Surviving the Improbable Quest

by Anderson Atlas

  Suddenly, the clouds break. The balloon creatures appear to be dropping or the land is rising. A wide river snakes through a dark forest lit aglow by the three moons and trillions of stars. Beyond the river, lights dot the land. They look like stars, but in a discernible pattern. It’s a city. Far away, but it’s huge. Then Allan sees a wall. It’s dark and glistening. It’s the largest wall Allan has ever seen. The balloon creatures all turn at the wall instead of flying over it. The wall extends as far as Allan can see and is made of large square bricks of varying shades of dark browns and grays. Moss grows over the stones and trees grow from the cracks. Vines as thick as bushes cling to the bricks. The river parallels the wall and in some places is diverted under it.

  The balloon creature finally speaks, “Welcome to Lan Darr. This is as far as I’m allowed to take you.” He drops Allan without warning. Allan screams as he falls down until he splashes into the river. The cool fresh water washes the grime and red clay off Allan’s skin. He treads water with his hands, leans back and looks up. The balloon creatures keep going to wherever they are going, and the moons smile on everything. This is better than being captured by Asantia. “Thanks floating things,” Allan whispers.

  Allan’s body rudely reminds him that he needs to pee, and with no other options, he drags himself out of the water and rolls toward the wall. He smashes small twigs, bushes and grasses. While lying on his side he pees on a strange looking plant. It has pointy leaves, pyramid-shaped flower buds and little purple pods on the branches. It squirms and moves like it’s alive. He studies it after he zips up his fly. Did it make a squeak? The leaves are jagged and dark green at the edges. One of the pyramid buds starts to open presenting glossy purple petals. In the center of the flower is a sharp piston. The flower shudders, startling Allan.

  Pain rips through his body. His fingers fumble at his neck, and he finds the sharp piston sticking out of his skin. He pinches and pulls it, but it is stuck. Again, he yanks on the piston and it finally pulls free. As the piston releases its grip, Allan starts convulsing. He sees black and he can’t stop the spasms in his body. When the seizure ends his entire body is numb. He turns on his side crushing more grasses and plants. His arm sinks into mud. His mouth dries out. His throat screams in pain like he swallowed a potato chip sideways. Allan uses all his strength to roll one more time. A pale, gray, scale-covered head rises out of the mud. Sharp spikes protrude from its skull, like horns on a bull. When it sees Allan it hisses, displaying long sharp fangs. Allan rolls again to escape, but the mud is so slick he slides into the river. Allan holds his breath as he sinks in the water. Instantly, the pain vanishes and he can move again. He pulls his arms through the water until he surfaces and rubs his neck until the pain subsides completely. His neck is swollen, but at least it doesn’t hurt. Allan pulls himself to the side of the river and tries to relax, letting his head rest on his hand. He’s got to be careful. “Do not stop to smell the roses in Lan Darr,” he says to himself. Everything is hunting him.

  He takes a sip of the river water. It’s fresh and cool and doesn’t have any odd flavors so he gulps down more. He pulls himself through the water by grabbing the reeds that grow along the bank. His feet dangle, not touching the bottom. How deep is the river? If he’s learned anything it’s that most likely there is something in the water following him. The water is dark and it freaks him out, but he’s got no other way to get around so he keeps going. Don’t think about what you can’t see. They’re just shadows in your own mind.

  When Allan was dangling from the balloon creature he saw that the wall surrounded a huge city, and where there’s a city, there’s a cop. Allan pulls himself toward the tunnel at the base of the wall where the water is diverted. On either side of the large hole in the wall, two birds stand on pedestals that protrude from the wall. They’ve got plumes of feathers on their heads and chainmail covering their chests. Their large thick beaks, blue-grey talons and dark red feathers make them look intimidating. They’re as still as statues.

  As Allan gets closer to the birds his hand snaps a twig in half. One opens its eyes and leans out from the wall. It looks back and forth. Warning signals prickle Allan’s senses so he sinks low into the water. Allan’s father used to tell him, ‘Our guts are sometimes smarter than our brains. Trust your gut; it’ll keep you safe.’ Allan didn’t understand at the time, but now he does. His gut tells him that disturbing these birds would be a death sentence.

  The other bird-guard wakes and, seeing his fellow guard looking around, pulls out a large bow made from a crooked branch. It nocks an arrow and readies it. Its vertical, piercing eyes see something across the river. It aims and shoots. The arrow whizzes through the air and lands in the back of a small rodent that scuttles by. The bird-guard leaps off its perch and beats its wings.

  It grabs the little corpse then returns to the perch and devours the rodent with untamed snaps of its sharp beak.

  When it finishes devouring the rodent, it cleans itself with a long thin tongue. The other bird-guard growls and sneers as it watches its partner groom itself. When the tension between the two ebbs, they lean back and close their eyes to the night and all that is around.

  Allan breathes, not realizing he’d held his breath the whole time. Shivers move through his body in waves. The dark night encroaches. Crickets chirp and a loon hoots in the distance. Allan can’t see more than a dozen feet from the river, but he can see thick bushes and shadows, all dark and foreboding. He feels like he’s being watched from the shadows, and his gut tells him to get inside the city.

  Allan swims quietly under the archway. A large ‘X’ is scratched into the wall. The interior of the ‘X’ is filled with red liquid that catches his attention. Isn’t that the mark of Jibbawk? The dangerous thing the tea-party salamander-people were afraid of? That means it’s close by and looking for food, a particular food. Allan looks back and sees the dark forest and the river, knowing the guards are there even though he cannot see them. In the dark of the forest there is something lurking. Allan can feel it there. Something watches him. Hopefully, he’ll be safe in the city.

  Trickling water and the raucous noise of the crickets hides the sound of his subtle movements. After the tunnel, the river splits into two directions. Tall, stone buildings border the river and block any view into the city. They are even taller than the wall. Steep stairways are built into the sides and snake from doorway to doorway like veins feeding organs.

  Allan pulls himself out of the river. There are no bushes or grasses here, instead there are large, rough-cut stone pieces covering all the land between the water and the buildings. He drags himself to a dark spot under the nearest stairway then pulls his feet under the stairs so he’s completely hidden in the shadow. It’s too dark to go find help. He’ll have to wait until daylight. Plus, that ‘X’ mark scared him. He can’t fight Jibbawk, that’s for sure. Any creature that wants him can take him.

  A noise startles him. His eyes search the darkness frantically. What is that noise? He’s never been so scared in all his life. He doesn’t want to die, and he sure doesn’t want some creepy creature to devour him like the bird-guard devoured the rodent.

  A mouse, or what looks like a mouse, forages on nearby moss. It carefully comes up to the stairway as though it can see Allan. It must have decided Allan is no threat because it grabs a hanging plant by Allan’s leg, rips off a leaf and munches happily.

  “Shoo,” Allan hisses. The creature is small, but Allan doesn’t want any odd creatures in this world near him. His instinct is right. The mouse hisses, exposing sharp fangs, and spikes pop from its fur like cactus needles. Allan freezes. The little thing looks as ferocious as a dragon. It relaxes its spikes and continues to munch on the plant. After a time, it meanders away.

  Allan remains as still as possible for the rest of the night. The darkness seems to last a lifetime, and the noises in the night are strange. His eyes remain like sliced cucumbers. If he blinks, he’ll miss something and be something’s snack.

 
Chapter 10

  Fur and Frowns

  Eventually, daylight comes. A clamoring of machines and a hammering in the distance jumpstart Allan’s heart. Gears grind on metal and a burnt smell lingers in the air. Humidity and warmth remind Allan of the beach. He stretches his arms and yawns. Daylight sets Allan at ease, though the day is not that bright. What’s important is the shadows have been beaten back, so if there is something out there stalking him he can see it coming.

  There’s a crash and someone yells, “Ah! You can’t do anything right. How do you even dress yourself?” The voice sounds squawky.

  Allan pokes his head out from under the stairway. A string of moss gets in his face and tickles his nose and makes him sneeze. Did anyone hear me? He remains still, listening to the sounds. No one comes looking and the strange banging sounds continue. Allan rips down the moss that assaulted his nose. There’s more moss and tree roots growing from every crack in the stonework. The walkway between him and the river is slick with moisture. It’s not a river on this side of the wall, but a canal.

  Allan’s stomach rumbles, but he hasn’t forgotten his mission. He needs to find someone sympathetic. Whatever kind of world the mountains hide, with all these strange creatures that speak about strange laws and strange horrors, it must contain someone with a heart. Surely someone here can look beyond Allan’s apparent monetary value and lead him back to his world. Maybe they’ll have some breakfast, too.

  Allan peaks out from under the stairs then drags his body to the edge of the building. The river turns again, creating a new canal that heads into the city. Narrow walkways on either side are made of the same large stones, which are all damp, stained, or covered by moss or vines. The street reminds him of Venice. Further down the canal there are stone bridges that arch over the canal.

  Allan pulls himself to the edge of the canal. He wonders if jumping in the water and pulling himself along like he did in the river would be a better way to travel. But now someone comes.

  “It’s a dreary day. A dreary day in Dantia. You won’t get out of work today. No sirree. You’ll finish my flooring or else I’ll have you committed for re-Testing. Try surviving that.” The thing that yells the threat hangs out a window two stories up. It’s a yellow, furry thing with a short, dog-like snout and large, round eyes wearing some kind of golden headdress that shines like yellow chrome in the morning light.

  Allan quickly rolls over to the canal’s edge letting his legs splash into the water. He pulls himself as tight as he can to the side hoping no one saw him. In time, he peeks. There’s a tall, thin creature coming down one of the long stairways. It has dark fur and wears a raggedy leather jacket and a top hat that is bent and faded.

  “Yes, yes. I know how important your flooring is,” mutters the thing with the top hat. “Keep up your insults and I’ll set it crooked.” It cackles. When it reaches the bottom of the stairs it heads toward the city following the canal.

  The water tickles Allan’s chin as he glides through the water. He wonders about the creature in the top hat. Will it help him, some human from the so-called Waiting Place, or haul him to be Tested or sold? He knows nothing of any of these creatures. His father used to tell him to never talk to strangers. Whose didn’t? But his dad kept at it even when Allan got older. “Listen to your gut. You’re riding the city bus to school now,” Warren had said. “If you think someone looks mean, steer clear. Don’t look at them. If they speak to you, walk to the bus driver. Terrible people are everywhere.” Allan remembers rolling his eyes. “You’re paranoid, Dad. I’ll be fine.” Now Allan tries to listen to his gut, but everything seems dangerous, mean, capable of terrible things. How’s he supposed to choose who to ask for help when his gut clearly says, run, run, run from them all? Which is precisely the thing he can’t do.

  Allan reaches the bridge and swims under it. He finds the lip of a stone to hold himself above water. It’s slimy with dark moss. A dozen four-inch tendrils with bulbs at their ends stick out of the cracks. When one touches Allan’s finger they all pull back into the cracks. It startles Allan. “Is everything here creepy and slimy?”

  The top hat creature Allan had been following has a boat tied to the side of the canal a few feet from the bridge. It jumps aboard, rocking the narrow, wooden boat and sending waves fleeing. The front and the back ends of the boat rise higher than the sides and are adorned with woodcarvings of strange creatures. It looks too tall to pass under the bridge.

  The top-hat-bird opens a box on the boat, pulls out something tan and bulging with red stuff and takes a huge bite out of it. Crumbs fling everywhere like leaping fleas, and the red stuff drips down its furry bottom lip. It takes another bite and the drip is reinforced enough to roll off the fur and splat onto the boat. The creatures here seem slightly cultured, but eat like wild animals. It bats away a dozen hungry flies.

  “Arrrr. Drip in my boat. I’ll clean Mrs. Filiney’s favorite white dress,” the top-hat-bird says almost humorously. It licks its chin with a long, bumpy tongue.

  Allan eases himself back under the bridge. Not this one. It’s not a happy creature. The top-hat-bird shrugs. “Okay flies, eat up my drips and stop bugging me.” It sets the sandwich on the box then takes off its jacket exposing a bald, liver-spotted belly, then tosses his hat aside. After a short rest it grabs a bulging bag with tools and sharp things poking from the top and leaps from the boat. It whistles a strange, high-pitched tune while heading back toward the building where Allan had first seen it.

  Allan lifts himself out of the water and carefully rolls into the boat. With some effort, he situates himself in the middle, grabs the oars, and starts to row. The boat moves away from the edge and floats into the center of the canal.

  The boat rocks, but is stable. It makes Allan smile. He loves boats. He’d read about sailboats called galleons or privateers. They were huge ships with a dozen sails and deadly cannons. He read about pirates like Black Beard and Henry Morgan as they’d plundered the Caribbean ports. It was Uncle Rubic who gave him his first metal sword. Allan didn’t put the thing down for months. Only after he’d nearly impaled his grandmother’s dog was the sword retired to hang on the wall.

  It’s a good memory and only vanishes from his mind when he hears talking. The farther he gets into town the more creatures and people he sees. Yes, people. Actual humans. Though they’re wearing strange clothing, they’re less strange than the furry or feathery things.

  Allan remembers Asantia and her large knife. Just because they are humans doesn’t make them any less dangerous.

  A small creature, as naked as a hairless cat, sits on the side of the river. It’s fat, like a stumpy old man, but has only one large eye. The ugly thing picks up a long and twisted pole and casts a hook into the water. Two small fangs hang out the side of its wide mouth. The creature stares and blinks slowly as Allan passes. It only takes a moment for Allan to realize how strange his clothing must look to these people. He is dressed in jeans and an orange t-shirt with bright sweeping designs and video game characters on the front. Until he changes his clothes he’ll be a target. So Allan stops the boat under the next bridge and puts on the jacket and worn top hat that were left in the boat. They’re stained and stiff, but they’ll keep him incognito. The jacket pulls on the pin-up girl Rubic pinned to his shirt. He doesn’t want to lose it so he unpins the girl and tucks her into his pocket.

  Allan begins rowing again. The boat moves and, thankfully, no one pays him any attention. He relaxes while he rows, the oars moving in slow sweeping circles. The city is dense and people are busy. Strange trees and mossy growths are everywhere. The trees have sharp leaves and spines on their trunks. Great. Even the trees suck around here. It also smells musty. Some buildings belch black smoke from chimney pipes, which add an acrid taste to the thick air. Another boat passes, piloted by a longhaired thing that has the face of a fox. There’s lipstick on her snout lips and her eyelashes flutter.

  “Watch your bow!” the fox yells, her voice high-pitched but gravelly like
a witch. “Where’d you learn to steer?”

  Allan stops staring and corrects his course. “Arrrr, eat my paddle.” he yells in his best pirate voice. The fox-lady ignores him and continues on her way. Allan smiles at his attempt at bravado then realizes he could eat his own paddle he’s so hungry. His big guts are eating his little guts, and there doesn’t seem anywhere to get food. Even if his disguise helps him blend in he has no money or idea what to eat. He doubts he could get some scrambled eggs and bacon. Allan notices the half eaten sandwich on the box in the front of the boat. It looks strange. The bread is tan and covered with dark veins. The red insides might be a jelly. It might be guts. Allan remembers how the guard-bird tore apart the rodent like a zombie tears at fresh meat.

  As he rows he can’t stop looking at the sandwich. Hunger finally wins. He steers the boat to the side and lets it bump the edge. He scoots to the sandwich and grabs it. After shutting his eyes he crams it into his mouth.

  Sweet. And the bread is crispy like a baguette. Allan hardly chews as he devours the food.

  Chapter 11

  Killian Crow Comes

  As Allan licks the jelly-like substance off his fingers, a boat slams into him. It’s a much larger boat. Its front wood fèrro, the part that swoops up and out of the water, is twice as tall as Allan’s boat and has a statue twice as big. The statue is of a naked woman with a cat face. Her bottom half is a mermaid and she’s framed in ornate flowers. Allan stares at the complexities of the carving when someone yells at him.

  “Hey you!”

  Allan looks toward the voice. The creature has a fat, thick beak with oily, marbled feathers. Goggles cover its eyes, and half of the beak is patched with a metal plate held tight by small rivets. Its wings have long thin fingers like a Pterodactyl. On the end of each finger are metal, pointy caps.