by Jared Ravens
Perhaps she sensed this because she moved the knife out of sight and said something that he couldn't understand. He rose slowly, aware he had no weapon. He eyed her throat in case she made any move. She floated about the creaky shack, speaking an unknown language as if in conversation with him. She flashed some square pieces of metal and winked, her few teeth shining grey at him. He understood.
When he returned tot he shack he brought his full armament with him. This might have shocked her but she by then was already well into setting up the game and didn’t want to kick him out. Fairfax didn't care about the square money he had picked up off a dead strangers, nor did he care about winning the game. He sat with the two old, wretched people as if he was in the company of old friends and played their game. He lost without knowing the rules and they howled in delight.
By the time Gim showed up Fairfax was feeling a numbness come over him, a bit of joy from having a need filled. Though his face was blank he was roused by having another person in his presence. And in this calmness he heard a voice speaking to him in a language he understood but couldn't express. It told him what to do, what to play, and he laid the cards down as if in a trance. The old woman's smile disappeared, and though he couldn't understand what she was saying he understood what she meant.
Then the game was over for him. The voice went away an he slammed the knife into the table. It was a warning that she didn't heed. She said something else, spittle ejecting from her thin, dry lips. When it overcame him, he did everything he could to direct it. He aimed for the table and not her. He pushed it as hard as he could to force the emotion out of him, and he felt a spike of energy lift through him when the axe cut the table in half. It was a jolt of something fresh, like he had glimpsed the personality of who he was. But it was only a glimpse.
He was standing there, then, people staring at him, the cards destroyed, a slice cut out of the building. Gim spoke something he could understand, a half and half language that snuck in just enough words for him to get clues to their meaning. It was the first conversation he could ever remember having, and it was in a laguage he couldn't quite grasp. When the old man repeated something to him Fairfax understood the gist, and the opportunity. More than that, he understood the people.
They weren't looking for converts. They weren't looking for loyalty.
They were looking for work. He could do work.
The Black Sea
The people of Eae knew when something was coming. The sky would light up the black sea at the edge of the world would bubble with electricity. The blackness would become darker and the wind would howl in excitement. The lookout would ring the bell and any able bodied person would wander through the crevices in the mountain. The bell signaled prosperity as much as danger and all that were able were eager for it. Frail as many of them looked, all of them were tough as copper and even the stringiest of them could punch with a might to topple any person in Sigma.
Fairfax's first encounter with the beasts of the black ocean came in what was most likely the early morning hours. It was difficult to tell time as the sky was nearly always back, grey or red. Somewhere in the night a string of images had entered his mind, drawing him into an anxious set of thoughts that verged on paranoid. He walked mindlessly up the trail, axe draped over his back, attempting to understand what his head was telling him.
They stood on the rocky beach of a vicious ocean in the blackest of nights and waited. He felt the tension rise in the crew of a few dozen. His mind eased with the growing danger. A being with a light green shelled numerous legs was the first thing to emerge. Its body was about ten times the size of Fairfax but it did not appear to have a mouth. Yet as soldiers rushed mindlessly towards it, the bottom of its body opened, exposing teeth. The legs would bend and the mouth would swoop down to snap at the men and women below it like a demented claw.
Though the hateful looking thing exuded danger with each clicking step from the ocean not a single person swayed from approaching it. If they did not face it here it would end up on their doorstep. They also knew that the first person to get a cut on it would get the best part of it. That was, if the warrior survived. They charged it without regard for safety, and their emotional wave was what allowed Fairfax to find a focus that tunneled his vision at the beast. He counted the legs as he rushed it but lost count since it moved so fast. He thrashed at them and a number of them fell like trees, causing its torso to tilt to one side. He banged his axe into the thigh joints and it began to topple. It regained its balance on its remaining legs and kicked away a number of soldiers. Fairfax ducked its swinging legs but the mouth found him, bending down and opening to chomp at him.
Seeing a vast number of teeth he felt a calmness rising in him, as if could count each tooth in the time it took for the mouth to reach him. He saw the options available to him as laid out on a table. He took the quickest but riskiest course: He allowed it to close in on him. He swung his axe up at just the moment it was attempting to gather him in its jaws. His swing was as heavy as he could make it, for he knew he was literally fighting for his life. He felt the axe cut through to the other side of the being's mouth and the thing wailed in agony.
Fairfax continued swatting at it while a heavy, dark breath spat at him. Soon he felt it subside and fall. It took nearly everything out of him, yet when he looked around he saw a beach that was invaded with the creatures of the darkest imagination. Mismatched parts of insects and animals struggled to gain a foothold against the encampment of veterans that bloodied themselves. Wave after wave was thrust back
Fairfax found it exhausting just to look at it. And then he felt inside his head and saw that it was empty and focused. The thoughts of the morning were nowhere to be found. And when they tried to sneak back into his train of thought he found a surge of energy to push them back. He fell into the fight again with gusto, and when he emerged later covered in blood and fluid of now extinct species his relief at escaping death was nearly the match for his relief from escaping his mental anguish.
When there was no motion from the sea except the waves he looked around him. Limbs and bodies and blood of all color surrounded him. The warriors from the day made their way to their prizes, cutting up what they could to haul back into the town. One by one they left, forming a line that snaked around the trail, singing bawdy songs and lifting the dead beasts into the air to the beat.
A man with a long, grey beard covered in green and red fluids crusted to it struck up a conversation that Fairfax could barely understand. A short woman with matted hair in front of him took took to translating for him.
“He says you do a shit of work out er,” she explained in mixed languages.
Fairfax thanked them and complimented him as well, though he had not been able to notice any single person’s actions in the midst of the chaos. The man asked Fairfax to come to the hall for dinner and Fairfax accepted, without knowing if he would even be able to stand by the time he got back.
The bearded man, whose name was Helis (or Ellis, Fairfax couldn’t know for sure) guided him to a large tent near the center of town. It was a semi-permanent structure, with certain rooms made of brick and wood but with much of the main dining hall only covered in fabric made of a multitude of colors. Rows of tables and benches ran down the hall. The fighters hauled their leaking bags meat and shells under the tables and laid on top of them to rest. Fairfax imitated this action and soon found himself rowing in the blackness of sleep.
He woke with a start and saw every table was covered in dirty bodies, men and women laying down for a nap. He checked under his table and saw his bag was gone. Around him workers were dragging the bags to the back. He felt fury rising him but he attempted to hold it back. Be barked at a worker and she answered back:
“Ya wan it cooked ur not?” She asked him, not waiting for a response before walking to the back. Fairfax followed her to the kitchen where the meat was being boiled in large pots over dozens of fires. It was immensely humidity, with an acrid fog that smelled like burni
ng flesh. He made his way between the hordes of cooks to retrieve the bag he had drug back from the beach. It had little meat left in it but all of the shells and bones he had collected were still there. He was scolded by one of the cooks and pushed out into the main hall. People were rising from the tables and finding places at their tables. He sat at one across from Helis. Helis continued to speak to him, although Fairfax had no way to respond. He motioned to Fairfax’s shoulder and patted the lump of bone jutting up from it. Fairfax pushed his hand away and Helis’ face dropped. Fairfax saw he had offended him but had nothing he could say back to him.
“He wants to know if ew came out of the sea,” translated one man. Fairfax didn’t know if this was a joke or not and he stared at Helis blackly. He pointed to the man’s disgusting beard.
“Ask him if he came out of there,” Fairfax responded. The man translated this to Helis and Helis burst out laughing. The grey and black meat arrived at the table and the rowdy sounds dimmed to the noise of plates and knives and chewing. Fairfax ate as much as he could fit in his stomach, enjoying the pleasure of fullness. He could not remember ever feeling such satisfaction, and this came by way of flavorless, wet meat.
Midway through the meal a man came onto the small riser at the front of the tent and began to speak. Not being able to understand him, Fairfax studied the man. He was short, but not as short as Fairfax. He had a blond beard that was well kept and he wore old clothes that were none the less quite formal: a leather vest and round hat made our of some sort of red animal’s skin. His mouth contained small, lightly yellowed teeth that he exposed as much as possible. It was not lost on Fairfax this this was some type of leader.
Fairfax’s head aching with confusion and he stumbled out of the tent not long after the speech began. His movement was barely noticed as many had not even stopped talking while the man spoke. Dragging his sack into a dirt street lit with torches he observed bags and plates full of the leftover meat making its way from the back of the main hall to the shacks and tents among the village. People waited at their doorways for the delivers and hurriedly brought it into their homes.
He felt his head filling again with the concerns and the thoughts of others. The burden was growing inside his head and he longed for another horn to blow and for something to attack them.
He felt a hand on his smaller shoulder and he turned quickly, expecting some fiend to be facing him. What he saw was the round face and small teeth that had just been on stage. Up close the man looked not quite so young, with age stretching from his eyelids and down the sides of his smiling mouth. He kept his hand on Fairfax’s shoulder and spoke clearly but with a thick accent.
“You are new here, I have heard,” he said. “I am Eryick, I led the party today. I didn’t think you would make it back from that grinder but then I saw your movement, and it was quite something!”
His hand moved to Fairfax’s gleaming axe and Eryick’s eyes shined with its radiance.
“Where did you get such piece as this,” he asked, fingering Curson’s metal.
“Bodies,” Fairfax said. “In the desert.”
“Must have been some rich people making the crossing!” Eryick replied.
“I don’t know about that,” Fairfax said.
“They say you don’t know much,” he replied. “Or don’t want to say much. That’s fine by me, do as I need and we all stay alive.”
“I stay alive fine by myself.”
Eryick winked at him.
“Not here.”
He motioned for him to follow him back in the tent. It was now half empty as people made for the exit. Eryick spoke to Fairfax as they walked to the back of the tent. Two men with spears made from bone walked on each side of them.
“When you cast your axe down it shook the ground so heavily that it everything around you fell. How do you do that?”
“I hit the ground as hard as I can.”
“I see that. Where did you learn that?”
“Trial and error.”
“And where did you grow up where you needed that skill?”
“Sigma.”
At the entrance to the back way Eryick turned to him.
“That need that a lot in Sigma?”
Fairfax shrugged.
“I used to live in Sigma. Seems like a poor place to practice something like that.”
“That’s why I moved here,” Fairfax responded.
“I’m glad that we could provide you with adequate training space.”
He continued moving through the kitchen to a room filled with nothing but sacks and bones.
“When we go out there next time, I need you to just do that trick over and over again until I tell you to stop. You’ll walk near me and I’ll tell you what to do. Is that clear?”
Eryick stopped walking and looked behind him. Fairfax said nothing, but met his eyes. Eryick had stopped smiling. He declined to look away from Fairfax’s eyes until he responded. When none came, he continued speaking.
“And you don’t come into the kitchen. When we are through with your bag we will return it to you. What you gather goes back to you, but first it goes through us. Is that clear?”
“I don’t think I agree.”
“Then I’ll kill you,” Eryick responded.
Fairfax examined the man in front of him, slightly taller than him, a pudgy face and a body that looked not too muscular. From his makeup he should not have been imposing, yet something about the look on his face was disquieting. On each side of him the guards stood motionless, a quiet challenge. He had seen what Fairfax had done and was impressed, but he was not afraid.
“Or do you want to go back to where you came from?” Eryick continued. “And see what they do to you there?”
Fairfax lifted his head and nodded slightly.
“Agreed,” Fairfax said.
Eryick picked up a bag and dug through it, pulling several bones and a large shell as hard as metal out of it. He threw that and bag of cooked meat at Fairfax’s feet.
“Take this with you as well. Bones and shells are as valuable as anything here. That’s what we trade, that’s what we make things from. Most goes back to you, but we tax it first. If more things needed, we take more things from you. If you do a good job, you get more back. So be glad in your prosperity.”
Eryick was smiling again. Fairfax had many things to say, none of which would seem helpful at this time to speak.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” Eryick said.
“Yes.”
“Good. I hope no one followed you here, cause that would be a terrible thing.” He slapped Fairfax’s large shoulder. “They don’t like me either. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
The Army
Eryck began to have Fairfax walk by his side when the villagers made their way up the trail to the black ocean. As soon as the bell rang, Fairfax would feel the emotion vibrate through his mind, forcing him to wrestle it into something more controlled. The anxiety would flow out of his brain and into his body, where it would stay as long as he focused on it. He would maintain this balance of energy as evenly as possible as they walked but the concentration would render him unable to speak. It worked out perfectly; Eryck could speak enough for the both of them. Even if Fairfax’s head had been on straight he still wouldn't have been able to keep track of the number of stories Eryck told. It didn't matter if he followed them; They all of the ended the same, with someone dying in a bloody fight. There was usually al lot of sex somewhere in the middle of the story, and at the start he would always say "You know what I'm reminded of?"
When they arrived on the beach the sea would be gurgling and limbs would be waving from the water, anticipating the new battle. Eryck would yell at people to get in a formation and then continue his story as they moved. If the creatures had not yet emerged he would start a new one, saying "You know what this reminds me of?” And another gruesome tale about a woman or man in distress would be recited. But then, at some point, the air would change slightly, Eryck’s voice woul
d fall silent, and Fairfax would know what was imminent.
As soon as the first one emerged Eryck would yell and Fairfax would run towards it as fast as he could. Once in range he did exactly as Eryick had told him to do, slamming his axe down and causing a tremor across the beach. If the beasts didn't lose their balance on the first hit Fairfax would do it again, and then again, until every enemy in sight was on the ground. By then most of the warriors were on the ground as well, leaving the hacking to Fairfax until they rose.
This wasn't a problem for him; Fairfax showed himself to every bit the warrior he was build as, thrashing at any moving thing as if cutting vines in a jungle. So impressive was his talent at killing that others became unnerved by his feats and jealous of his gains. They told Eryck that Fairfax’s antics left them on the ground and unable to fight for their pick of the gains. Eryck would smile and tell them that they should learn to stand up better.
So they did. They stayed back from Fairfax and timed their jumps to his axe swings so they wouldn't be dropped on their backs. Still it was often unsuccessful, and they often found themselves fighting over scraps that Fairfax did not have the time to get to.
It did not help that Fairfax was standoffish and quiet, bordering on aloof. He came off as arrogant and, increasingly, he felt that way. Eryck understood the building sentiment and advised Fairfax that he would do well to talk with the other women and men. But there was nothing at that time that Fairfax wanted to say. He was having difficulty just keeping the voices in his head separate, and having light conversations was not a priority of his.
Eryck's home life consisted of five men and eight women who shared every piece of themselves. Living to the tight quarters Eae meant very little was unknown and constant chatter was the norm. Eryck had never met someone like Fairfax, a virtual blank slate with a cinder of emotion in his chest waiting to explode. He prodded him and pried at his personality but nothing came out.
"You have to go to them,” Eryck said, trying to get him to open up to his fellow villagers. "Say something to them."