by S. M. Welles
“Tickles,” he boomed.
“Sorry.” She retracted her hand.
“Get on.”
Roxie plucked Aerigo’s dagger from the sand and crawled onto his hand as if she were crawling onto a high bed. The skin and flesh felt similar to sitting on a waterbed, but more elastic as she settled herself in the middle of his palm, sitting Indian-style. Aerigo lifted her into the air, level with his stomach, and took his first step out into the ocean.
The view would have been amazing if it weren’t for the stubborn fog, but being cradled in the palm of a giant’s hand was enough excitement. Roxie’s nerves were calmed somewhat by the steady beat of Aerigo’s heart. She didn’t realize what she was hearing at first, but the slow, rhythmic thum-dum soothed her.
The walk wasn’t far, at least for someone Aerigo’s size. He stepped carefully so as not to create big waves, or slosh any water over the tops of his boots. He stopped in the middle of the gloom and stretched his empty hand towards to the horizon, his fingers spread. Roxie still couldn’t see what they were looking for but watched patiently. The air in front of his massive hand began to resemble water and swirl like a whirlpool. Aerigo shifted his weight forward, and then there was a thunderous bang. The swirling air flew out in all directions and the aftershock jolted her as a gust passed through them.
Suddenly Roxie was looking at a different world. Not only that, they were in a different world. Phaedra.
They were on a hilltop miles from a different sea. From her perch she could see the sun rising, huge and slow, as its warming light cast its glittering reflection on the water.
Behind them rose the sun. Ahead: a rocky cliff-side over a mile high, and atop that cliff sat what had to be the city of Phailon Aerigo had mentioned. It looked like a white toy model from where they stood. Roxie could make out a tall pillar in its center. The city itself was surrounded by a high wall and a moat that drained off in two great waterfalls on (judging by the sunrise) the southeast and southwest sides of the cliff. To the right of Phailon rose a stunted mountain range of soft browns, purples and grays, with an evergreen forest at its feet.
Aerigo bent his massive knees and let Roxie slide to the ground. Moments later she heard his normal-sized footsteps walk over to her in the tall grass.
When the swishing in the grass ceased she asked in an awed voice, “Is that Phailon?”
“Yes,” he said in his deep voice.
“Guess what?”
“Mm?”
“Now I’m an alien.” Roxie looked up at him and he, smiling, motioned with his head towards Phailon. She smiled back and nodded.
Aerigo hopped into a fast jog down the hill, moving parallel to the shore. Roxie followed, having a little difficulty keeping up. After the first several hundred yards she started sucking wind and developed a cramp in her side, but Aerigo showed no signs of slowing. A few miles later the ground leveled out and they hurdled over an inlet and began running uphill. Roxie tried to yell to Aerigo to slow down, but she was breathing too hard and gradually fell behind. She wanted to crawl the rest of the uphill segment of their trek. At least their direct course was much shorter than following the dirt road that zigzagged up the slope. It would have probably taken them hours to get there if they had followed that path. Roxie doggedly followed as best she could.
After what seemed like a million years, they arrived at the gate to the city.
Roxie stopped and bent double to catch her ragged breath. I musta lost five pounds just running up that stupid mountain of a hill. Aerigo had only begun to break a sweat. He loosened and readjusted his pack. Roxie lifted her head, clinging to a stitch in her side and held out her other hand. “Water,” she said in a parched voice.
Aerigo handed over his canteen. She snatched it and downed half of it, then sighed theatrically and tossed the canteen back. “Thank you.”
Roxie followed Aerigo at a walk across the bridge and under an arch that made her feel the size of an ant. She wondered if Aerigo could even touch its peak as a giant. Water fountains were built at intervals along the city’s outer wall, each spout a larger-than-life replica of the head of land and sea creatures.
The inside of Phailon looked like ancient art that had been well preserved over millennia. Most buildings resembled mangrove trees without any branches, balancing on thick roots of stone. Others stood rounded like the “mangrove” buildings, or were four-sided and stood on no roots. The whole city was worn smooth with the passage of years and salty wind. The buildings were evenly spaced, divided into even blocks by cobblestone streets and marble-smooth sidewalks.
Roxie and Aerigo walked down a main road of the city. White obelisks stood on every other block from the entrance all the way to the heart of Phailon, where the largest obelisk stood at least twice as tall as any other structure Roxie had seen so far. Roxie gazed along the road that led to the huge obelisk; the end shrinking to no wider than a pencil.
Something crossed the street in front of them that Roxie couldn’t quite identify. It was a hovering motorcycle, or something very much like it, without the wheels. It reminded her of a sea-do with a small windshield, but sleeker in design, and quieter. This “bike” zoomed along the street, and turned a corner out of sight. “What was that?”
“What?” Aerigo said without looking at her.
“That... thing. That motorcycle or whatever it was that flew by just now.”
“It’s an evolved form of a motorcycle.”
Roxie saw more motorcycles along the way, along with other hovering vehicles bearing resemblance to buses and cars. The car-sized vehicles looked like nautilus shells, but were more elliptical and had headlights and windows. The buses were similarly shaped to whales and sharks without any tails or fins. Both types looked fit to travel through air or underwater.
Despite the technology, traveling by foot held sway in this city. Women fashioned clingy dresses, with an outer gauzy layer that flowed like water. In fact, both genders’ clothes gave the impression of materialized water, as if declaring themselves people of the sea. Men wore pants that reminded Roxie of Oriental pants that were tied or wrapped at the ankles, and few wore shirts. Some women also wore those baggy pants accompanied by a form-fitting shirt that revealed their midsections. They wore scarves of the same gauzy material that covered their neck and shoulders, with the excess flowing behind in the refreshing breeze.
Roxie realized that they were attracting curious stares, and no wonder. The two of them looked so out of place. Neither had a good tan going, unlike all the locals, but most conspicuous were the clothes they wore. To Roxie’s relief, the native residents all seemed to shrug off their differences and go on with their lives. It was too beautiful a day to waste gawking at strangers. Roxie felt grateful for their indifference, not wanting to struggle to fit in on yet another world.
Aerigo led Roxie across another street, down a path, and under an archway of a shorter building. Glass double-doors slid open as they approached. They went in. It was a clothing store that felt delectably cool inside, but there seemed to be no one else present. Aerigo headed along a marble pathway that led to a desk at the center of the store and rang the bell sitting on the counter. One crisp note echoed through the entire store, and then sound of scurrying feet scrambling around overhead. A flight of spiral stairs stood behind the counter and a short, heavy man rushed down them and jogged up to the desk. He wore the same pants tied at the ankles and no shirt. His chest and rotund belly were a little on the hairy side and he was almost as bald as Aerigo, though not intentionally. The man looked at Roxie and Aerigo and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something. He did a quick double take at Aerigo and his eyes widened.
“Aerigo?” he said in a gruff voice, “Is that really you?”
Aerigo smiled.
“Gods, I can’t believe it! It’s been decades since the last time I saw you.” The short man slipped around the counter and shook hands with Aerigo, beaming. “What have you been up to all this time? You don’t look like
you’ve aged a day.”
“You have,” Aerigo said teasingly.
“Hey, no fair! You know I’m only human.” He moved closer to Roxie. “And who’s this beautiful lady?” The man took her hand and kissed it.
“I’m Rox,” she said, charmed. “What’s yours?”
“Rooke, and my store is honored by your presence,” he said with a bow, then turned back to Aerigo and put his fists on his hips, “So, what do you need?”
“Versaton. For Rox. Do you still sell it?” Aerigo waded among the racks of garments toward the back of the store. The store was laid out like a typical clothing store with decked out mannequins, and tables of folded clothes prostrated at their toeless feet. The racks were hung with summery clothes of various styles of what Roxie had seen so far in Phailon.
He hurried after Aerigo with Roxie in tow. “You mean she’s an Aigis?”
Aerigo nodded once.
Rooke’s mouth fell ajar and he reached for open air with his hands, and then he looked at Roxie, his eyes all watery. He draped an arm over a rack of clothes and leaned against it. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. “I never thought in my entire life I’d meet not only the legendary Aerigo, but also a second Aigis in my very own store…”
“Legendary?” Roxie said.
“Aerigo helped the humans win Phailon from the Elves a long time ago. Now there’s a story for a rainy day! But let’s find you a nice Versaton outfit first. Please, follow me.” Rooke led them to the back of the store and stopped at some plain clothes displayed on the back wall, the clothes looking like they were made out of athletic dry-cloth. “I’m afraid there’s only a small selection. Versaton is expensive, low-demand material. Not much of it is manufactured anywhere.” He smiled ruefully at Roxie. “Sorry for asking but you don’t mind pants, do you?”
“Not at all,” she said, eying the row of hanging pants.
“Wonderful! Now let’s see…” He began filing through a rack. “The factories don’t make shorts or skirts, but at least the female style is more complimentary to her figure. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Try these on,” Rooke said, handing Roxie a pair of navy-blue pants. He led her to the fitting rooms and Aerigo sat in one of the chairs nearby. A minute later Roxie emerged and scrutinized her appearance. She liked them a lot, and the pants were downright comfortable. The strange thing had been that when she put them on, the material molded perfectly to her body, tightening and loosening in all the right places. Roxie wished all her clothes were made out of Versaton.
“Rooke?” A female voice called from somewhere near the spiral stairs.
“Down here, love!”
A woman padded down the steps and appeared. She was a bit taller than her husband, and had a solid feminine build under a heavy tan. She wore a flowing outfit, like other women of the city, lots of bangles, big hoop earrings, and her voice was as rich as her stylish appearance. “It is Aerigo! I thought I recognized your handsome voice.”
“And you’re looking beautiful, as always,” Aerigo said.
Rooke plucked two metal bands next to the pants from the wall, and handed them to Roxie. “Here. These clamp on around your legs the way Aerigo wears his.”
“What are they?”
“The brains of the material. Computers with one task.”
Roxie glanced at Aerigo to help herself line them up properly, then looked at the inside of the bands. “Which way is up?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Aerigo said.
She wrapped it around the middle of her thigh, the thinnest part on the inside, and snapped the ends together. It felt like the metal had velcroed itself to her leg. Roxie stamped her heel on the ground and the band didn’t shift in the slightest. She put on the second band, although it corrected itself a little to line up with its mate.
“Who’s the pretty young lady?” Gem asked, moving closer.
Roxie introduced herself and Rooke described her as an Aigis.
“Well aren’t you a cute couple?”
Roxie almost broke the chair she had her foot on as she set it back on the ground. “He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Close enough.” Gem smiled, her green eyes wandering in Aerigo’s direction.
Rooke added a white tank top, some undergarments and socks to Roxie’s outfit. Roxie voiced concern about white being a stain magnet color for her, so Rooke grabbed a black tank top, along with a light blue one. He also gave her a pair of boots that looked just like Aerigo’s, only newer, and they too had matching bands which wrapped around the arch of each boot. She changed into her new apparel, packed the extras, and left her older clothes behind. She didn’t want to give away these possessions, but Aerigo pointed out that she didn’t need them, nor had the spare room in her pack. Once she was done they joined Gem upstairs and sat down to a nice breakfast. There was scrambled gull eggs, toast, and walrus bacon and sausage. Gem was a great cook, but Roxie personally believed that her grandmother was still the best.
After bidding each other farewell outside the building’s entrance, Aerigo took it upon himself to give Roxie some more jogging conditioning. Roxie gave him only one complaint.
“You need to get in better shape. Now get moving.” Aerigo tightened the strap to his pack and led them in a southerly direction, toward the Twin Falls District.
Roxie understood that she had an immense amount of room to improve her fitness. Their jog to Phailon had made that obvious. Their current trek under the midday sun wasn’t any gentler. It felt like it had gone from sixty five to eighty while they’d bought her new attire and some breakfast. Roxie started sucking wind several blocks into their jog. Aerigo, on the other hand, kept up his moderate pace with ease, breathing steadily and building up a minor sweat in the small of his back. At least I’ll sleep well tonight. Roxie envied Aerigo’s stamina.
The path to the Twin Falls District was straightforward. They’d turned once to head east for a handful of blocks, and then a second time to go south, which brought them to their destination about a million blocks later. Roxie wiped the sweat off her forehead.
They left the towering, mangrove-like buildings behind for more squat, whitewashed stone homes, which ended at a fifty-foot wall. They passed under the wall through an arched tunnel. Many footsteps, bare and shoed, echoed off the shaded stone. The cool air that zipped through the tunnel helped revitalize Roxie.
Ample sunlight and a lovely ocean breeze were the first things to greet them on the other side of the wall. Once Roxie’s eyes readjusted to the light, she saw a huge, open-field park. Tall, slender fruit trees were scattered all over the short grass, and lined the few sidewalks here and there, as if the sidewalk had been laid out to compliment the natural growth of the foliage. Picnic blankets and stone tables were sprawled at the base of almost every non-sidewalk tree. The grass along the sidewalks was lined with endless rows of tables laden with home-packed food, drinks, clothes, jewelry, fishing gear, plants, blankets, shoes, ornamental weapons and trinkets, and so many things Roxie couldn’t identify. Locals in their flowing clothes crowded every traders’ table, and many other people were spread out on the grass, throwing balls and Frisbees wherever buskers weren’t doing gymnastics, theatrics, playing music and whatnot.
Aerigo stopped and scanned the tables to their immediate left and right, then decided to keep going straight. Roxie followed in his wake, excitedly taking everything in. She forgot about feeling tired. She wanted to stop to watch and listen to the performers, but she sensed Aerigo’s eagerness to just do their business and move on. That, and the frequent stares they received encouraged her to keep walking. Thankfully, these people just stole glances before going on with their day.
Aerigo stopped at a table full of traveling mugs, bowls and containers with watertight lids, water bottles, canteens, and smaller containers meant to hold silverware, as a setup displayed. “Pick a canteen.”
Roxie sidled up to the table, the suntanned vendor smiling away on the other sid
e.
“Vandico!” he said to her.
“He says ‘welcome,’” Aerigo said, then turned to the vendor and began speaking in the local language.
The vendor smiled at her again. She waved, then diverted her attention to the canteens.
There were a dozen of them leaning against each other in tidy rows. She picked up the nearest one. It had a stainless steel rim with a durable grey fabric tightly tucked underneath the metal, and a matching nylon shoulder strap. Roxie had no idea how to tell between a quality canteen and a flimsy one, however the one in her hand felt sturdy enough to stand up against her enhanced strength. She gently prodded Aerigo in the arm to get his attention. “This one works for me. Just needs some water in it and I’ll be all set.”
He glanced at it, then un-slung his pack and began searching through it. He handed over some coins and the vendor took them, thanking him over and over in his native tongue. “There’s a water fountain somewhere closer to the edge of the cliff,” he told Roxie. “You can fill it up there. I want to stock up on some traveling food just in case.”
Aerigo bought some trail mixes, food bars, and some cookie-like biscuits along the way to the edge of the cliff. He walked a little faster once his pack was full, but they paused every now and then, whenever Roxie asked to look at items that caught her interest.
The rows of tables, along with the presence of grass and trees ended a hundred yards away from the cliff edge. A stone dais replaced the grass, its face laid out in alternating strips of cobblestone and marble like the bands of a rainbow. The platform ended at a three-foot high stone wall. Atop the entire length of the wall, which stretched for half a mile to either side, sat a carving of a snakelike dragon that reminded Roxie of ones she’d seen depicted in Asian art, but this one had many short, muscular legs securing it to the wall with its five-clawed talons. The dragon’s body was as thick as the width of Roxie’s shoulders. Dozens of people were looking out over the ocean or watching seagulls flit around in the breeze. More people sat cuddling up to each other on the scattered benches. A few salesmen wandered from person to person, trying to sell the multitude of necklaces, bracelets and rings blanketing theirs arms, necks and fingers like metal wings.