That day he had been digging the meat out of the legs of something with six appendages. From its slender, stick like body two heads emerged that seemed to consist of nothing but yellow eyes. It had put three men and a woman to bed with injuries before it was shut down. Still, for all that work, it yielded meager returns.
His back loaded with his pay of grey meat, he walked home. It was not night but the sky was black with smoke and red with an angry energy. He came to the shanty he shared with his aunt and found her with his uncle, picking at a body on the table. He thought they had prepared an especially large dinner before he saw the clothing.
"E dead?" Gim asked.
"There's barely nothing here," the aunt said, her hands emerging from the insides of man’s clothes. She turned a worn, skeletal face to Gim. ”E didn't bring much with em."
His uncle sniffed and cursed, saying it was hard enough as it was and they should throw him back into he street. His aunt, defiant, bared her seven teeth and told the hunched man to go back to his home, and so he did, where his second wife could fill her night with his complaining.
She left the man on the table like a sack of beans as they cooked the mean at the fire. They ate it so quickly a table was not even needed and eventually the man was forgotten about. In the morning Gim found that the man had fallen off the table and was moaning on the floor. Gim stood beside him, wondering if he should offer him some water or if his aunt would be angry at him.
"Get em in the street!" she said when he asked. "Get em in the street before I get home!"
Gim was no saint, and normally he would do so without a thought. But this one was different. The man was not skinny, and though he was worn out, Gim could not detect mortal wounds or illness. He was also especially wide and seemed quite heavy, so pulling him out of the home would seem to be more trouble that it was worth. The man had a deformity on his shoulder, and Gim took sympathy to this since he himself had a head far wider and longer than anyone thought was necessary. So he gave him some dirty water and left him in the pantry, knowing there was nothing to steal in there and it was likely he would be dead or gone by the time his aunt got home.
When he returned that night he was startled to see three people around the dining table: his aunt and uncle and the stranger. His relatives where laughing and carousing, playing three hand plug, a card game, with the stranger staring dull eyed at his four cards. His aunt calculated and laid down her hand. The stranger reached into his thick leather shirt and pulled out a coin and laid it out for her. She gleefully collected her winnings and demanded they play another. The man remained silent and the cards were dealt.
"E came and stood up in er and we couldn't get em to leave," she said, baring the remnants of her remaining teeth. Her face was so worn that it looked like a well beaten piece leather. "And I know, I can't beat E out of here, h'es big and all, so I let em stay and give us some money."
"Where the money from?" Gem asked.
"Who knows, I think E killed a guy outside. E has new clothes too so you know, if he's big and bad and all its good and if not so much, he goes to be feed for the animals."
Gim eyed the stranger, who still had not looked over at him. His face was still and blank, and though it was weathered from the journey he seemed to be quite young. The bulk of his unusual body seemed to distort his age. He sat carefully on eat wobbly stool like a thick animal balancing itself on a tree branch.
"Said something?” Gim asked his aunt.
"Said nothing, just a few words."
“Dangerous..." Gim replied.
“Well, have danger on your side, E’s not no good at the cards and all so Danger can come to me all E wants."
She got back to the cards, laughing and carrying on as if the dull eyed man wasn't towering over her, listening to her every word. He had more than new clothes; he had an axe, nearly as large as his body, its bade extending over his own head. Underneath considerable grime covering the weap
on there were shimmer that was difficult to look away from. Although it was not ornate, it was clearly of quality that could only come from a master craftsman. It was not Unusual for people to have such weapons here but it was unusual to go to social hour with them harnessed to your back, and it was certainly not common to see one of such excellence. Gim watched the game proceed, his aunt and uncle ganging up on the stranger. He seemed nearly oblivious to his surroundings yet had played his cards she asked.
"Eh," said Gim, leaning against a pole that held most of the thin wood ceiling up. The stranger looked up. "Ur name?"
The man looked at him for the longest time. The other two ignored their nephew and prodded the man to play his cards. He said nothing but stared, digging for information inside his head. Finally, he answered in a long slow drawl.
"Fair.... Fax."
The two at the table paused a moment, expecting something else to come out of his mouth. When nothing did she told him the man he had to play. Fairfax looked at her, his face dusted with back soot and dried blood and examined the birdlike woman in front of him. For the first time she suddenly sensed the danger and pulled her chair back.
"Don't look et me like that!" she said.
He took heed of her warning and placed his cards down. She counted the numbers.
"No!" she said, happily. "You can't win!"
She began to laugh but he suddenly moved his arm, slamming down a intricate knife onto the table, piercing the cards with its gleaming silver blade. There was a sudden silence as everyone stared dumbfounded at the knife’s gold hilt and handle. Even Fairfax seemed transfixed by it.
It wasn't from this place.
"Ew don't go fucking up ma cards like that!" His aunt said, and his uncle protested as well. Gem stepped back, seeing the rage that was beginning to pour out from over the strangers's edges.
The stranger reached in back of him and pulled the axe out, standing at the same time. His uncle tried to reach for a rusty sword, thinking the man was going for his wife. Instead Fairfax thrust the axe down onto the table. It cut through the wooden floors and into the dirt underneath, radiating an earthquake that threw all of them to the ground. A crack cut through the floor and up the walls of the dilapidated building, cutting it in two. The wall in front fo Fairfax collapsed, along with part of the ceiling. Gim jumped out of the way just as a pile of lumber fell on the ground.
There was dust everywhere. In the confusion and coughing Gim went for his own knife, thinking the man would go after them. But as the dust cleared and people gathered at the site of the racket Gim realized he was pointing a shaking knife at a man who seemed just as confused about what had happened as any of them. The man stared at his own axe wobbling in the ground with an astonished look. His gaze reached Gim and the boy’s knife. The man seemed entirely unaffected. He walked away from the broken table and leaned against one of the remaining walls. It shifted against his weight.
For once his aunt seemed speechless. She offered some scared words of contrition, alternating calling for help. Gim told her to shush. She wanted to be side by side with danger. She was now.
Gim put his knife away, knowing anything he could do was futile. He walked in between the man and his axe, hoping this would keep him from fetching it too quickly. He thought about what type of small talk he could give the man that could distract him thoughts about doing any more damage.
"Big ax," Gim said.
"Yeah," Fairfax said, looking up from the pole.
"Wood?" Gem said, imitating a lumberjack cutting wood.
“Yeah" Fairfax said, shrugging. They both knew it wasn't true but it it established some story they could tell each other.
"Cut rock, too." Gim said hopefully.
"What?"
"Rock," he said, imitating the same motion he had for the lumberjack.
"Are you offering me a job?" Fairfax asked.
"He's saying," said the uncle, pulling his elderly body up from the ground and coughing. "We don’t' much like soldiers around here. Are you a lumberjack? Can you cut rock you fucker or are you here to kill all of us?"
Fairfax looked in back of the uncle where the hole in the house was. A group of dirty faces had gathered and peered in at him.
"Fix it, eh?" Gim asked, pointing to the hole.
Fairfax looked at the people in front of him, expecting them to be scared, but they didn't seem very frightened. They seemed curious and a little angry. He understood. He felt the same way about soldiers.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll work to fix it."
The Void
Far West
It felt like something had changed.
The season had become cooler thanks to Staley, the manager of the weather. In the city it would still be viciously hot at some points in the day, with the mass of humanity and animals fighting for space among buildings. The country was a pleasant escape for Bern Douglas. He wondered why he had protested so hard about coming here.
People were fond of saying Far West was only good for six legged animals and four fingered humans. Few of them had ever gone very far beyond their own front door, much less outside of Sigma, the main city. Thrilling though it was for those people to live there, Bern now saw more clearly how dark that city facade was. Here in the densest forest of the wetlands, the silence of human activity absolved him of the city’s illusions.
It was that which had changed. The tension that existed between neighbors had risen to an electric charge. In a short amount of time the trust between people and their minders had dissolved. The fear was palpable. It wasn’t just reports of what was happening in the east. Here, clear headed, with time to think, Bern could see that the entire system that held them together was being questioned.
Part of his apprehension in coming here fear of being lost as he searched for Jonathan among the muddy trails. But it was not difficult at all. Bern followed the bend in the river until it split. At that point he could see an old wagon just up the road, just like Jonathan said it would be. He had fortified himself inside inside several carriages, nailing them together with boards and constructing makeshift rooms with driftwood to form a a long house that twisted like a snake along the side of the road. Bright red and yellow sheets covered what was not solid. Bern looked around him at the wild territory around him. Whatever crawled out of the streams and swamps would not have difficulty penetrating Jonathan’s home on wheels.
At the first knock the door opened. A skeletal face with sunken cheeks revealed itself. Thin lips wrapped around a crooked smile, the dark gaps in the mouth more noticeable than the ground down yellow teeth. His eyes were bright with happiness, and he hugged Bern as if they were long lost friends. He was so short that Bern had to bend down to him and still only managed to cradle Jonathan’s hunched back. His delight was infectious.
Bern intruded himself as being from Maydera & Daughters Publishing and Jonathan nodded.
“We hadn’t heard back in a while,” Bern said. “I wondered if you even knew I was coming.”
“Yeah, sure, its been busy here and all that,” he replied, taking Bern’s coat. Bern looked around, seeing that he had enough trinkets and books jammed into the long series of rooms to keep him occupied. Loose papers and cooking implements were jammed into any empty space. Jonathan pushed aside any a stack of papers onto the floor to give his guest a place to sit. Watching him cook over a fireplace cut into the side of the flimsy wall Bern felt suddenly at home. He leaned back into chair.
“It took a lot of persuasion to get my boss to let me come here,” Bern said, bending the truth. “I’m glad we could finally meet.”
“Yeah, sure, sure about that.”
“Things in the city have been… different. I suppose its good to get out.”
“Yeah, for sure on that,” he said, poking at a boiling pot. “There’s a difference coming, that’s what she is saying.”
“So she spoke to you?” Bern asked.
“Supposed she did,” he replied, pouring unknown meat into a pan. His voice had
a high treble to it and every he said sounded happier than he probably was.
“But you know how unusual that is.”
He peeked around his shoulder at me, his face stern for the first time.
“Suppose so,” he said. A smile reappeared on his face.
He seemed to confirm everything Bern’s boss had suspected. Jonathan had written them for months. Bern got a lot of submissions for publications but his were unusual. For one, his writings were of a political nature. For another, he was consistently polite. Most people were angry when you rejected them. He always pleasantly wrote back. Lastly, he seemed to be nearly illiterate. The first three letters were mistaken for drawings. Only after careful examination did they see they did indeed contain letters. And they only looked at these letters again after what they received later.
Sir, we don’t publish books of a political nature, and what you have written us is perhaps blasphemous at best and treasonous at worst. We will not support its publication.
They thought this response letter silence him. Yet he kept writing back. He continued his pursuit, sending scribblings in his own writing to us along with pages of well manicured handwriting dense enough that it would require a priestess to decipher. It was dense stuff, theological guidelines that could not have come from the same hand.
“When she writes for me, it looks like diamonds,” Jonathan whispered to Bern. He stacks of documents with him, papers filled with ideas he had translated out of thin air. Page after page had perfect penmanship from a hand that looked like it was made from broken sticks.
It did look like diamonds. It read like it too.
Bern sighed and shook his head, his stomach not feeling well from the meal Jonathan had cooked for him. He had stripped down to his undershirt, finally free of his suit.
“I think these are amazing, Jonathan,” Bern said, again bending truths. “But my boss is skeptical. Why would she have you write this out? No man has ever, to my knowledge, been invited to commune with her. Why you?”