by Jeff Gunzel
“Please sit,” she said, hobbling over to a table covered with old yellowed papers and a few scattered bowls. Within the bowls were more small bones, each with a fair amount of decaying flesh still attached. Flies buzzed around, circling the table and crawling about. Xavier swallowed as he approached the table, fearing he might get sick all over again. He hoped she might at least clear away some of the decaying matter before he sat down, but she did no such thing. Gingerly, the old woman moved around the back side of the round table and flopped down heavily in her chair. Xavier followed suit, but looked rather stiff as he sat on the edge of his chair. He was not comfortable in the least.
“We don’t get many visitors here,” she said in her scratchy voice.
“Make no mistake, I am not a visitor,” Xavier said, eyes scanning about with no clear place to focus. Practically under his nose was a fly-covered bowl he didn’t care to notice. It was all he could do not to push the distracting thing away. And right across the table sat this ugly woman. Bent with her head tilted sideways, she stared back at him, dark eyes bulged with a creepy grin that wasn’t helping anything. “None of this was supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Yet here you are.”
“But not for much longer.”
“What is your name?”
“Tell me yours first.”
The old woman’s smile deepened, causing the folds in her withered face to flex like crinkled leather. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked, a hint of amusement in that gravelly voice. “Perhaps you associate my appearance with someone who is evil?” Xavier jerked at the blunt statement. Surely she was aware of her own appearance, and people must generally react to her in roughly the same way. But still, Xavier didn’t like being read like a book. A warrior should be able to hide his true thoughts better than this.
“Let me tell you something, boy,” she continued, her once shaky voice now firm and commanding. “The ugly monster hiding under your bed is a made-up tale used to frighten children. Evil is not some twisted creature lurking in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting prey. No, it will present itself in a form that is beautiful, pleasing, seductive. Its charm will be nearly irresistible. That, my young friend, is what evil looks like. Not the crippled old woman you see before you. I have saved your life and asked nothing in return, save for telling me your name. Tell me...have I overstepped? Is my humble request so unreasonable?”
Embarrassed, Xavier wilted in his seat like a dying flower. “My name is Xavier,” he said quietly.
“And I am Xylia, the villager Elder,” she replied. “And once again, I welcome you to the village of Darkwell.”
“Darkwell,” Xavier repeated, thinking out loud. He and Owen had done much traveling together, and yet that name was unfamiliar to him.
“Don’t think too hard, boy,” she said, answering his look of confusion. “Darkwell would not appear on any map you’ve ever seen.” For the first time during this conversation, Xavier looked her right in the eye.
“Like I already said, we don’t get many visitors. In fact, you are the first outsider I’ve seen in many, many years,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Xavier said, his suspicions growing anew. “If Darkwell is not found on any map, then where is it exactly? How did I get here?”
“That is the question, is it not?” The old woman stood, showing a sort of strength she had not displayed before. Her eyes grew sharp, focused. “How did you get here? How did you happen to stumble across a place that hasn’t seen an outsider in centuries?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Xavier said, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed. “I collapsed from exhaustion and some of your people found me. I was not seeking your village; I simply stumbled upon it by accident. In hindsight, it’s best that I did, or I wouldn’t be alive right now. Look, I don’t wish to seem ungrateful for what you have done for me. But I really don’t have time for this. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but—”
“Wrong again,” Xylia interrupted. “Time is the one thing you have in abundance. Trust me when I tell you that this should be the least of your worries. Do you recall what time of day it was when you collapsed?”
“Early morning.” Xavier shrugged, not exactly certain. His body had been fading long before it actually gave out. “It was still dark. I remember the torches.”
“And what if I told you that time hadn’t changed one bit since you’ve been here? What if I assured you that the moment you leave the village of Darkwell, everything will be exactly as you remember it? It will still be dark. The time will be exactly the same.” Xavier stared, having no idea how to respond to her ludicrous claim. “Time moves differently here. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that it doesn’t move much at all. We are all much older than you think. At least, in measure of how you perceive the passing of time.”
Xavier’s blood went cold. Although her claim was utterly impossible, it made sense in a way. “What about the children?” he asked, thinking back to the way that small boy had reacted to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it at the time, but now...
“The youngest ‘child’ in our village is more than two hundred years old. They are children in body only, aging at a rate so slow that their appearances seem to be frozen in time.”
That boy was a grown man! he thought, hardly able to wrap his head around any of this. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. Those dark eyes held a wisdom and patience he had never seen in any other human being before. “How old are you?” he dared to ask, his soft words barely a whisper. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Her grin deepened further, those leathery wrinkles looking like trenches carved into her face. “I am five thousand years old.”
Chapter 3
Stunned in disbelief, all Xavier could do was stare in silence as words betrayed him. There were no words for this. How could that be true? But it explained so much, the reactions of the “children” who didn’t act like children at all. Even the dated lifestyle and fashion of these folk could be attributed to the fact that they were all indeed a product from another time altogether.
“But how?” Xavier asked, finally finding his voice. “How could such a thing be possible?”
“Xavier,” she said, hobbling up to him. She placed a withered hand on his chest. “I think you and I should go for a walk.” Without waiting for an answer, she hobbled over to the door. She seemed to be moving better now for some reason, although not well compared to someone young. One shoulder blade seemed to click with each step, moving up and down while the other appeared locked in place, hardly moving at all. Still, she managed to go outside and down the steps without any real trouble. Xavier followed reluctantly, keeping some distance between them.
Briana was still waiting outside, her arm propped up on the porch railing. Xylia gingerly stepped over to her and they shared a few private words, although several backward glances seemed to keep finding Xavier. Little doubt that he was the topic of their discussion. Finally, Briana looked at Xavier and waved. “I’m going to go prepare your room. I know that you and our elder have much to discuss, so I’ll leave you to it.”
Xavier marched down the steps and stood beside Xylia. A light thudding sound coming from behind caught his attention. The woman who was churning butter earlier was coming down, lowering a wheeled chair one step at a time. “If you would be so kind?” she asked, bracing it so Xylia could sit. Xavier nodded and grabbed the two handles on the back. He had seen such contraptions before and knew what it was for. With a push, they headed off down the trail. The frail woman weighed next to nothing, and the wheels were well oiled. Pushing Xylia along wouldn’t be as difficult as he feared.
Without Xylia giving any real direction—or saying much of anything, for that matter—Xavier just took in the scene as he pushed her along. Men stood out in front of their homes oiling racks of stretched leather while the women sat on porches, hanging clothes and slicing vegetables at work tables. The village wa
s surprisingly active this time of day. But whenever they came into view, folk stopped what they were doing to stare at the village Elder. What was she doing with this outsider?
“Despite having limited access to the outside world, we are quite self-sufficient in our own right,” Xylia pointed out, grabbing Xavier’s attention. “Don’t you think?”
“I can see that,” Xavier agreed. “By why don’t any of you ever leave the village? There is a big world out there. I’m sure you would find it very interesting if you would just—”
“We can’t,” Xylia interrupted. “Or perhaps won’t is a better way to put it. Darkwell doesn’t actually exist the same way one might expect it would. Time, perception, and even reality itself all seem to move along a different path here. None of this is by our choosing, mind you. It just...is. Sure, any one of us could leave here easy enough. There is no invisible barrier keeping us prisoner. But they would never return. It would be like leaving one world and entering another, one with a completely different set of natural laws. None of the rules from the first world would apply to the second. The move would be permanent, a blip in time that cannot be erased.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going to happen to me when I try to leave?” Xavier asked, a sudden panic rising up into his throat. Staying here simply wasn’t an option.
“Nothing. But you’ll never come back. Leaving is easy. Returning is impossible. Smoke cannot be turned back into wood. But it goes both ways. No one has ever accidentally stumbled onto this village...ever. Until now.” Xavier stopped pushing her wheeled chair and circled around to face her. “Yes, Xavier. You are the first. And my question is why. As intrigued as you are about this place, I am just as baffled by your presence. How were you able to do something, by accident no less, that no other living being has done in thousands of years?”
“I don’t know. Like I already told you, it was just an accident.”
“An accident?” Xylia scoffed, rolling her bulging eyes. “The first accident to occur in so many centuries is no accident at all. I don’t believe in accidents. An even if I did, this most certainly would not be on that list.”
“Are you human?” Xavier asked. He knew the question must sound foolish, but he was just trying to find some way to make sense of all this.
“Quite,” the old woman replied in a breathy hiss. “We are not special in any way. It is the village itself that is unique. Or perhaps, more accurately, the space in which the village occupies that is special. As I said, the rules of your physical world do not apply here. But it is real nonetheless, just as real as you or I. Now let me ask you a question. Why were you tracking the spiritists?”
He flashed her a questioning look.
“Briana told me, and I think it is of great importance that you be honest with me.”
“They have my friend,” he said. “I am trying to get her back.”
“So she’s their captive?”
“No... I mean, I don’t know.”
“How can you not be certain of such a thing?”
“Look, all I know is that I am sworn to protect her, and not them. It is of great importance that I reach her in time.”
“On that point I think we just might agree,” Xylia said calmly. She gestured ahead, hinting that it was time to move on. With a sigh, he went back behind the chair and continued pushing her down the path.
Xavier watched a group of “children” standing in a circle nearby. Their knowing grins and finger pointing made him want to look away. Of course they were just regular folk like himself, but it was still hard to overlook the fact that they were adults trapped in slow-growing children’s bodies. It was all just so unnatural.
“Thank you, Xavier,” Xylia said. “It’s good for me to get out in the fresh air now and then, but I think I’m ready to go back now. Even by our standards I’m quite old, and tire easily.” He gently wheeled the chair around and started back the way they came.
“I’m curious. Why would your people trust a perfect stranger with the village Elder?” he asked. “None of you know me, yet I am allowed to be alone in your presence. Do you think that is wise?”
“Their trust or distrust has nothing to do with you. My word is final, and I have already determined that you are not a danger to me or anyone here. They have no reason to doubt my decision. My instincts are rarely wrong. I suppose that’s one of the benefits to living as long as I have.” She barked out a wheezing laugh. Even Xavier cracked a smile, although facing forward, she couldn’t see him.
“But there is more at play here than meets the eye. As I’ve been saying, only someone very special could have found our village, accident or not. Tell me, Xavier, do you believe in fate?”
Xavier thought on the odd question for a moment. He had never really given it much thought. Sure, he often heard that very claim made by folk whose lives he and Owen had just saved while only doing the job they were paid to do. Fate was a word often used to describe the improbable, but only when it benefited the person saying it. Fate, luck, destiny—they were all interchangeable myths that had little to do with reality. Shredding a demon from head to toe has nothing to do with the demon’s fate. He died because I was paid to kill him.
“No,” Xavier said plainly. “I believe fate is no more than an illusion. A made-up concept for those who wish to deny responsibility for their actions, or the actions of others.”
“Ah, I see.” She said no more about the subject.
After walking the rest of the way back in silence, Xavier helped Xylia out of her chair and back up the steps. Once inside, he had a seat at the table while she went to the kitchen to make some tea. Sitting alone thinking, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Assuming all she had said about this place was true, then everything would be exactly the same when he re-entered his world. He could rest here as long as needed without the penalty of lost time. Viola might still be in danger, but it wouldn’t be any worse whether he stayed here for a day, or another week. Of all the strange new information his mind was trying to digest, this was the one thing he was thankful for. Time truly was a gift, and one people rarely thought about until it was almost gone.
Xylia returned with two steaming cups sitting on a tray. After handing one to Xavier, she set the other down and slowly rocked back into the chair across from him. He took a sip. Warm and heavily spiced, it really hit the spot. “Thank you,” he said, setting it next to the bowl of rotting bones. It didn’t seem to bother him like it did before. Odd to think he’d get used to such an environment so quickly.
“Now then,” she said. “I want you to tell me everything. No holding back now.”
“Everything?” he questioned, taking another sip.
“Everything,” she affirmed. “You say you want to get your friend back, yes? Then I need to hear your story. I must understand what was driving you so hard when we found you. So yes, everything. Don’t bother trying to decide whether or not a seemingly small detail is important. That, I will decide.”
His heavy eyes lifted from his cup and he flashed her an unsure look. He was not even close to full strength and was beginning to feel the fatigue setting in. She watched him expectantly, her withered hands folded up on the table. But at this particular moment, the old woman didn’t exactly look like someone who would take no for an answer. He’d best just get on with it.
With a sigh, Xavier began to tell his tale as Xylia listened. He spoke of his time spent with the renowned Demon Hunter, and how the two of them were essentially just paid mercenaries whose deeds were more or less beneficial to the world, despite the fact that they only did it for money. Seeing Xylia so attentive, hanging on to his every word without the slightest hint of judgment in those ancient dark eyes, his words began to flow like water from a busted dam. It felt good to have someone listen to his struggles, of everything that had led him to this point. It was only now that he realized how badly he had needed to get this out.
Holding nothing back, he told her everything he knew about Viola. As
he spoke of her, the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. She’d literally seen that look a thousand times over the centuries. He spoke of her mysterious origin, one that seemed to be quite impossible as far as any modern science was concerned. He warned her of the ghatins and how they too were searching for her. It was imperative that he get to her first. If they ever managed to capture her and complete the ritual, they would be released upon the world, and—
Xavier stopped talking. Xylia just kept looking at him, her pointed chin resting on the back of her knuckles as she listened. Basically, her expression was exactly as it had been for the past couple hours. Xavier gritted his teeth. How could he be so stupid? “You knew,” he accused softly. She shrugged, the corners of her leathery lips turning up. “You knew everything, yet you sat here and let me spill my guts!”
“Is that such a bad thing?” she reasoned. “Yes, of course I knew. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted you to tell it in your own words. I now have a much better understanding of your perspective. And as long as we’re being honest, it really seemed to me like you needed someone to talk to.”
“How could you know anything of my realm? You said no one every comes here.”
“They don’t.” She shrugged again. “And yet that is one of the great mysteries of our village. Think of it like standing in front of a mirror. All your eyes will ever see is what that mirror reflects back at you. We, however, are on the other side of that mirror. We see everything that goes on in your world, yet others cannot see in. In fact, we have watched your world for thousands of years, unnoticed like a fly in the corner of a room. So as you can see, I know you’re telling the truth because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Her eyes went stony, her smile fading. “I needed to hear your words to confirm what I already suspected, but did not want to believe. Your friend is a lerwick, and we are all in grave danger!”
Xavier fell back in his chair. Lerwick. There was that word again. Narkural, leader of the nezzerians, had also voiced such an accusation. He had even gone so far as to claim that she shouldn’t even exist. Now this pattern was becoming hard to ignore. How much longer could he keep turning a blind eye before—