The Humanarium

  ‘I don’t think we should stop for long,’ he said. ‘These people are afraid and hungry.’

  She nodded her agreement as they walked along glancing left and right searching for potential trouble.

  Two guards flanked the small stall midway along Market Road. Both men toyed with the pommels of their sword as a reminder to anyone passing by that the price of theft would be blood. They stilled as Harl and Sonora approached, wary of an armed man, but when the stall owner spotted Sonora he beamed at her and the soldiers’ stares drifted back to passers-by.

  ‘Sonora and Mr Eriksson,’ the owner said, beckoning them over. ‘Don’t worry about the guards. It’s just that people are a little unstable at the moment.’

  The man hesitated on the last words. What had been happening in the town while they were safe up in the woods? The last time he’d seen the merchant, he’d been more than tubby, a bulky man richly appointed in the finest clothing, but now his fur coat was slack on thinning shoulders.

  ‘What’s been happening, Sanda?’ Sonora asked.

  The expression on Sanda’s gaunt face dropped.

  ‘Chaos. Things were fine ten turns ago, but now...’ He gestured with his hand at the empty stalls on either side of his own. ‘It got real bad when the food stopped coming after the farmers started tending their sick families rather than their crops. Prices have been rising ever since. The few who are still healthy are protesting outside the council chambers as we speak. I guess I’m lucky in that I’ve no family of my own.’ He looked down and patted his flattened belly. ‘But I’ve seen better. Now tell me, what do you need from my scarce goods?’

  ‘We have quite a list,’ Sonora said as she handed a small piece of parchment over to the man.

  ‘Looks like you’re preparing to hole up for a while,’ Sanda said, running his gaze down the scribbled list.

  ‘We know you probably can’t get everything on there,’ Harl said, ‘but anything you do have would be a big help.’

  ‘Forgive my asking,’ Sanda said, reddening, ‘but have you much for payment?’

  ‘Here,’ Sonora said, opening her satchel to reveal the gleaming contents inside.

  Sanda peeked in and perked up, rubbing his hands together.

  ‘I think I can get everything on the list,’ he said. ‘If you give me some time, I can speak to the other sellers for you and have everything ready for your return.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sonora said. ‘We’ll head for the council tower and see if we can find out what the leaders plan to do about all of this. Then we’ll return.’

  ‘Be careful,’ one of the heavies said. ‘The guards have turned nasty since the protests started.’

  Harl nodded his thanks and caught Sonora’s look. Worry lines had appeared in her smooth complexion. What toll things were having on her? Could he watch her wither from worry as the world around her broke down? He had already been outside and he knew first hand that it was possible to leave a world behind. If they couldn’t fix things soon it would break both of them.

  Perhaps leaving was the only choice left?

  Chapter 18

  It is all about the correct air ratio. They respond best to a selective oxygen level far different from our own. It is similar to the higher mountain peaks, but I should be able to emulate it.

  They visited houses en route to the council tower only to find homes packed with the sick and dying. Sonora handed out potions from her satchel to those who she knew best and any with children. She gathered as much information as she could. Scarcity was everywhere, food being the hardest to come by, mostly due to people hoarding; but no one knew what the cause of the disease was and everyone hoped the council would sort it out soon.

  A dull roar grew in to angry shouts as they neared the tall marble tower where the council presided.

  Clustered around the imposing white building were dozens of figures pleading for help. Some of the people shouted at the two guards who stood silent and stone-faced by the entrance, barring the door with crossed spears. Others were forced to disperse by the guards patrolling outside, but by the time the guards had come full circle around the tower, the groups had returned.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Harl said. ‘We should leave before things get out of contr-.’

  ‘Sonora!’

  Harl spun around at the voice to find Elaine, the sick woman they had met coming in to town, stumbling towards them. She tripped and collapsed to her knees, coughing blood onto the cobblestones as a fit of couching wracked her.

  The crowd washed back from her like an outgoing tide, leaving a space around the helpless woman.

  She stretched a frail, blackened hand up to Sonora.

  ‘The medicine-’ she croaked.

  Sonora dug a hand into her bag and pulled out a vial. As she began to rush forward Harl seized her arm and she froze.

  Dozens of faces had turned towards them and, like a gold coin in a street of beggars, their eyes locked on to the healer. The crowd surged forwards, stumbling over each other in their haste to reach Sonora. Elaine was trampled under the feet of the more energetic, who shoved their way towards them, scrambling past each other as they demanded the potions.

  Harl tried to slide the bow off his shoulder, but it caught on his jacket, so he reached for the knife in his belt instead.

  A coal-black hand raked Sonora’s dress, clasping the thin material and spinning her around. Harl grabbed the fingers and yanked them away, glad he’d brought gloves.

  ‘Please can you help?’

  ‘My daughter...’

  ‘My family...’

  Sonora rummaged in her bag and pulled out potions as fast as possible. They were snatched before she could hand them over as hands pawed the bag’s opening. She strained to pull the satchel back as the straps became taught, threatening to split and scatter Gorman’s valuables into the crowd.

  ‘It is not a cure!’ Sonora cried above the pleading crowd as she and Harl were crushed in on all sides by desperate faces, some blackening with the disease under their ragged hoods.

  When she had no more potions to give out the crowd still clawed at the bag. The stitches began to tear. Harl grabbed Sonora by the hand and pushed his way through the crowd, desperately shoving people aside as he made for the nearest guard.

  A huge man, a head taller than Harl, blocked his path and glared down at him. The man’s face was streaked with jagged black lines. There were thin streaks within the man’s eyeball, as if the blood vessels inside pumped black instead of red.

  ‘The bag,’ the man growled.

  Fear clutched Harl, but with Sonora in danger he reacted. He tensed and jabbed a fist into the man’s stomach, doubling him over, before smashing an elbow into his face. The man crumpled to the cobblestones.

  Harl stepped back, hoping, desperately, that the sickness wouldn’t pass through his sleeve.

  A sharp ringing of steel made the people closest to them stop pawing and grabbing at Sonora. The guard had spotted their predicament and had drawn his sword.

  ‘Get back!’ he shouted.

  When only a few took notice and stopped, the guard strode forward and held his blade straight out at the crowd, giving Harl and Sonora a chance to break away. The big man had got to his feet and barged forward to the front. He scowled at Harl as if ready to rush him.

  ‘Get back, Holden,’ the guard said, wide-eyed as he swung his sword left and right.

  A group of guards stormed out from between two nearby buildings and rushed over to aid the lone soldier.

  Harl kept hold of Sonora’s hand as they broke for freedom and ran back across town to the stall, leaving the guards behind trying to quell the mob.

  ‘That was too close,’ Harl said, seeing their cart loaded and waiting for them beside the merchant and his bodyguards up ahead.

  ‘They’re just desperate,’ Sonora said. ‘The council should be out there explaining the situation and fixing the issues. Instead they hide inside their tower behind armed guards.’
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  ‘They’re more than desperate,’ Harl said, angry that she had ignored the danger in her belief that everyone there was innocent.

  ‘If it was me needing the medicine,’ she said, ‘then I hope you’d try to get some.’

  ‘You know I would,’ he said, ‘but the only medicine for that back there was to get you as far away as possible before they tore you to shreds.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just hard to see people who once carried each others groceries home from market now trample each other to the dirt. These are not the same people.’

  ‘It’s all there,’ Sanda said, as they came within earshot of his wooden stall. He tugged back a roll of thick cotton on top of the cart to reveal a jumble of supplies underneath. ‘I’ll throw in the cloth for free. But best keep it all covered until you’re out of town.’

  Sonora handed Sanda the satchel containing the payment and his smile widened as he poured the contents into a steel box beneath the stall.

  ‘Take care,’ the merchant said. ‘Would you like one of my guards to see you to the gate?’

  ‘You’ve done enough already, thank you.’ Harl said as he gripped the cart’s handles and heaved it towards the gate.

  ‘Grandpa will be so pleased we got it all,’ Sonora said when the stall was behind them.

  Harl was glad they were on their way out. He grimaced against the weight and heaved the cart forward. If they survived the coming days it would be a long time before he came down from the forest again. The town sickened him.

  A slur of raised voices came from between two houses on their left. Felmar and a group of guards stumbled out from an ally. Harl groaned at the sight. The men were staggering into each other, holding bottles and laughing among themselves as they tottered down the road oblivious to Harl and Sonora coming in the opposite direction. Harl kept his head down as they passed and pushed the cart ahead as he silently cursed the squeaking wheel.

  ‘Should ‘ave seen his face,’ one said, waving a bottle at the others, ‘when I told him his pretty wife deserved a real man. Maybe I should go back an’ make the point clearer.’ He looked at Felmar, but the captain shook his head.

  ‘Leave ‘em be,’ Felmar said. ‘They’ll all get what they deserve.’ He lobbed his empty bottle over one shoulder and, as it smashed down on the cobblestones, he swiped a half-full one from a fat guard beside him.

  ‘Hey,’ the man said, but Felmar just glared at him.

  The group paid them little attention and Harl thought they would slip past unnoticed, but then the fattest of the soldiers caught sight of Sonora.

  ‘She’s a pretty one,’ he said, his neck craning round as they passed to keep Sonora fixed in his gaze.

  ‘Hang on,’ Felmar said. Their staggering footsteps faltered then stopped. ‘Well, if it ain’t pretty little miss Sonora!’

  Harl’s heart sank. He knew Sonora had been dreading any confrontation with Felmar and, worst of all, he was drunk and out to impress his cronies.

  ‘Well, lads. Look at the dainty little lady. Would you-’ He took a swig from his bottle, ‘-like us to handle your wares?’

  His mates roared with laughter as they swung into a loose half-circle around Harl and Sonora.

  Felmar staggered a bit and then drew himself up and saluted.

  ‘And what,’ he asked,’ has brought the witch and her outlander down into town?’

  The four men around them chuckled.

  Harl bent and let go of the cart’s handles. He stepped around the cart and placed himself between Felmar and Sonora. Felmar swayed backwards a little as Harl came closer, but his cronies moved in a step, unwilling to see their leader cowed. Felmar took a pace forward and smiled.

  ‘We’re just here for supplies,’ Harl said, indicating the cart with one hand, ‘and to give out potions to help your people Felmar. The ones you’re meant to be protecting.’

  ‘We don’t need your help,’ Felmar snapped and then spat on the floor. ‘Your potions don’t work, witch. I’ve lost men to this plague. I’ve lost others to those rioting filth. They deserve to die. You only cause trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if you started the illness. What poisons do you peddle? Eh? You know what we do with witches, don’t you? We burns them.’

  Harl was surprised that he managed not to slur any of his words.

  ‘We’ve no wish to stay, Felmar,’ Sonora said. ‘All we want is to be on our way.’

  Felmar laughed. ‘Not until you’ve handed over them supplies, witch. Me and the lads, well, we have ideas about getting out of here, and that little stash would come in handy.’ He turned to his men and waved one hand towards Sonora. ‘And I have a fancy to take you too. We could do with some… entertainment.’

  The group roared with laughter.

  The fat guard grinned and staggered forward to take the cart, but Harl shoved a palm into the man’s pudgy belly and he teetered backwards.

  The other men started forward.

  Harl let the bow slide off his shoulder, grabbed it in his hand, and drew an arrow from his quiver with the other. He nocked the arrow and drew the string back taught. The arrow’s tip wobbled as Felmar’s head swayed from side to side, taking in the threat.

  ‘The supplies are ours, Felmar,’ Harl said.

  Felmar’s gaze traced along the arrow as he snarled through gritted teeth. He waved his men aside and then took an unsteady step back.

  Harl moved toward the gate, keeping the bow aimed at Felmar. ‘Bring the cart, Sonora.’

  She grabbed the handles and heaved it towards the open gates. Harl didn’t turn his back on the group and kept the bow raised as they reached the gate and walked out onto the bridge. When he was out of range, he sighed and lowered the bow.

  Felmar stood in the centre of the gateway. He took another swig from the bottle then threw it against the wall and spat on the floor.

  As Harl turned away his heart sank.

  Felmar was smiling.

  Chapter 19

  The squeaking roar from the container is constant as the creatures shout at me. I watched as they attempted to climb over each other to escape, some dying in the press. I will build a roof over the top and separate them into categories. More containers will be needed.

  ‘The plan?’ Harl asked as he dragged a coil of rope from the cart.

  They had reached home without further incident and parked the cart just outside the front door. He had been constantly checking behind them on the way back from town, but neither Felmar nor his men had followed.

  Harl could feel the cycle drawing near to the dark switch. Most of the supplies they had returned with were unloaded and stacked inside, but he wanted to get everything done before dark. He had no wish to be outside if anyone came creeping around. Better to shut the world – and Felmar – away and let the light bring fresh hope. He frowned. Hope seemed in short supply at the moment.

  Gorman wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and turned ready to take the next piece of equipment.

  ‘And why so much rope?’ Harl asked as he handed him a second and third coil.

  ‘I’d hoped there would be more time to explain,’ Gorman said, stacking the rope in a pile. ‘But you need to make haste. There are some items I have kept safe that you will need. Come, I will show you.’

  He walked inside and led them both into his room.

  It was the first time Harl had seen inside Gorman’s bedroom and he felt like an intruder in the old man’s private quarters. Neatly stacked sets of identical clothing lay on top of an ornate dresser to one side of a four-poster bed. Pinned to the wall opposite the only window was a large piece of tattered parchment with a crude circular diagram in its centre. The majority was coloured blue, but there were green and brown splotches all over it, as if drawn with no apparent design in mind. They looked like nothing more than splatters of thick mud against the Sight.

  A row of chest-high shelves supported a neat collection of rocks and small stones. Harl had seen most of them from his time in the q
uarry, but a single large piece caught his eye. It was the size of his fist and completely see-through, like glass or a diamond. Surely it couldn’t be an actual diamond? There was nothing he could think of that could be that size and transparent except... Could it be a piece of the barrier, the one which Gorman had cut as a boy?

  He looked out the window hoping to see the Sight, but saw only the thick woodland beyond. He lowered his eyes, disappointed, but then smiled in surprise. Perched on the windowsill was a tiny tree. Minute leaves clung to the gnarled branches and delicate white flowers shone like diamonds against the dark foliage. It was rooted in a shallow clay pot that was mottled and worn with age. A small selection of tiny garden implements stood in a rack next to it just waiting for Gorman’s gentle hands to set to work. Harl reached out to pick up the micro-tree, but Gorman’s insistent voice stayed his hand.

  ‘Under there,’ Gorman said, tapping his foot on a woven mat spread across the hardwood floor. ‘We’ll need to lift it up.’

  Harl thought it was odd, but when they moved the mat it was obvious that Gorman had meant the wooden trapdoor that lay hidden beneath.

  Gorman bent over and pulled up the flattened iron hoops set into the trapdoor. He took a firm grip on both and lifted. The trapdoor slid to one side on the floor.

  ‘If you could move it back some more, Harl,’ he asked, breathing hard.

  Harl clasped the hoops and slid it further away from them. It was surprisingly heavy and it took his entire strength just to manoeuvre the thick door aside.

  The opening revealed a small cavity about half a stride deep and twice as wide. A large metal container was crammed inside. It had been fashioned from the metal cases used to store liquid fire. About three of them had been cut apart and welded back together to form a larger container.

  Gorman clasped two handles on either side of the container and hauled it out, placing it onto the bed with a thud. He flipped a small latch on the front and lifted the lid. A jumble of metallic items lay inside. Gorman reached in and pulled out a handful of small flat disks with what looked like whistle holes set in them.