Dispocalypse

by M. A. Rothman

  With furrowed brows and pursed lips, Willow studied Ramai and remembered Edmund’s warning about believing only half of what the dwarf said. She wasn’t sure what to believe, but the few things Ramai seemed to know about, her dreamwalking as an example, made it hard for her to dismiss him. “The Great War ... the apocalypse, has destroyed most of the world. It’s a nightmare up above, but how could I possibly do anything about it?”

  “It’s not an apocalypse.” Raz chimed in, his eyes wide and alert. “The world is full of food.” He pointed at Willow and Ramai. “Many good people ... it’s not an apocalypse.” He turned to Ramai. “You say a good tree is coming. That’s not part of an apocalypse.” He turned to Willow, scrambled within arm’s length and briefly touched Willow’s blonde hair and scrambled away. “Flower, you’re beautiful and you’ll be helping the good tree. It can’t be an apocalypse you’re living in. The apocalypse is over; we’re in a dispocalypse. A good place. A good time.”

  Willow smiled at his sincere expression and with a big toothy grin, Raz grabbed a root and began chomping.

  “Dispocalypse, eh?” Ramai chuckled and tilted his head toward Raz as the wildling focused on his food once again. “Then dispocalypse it shall be.” Ramai winked at Willow and rang a bell that was sitting on a nearby table. “My young elf, I’m sure you have many questions, but let’s get you some proper clothes and we’ll have much to talk about.”

  Willow walked along a dimly-lit stone corridor looking at the marks above the solid-looking doors made from the barrier fungus. She turned to Raz and asked, “Are you sure this is the way? I don’t see any names.”

  Raz raised his thin hand and pointed at the hash marks on the plaques above the door. “Ramai said the tailor’s workshop is number twenty-three in the merchant’s hall. Even though it’s after normal working hours, he’ll be there. Most tailors live in their shops.”

  Scanning the plaques above the doors, Willow counted the hash marks and realized that the doors on the left were odd-numbered while the ones on the right were even. Some merchants were still open and she managed to catch a glimpse of their goods as she walked by. Very much like the merchants at New Memphis, Willow saw signs of bolts of cloth, tanned leather, and even in one shop she caught an artist busily painting the portrait of a dwarf family as they posed in straight-back chairs.

  Eventually, Willow stopped at the closed door that had twenty-three hash marks above it and she gently knocked.

  Unlike wood, which didn’t exist in the underworld, the sound of her knock was muffled and barely noticeable. She rapped harder and waited, unsure if anyone was there.

  Just as Willow was about to turn away from the door, she heard the sliding of a bolt and the door swung open. A frowning dwarf with a red beard braided into two long ropes greeted her. The merchant glanced at Raz, sniffed and turned toward Willow. His eyebrows rose as he scanned her from head to foot and growled, “What do you want?”

  “Does Dorwin Needleweaver live here?”

  “No.”

  Willow paused, wondering if maybe Ramai had gotten the wrong address for the tailor. “Do you know where I might be able to find him?”

  The dwarf folded his arms across his wide chest and harrumphed. “I’m Dorwin Needleweaver, what do you want from me?”

  “But I thought you just said—”

  The dwarf growled and hitched his thumb toward his workshop.

  It looked like a bomb had exploded, tossing haphazardly in every nook and cranny of the store all variety of dwarf-sized mannequins, huge piles of various types of cloth, some with white marks others without. Working at a bench between the teetering piles was a harried assistant focusing on stitching the inseam on a pair of leggings. “Does that look like living? I’m barely keeping up with orders and I’ve not had a break in nigh on three years. So, what do you want child ... uhh, whatever you are–I’ve no time for dillydallying.”

  Willow felt guilty standing there, knowing that her request was just going to add more work on the tailor’s plate.

  She was about to excuse herself when Raz exclaimed, “Ramai sent her! She needs proper clothes. Flower can’t be in dirty rags all the time.”

  “Flower?” The tailor gazed at Willow.

  “My name is Willow, and really–it’s okay if you don’t have time. I’ll be fine without—”

  “Nonsense,” the tailor groused. “Never let it be said that Dorwin Needleweaver turned away a ...” He frowned. “What in the name of all that is holy are you, anyway? Some kind of wildling?”

  “I’m an elf, I suppose.” Willow felt odd saying the words aloud.

  Dorwin turned back toward his shop and waved for Willow to follow. “Well, whatever you are–I’ll need to take measurements and such. It’s not every day I get a,” he gave her a sidelong glance. “An elf you say? Well there’s no way I can get it done tonight. I don’t have enough assistants. All the boys nowadays want to be warriors or smiths, and the girls all want to sculpt fungus and be furniture makers or farmers. I’ll see what I can do about having something for you to try on by lunchtime tomorrow.”

  Willow followed the tailor into his busy shop and before she could say anything about not needing him to rush, he’d already snatched a few strips of material from a nearby table and had begun draping them over her arms and shoulders.

  Dragging a stool out from under another table, the merchant climbed onto it and looked at her face-to-face. “Just stand straight and I’ll get you measured and on your way.”

  One of the cloth samples that covered her arm was thick, yet lightweight. It was different from any cloth she’d seen and then as Willow thought to herself, “of course I’d never seen such a thing,” the tailor noticed her bemused expression.

  “Out with it girlie. What’re you thinking is so funny?”

  “Well, I just realized that you guys probably don’t have any sheep, so I was wondering what the cloth was made from.”

  Dorwin barked a laugh and shook his head. “Nay, there ain’t no sheep in this world. Though I’ve read about them in the history books. What you’ve got draped over you is finely pounded barrier fungus. The stuff is tough as nails, but when pounded into submission, it makes for a good breathable cloth that keeps one warm in the damp cold places and wicks the sweat right off you when in the hot places of the world.”

  Willow stared at the cloth with amazement as she noticed the tiny pores throughout the material. It was something she’d never seen with any normal fiber. “It’s almost like leather, but much softer on the skin.”

  The tailor snorted and shook his head. “Leather, hah! Centuries ago, people hunted the rats for leather, but it just rots in the damp of the underworld. Don’t they teach you elves anything about the real world?” The tailor adjusted Willow’s arms so he could measure how the cloth lay on her.

  Willow pressed her lips together and remained silent as she listened to Dorwin Needleweaver complain while he marked the cloth with a white wax-like stick.

  “I’m telling you that nowadays, none of the youth give a thought to where their britches come from. They’d be naked if it weren’t for tailors like me!”

  Willow smiled as the dwarf railed against the youth of the world while he continued to take her measurements.

  Willow watched Ramai pace in front of the auditorium filled with young dwarves, most of whom had barely grown their beards. His voice boomed loudly in the stone chamber and Willow found herself riveted to his words. They were like nothing she’d ever heard.

  “Many of the world’s religions had the concept of a tree of life. Whether it was a literal tree such as the one referenced to in Genesis 3:22, or a more figurative one, they all spoke of it being a link to the beginning of life. After the Great War, religion had been wiped from the world above. Humanity had nearly expired, and those that remain are a corrupted shadow of their former selves. All memories of humanity’s origins had been purposefully wiped from their histories, and instead, filled with half-truths and lies. It is our p
lace to remember the truth, and when the time comes, provide a guiding hand to a new world. Yes! We are on the precipice of a new world and this generation will see many changes.”

  One student in the front row raised her hand and when Ramai nodded, she stood, speaking in a quavering voice. “You’ve said that the prophecies speak of a time when the world will be safe for us again. That we’ll again be able to see the great light in the heavens.”

  Raz, who was sitting on Willow’s right, leaned close and whispered, “The child’s speaking of the sun. Few here have ever seen the sky. It’s unimaginable to them.”

  “Ramai, what can we do to help,” the student asked plaintively.

  The dwarf girl’s voice sounded painfully sincere.

  Ramai gave the young girl a warm smile and motioned for her to sit. “Patience young Bella Shimmerstone, the time will come. Our people have been dwelling underground, safe from the poison above, for over half a millennium, and it was only a handful of weeks ago that I got the first sign that the prophecies of the tree spoke true.”

  Chattering voices rippled through the auditorium as nearly one-hundred students talked excitedly about what Ramai had just said.

  Pulling a silver chain from under his robe, Ramai held aloft a glowing wooden root and the auditorium fell silent.

  Willow stared at the wooden object and wondered what made it glow like that.

  “Behold the root from an acacia tree. A plant that grows only aboveground, yet this one is unique. It is a sliver of the same tree from which a holy relic was created. A relic that has long been recognized as having been imbued with the power of the Creator himself.”

  “Is that why it is glowing,” asked one of the students in the crowded auditorium.

  Ramai shook his head. “Long before the Great War, it was thought that the holy relic of which I speak of was lost in the sands of time. Let me quote from the prophecy directly.”

  “All that was good shall remain hidden for another day as the darkness spreads like a disease. Life in the world will flicker and die, leaving behind only those whose corruption is complete or those who’ve lost their way.

  Yet even at the precipice of death, there remains hope. Hope for a rebirth. Lying within the Creator’s Ark for thousands of years, a seed has lain dormant, gaining strength from the essence of the Creator’s presence. A kernel from which the tree of life may yet spring forth.

  On the day the acacia once again glows, know that a seed imbued with the Creator’s power has been unearthed, and all the Prophecies of the Tree may soon be fulfilled.”

  Ramai made a point of showing the glowing root to everyone before tucking it back under his shirt. “Only weeks ago, the root was dull and unremarkable. Only I knew its true lineage. Now you all know. It is the first of many signs that the time of rebirth is at hand.” Ramai pointed toward Willow who was sitting in the back of the auditorium and everyone turned to look at her as Ramai spoke. “The existence of our honored guest is spoken of in the Prophecies of the Tree. She is yet another one of those many signs.”

  Willow’s cheeks heated as every face stared at her with varying looks of fear, awe and uncertainty.

  “Enough staring at the first amongst the elves.” Ramai’s voice boomed in the auditorium “I expect you will all introduce yourselves, but now is not the time.”

  Everyone turned to the front of the auditorium as Ramai continued with his lecture and Willow focused on his words. The old dwarf was a fountain of information she’d never heard before, and that was what drew her attention.

  Moments passed as Ramai continued his lecture when a dwarf entered the auditorium and placed a slip of pounded paper fungus in front of Willow.

  Before she could turn to see who had left her the paper, the dwarf had exited through the rear door.

  Willow unfolded the note and she smiled.

  “Your clothes are ready.”

  The hair on the back of Willow’s neck stood on end as energy crackled in the air and Ramai focused his attention on one of the students.

  For the last week, she’d been studying a new set of histories with Ramai, and with each and every day, Willow was more and more convinced that the Dominion had lied about everything that had ever happened.

  The ancient Governor wasn’t the savior of humanity. The original governor, Bedsem, had been one of the primary causes of the Great War. In fact, Ramai had shown her ancient newspaper clippings that showed Bedsem Vanden-Plas marching at the head of an angry crowd with the headline, “Newly Elected Chairman of the Eastern Block Raises Stakes – Is War Eminent?” Everything that she’d been taught aboveground was a lie, propaganda that had saddled humanity with the unknowing yoke of lies that were now centuries old.

  Yet today’s lesson was different. There were three other students in Ramai’s private study, along with her and their ancient teacher. There were two male dwarves and one girl, yet there was something odd about all of them. They had a brightness about them that Willow hadn’t seen on anyone else. She’d grown used to the unnatural light that shined from within Ramai, but Willow figured that it had something to do with his great age or something else she’d not yet figured out. Yet these students had a dimmer form of the same glow.

  Ramai placed the palm of his hand on Bella Shimmerstone’s forehead as she held her eyes closed and strained with concentration. “Relax, child. The power you have ... I can feel it coursing through you. Straining will not allow you to control it, you must relax and give yourself to it.”

  Bella took a deep breath and Willow felt the air stir as the glow about the tiny dwarf pulsed.

  Ramai leaned his forehead against hers and the crackling in the air grew louder. “Yes. With your mind, visualize the hallway outside of my study. Can you see it?”

  Bella gasped and with her eyes closed she raised her hand as if to touch something Willow couldn’t see. “I c-can see it! The door is closed and the hallway is empty. It’s just like you said.”

  Willow and the other students leaned closer as Ramai whispered, “Imagine pulling yourself to where your mind is. Give yourself to the power, and it will guide—”

  With a loud popping sound, Bella disappeared.

  Willow’s jaw dropped open with shock as she stared at the emptiness where Bella had been.

  Immediately, a muffled shriek of excitement erupted from outside of Ramai’s study. “I did it! I did it! I did it!”

  The door opened and Willow shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  Ramai clapped his hands and Bella raced into the room and jumped into the old man’s arms as she laughed, “You aren’t crazy. I really did do it!”

  Willow’s mind raced. Ramai had told her all about the mystical arts. Things that were unknown in the aboveworld, and evidently had been very rarely known about even before the Great War.

  Suddenly, a thought burst forth and she turned to Ramai. “Can I do such a thing? Is it possible for me to just will myself to somewhere I can see?” Willow’s mind immediately brought up images of her brothers.

  “No, my young dream walker.” Ramai shook his head. “I’m afraid you aren’t a traveler. At least, not in that way.”

  “But, I know how to send my mind elsewhere. I’ve done it before. Can’t I just pull my body to my mind like Bella did?”

  “No. Your dream walking is a different skill. Not quite the same, but similar. What you have isn’t a form of traveling, it is a form of seeing. In many ways your power is much rarer in that you can see things not only from other places, but from other times, other possible fates or dimensions. Dream walkers are able to see the great loom of fate, plucking at the individual threads and following the courses of destiny. It is through people like you that some of the prophecies have been acquired.”

  Willow stared at the empty spot where Bella had disappeared from and frowned. Ramai’s words had struck a chord of rightness within her. Willow had accidentally seen things from another past. A hollow feeling inside her bloomed and she gazed at Ramai wh
o studied her under his bushy eyebrows. “Can you take me across the barrier?”

  Ramai shook his head and sighed. “Alas, that would require a Gatemaker. We’ve not had one of those since the tragedy of the Great War and Sammael’s great victory.”

  Another student cleared his throat and asked, “Elder Ramai, do you think I’m ready to try?”

  Willow sat on a nearby chair as Ramai turned his attention to the student and summoned a ball of crackling flame that shimmered just above his open hand. The student extended his hand and began to concentrate on his lesson. As Ramai worked with each of the students, she couldn’t help but wonder what other powers Ramai held within that diminutive figure of his.

  Somehow, I’ll find a way to reach out to Brad and John.

  Sitting restlessly on the edge of her bed, Willow was wide awake even though she knew that the rest of the stone city was asleep. After all, for them it was the middle of their night, which seemed nonsensical. How can there even be a day and a night when you don’t have a sun?

  Even though she had a map of the dwarven city, and it was conveniently organized in quadrants, Willow had been told not to wander around without an escort. The idea of having someone following her around seemed ridiculous. Her mind flashed back to Tristan and the escorts he’d grown up with.

  With a huff, Willow hopped off her bed, slammed her feet into her boots and jogged out of her bedroom.

  It wasn’t long before beads of sweat dripped off Willow’s brow as she happily raced through the empty stone passages of the northeastern quadrant of the dwarven city. The forges were in southeast, but even though she was at least a quarter mile away from the nearest forge, she could feel the elevated temperature as she passed through what served as some of the city’s farmland.