The Robert Stanek Short Story & Novella Collection

by Robert Stanek

  Kerry coaxed up the courage to ask him another question, but not before she made a vibrant summons, the high-pitched tone causing him to wince. “What were you doing out there? And where is it that you come from? I have never seen the likes of you, and I have been all the way to Adalayia.”

  Kerry spoke with pride, disappointed with Ray’s confused stare, which had not been the response she expected. She continued, “More than once, mind you. And I have gone it alone, having just returned no more than a few days ago. I have seen the wizard who rules the land.”

  Bewildered, Ray said nothing. He was uneasy with the distance that separated them as much as by her words, and so, as he would cross from house to house without much thought, he crossed the falling off in one all-ensuing leap. He registered the surprise on Kerry’s face, matching it with his own smile. He himself was astonished at the ease with which he had made the swoop, although the landing had been rough. The land did not give beneath his feet, and so he had overcompensated.

  Still, he was surprised—he had crossed the distance with ease. He dropped his pack and his staff, and readied to make another jump. He wanted to try again.

  Kerry’s face was drawn, her eyes wide. She touched a firm hand to his shoulder. Her voice was stern as she began, “No, don’t. You must never do that again. The falling off has no bottom. Are you not afraid of the abyss?”

  “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand.”

  “You crossed the…” Kerry’s voice grew weak, “…falling off, you are unwary and unwelcome.”

  Ray bundled his face up with confusion, “I don’t understand.”

  “Ha!” she said throwing up her hands, “You are as barbaric as—” She cut short her words, corrected herself. “You truly do not know?”

  “Know what?” Ray asked.

  “The falling off… Are you not afraid? Or do you not know fear?”

  “Fear?”

  “The falling off is endless. If you slip into it, you will never return. Do you understand? There is only one place where it can be crossed, and that is the bridge between City and Country. One place, remember that!”

  Ray answered honestly, “I will,” though he still wasn’t sure exactly why.

  The next question the two began at the same time, it was back to the why’s and the how’s, and the how come’s. Slowly as they went back and forth, an odd sort of understanding grew out of their mutual curiosity. For each similarity they found, they discovered disparity and contradictions. They were different peoples and yet the same—and unwittingly, Ray drifted along behind the path his druthers had carved out for him.

  The gray-faced land, the outer fringe of the land beyond the hill, the land of mourning, the still, dead land that Ray had dreaded for all his life, stretched out endlessly before him. He was so caught up in his conversation with Kerry that he didn’t realize the enormity of it all. The simple fact was that he had made a conscious decision to help Kerry and that decision was changing and shaping his life.

  Though countless deeds separated him from the path’s end and innumerable twists and turns lay ahead, he was now a step further along the way. What this meant, he wouldn’t know for some time, but he would later come to realize the point at which it all changed and the point at which he had put his feet upon the true path of his life. For now, he sighed, cast back his shoulders and followed the outsider girl. She for her part smiled, imagining the lure in his mouth, as if he were her Waring.

  Chapter Ten:

  Curiosity

  Ray sat in Kerry’s rocking chair, looking through the window, watching Kerry attend to the needs of a distant cousin of his familiar arbor. As he rocked back and forth, ignoring the dizzying sensation this gave him, he sometimes looked about the house, Kerry’s word, not his own. Frustration, an aftereffect from conversing with Kerry, was still evident in his expression, not that he disliked Kerry. It was quite the contrary.

  The two had quickly found that beyond basic speech, the words they used, though often the same, held disparate meanings. Ray even found attempting to clarify his definition of something more difficult than if he had just ignored the questioning glances and plodded through what he had been attempting to say. Even in his sleep, he could sometimes hear the new words repeating over and over in his mind.

  Kerry just thought Ray was thick-headed and their strange attraction grew regardless of these differences. She tended to her trees more often than she normally did, and in this way, she gave him time to wrestle with his own thoughts, thoughts which she knew were troubling him very deeply, thoughts that when he put them into words sometimes frightened her. He told her of things that though he had never seen he knew, and she knew they were true and real.

  What was even more frightening was that he could describe in vivid detail Adalayia and places beyond that she had never seen but had heard about. He also told her of places she had never heard about: a stronghold perched atop Mount Lar, a stone canyon where dragon lizards roamed, a far away land called Korran where undermountain men dwelled, and a land beyond where all were equal and free. This place Ray called Frething. He claimed it was beautiful beyond compare and that the hand of the wizard did not extend there.

  While she listened and was convinced he told the truth, she was also worried about Waring’s disappearance. The collections had stopped altogether. She feared he was lost and would never return.

  Doubts about Ray filled her mind as well. She wondered if the things he had told her about could be real. If there really were such places in the world. But then again, all her ideals about the world were in doubt. Up until a few days ago, her thoughts went no further than City and Country, but now such innocent thoughts were in jeopardy. Ray had showed her, if only by his appearance, that she truly knew little about the world around her.

  She was curious. No, more than curious. Could a place of such as Frething exist, and if it did indeed exist, and Ray could find it, what then? Did she really want to leave her home, the place she had known all her life, the place Stirling had bade her to stay in and she had promised that she would. But Stirling had been wrong before. He had been wrong about the wizard and the tax. Not paying the tax had cost him his life, and Kerry now had to work to repay his debt and her own.

  The very thought of debt and work, brought her to the present, and the task before her. Two mouths to feed meant more work for her in gathering the offerings. Ray had taken a liking to the meat of the tree, surprised that each conveyed variety in taste and texture depending on the tree and her desires. She had tried the light and the dark, as Ray called it, and disliked it. She thought of these things foul-tasting roots, though she never told Ray this. The bittersweet, on the other hand, appealed to the tiny twinge of craving she sometimes had, and so she favored it over all the other things Ray had introduced her to.

  Humming a wordless tune, Kerry labored around the trees, setting them into frenzied vibrations as she finally applied the life liquid, the wet as Ray named it, for the third and final time this day. A passing glance toward the house revealed Ray’s weighted gaze was still upon her, and she recalled another thing that she had been mulling over previously. A thing she did not know how she would explain to Ray or how he would take it when she did.

  The problem she had was with True. The small beast gave her chill dreams at night. She pictured it wrapped around her throat, twisting, and her gasping, gasping for air she couldn’t quite grasp. The thought of it even now gave her cold shivers.

  Turning back, she cast Ray a glum smile. She wanted to like True, mind you, and she told herself this, but her subconscious had conflicting notions.

  Soon afterward she finished her chores and returned indoors, vaguely aware that as she did this, Ray was no longer seated by the window. She turned a full circle, finding the room empty, hearing muffled laughter. “Ray, where are you?”

  No reply came.

  “Ray?”

  A subtle chuckle.

  Kerry turned about again. “Ray,” she said, her to
ne slightly miffed.

  “Outside,” said Ray, having slipped out the door.

  “The sun will set soon,” she admonished.

  Ray stepped back inside, “I know. Come on, hurry up.”

  “Hurry up for what?” asked Kerry. “We shouldn’t be outside now. The soldiers may come, and I’m not ready yet.”

  Ray ignored her words. “I’ll show you if you hurry. We can be there and back before sunset.”

  “Where and back before sunset? We could get lost in the dark. I don’t like the night, Ray, you know that.”

  “Don’t worry. I have very good eyes,” Ray coaxed away her objection, pulling her after him. “Can’t you smell it?” he asked.

  “Smell what?” Kerry didn’t smell anything.

  “Take a deep breath, feel the sense of vibrancy in the air. Can you not smell it?” Ray was excited now, running away from her, beckoning her to chase him. Kerry followed. Ray led her along the twisted trail that he now knew fairly well.

  By now, they had come quite some distance and she was regarding the dark sky in front of them. “Why are we going this way? It will be dark soon. Ray, it is a dark omen and it will bring ill tidings. We must not go this way.”

  She stopped, grabbed his hands to force him to look at her. “Ray, if the soldiers ever come, you must not be seen. Do not be alarmed by their actions. In the Country, we do as we must. You must let me deal with them. Do you understand?”

  “Have you thought about what I’ve said? It is past time for me to be off. I must journey to the stone land to follow my path. Will you go with me as we’ve discussed?”

  Kerry’s serious expression didn’t waver. “Ray, I can never leave. My home is Country, I am Country. I have made a promise. …. It’s time to return to the house. It’s safest there.”

  Ray ran off, stopped, circled back and dragged her along behind him. “Nonsense, you said you never saw it rain. Can’t you smell it? Isn’t this wonderful?” To be truthful Ray always thought of rain as an irritation, but Kerry didn’t know that. Ray didn’t stop at the edge of the In. He meant to drag her along after him.

  Her shriek brought him to in immediate stop. Panic and fright lit Kerry’s face. “Stop, no! What are you doing? I don’t want to! Ray, let go of me! I don’t want to see it! I’m going home now!” And with that, she retreated.

  Ray already had his feet in the wet and it felt so good that he was hard pressed to turn away. Perhaps he should have immediately pursued her, though he didn’t, and when at last he did pursue her, she was already gone from sight. It was strikingly odd how the simple touch of the wet drove back familiar thoughts about the gray land he traveled over—thoughts he had considered behind him.

  When he returned, Kerry was rapidly swaying back and forth in the old rocker, soothing away harsh thought. She said nothing as he closed the door. The sun had set as she said it would. The omen she had perceived was commanded forward and Kerry fought hard to drive it away, repeating soft words in her mind, words her mother had taught to her, words that would chase away the evil.

  Ray stumbled through the apology, an apology that was left hanging in the air about them for some time. “I’m sorry, I just thought… Well… You know what I was trying to… I’m sorry, O.K.”

  Ray tended to True, cleaning his friend’s coat until it shone finely. True was growing sleek and long, and there was a continual bulge in his midsection as Ray saw to it that his small companion was fed well. There were rodents about, and other small hapless creatures that True fancied.

  The last of the great orange bubble had disappeared, or at least that is how Kerry thought of the sunset this night when she finally broke away from the window. “Tell me more of your dreams?” she asked, “Are there really such places? Tell me of the bridge… I mean, crossing,” she said using his word.

  Ray didn’t look up. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you in the first place.”

  “You’re not supposed to tell me? What is that supposed to mean?”

  Ray slumped back onto the bed. He was more tired than usual. “This friend of yours you spoke of, when is he going to return?”

  Kerry laughed, “I don’t think very soon.”

  “What do you mean by that? Why are you laughing? Did I say something funny?”

  Kerry spied the glare in his eye, “Silly, Waring is not a man. He is a beast,” she stopped, corrected, “Well he is a friend of mine, that part is true.” She hesitated again. “I led you to believe he was a man so you wouldn’t think I was alone here. Waring is a beast of flight.”

  “A buzzer?” asked Ray. He could only imagine an insect.

  “No,” shot back Kerry with a frown, “a beast with wings.” She gestured with her hands to give him an indication of size.

  Ray’s eyes grew wide, his face flushed. He didn’t understand how a winged beast could be nearly as big as a man. “Are you playing with me again?”

  “Well maybe a little, he’s not that big actually. More like this.” Kerry raised one hand above the other, showing that Waring was as tall as her forearm, and then she gestured with her hands to show Waring’s impressive wingspan again.

  The wingspan was what confused Ray. He had never seen a bird with such a wingspan. “And he flies?” Ray registered the look in her eyes. “Where is this flying beast then?”

  Kerry searched for a more suitable word, a word that had a clearer meaning to her, though it was not a word she would use to describe her Waring. “He is a falkish,” she said thinking it would enlighten Ray, not realizing until too late that it just confused the matter. Hastily, she cut him off, saying, “Tell me of the colored bans in the sky again.”

  “Rain wash,” tossed back Ray, throwing the word out as an insult, just as she had done to him—the way he saw it.

  A lull fell on them once more. Ray allowed his eyes to slip closed as he listened to the swaying of the rocker, allowing it to ease away his tensions just as if he were seated upon it, just as he knew Kerry used it to cure her own woes.

  “I only dreamt of it that once, but it was like nothing I ever saw. Ephramme’s father said he saw one once, said it was just floating in the sky like nothing he ever saw before, golden, red and blue. I suppose he’s the one that brought on my dream, but I could see it on the sky so clearly. It was almost as if I could just reach out and lay a hand on it,” Ray said as if Kerry was in Third Village that day, going on and on and on.

  “…and then I woke up,” he said, returning her from the dream. What he neglected to tell her though was that was the day Waddymarre returned from his journey, and that was the day of his second-father’s passing, all before Ray was even born. “…and then I awoke,” Ray said again.

  Chapter Eleven:

  The Stone Land

  “Ray, wake up, wake up! Hurry, please!” Kerry intoned, bending low, screaming into his ear, her voice stricken with anxiety. “Hurry, Ray, hurry! You have to go!”

  Ray stirred, sleep still embroidered onto his eyes. “What? Is something wrong?”

  Kerry ran to the window, mumbling to herself, “Oh, it’s too late, quickly, under the bed. Go, go!” She gave him a tempered glare, reinforcing her words. “Go, Ray, and remember, no matter what happens—” Kerry moved to the door, checking the bolts. “—No matter what happens, you must not move! Promise me this, Ray… Promise?”

  “Okay, I promise,” Ray said, still rather sleepy. It was early. There was scant light in the room. He eased under the bed.

  Feverishly, Kerry straightened out the edge of the sheets as she surveyed the chamber and tossed Ray’s pack into a corner, concealing it as best she could. She slipped True’s cage down to Ray, whispering after it, “Remember your promise.” Ray grumbled that he would.

  It was then that a heavy pounding stifled a breath in Kerry’s throat. The door shook violently under the weighted blows.

  “Y-e-e-sss?” answered Kerry, feigning a yawn. “Who is it?”

  A stoic voice returned, so powerf
ul in fact that even if Kerry had covered her ears with both hands and thrust her head under the nearby pillow she would have heard it. “You are mandated to open this door in the name of the Great High Wizard of Adalayia!”

  Kerry didn’t move. The pounding did not stop. “Yes, what is it?” she calmly asked despite the order.

  Faces pressed into the windows just then, and Kerry knew enough to move to the door. The summons was repeated. “You are mandated to open this door in the name of the Great High Wizard of Adalayia!”

  “Just a moment,” flashed Kerry, seemingly angry at the disturbance. “What is it that you seek?”

  The blows at the door increased. “You have until the time I finish my words to open this door or we will bash it down. What is your response?”

  Kerry swung the door open not a moment to soon, the ram swished through the air in front of her, pulled back by strong hands. “Yes?” she asked, brushing pretended petals of sleep from her eyes.

  With the door unsealed, the others did not stop. Kerry could only watch and count them as they stormed into her house. They took table, chairs and her favored rocker, flinging them against the walls and out the windows, dashing them into a thousand tiny splinters. Kerry ran to the bed and plopped down on top of it. “No please, take no more, I beg of you!”

  “This is the punishment for refusing my call,” warned the stern-voiced man.

  “I was asleep,” cried Kerry, hurrying tears to her eyes, both real and feigned. The rocker had held a dear place in her heart and now it lay splintered, half of it splashed beneath the window and the other half teetering upon the window’s broken frame.

  The other did not turn his cold, probing eyes away from her. “When we return tomorrow, see that you act accordingly.”

  “Return? What do you mean return? I have nothing, there is nothing I can give you. You are weeks ahead of schedule,” screamed Kerry.