World's End

by Jake Halpern

  Late one afternoon, she came upon hundreds of stone tree trunks rising out of the snow. This was the petrified forest. A tremor of fear tingled its way up Resuza's spine, but she cracked her whip, urging her dogs into the forest. They refused to go and instead whimpered feebly. "Stupid dogs!" Resuza cursed. She then trudged forward into the forest on foot. She marched for several hours, until the sun sank low on the horizon and the sky turned a sapphire blue. Then she saw it. For a minute or two it flickered into sight—a vast city made of rocks the color of dry, bleached bones. Dargora. Resuza ran forward, but the façade of the city's walls vanished and in its place she saw only swirling eddies of snow. She never saw the city again.

  Starving and at the very edge of life, she turned around. Back at her sled, Resuza was startled to see the old woman hermit. "How did you find me?" asked Resuza.

  "Your tracks were easy to follow," said the woman quietly. "And if I can follow them, so can the slavers, which is why we must leave quickly."

  ***

  "So what happened?" asked Alfonso, who had been hanging on Resuza's every word.

  "I had no weapon, I was almost out of food, and I was scared," said Resuza. "So I turned around. The old woman led me southward all the way to Barsh-yin-Binder, where I arrived penniless and, of course, without my sister. There, ironically, I was immediately captured by the Dragoonya and forced into slavery. That's where I first met Kiril. I worked for him personally—that is, until I met you and your uncle."

  The gondola slipped under a bridge and then turned down a narrow canal, leaving Resuza and Alfonso in near darkness.

  "Resuza," said Alfonso quietly, "let's make a deal."

  "Go on," said Resuza.

  "You'll come with me to find my dad, and then we'll go looking for Naomi together," said Alfonso.

  "Maybe there's no point," said Resuza darkly. "Maybe they're both dead."

  Alfonso said nothing.

  Resuza stared at the opulence around them. They heard laughter and the clink of wine glasses from a nearby mansion. She nodded. "It's a deal."

  After touring all of Somnos's canals, the gondola arrived at the southernmost gate to the city. Alfonso and Resuza got out, paid the driver, and then walked through the darkness toward Hill's anteater, Bataar, who was waiting for them. Resuza and Alfonso were just about to climb the rope ladder onto Bataar's back when someone called out from the darkness.

  "Resuza, is that you?" asked the voice. "Resuza?"

  A short elderly woman with large ears, a prominent nose, and bushy eyebrows stepped out of the shadows and into a shaft of moonlight. Perhaps because she was fast asleep, she moved in an awkward bowlegged way, as if she had been hunched over working on something for many years. At the sight of Resuza, her eyes popped open and her weathered face cracked into a wide smile.

  "Well, if it ain't the daughter I always wanted t'have," she said. "How are ya, sweet'eart?"

  "Misty!" Resuza exclaimed, and enveloped her in a hug. "Misty, this is Alfonso, the Great Sleeper. I told you all about him."

  Misty stuck out a muscular hand that felt like coarse sandpaper. "Mistepha Blazenska at yer service," she said. "'Course you can just call me Misty, everyone 'round here does."

  "Misty used to work in the mines below the city, before they closed," Resuza explained. "Now she works as an ant hunter and a healer. She's one of the old hill dwellers I was telling you about."

  "An yer not bad yerself," said Misty admiringly. "Why, we found the anthill o'er near the north woods—musta been fifty feet high, that anthill—and Resuza plucked off six arrows and took down six ants, just like that." Misty chortled. "I ain't seen ya around lately. You all look just purfect, like two doves in the hand." She winked at Alfonso.

  Alfonso blushed.

  "What are you doing in Somnos?" asked Resuza. "I thought you hated city life."

  "Aye," said Misty. "I got no love fer this place, but I got a sick aunt that I 'ad to visit in the Drowsy Quarter, and I'm just now headed back out to the hills. What about you two? Whatchya doin' in the city at this hour?"

  "We spent the day with Josephus," explained Resuza. "And, later on, we went for a long gondola ride through the Dreamer's Quarter."

  Misty took a step closer.

  "What business did you have wit' Josephus?" asked Misty quietly.

  "Just chatting," replied Alfonso. He saw no point in going into any detail.

  "Come now," said Misty. "You can trust me. I ain't one to gossip or even talk much at all."

  Alfonso nodded reluctantly and Resuza explained, very briefly, that they had discussed the lost city of Jasber and the old Fault Roads. She said nothing about Leif or Marcus Firment, but Misty stiffened visibly at the mention of the Fault Roads.

  "He tol' ya 'bout the Fault Roads, did'e?" asked Misty.

  Resuza nodded.

  "Well, he's got no business talkin' about them roads," growled Misty. "Hima all people. No business at all."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Resuza.

  "That old bugger oughta know better 'an that—the fool!" spat Misty. "All that book learnin' and not an ounce-a integrity. Don't a promise mean anythin'?"

  Without another word, Misty stalked off into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE TRIAL

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Alfonso sat in the amphitheater of the Tree Palace. The stage backed up directly against the enormous trunk of the Founding Tree. The cover of leaves and branches was so thick here that very little direct sunlight made its way into the space. The air was damp and cool, and the only substantial light came from hundreds of lanterns filled with fireflies. The seats were divided into two sections: awake and asleep. The sleeping side was occupied mainly by policemen, reporters, stenographers, courtroom artists, and other professionals who needed to maintain perfect concentration. The awake side was occupied by spectators—including Alfonso, Hill, Nance, Resuza, Bilblox, and Josephus, who all sat in the front row.

  The stage had just three people on it. There was Sofia Perzepol, the Grand Vizier, who stood behind a large wooden lectern. Because of the importance of this case, she was the presiding judge. To her left stood a tall, barrel-chested man dressed in a dark green robe. His name was Lukos Treeben and he was Somnos's preeminent legal scholar, who had been appointed as prosecutor. To her right was a large steel cage. Inside the cage stood a tall, muscular man, with entirely white eyes and a hideous scar on his face that twisted and coiled like a snake.

  The man was Kiril.

  Alfonso knew that Kiril was over six hundred years old—a feat he had achieved by rubbing the purple ash of the Founding Trees into his eyes. The purple ash did strange things to people. It gave non-Dormians a burst of good health, several minutes of telescopic vision, and a momentary glimpse into the future, but ultimately it left them white-eyed and blind. This is what had happened to Bilblox. It was different for Dormians. They too enjoyed telescopic vision and a glimpse into the future, although they enjoyed it for longer. However, the real benefit for Dormians was that the ash could prolong life. By rubbing a pinch of the ash into his or her eyes every few years, a Dormian could live indefinitely. This is what Kiril had done. If you were Dormian, the purple ash turned your eyes white, but it did not make you blind. Kiril could see perfectly well, and currently he was surveying the crowd.

  Alfonso wanted to stare at Kiril, but instead he looked away, feeling oddly guilty. Despite all of the many terrible things that Kiril had done—including killing General Loxoc—Alfonso couldn't help feeling somewhat sorry for Kiril as he stood onstage under the malevolent gaze of several hundred Dormians. Alfonso eventually forced himself to look up and confront Kiril. Alfonso was surprised to see that Kiril's eyes betrayed no sign of malice or rage; to the contrary, Kiril seemed almost eerily calm. The two of them locked eyes. And then, ever so slightly, the corners of Kiril's mouth bent upward to form the faintest of smiles.

  "I hereby call today's proceedings to order," the Grand Vizier called out as she banged
her gavel on the wooden lectern. "Today we will continue with the trial, and the prosecution will question the defendant directly," she explained. "The defendant has refused the aid of a barrister, which is his legal right, and so he shall answer all questions directly. The questions will be posed by myself and by the prosecutor, Mr. Treeben. My first question is a formal matter for the record and quite a simple one: Who are you, sir?"

  Kiril turned and nodded at the Grand Vizier, acknowledging her for the first time, and then looked at the crowd.

  "I am a Dormian by birth," he began. "I was born Kiril Spratic roughly six hundred years ago in the city of Jasber. I come from a distinguished family. My father, Kemal Spratic, was a nobleman. Our family genealogy traces all the way back to the founding of Jasber and the very birth of Dormia. All of this is a matter of public record, and your historians can verify it easily enough in the Somnos library. Everything that I tell you today is true."

  "Can you tell us what happened to your eyes?" asked the Grand Vizier. Alfonso couldn't help glancing at Bilblox, who shifted his weight uncomfortably but showed no emotion.

  "It would be my pleasure." Kiril explained that, when he was twelve years old, he went on a journey with his mother, brother, and sister to the city of Noctos. They traveled via the old Fault Roads to visit "Outer Dormia" as the Jasberians called it. They passed through the gate and then entered the Hub, the giant intersection where the Fault Roads from each of the various Dormian cities converged. "From there," concluded Kiril, "it was a short journey to Noctos."

  "How did you get permission to pass through the gate?" inquired the Grand Vizier.

  "It was easy to get," explained Kiril. "My father was the gatekeeper, as was his father, and his father before them."

  "Your family maintained the Jasber Gate?" asked the Grand Vizier. "You mean you belong to one of the ancient families of gatekeepers?"

  "That's correct," said Kiril. The audience rustled with excited whispers. Alfonso now knew exactly why Josephus had wanted him to be here today. If it was true that Kiril's family operated the Jasber Gate, then Kiril might know the secret code that opened the gate. And if he did ... well, it might be possible to reach Jasber.

  "Tell me," said the Grand Vizier, "what happened after you passed through the Jasber Gate?"

  "We continued on to Noctos and visited a distant cousin of my mother's," explained Kiril. "She ran a large apothecary. We were meant to stay for three weeks, but on the fourth day of our visit, the city came under attack by the Dragoonya. During the battle that ensued, part of the Founding Tree burned and a cloud of purple ash rained down upon the city, blinding several hundred people, including my entire family. After the battle, those of us who were exposed to the ash were rounded up like criminals. They called us Gahnos, which, as you know, means 'untrustworthy' in the ancient tongue. They said we would burn the rest of the Founding Tree. They said we had been corrupted. They herded us through the streets and then cast us out into the maw of an angry winter. I recall, in particular, a huge man with a pug nose and a shaved head shoving people out of the gate. My mother begged him to spare her children. He hit her savagely. I remember it as if it were yesterday. He hit her and she fell backwards through the gate and into the snow. My mother, brother, and sister died there, as did a number of Dormian knights who had also been exposed to the ash. I alone was saved."

  "And who saved you?" asked the Grand Vizier.

  Kiril did not answer immediately. He appeared to be lost in thought. The Grand Vizier's questions had triggered a strong memory of that fateful day, although it was a memory he kept to himself:

  It was Nartam, king of the Dragoonya, who had saved him.

  Of course, at the time, Kiril did not recognize Nartam. He was dressed as a shepherd. He had long blond hair, a bushy beard, and two entirely vacant white eyes. He introduced himself simply as Däros. In the Dragoonya tongue, the word for "father" and "master" were one and the same: däros. He had come across Kiril in a narrow ravine, nestled in the High Peaks of the Urals. Snow glistened in the air, while the temperature kept falling. Kiril was frostbit, starving, and on the brink of death. He had not eaten in weeks. A normal person would have been dead by that point, but Kiril was no longer a normal person. He had been exposed to the purple ash of the Founding Tree and therefore he was not as weak and vulnerable as other Dormians.

  When they first met, Kiril's white eyes gave him away immediately, and Nartam asked him tenderly, "My poor child, are you one of the Gahnos from Noctos?" Kiril nodded, but said nothing. He could not muster the energy to speak. "Come then," said Nartam. "I have taken in other orphans as well and I offer you shelter for as long as you like."

  Kiril followed Nartam to a narrow cave. "Come, don't be frightened," said Nartam. "There is food and warmth inside." The cave burrowed deep into the earth and then opened up dramatically into a spacious cavern with dozens of hot springs. This was a small village of sorts. Several dozen people were milling about, bathing in hot springs, tending to fires, cooking meat, sewing clothes, and even playing a game with a ball. They were all children, and their eyes were entirely white. "These children are all Gahnos like you," explained Nartam. "I have taken them under my wing."

  "Are you a Dragoonya?" asked Kiril timidly.

  "I am," replied Nartam with a reassuring smile. "But you shouldn't be frightened! Virtually everything that you've been told about the Dragoonya is a lie. Dormians are quite adept at lying. I know. Like you, I was once one of them. Dormians profess to be noble and good, but I don't need to tell you that is a lie. You have seen the truth for yourself."

  In the coming days, Kiril ate, rested, bathed, and even began to talk and play with the other children. They were all from Noctos. As it turns out, one of the places in Noctos that was hardest hit by the falling purple ash was a school, and all of the children from the school had been cast out of the city and into the snow. This partially explained why there were no adults present. But there were several children, like Kiril, who had been expelled from Noctos with their parents. They all told a similar story. Just as their families were on the brink of death, Nartam appeared and offered to take the children, but only the children. Nartam explained that he had found a warm cave stocked with food, but that there wasn't room for adults. He was saving the children first. In desperation, many of the parents agreed. Those families who refused almost certainly perished.

  In the evenings, when the children gathered for dinner, Nartam talked to them and told them stories. He said that they were all family now. "Our white eyes have marked us," explained Nartam. "We have been expelled from Dormia and we will never belong there. You will be reviled as villains and freaks. My dear children, know this: we only have one another."

  One day, Nartam learned that Kiril was originally from Jasber, and that his parents had been in the upper echelons of Jasberian society. From that moment forward, Nartam took an especially keen interest in the boy. As it turned out, Nartam had a special connection to Jasber.

  He was born Milos Brutinov Nartam in the Dormian city of Dragoo. As a boy, he had devoted himself to scorial sciences, which explored the properties and chemistry of the purple ash. As a teenager, he traveled via the Fault Roads to Jasber, the only Dormian city that was allowed to store and experiment with the ash. Jasber's riches and advanced work on the ash made an enormous impression on Nartam. After several years of study in Jasber, Nartam returned to Dragoo and wrote a famous book called Scorial Science and the Future of Dormia. It argued that Dormians should occasionally burn portions of their Founding Trees and use the powers of the ash to their advantage.

  "The book that I wrote was banned," explained Nartam one evening, as the Gahno children gathered around him. "You see, the Dormians are a very fearful people. They fear change, they fear the outside world, and—as you most painfully know, my dear children—they fear one another. I tried to explain to them that the Founding Tree's greatest gift was its purple ash, which bestowed both immortality and the power to see into the future.
But they wouldn't listen. There is no talking sense into Dormians. They won't listen. You know this. Did any of them listen to your cry for help as you were cast into the snow to die? No. They understand just two things: power and fear."

  "But wasn't the city of Dragoo burned almost two thousand years ago?" asked one of the children. "How is it that you are still alive?"

  "My dear child," replied Nartam in a kindly manner, "we here, we family of orphans, we have something very special. We have the purple ash from a secret supply that I have found. And, do you know what? I am going to share it with you. Together we shall live forever. How does that sound?"

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Kiril jumped and looked around. His mind returned to the courtroom, where the Grand Vizier was banging her gavel.

  "You cannot ignore the question," said the Grand Vizier. "I will ask you again. Who saved you outside Noctos?"

  "You know perfectly well who saved me," replied Kiril curtly.

  "Was it Nartam?" asked the prosecutor, Mr. Treeben.

  "Yes," replied Kiril. "It was he who showed me kindness after my own people left me to die."

  "Kindness?" said the prosecutor pointedly. "Isn't that a bit misleading, not to mention naive, to categorize his actions as 'kindness'? It is a known fact that Nartam used the Gahnos to further his own evil purposes."

  "'Evil,'" said Kiril slowly, as if he were savoring the word like a sip of good wine. "Now that is a most interesting choice of words, Mr. Treeben. Forgive me, but the only true act of evil that I see here is casting out your own kind—Dormians who risked their own lives for you—and tossing them into the snow to die."

  "That is a most shameful and regrettable chapter in our history..." began the prosecutor.

  "Regrettable?" snarled Kiril. "That is how you describe the murder of innocent men, women, and children? You may be an officer of the court but it's quite clear to me, sir, that you haven't the foggiest sense of what justice is or isn't."