The Fall of Chance

by McGowan, Terry

  Unt tried to say more but the figure hushed him. “Not now, boy. Not now. Save your strength.”

  The man stooped before him and then Unt felt himself being hauled up onto a high shoulder. “Nothing but a bag of bones,” it muttered.

  Unt would have resisted if he could but this Wizard person was mightily strong. He carried Unt like he was nothing and without a moment’s pause, he was bearing him up the hill.

  Unt’s world became a succession of trees and dried fallen leaves. They flowed backward past him like a river in reverse as the Wizard carried him up the hill. Perhaps they were ascending to heaven, Unt thought, knowing it was absurd. The Wizard was the keeper of the afterlife and he’d come to take Unt to the world beyond.

  “Never seen the like,” the Wizard muttered among similar remarks as he propelled them along. Unt recalled a long-forgotten memory of his mother’s warnings not to go off with strangers. Whatever this Wizard’s intent though, Unt was in no position to fight it.

  He listened to the Wizard’s breathing close in his ear. Its rhythm matched the dip and rise of his rescuer’s steps and the combination put him to sleep. Unt would let it come, then he’d be jolted awake by an offbeat step. It was a strobing, confusing sleep.

  He awoke more fully when the Wizard slowed his pace. Unt opened his eyes and saw a clearing filled with vague, dark shapes that his fevered mind couldn’t make out. He got the impression of a motley collection of sheds but no other people.

  Looking up to the top of the clearing, he saw more trees and above that, he saw the narrow, green arc of the tree-line. His mind was still working enough to reason that that line marked the crest of the hill and this camp lay just below it.

  Unt could barely lift his head to look around but what he saw suggested organised chaos. The place was full of random debris but it was neatly piled away beside the shapes he took to be sheds. The ground was clear, for the most part. The grass was trimmed or worn short and a rich brown dusting of earth ran through it all.

  The Wizard carried him across the clearing and then stooped into a darkened place with a low ceiling. Unt couldn’t see much but he could smell. There was a rank, heavy odour to the place; the accumulation of years of human sweat folded over each other like layers of insulation.

  The Wizard dropped Unt from his shoulder and cradled him like a baby. He lay him down on a bed that sat close to the ground. Beneath him, he felt a strange, deep texture; a heavy pile with real substance underneath. It was a sensation that was utterly alien and alarmed Unt but more alarming still was his first real look at his rescuer.

  The overwhelming impression was of horns. Two great curling horns sprouted from a skull that rested on his head like some kind of demon. Unt knew it was some manner of head-gear: he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t realise that, but it was something out of nightmare, all the same.

  Those horns framed a pale, severe face with great black eyebrows and wild white hair. It wore an expression half quizzical, half maniacal; frightening in spite of the underlying kindness. It was an old face possessed by a young, vital soul.

  The man was draped in a collection of long black, clothing that looked like Councillors’ robes, but unlike those marks of office, these clothes had an industrial look to them. They hung heavily off his tall frame, suggesting a slender build beneath. It seemed a marvel such a man had hauled him up a mountain.

  When the Wizard had set Unt down and pulled more of the thick covers over him, he stepped away and returned a few seconds later with a ladle in one hand and a candle in the other. The ladle was made of brass and picked up the candle’s weak light so it had a fire of its own. Those two beacons shone up into the Wizard’s face, deepening the shadows that creased it and giving those creases movement with every flicker of the candle.

  The Wizard held the ladle up to Unt’s face. “Drink, lad,” he said.

  “What is it?” Unt tried to ask. His mouth was dry and wouldn’t work right but the Wizard took his meaning.

  “Just water, son, don’t worry,” he said as he tipped the ladle, sending a little trickle over its brim. The liquid was gold against the brass and as it touched Unt’s lips, it felt like the elixir of life. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he’d been until the cold, wet stuff tracked the dry riverbed of his tongue, right down his gullet.

  The second Unt felt that blissful sensation, the Wizard staid his hand and the trickle dried up. Unt moved his lips in mute appeal the way a fish does when pulled from a river. The Wizard pushed him back with a firm, gentle hand.

  “No, boy. Not too much at once,” he said and put the ladle aside. He brought the candle up to his face and said, “Right, let’s have a look at you.”

  He moved the covers back off Unt and used the candle to inspect him from head to toe. He rolled Unt this way and that, assessing him like some strange curio. Unt felt the prod of cold fingers going heavily about their business.

  The Wizard muttered to himself as he went, seeming to address an unseen person, as he had at the river. “No, no. Like I thought,” he said. “No bruising and no cuts - none that mean business, anyway.”

  “No meat on him either. I swear you could put your hand on his stomach and feel the ground beneath him.”

  He put the candle down on a surface beside Unt’s head. The wax had a puss-yellow colouration. While Unt was transfixed with that, he felt the sudden touch of cold metal in his ear.

  He’s going to stick my brains in, thought Unt and put up a hand to ward it off. The Wizard moved the hand aside with pathetic ease.

  “Don’t worry, lad, it’s just a thermometer,” he told Unt. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound reassuring when a stranger shoved one in your ear.

  “Hmm. Couple of points above,” the Wizard resumed his self-conversation. “Fever in the making. Thought so, thought so.”

  He gave Unt another sip of water and when he’d finished, he moved the covers back but Unt put up a hand to stop him.

  “What this?” Unt groaned, moving the cover feebly.

  The Wizard arched one of his mighty black eyebrows. “A bed?”

  A healthy Unt might have thought the confusion funny but instead he shook his head in frustration. “No. Sheets.”

  The Wizard looked at the covers, his face still etched in confusion, but then the meaning dawned. “Ah!” he said, “You mean furs. Don’t you use ‘em, wherever it is you come from?”

  Now Unt was confused. “Animal?” he asked.

  “Well of course,” laughed the Wizard, “Unless you know some people who are particularly hairy!” He chortled away at that. “Don’t animals have skin where you come from?”

  Unt thought of the tannery pits back home where the leather workers used vats of piss and worse stuff to make leather out of the animals that had been killed. His people made use of the dead creatures but they didn't take their skins and wear them to bed.

  Unt had never seen a furred creature so big it could make covers like this. It could be a thousand mice pelts sewn together but he doubted it.

  He wanted to ask more but the Wizard was having none of it. “Don’t you worry,” he said, “I’m going to take care of you now. Curse whatever beasts in human guise did this to you. They’re all rotten, all of ‘em. But never you mind: the Wizard’s got you now.”

  Somewhere as the Wizard spoke, Unt fell asleep.

  * * * *

  He awoke some time later with the Wizard gently shaking his shoulder. He’d barely opened his eyes when he caught sight of the ladle and felt more water enter his mouth.

  A few seconds later, he felt something small, dark and suspect being put on his tongue. “Relax, it’s just raisins,” said the Wizard, feeding with one hand and mopping Unt’s brow with the other.

  Unt was wary but as he bit into one of these pellet-like things, he felt it oozing a warm, sugary juice.

  It was now that Unt started to register what the rest of his body was feeling. He was both hot and cold. He wanted to bury one half of himself in these furs
and he wanted to leave the other half exposed to the refreshing cool of the elements. At the same time, an ache gripped his shoulders and torso, right down to the base of his spine. It was like there were two claws gripping his kidneys.

  “Good lad, sleep some more,” said the Wizard and Unt obeyed.

  * * * *

  The return to sleep brought fevered dreams for Unt. He dreamt a story that played out repeatedly and all the while he felt he was being rolled over and over. He dreamt he’d returned to the town and found it on fire. A volcano had grown out of the ground to the north and down its slope rolled flaming boulders that kept feeding the fire.

  He was trying to catch chickens, which would somehow put the fire out, but a woman dressed in indigo with a bandage-covered head sat on a wall and wouldn’t help him, even though she could.

  So Unt fought the fires alone and each time he put one out, the rolling feeling within him reset the clock and more boulders poured down the mountain.

  * * * *

  He awoke exhausted. His naked body was covered with a film of sweat. The furs around him were lined in the stuff. They’d refused to absorb the liquid pouring off him and so he lay in an envelope of his own slick emissions.

  His body felt weak but his mind was stronger. The trial of fire in his dream had burnt off the things that had destroyed his ability to reason. There’s no feeling like re-finding what it is to be lucid. There is such optimism and clarity in that space of time and Unt’s new-clear mind told him to take a proper look around him.

  Strengthless though he was, he had enough left in him to roll up onto his side. A new candle had been placed beside him but its single flame didn’t penetrate far. More light came from a brazier that burnt on the far side of the room. It was some sort of metal barrel with strips cut out to make a kind of grill. A deep fire burned inside and that fire lit up the sleeping body of the Wizard.

  He was sunk in a chair and draped in a fur like the ones that filled Unt’s bed. Unt felt guilty as he realised that he had taken up his host’s own resting place. Dormant, the Wizard had lost his formidable presence, leaving an old man in its place.

  The rest of the room was steeped in darkness but Unt could see more hanging furs lining the walls. Those walls were cut straight and even in a long rectangle. Whatever material hid behind the furs, it was cut with a machined exactness. The furs were like an organic skin laid over something artificial.

  Some sort of caulking had been plastered onto the ceiling and painted white but the white had yellowed and the caulking had cracked away in places leaving mottled scars. Above the brazier, the white had gone to black, discoloured by long exposure to soot. At a closer look, this blackness concealed a black metal pipe at its centre: clearly an improvised chimney.

  Unt now looked at the floor which was a bed of pine needles. Dark green covered light green, covered brown. It was a story of age that suggested the needles were put there regularly and deliberately. What their purpose was - an attempt to capture the forest outside or just convenient flooring - Unt could only guess, but they did bring that sharp pine-tree smell to them that cut through the stench of human occupation.

  From Unt’s level, he couldn’t see the furniture clearly but what he could see looked improvised and utilitarian. Tarnished metal crates had been turned into tables and others had cushions across them to become chairs. In a far recess, a metal frame was home to rows of books. They were aged and worn, probably mouldy, but there were more books than Unt had ever seen and they bound in a way he’d never seen before.

  Also unusual were the different tools and utensils that were stacked in piles or hung from the walls and ceiling. Unt had never seen a luxury like brass used in something so common as a ladle but the Wizard owned many tools made from the same stuff. Other tools had strange black handles that didn’t look like the wood he knew so well. Everything had a regular, mechanised quality.

  So much for the habitat but what about the creature that dwelt there? Unt watched him as he slept, unmoving, and tried to fathom it. The man seemed something like the place he’d made for himself: half-wild, half-civilised. Unt felt that underneath, there was an origin that had once conformed to regular lines and angles but had then been abandoned to the wilderness and become overgrown.

  Then there was the puzzle of that name he used. What sort of rational person called themselves a wizard? Surely he didn’t believe it. He might look the part but looks meant nothing. Back home, they were sophisticated enough to dismiss such nonsense; surely the rest of the world did too?

  Then again, the Wizard didn’t seem like he belonged to any town so maybe he had his own notions. Maybe he was in voluntary exile or maybe he’d been cast out like Unt. Possibly they’d sent him away because he was mad. He’d shown Unt kindness but he'd also talked to himself and seemed possessed with a skittish mental energy.

  Unt was reminded of one of the bulls they kept back home: most of the time it was a tender, docile beast but suddenly the mood might take it and then it might gore a man to death just for being near. He felt the same nature in the Wizard, the animal potential to turn at any moment.

  That wasn’t a good place to be, he thought. Maybe he was better off getting away.

  He watched the Wizard sleep, the possibility growing in his mind until it became a certainty. He was now more afraid of this strange man than he was of the world outside. Unt decided he should go. He would get dressed, leave and never look back. He’d just take a few minutes to build himself up to it.

  * * * *

  Unt dreamed he was being chased by a black stallion. It chased him down until he was flat on his back, looking up at the beast as it reared up, hooves flailing. Unt watched the iron shoes fall upon his face and almost welcomed it.

  Unt didn’t wake with that start which is normal when coming out of a nightmare. He woke with the slow ease of a peaceful slumber. The memories of his current situation tumbled softly into place.

  “Ah, the sleeper awakes,” said the Wizard from the fire and tottered over. “And nice timing it is, too,” he added. “I’ve just taken supper off the heat. Drink first and I’ll fetch some over after.”

  He offered up the familiar ladle and Unt drank from it unquestioningly. “I took your temperature while you were sleeping and it’s dropped off. Looks like the worst’s over,” said the Wizard. “How are you feeling?”

  Despite the water, Unt’s mouth felt cracked and broken. Rather than speak, he just nodded.

  “An improvement. Good. One moment.” The Wizard lay down the ladle in its bucket and trundled off. He returned with a metal bowl filled with steaming wet stuff.

  “Stew,” he explained. “Rabbit, no less. Get some of this in you and your strength’ll soon start coming back.”

  He held a wooden spoon to Unt’s mouth. The warm aroma of meat juices and vegetables was glorious and he snapped it up eagerly. It was the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted, sludge though it was. The potato was softened until it was near-liquid and it melted away to leave succulent pieces of tender meat. Unt had never thought he’d see the like again. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

  “Good, eh?” said the Wizard, pleased. “It’s been a long while since anyone but me ate my cooking, I must say. It’s always served me fine but all the same, it’s good to have one’s opinion reinforced.”

  Unt didn’t answer but opened his mouth to invite more.

  “’At-a-boy,” said the Wizard. “We’ll soon have you strong again.” Unt just nodded and continued to eat.

  It was just a small serving but Unt was exhausted by the time he’d finished. “That’ll do for now,” said the Wizard. “You feeling ok?”

  Unt nodded.

  “Glad to hear it. Feel up to answering a few questions, my friend?”

  Unt didn’t think so but it seemed wrong to refuse. “Ok,” he said, the word sounding like it had been dragged over gravel.

  “First things first, then, what might your name be?”

  “Unt,” he croaked.
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  “What’s that?” asked the Wizard, cupping his ear as though he’d misheard.

  Unt said his name again.

  “Unt?” said the Wizard. “That’s your name is it? I thought you were retching! More like ‘Grunt’ if you ask me. What sort of name is that for a human being?”

  Unt wanted to say it was the name his parents had given him but all that came out was a dry rasping. He wanted to ask what the hell sort of name was ‘Wizard’ too but he had to give up when the effort brought on a coughing fit.

  “Never mind, lad, never mind,” said the Wizard as he eased him back into bed. “Too much too soon. My fault.” He let the coughs subside before he spoke again. “Tell you what, I’ll just ask questions: yes or no. All you need to do is nod your head or shake it. Sound right?”

  Unt nodded.

  “Good. Now, from the state of you, I’d say you’re not a Wildman, right?”

  Unt didn’t know what a Wildman was but he guessed he wasn’t one so he nodded.

  “Didn’t think so. Would never have found one of them starving, would I? And if I did? Well, like as not he’d fix his hunger by fixing me.”

  The Wizard laughed loud and mighty at the thought of being eaten then carried on. “So, you’re not a Wildman and you’re sure no brigand. Not a nomad either: those folk never leave their own kin. No, you’ve had a soft life, sure as spring. That’ll mean you’re from one of the settlements, is it?”

  Unt nodded.

  “How near? Twenty mile?”

  Unt didn’t know how far he’d come but he had to assume it was more than twenty miles. He shook his head.

  “From Pattiford is it? Masfolk?”

  Unt’s ignorance must have shown.

  “Ah,” said the Wizard, “Does it even have a name?”

  He shook his head and so did the Wizard. “Then it could be anywhere,” he said. “Settlements,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Set themselves apart like they’re the last place on earth - more’s the pity that they aint.”