by James Maxey
I squeezed my eyes tightly to hold back the gush of tears. Never had I hurt so badly, not even when I’d died the first time in the material world.
There were voices around me: ogres, judging from the deepness of the tones and the harsh, hacking syllables of their vocabulary. Not such a big surprise, I guess. The Great Sea Above was heaven for ogres.
Clenching my teeth to control the pain, I managed, through extreme force of will, to open my eyes. I was flat on my back on the ice. An ogress crouched above me. She was nude save for a necklace of whale teeth, and her pendulous breasts nearly touched my nose. She shifted, giving me a better view of her face, although I wish she hadn’t. Her visage was a horrifying mass of blisters and raw flesh, black around the edges, as if she’d been burned. Above her blackened tusks, her pale blue eyes were gentle, even kind. Her hair was pulled back into a severe top-knot, the hair singed and frizzed.
Her half-charred lips were set in what can only be described as a bemused grin.
“I was there the night the fortune teller predicted the sea would swallow your bones,” she said. “She forgot the bit about getting spit back out.”
“Aurora?” I gasped.
“Yep,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re in a world of pain.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I swallowed hard. “Unbearable.”
She reached into a pouch at her side, then pushed something rubbery between my teeth. With her meaty fingers, she worked my jaws, forcing me to chew. The taste was like raw, rotten kidney mixed with licorice. I wanted to spit, but she held my lips shut. I decided to swallow. Given that my stomach had fallen out of my rib cage, it was the fastest path toward getting rid of whatever foul thing she was poisoning me with. However, as I swallowed, my pain eased. It wasn’t just a numbing that came over me, but a flush of heat and energy.
“That was a slice of dried adrenal gland from a polar bear,” Aurora said. “The gland sits next to the kidney, so your saliva is going to taste like urine, I’m afraid. Give it a minute to kick in and you should feel better.”
I nodded. “Not even a minute. That’s pretty good stuff.”
Aurora shrugged. “Get used to it. Now that you’re dead, you’ll be eating it by the fistful. It’s pretty much the only thing to soothe the pain.”
“I’ve been dead for weeks. Until now, it hasn’t really hurt,” I said.
“Last I saw you, you hadn’t passed on to the afterlife. You were just sort of a pathetic ghost haunting the woman you used to love.”
“Still love,” I said. “Nothing’s pathetic about that. And last I saw you, you’d been fried by Greatshadow, and your ghost was off to the Great Sea Above to find your family.”
Aurora picked me up, placing me upright on the ice. We were surrounded by a score of ogres in various states of decay. Most were short a limb or two. Some were missing heads. “I found them.”
I raised my remaining hand and said, “Awk.” The ogres who could manage it raised their hands to return the greeting. They were a sad-looking lot. Most were chewing on rubbery bits of bear gland like gum. Even from a distance, their breath smelled of piss.
“I thought the Great Sea Above was heaven for your people,” I said. “Why is everyone in pain?”
“Heaven and hell are myths of your people. For my people, there is life, and beyond. Once you are in the Great Sea Above, you’re immortal. Your body no longer ages. This also means that it no longer heals. You remain in the same state you died in, unless you suffer further injuries here, or your corpse decays or is damaged back in the material world. Ordinarily, this isn’t a problem. We entomb our dead in ice, where their bodies may remain unchanged for eons. Alas, when I was driven from the temple, the conflicts that followed led some ogres to desecrate the bodies of my relatives. The call song I sing extends back thirty generations. I should be surrounded by legions; only this small band remains.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Aurora shrugged. “Eternity is too long to dwell on regrets. For now, I’m grateful for what I have. I’m among those I love. My family needs me. I have a purpose, which makes me happy. And now that my oldest friend has found me, my happiness is increased even more.”
“Really?” I asked, trying not to sound shocked. “I was your oldest friend? I always thought you didn’t much like me.”
“You?” she chuckled. “You were likable enough, but I was speaking of Slor Tonn.” She looked up. Slor Tonn floated directly above us. “I’m sorry he’s passed on, but happy he found me. I’m not surprised. There was always a bond between us.” She looked down at me. “On the other hand, I’m completely befuddled that you’re here. Your kind normally passes on to different realms.”
“I’m a bit surprised myself.”
“I assume there’s some logical explanation?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think logic has much to do with this.”
I told my story, starting with Infidel promising to return the Jagged Heart, all the way up to the point where Purity stabbed me. It took a long time, long enough that I required a second dose of bear gland, but Aurora listened patiently, as if she had nothing but time.
In the end, she nodded, contemplating what I’d told her.
“I’m probably missing some important details,” I said. “I don’t really know who this Tarpok character is, or why he’d ally himself with someone like Purity.”
“Tarpok was my eldest brother,” said Aurora. “He was the biggest, strongest, toughest ogre in the village. I was his runt sister, in a family with twenty siblings. As a hunter, Tarpok brought great prestige upon my family. Then I entered the priesthood, and eventually became high priestess. In my youth, the villagers would look upon my father and say, ‘there is an ogre who deserves respect, for his semen has produced the mighty hunter Tarpok.’ Once I was high priestess, the praise changed, and they said, ‘this great ogre’s semen has blessed our village with Aksarna the wise.’ Aksarna, by the way, being my true name. As you can imagine, this hurt Tarpok’s pride.”
“I would think it would hurt your mother’s pride, hearing your father get all the credit.”
“Tarpok and I have different mothers. Father has produced twenty children, by seven different mates.”
“Oh. Are ogres polygamous, or is child birth just that difficult?”
“Ogres are fiercely monogamous. Most of my father’s wives were murdered by younger women wanting to catch my father’s attention. Only after the old wife was out of the way would father choose a new wife.”
“And he’d choose a known murderess?”
“It showed she had passion. It’s considered highly flattering if a female is willing to kill to gain access to your semen.”
I furrowed my brow. I tried to be open-minded about cultural differences, but this was a bit much.
“Semen is very important to my people,” Aurora said, sounding worried I hadn’t caught on. “Which added to Tarpok’s shame. He was a mighty hunter, yet his first bride bore him no children. He murdered her two years later and took a second wife. She, too, bore no children. Then he married Sinnatok, a widow who had four young children, so she was certain to be fertile. This marriage, alas, produced no offspring. Whispers grew that Tarpok the mighty was really Tarpok the seedless. Women snickered as he passed. His shame was great.”
“Tarpok seemed pretty popular when I saw him,” I said. “Your people must have gotten over the fact he was sterile.”
Aurora shook her head. “Now that I’ve rejoined my family, I’ve learned what happened in my absence. With the Jagged Heart gone, the priestesses were weakened. Tarpok announced that we were at war with the Skellings, and that he was to be our warlord. He took up residence in the temple, since it was the most defensible structure. He killed any priestess who objected, but spared the few who broke their vows of chastity in an attempt to, shall we say, sanctify his semen.”
“From what I can count, there were only three who agreed.”
“Three too many,”
Aurora grumbled. “There were twenty-five priestesses in various stages of training. All should have chosen death over defilement.”
“They might not have had a choice,” I said. “He’s almost twice their size. You can’t blame the victims of a rape.”
“I can blame any priestess who has not attempted to slit his throat, or failing that, to slit her own. Can you imagine the blasphemy of what he’s done? He had the entire village watch as he defiled the priestesses upon the western altar, then had them announce that, by bathing his genitals in their holy blood, he had healed his infertility. It was further proclaimed that he’d been given a divine vision that he was to build a great army to one day stand against those who had stolen the Jagged Heart. It was essential that the village produce as many offspring as quickly as possible. He announced that he was going to sleep with every ogress in the village, taking a different lover every night, so that his blessed seed might produce a new crop of warriors. This pronouncement didn’t go over well, as you may imagine.”
“It sounds like he went insane,” I said.
Aurora nodded. “Tarpok may have been insane, but he was also unquestionably the greatest warrior in the village. The strongest men declared war on him, and it was during this war that his ancestors, and therefore my ancestors, were desecrated. The fighting lasted years, but Tarpok eventually prevailed, and built a monument from the skulls of those who’d opposed him. The remaining men of the village became rather more philosophical about Tarpok sleeping with their spouses. Some of the women resisted at first, but after a few of his early partners became pregnant, most went willingly. Tarpok was the embodiment of male power. The chance to be filled by his semen was a great temptation.”
“So was he was cured by sleeping with the priestesses?”
Aurora shook her head. “By sleeping with every woman in the village, he could claim that any child born the following year was a product of his seed. But he didn’t demand chastity on the part of his lovers; most were probably impregnated by their true husbands.”
“I have a hard time thinking that a monster like that gets cheered by the crowds I saw.”
“Ah, but there’s one final, perverse twist. The men who challenged Tarpok were the best hunters in the village. After they died, Tarpok alone accounted for over half of the meat the village fed upon. My people are on the verge of starving, and flattering Tarpok is their best route to being fed.”
“But he’s the reason they’re starving!”
Aurora shrugged. She said something in her native tongue.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I said.
“It’s a proverb of my people. Wisdom is the first thing devoured by an empty belly.”
“I’m afraid your people may be even hungrier now, since Infidel caved in Tarpok’s face.”
“There was a time when this would have concerned me,” said Aurora. “But everyone I knew will be dead soon enough.”
“Because Purity’s going to murder the sun?”
Aurora shook her head. “Because the lifespan of an ogre is but a single beat of a heart when measured against the expanse of forever. Being dead gives one a sense of perspective. What was the point of all the struggle? In the end, death will claim the just and the unjust. For all the harm that Tarpok did to my people, he’s here now, another of the dead in the endless sea of death.” She stared out over the ice floes. “As blood kin, he will be drawn to our family song. I look forward to assisting him with his pain.”
“You’d soothe the pain of a villain who’s done such harm?”
“I said assist, not soothe.”
“Ah.”
“But this will happen in its own time. Now, we have a more pressing matter.” She pointed toward the horizon. “In little more than an hour, Glorious will once again rise over the edge of the sky. Purity will no doubt use this moment to strike. If we’re going to stop her, we must depart at once.”
“I’m very happy to hear you say this,” I said. “I was worried that your newfound stoicism might keep you from taking the threat seriously.”
Aurora whistled to Slor Tonn. The whale did a cartwheel, then plunged into the water nearby. “I care little about the fate of the world. But Purity was responsible for robbing me of the Jagged Heart. Even now, she defiles it with her heathen grasp. I cannot let this be.”
“Purity’s no pushover,” I warned. “She’s got all of Menagerie’s shape-shifting powers, plus ice powers just like you.”
“Actually, I don’t have those powers any more,” said Aurora, sounding apologetic. “My spiritual connection with Hush was severed when I came here.”
“Oh. Then we might be in a rather lopsided fight.”
“She’s sailing in a walrus-skin boat,” said Aurora. “We’ll be riding a flying whale. This fight may be lopsided in an entirely different direction than you think.”
Slor Tonn floated up beside the ice-floe and Aurora lifted me, slinging me over her shoulder. “Hold tight,” she said, as I wrapped my arms around her neck. She shoved another bit of bear gland between my lips. I pushed it between my teeth and cheek and sucked on it to make it last longer. Aurora jumped onto Slor Tonn’s back.
“He doesn’t have his harness any more,” I said. “He’s as naked as we are.”
“Who needs a harness?” she asked, walking toward the center of the whale, right behind his blow hole. She made a clicking noise with her tongue and the whale slapped his tail against the water, then surged skyward. Aurora crouched, keeping her center of gravity low, her arms spread for balance. I tightened my grip around her neck.
We climbed swiftly, as the dead ogres on the ice-floe began to sing their family song to call Aurora back. For a moment it seemed that the higher we climbed, the louder the voices grew, but soon their voices faded, lost to the wind. As Slor Tonn banked in response to Aurora’s clucked and grunted commands, I caught a glimpse of her family on the ice below, now small as bugs.
“Aren’t you afraid you won’t be able to find them again?” I shouted above the rushing wind.
“I can hear my family song no matter where I travel,” said Aurora.
“How about the Jagged Heart? You said you used to be able to feel its tug.”
“I lost that connection, I fear,” said Aurora.
“So how will we find Purity?”
“I don’t think we can, unless we get exceedingly lucky. She’s on a tiny boat on an infinite ocean. We’ll never find where she is now, but we don’t need to; we know where she’s going. Fortunately, Slor Tonn can carry us to Glorious before he ever rises above the horizon.”
“We’re just going to fly to the sun?”
“Why not?”
“And what will we do when we reach it?”
“Talk to Glorious,” said Aurora. “Ask him not to rise until we’ve eliminated the threat.”
“Oh.” I found the directness of her plan a little unsettling. “Do you really think it will be that easy?”
“I’m almost positive it won’t be. But we should try a direct approach and deal with complications only if they arise.”
And on we flew. Below us, the ocean spread out like a jeweler’s display case, with glistening gems spilled against a backdrop of black satin. Above us was endless darkness, save a floating blue-green ball no larger than a grapefruit.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing with my stump.
“Our old world,” she said. “The material world. We lived there.”
“It’s so small,” I said.
“It’s far away,” she said. “Maybe a thousand miles.”
“Wow,” I said, surprised I could see anything at that great a distance.
Of course, I’d seen this orb before, when falling back from the realm of the dead where Greatshadow dwelled.
“I’ve now been in three different realms of the dead,” I said.
“What of it?”
“Zetetic, the Deceiver, said that there was no objective reality. He said we were all the authors of
our own worlds, and our unconscious collaboration creates what looks like solid reality, but is, in fact, nothing but a malleable fiction. What if the realms of the dead are like this? We spend all our lives imagining what the afterlife will be like, and then, when we die, that’s what we get. Doesn’t that mean we’d have the power to change things if we wanted to?”
“If we could change things to what we want, I wouldn’t have half of my flesh burned away,” said Aurora. “I’m guessing you’d still have your legs and your hand.”
“But that’s not the way I imagined my afterlife. I always assumed that, when I died, I’d just fade away. That’s almost what happened, until my soul got sucked into the bone-handled knife.”
“Look!” Aurora said, pointing into the distance. I could see nothing but ice floes and black ocean where she pointed. “A boat!”
She used her clucking, snorting commands to steer Slor Tonn back down toward the ice. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see what she’d seen. At last, I spotted it: a single walrus-skin boat, empty of passengers. A few oars lay in the bottom. I saw a rip in the bow, where Infidel had dug in with her knife.
“This was the boat Tarpok and the priestesses were in before Sorrow unleashed her plague of flies,” I said.
Water sprayed over us as Slor Tonn came to rest in the dark water. Aurora leapt from the whale’s back into the center of the boat. She grabbed an oar and deftly maneuvered the vessel toward the nearest bit of pack ice. Then she hopped out and dragged the boat onto the ice.
“This boat is a great treasure!” she exclaimed. “Not all of my ancestors retain the bodily integrity needed to swim. This will allow us to extend our hunting range. We should turn back and take it to my family.”