Planets Falling

by James G. Scotson

  Fromer sat quietly, scratching the small patch of coal-tar hair on the top of his head. “Let me tell you a story about who I am and what brought me here. This may seem strange to you, but I was not born. I have no mother, father, or family. Rather, I was made on another earth – a planet – far away in the void beyond your sun and moon. Part of me is like you – human. The other part isn't of this earth, as you can clearly see.” He tapped on his breast, producing a hollow clack. “The other half of my body is of an alien race called the zenats. As you can already gather, that part’s quite different. For example, I breathe through my chest, not my mouth. I saw you noticing that, Amy. Very perceptive.”

  He paused thoughtfully, while father and I stared, our tea cups untouched. He continued. “So, here I was starting my life already feeling quite alone. I was trained by both humans and zenats to do many things, except to have fun and to relax. Love escaped me, or so I thought.” He smiled sadly. “I was already quite old when I realized that it was time to move on. I found myself walking on a world of mirrors, chasing another version of myself when the door opened. You always have choices and I didn’t have to enter. A good friend convinced me that it was time to go. You’ll learn about this world soon enough. And you’ll find that another door has opened, here on earth.”

  I squirmed in the bench. “What kind of vague story is that about mirrors and doors? And how can you not have a mother and father? That’s impossible. I’m assuming that you’re using the word door as some sort of metaphor? Teacher uses those all the time. I personally think they're attempts to skirt the truth about things that Teacher doesn’t quite understand.”

  Fromer nearly spit out his tea as he giggled. “Very intuitive my dear Amy. Some of this is right on the tip of the arrow point. It should be pretty obvious that I’m withholding much of my experience. And I’m still learning, thankfully. It is so difficult for me to put this into terms you’d understand right now. If I started using words like quantum drive, particle physics, teleportation, terraforming, warps, computers, and so on, how would you feel?”

  “I’d feel that you're an insane god.” I poured my cold tea on the damp ground.

  “Perhaps I am. Here’s the deal for you and your father." His chiseled eyes penetrated my round ones. “Live your life as you always have. But be prepared that change is coming. By traveling along the timeline, I'll drop by from time to time to check in. But this will be your struggle. Mind you, they are approaching. And they are hungry.” He pointed at the sky, with its full, lighted moon and the billions of stars. His body light dimmed. “And there are others beyond all of this that are stirring as well. They are seeping out of the door, which you will soon learn much about.”

  “What do you mean by beyond this?” Father asked.

  “When I slipped through, I discovered – others. Impossible to define exactly. But very dangerous and jealous of life. They want to come here and extinguish life and the light it produces. Very evil, indeed.” Fromer hopped up and cleared his throat. “Enough of the dark talk. I will have to leave when the sun rises. Ansam, father of Amy, I would love to see your forge and some of your coveted blades. I've been known to wield a weapon every once in a while.”

  We walked to father’s forge and then to the vast, rectangular storage building where he kept some of his best weapons. Fromer gravitated toward a large blade with a simple leather scabbard. Fromer looked at father. “Do you mind if I – “

  “I’d be honored.”

  Fromer gently lifted the blade, pulled it out, and then swung it lightly in the air against an invisible opponent. His movements were fluid and balanced. I was impressed. This god was made for war.

  Light appeared on the horizon and Fromer appeared to recede. “I must go now.” He set down the sword.

  Father shook his head, picking up the blade and handing it to our new friend. “Fromer you can’t go on without this. It was certainly fashioned for you. I didn’t realize it at the time. But you've got to have it.”

  Fromer smiled, grabbed the weapon and its sheath, and leapt out the door. When I ran to the awning, he had vanished. The first beam of sunlight tickled the dew. “He’s gone father.”

  “Oh, I’d reckon he’ll be back. Wait ‘til we tell the others in town about this.”

  “Father, are you considering telling people? They'll never believe us. If you weren’t so valuable as a smith and me as the garden tender, they’d cast us out as touched or worse yet possessed. I’m not sure I believe what we just saw. How’d we convince others?”

  “At the very least, you must tell Wenn, Amy. He’ll be your husband soon. As family, he’ll be mixed up in this at some time.”

  Conflict boiled up within me. Wenn had been my choice. But, while Wenn served as an able successor to father’s post in town and as a future father to my children, I still felt separate from him. I had secrets that I wouldn’t share with anyone, including that man. Telling him about the god Fromer or whatever it was that we met didn’t feel right. For father, Wenn was a son, confidant, and unfortunately a drinking partner. I knew that there was no avoiding this revelation. If I didn’t do it, the shine in father would do it for me.

  The next evening at supper, Wenn, father, and I were talking about routine matters of the day. The forge needed a new roof, the new group of students in the gardens was lazy, and fall was arriving earlier than usual. I suddenly heard myself talking. “Wenn, father and I have something to tell you. You’ll never believe it – and perhaps that’s best. Maybe we were imagining it ourselves.”

  Wenn turned toward me and tilted his head. “What’s going on? You got my attention.”

  Father shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a long drink. I began recounting the events of the previous night. Father stayed silent. I guess I was traveling solo on this.

  Wenn’s dark eyes searched me. “If this be a prank, I’d like to know what you're trying to do. You’re tellin’ me that you two were visited by some giant glowing god last night and that you’re part of some grand scheme to protect us all. Protect us from what?”

  I huff. “Father, I knew we shouldn’t have told him.” I wasn’t surprised by Wenn’s reaction. However, I was hoping he’d be less skeptical.

  “Now Amy. Relax. I believe that you two saw something. But I can’t see how we’d be chosen for anything like this. We’re just normal folks.”

  I wanted to tell Wenn that he wasn’t chosen. It was me and perhaps father. At the time, Wenn was off drinking with his mates. But no need to enflame the situation.

  “Wenn, you’re right.” I pushed my chair back and gave father my best threatening glare. “Let’s leave this be. Father and I saw something that we can’t explain. And father’s best long sword just disappeared from the armory. I suppose that it may have been stolen rather than gifted. I think we should just let this go until we have more proof.”

  Wenn took a long draught of honey wine. “Agreed then. Can you hand me another biscuit?”

  For the next few months as the weather cooled and the days dwindled, I waited each evening in the dark breeze for the god Fromer to return. The crickets grew quiet and the wind turned bitter. It finally occurred to me that I must move on with life and let the routine drag me along.

  Although I gave up on reuniting with Fromer, vivid dreams invaded my slumber. My mother appeared in most of the visions, although she seldom said a word. She looked glorious. The green creatures also visited my sleep. In these dreams, they were solid and real, rather than shimmering reflections in the woods. I could touch their bark-covered hands and feel how the skin of their faces felt like the velvet of a deer antler. They’d often bring me beautiful flowers and handfuls of grain. The dreams were peculiar in that I remember the smells better than the sights. I found myself waking, swearing that I was engulfed in rose petals, fresh hay, or unfortunately, on some occasions, rancid eggs.

  Fromer appeared in only one dream, which I remember well. He looked different than before, with his skin tattered and scuff
ed. His eyes were grey and his little hair patch was the color of cream. He smiled, leaning on the sword as if it was a cane. When I tried to speak, he shook his head and pointed upward. I looked into the dream-sky and saw a golden cloud swirling impossibly close to my head. Faces of humans and other creatures, some resembling the god Fromer and many other beings I could not recognize, looking down at me. The urge to float into the mass, releasing myself, was overwhelming. As I rose, the light dimmed and my eyes opened to see the drab, wooden ceiling over my bed.

  Spring arrived and the time for Wenn and I to marry followed. This didn’t mean that I could stop toiling in the garden complex. Rather, each night after tilling, sowing, and weeding, I found myself listening to the drone of my aunts and cousins about the upcoming festivities and how excited I should be. Even then, I felt tired, angry, and conflicted. The marriage of the garden tender is one of the most celebrated events in any village. The thinking goes that my womb is somehow linked to the fertility of the gardens. Lucky for Wenn, I suppose. However, the thought of going through the week-long celebration, returning to the gardens, and tending to a family as well as Wenn and father wasn't sitting well. Duty be damned. Fromer’s shimmering sky was burned in my mind and I couldn’t shake the image.

  Chapter 47 – Cold Front

  My roaming thoughts of the past dissolve as the door opens and cold air rushes into the room. Wenn and father have returned from Wagnet’s, apparently well-fed and watered. They reek of woodsmoke, tobacco, and shine.

  “Amy darling, we’re home.” Wenn barks. “No need to make us anything to eat. Farling Wagnet had some leftover potatoes and roasted venison flank. We promised to sharpen his best knives if he fed us.” Both men strip off their cloaks and throw them on the floor.

  I am mildly annoyed and relieved simultaneously. “Thanks for the heads up men. I wasn’t going to cook for you anyway. So, this worked out for all of us. I see Farling provided you with some spirits. Did you get those drinks for a song as well?”

  Wenn stumbles up to me and plants a wet kiss on my neck. Heat radiates from his skin and his mild, masculine scent wafts into my nostrils. His strong hands knead my shoulders and I suddenly remember why I love the oaf.

  Then he ruins the moment. “Theo’ll be here soon. He's got some mighty exciting news about the fallen city to the south. Dad and I are giving some serious thought to his ideas.”

  I pull away from Wenn and finish my cooled cup of brandy in an angry gulp. “If this is about trying to extract jewels and precious metals from the wreckage of that place, you’ll be going only if you can pass me. I’m not going to lose what’s left of my family to greed. We don’t need to trade in worthless items with questionable value. That’s what wiped out our ancestors.”

  Father responds from the back of the room. “Amy, we don’t know if the ancient ones were our kin. And why do you think trying to make things a bit more comfortable led to their end? Teacher says they were trying to be godlike, not trying to get a few chickens or another pony. Wait ‘til Theo shows and we can talk more."

  Wenn rubs his hands and grabs a carrot from the pantry, crunching loudly. "Listen to your pa, Amy."

  I pour another cup of brandy and chew on a chunk of stale yeast bread. We sit in silence waiting for the arrival of dear Theo and his wild ideas. Wenn fiddles with an old clock that's been passed down through his family. It still works, although Wenn has to scavenge parts every once in a while from the cities. A knock on the door, a creak of the hinges, and Theo lightens the room. “Hello family. Miss me?” Theo's staring at me while saying this.

  Wenn throws an apple at Theo, which Theo expertly snatches. Wenn laughs. “Welcome Theo. Seems like ages since we last saw you. Amy just told us that you’ve told her of the plan that you and Bets cooked up. She’s not too keen on it, I’m afraid.”

  Theo purrs. “Wenn, as I said to your missus this evening, this is a safe opportunity. Miss Bets has scoped out the area and knows what to do. Amy, you know that we’re careful and that this'd be a great way to entice the merchants to make things more comfortable around here. Before long, I suspect you and Wenn here are going to start a family. You need to be thinking long term for them.”

  I slump in my chair. The clock ticks loudly and father rummages through a cabinet of kitchen tools. I suppose now is as good a time to make the announcement as any. “Wenn, father. I have some important news. I think I’m going to have a baby. It’s only been a month or so, but the midwife thinks I’m moving along”.

  Father stops fussing. Wenn instantly traverses the room and squeezes me tight. “Oh goodness. This be the most wonderful moment of my life. Amy sweetie, you’ve not been holding this back on me?”

  “Of course not Wenn. I haven’t been feeling myself lately and visited the midwife early this morning.” I'm lying. I've known for more than a week and hadn’t the energy for this moment. “Theo, I think it’s appropriate that you be the godfather of this child. You’re closer than family to us.”

  Theo sits with his hands between his legs and looks at Wenn and me. “I’d be honored. You mean more to me than you could ever know." He couldn't smile wider.

  Wenn is silent and touches my belly. “Now it’s more than clear that we go and gather the goods for this family.” He sports the same goofy look that he wore when we were first engaged.

  Anger wells up within me, my face growing flush. “Wenn, this is exactly why you and Theo are not to leave on some stupid excursion into a dangerous place. That goes for you as well father. I’m not raising this child on my own. I know it’s been hard enough for father raising me. I need you men.” Of course, I do wonder about this point at times. When mother left, I found myself having to fare on my own. It seems they rely more on me than I do on them.

  Wenn sighs. “Amy, enough of this talk for tonight. Let’s sleep on it and worry about these things later. We should just enjoy the good news. Do you think we’ve got the next garden tender in there? Or a strong smith like your dad and me?” He produces a bottle of a strong ale and pours us all a cup.

  The next morning is like any other, with me slogging out to the gardens and father and Wenn gathering wood and coal for the ovens. Apparently, Theo passed the news through town during the night because everyone I encounter shouts congratulations. One of my students helps me carry my pack to the clearing. I might like this doting after all. I spend most of the day pruning berries. If you don’t keep them in check, they’ll spread like a terrible rash throughout the other plots. I wonder how such delicious fruits can emerge from something so invasive, greedy, and thorny. I’ve seen the green people less often during the last month. Today, they appear during my short lunch. They seem sad. I ask them in my mind what is wrong. An image of unripened fruit, picked too early, appears before me.

  “Don’t worry little friends. I know when to harvest these berries.” I consider them for a long time, wondering whether there's more to their concern than I can divine with simple mind reading.

  They fidget. Two of them climb into the branches of an old sycamore. And then they fade away.

  I’m walking home as evening approaches. I suppose the growing baby’s hungry, so I pick up a nice cut of meat from the butcher. The butcher shop is so counter to all that I know. The gardens celebrate and encourage life, while the meat shop is filled with the blessings of death. When I was younger I went into the basement of the shop to look for the butcher. It was cool, dark, and damp. When my eyes adjusted, I saw all sorts of animals hanging on hooks and blood everywhere. I was grateful that my life was spent in the wide open spaces of my mother's gardens rather than in that cramped, smelly place. Shaking that memory away, I tuck the package of meat under my arm and head down the road. Wenn and father had better be there with a warm fire in the hearth. My shoulders sag when I discover the house lifeless again. “Hell”, I mutter, opening the front door.

  I drop my package and satchel, shocked at the scene before me. The floor's covered with the muddy footprints of at least three different pe
ople. I recognize Wenn's boot marks, but not the other two. The kitchen is cluttered with shiny implements emancipated from their storage bins. All the stored food is gone. Spices are spilled on the floor. I shuffle into our sleeping rooms to find most of Wenn’s and father’s clothing gone. A few stray socks and shirts are strewn on the beds and chairs. Wenn's favorite shirt, the one I gave him for his birthday, hangs forlornly on its hook.

  My immediate, visceral conclusion is that Wenn, father, and Theo have left with Bets to plunder the ruins of the southern city. Surely they'd have told me before leaving, even if my response would be unpleasant. I frantically search the cold house for a note or some explanation. Nothing.

  I run to Theo’s house. Orange light twinkles in the window panes. I slam the door open, expecting to see Theo’s mother looking worried like me, wondering where her son has gone. Rather, Theo is sitting in his tattered chair, feet propped and smoking a small clay pipe. “Amy, what a pleasant surprise.” Concern washes over him when he sees my face. “What’s the matter? It’s not the baby is it?”

  “Dammit Theo, why’d you let Wenn and father go away?”

  Theo looks genuinely puzzled. “Go where Amy? I’ve been out hunting all day. Haven’t seen them since last night.”

  I push further. “They left for the city with Bets. Why didn’t you stop them? At the very least, you could've told me.”

  Theo stands up, pours a cup of water, and hands it to me. I’m shaking now. “I don’t know nothing about them leaving, Amy. I saw Bets this afternoon after I returned with a nice buck. We’d never go on an excursion without telling you, especially Wenn. In fact, after you went to bed last night, we agreed that he’d stay to tend to you and the growing child.” He took a long drag of tobacco. “I’m sure they’re out hunting or drinking.”