by GR Griffin
The vegetables made a decent soup, which Fleck forced into their belly; polishing off the bowl with the crusty end of the loaf. Next came cuts of cheese and salami on crackers, followed by a third of the chocolate bar, all washed down with glasses of water and cold milk. The food recharged Fleck’s batteries and helped to ease the oddness in their stomach, but there was something about the food that seemed… off, somehow. The vegetables felt mushy and tasted similar. The bread crust was too hard whilst the crumb felt too fluffy. The cheese was like chewing an eraser. The chocolate was brittle and flaky, having all the taste without the sugary kick. The milk was the most wateriest they had ever tasted, like a glass of water with only one added spoonful of powdered milk, or skimmed milk that had been skimmed a few too many times.
Now, Fleck sat in silence, nursing the remaining milk in their glass, contemplating on how they got there, their life having turned upside-down in a few short hours. They woke up this morning in their bedroom, feeling that all was right in the world, now they were in the sky and public enemy number one for a lion with enough chips on his shoulder to solve world hunger.
There were so many things that Fleck did not understand, but all they knew was that they were not safe where they were. When the Emperor’s men fail to find a drowned human in the river, they would be back. As soon as the rain stopped, Fleck would be straight out the door and on their way – and probably head straight back for the clothes they left on the line.
“Feeling better, little ‘un?” Sam broke the silence, pulling a chair up beside the human.
With a perky spirit – or at least, perkier than half an hour ago – Fleck responded that they felt much better before taking another mouthful of milk.
Sam lowered himself backwards onto the chair and folded his arms atop the backrest. His biceps and triceps were toned from years of hard graft, the wrappings looked like they were about to snap. “Good to hear, that means the food’s okay with humans.”
Rita stood beside the fireplace, leaning an elbow against the mantle. “Been waiting for the right moment to ask…” she said, addressing Fleck. “You’re from the surface, the Earth’s surface, aren’t you? I mean, of course you are – you’re a human and everything. What’s it like down there? I bet it must be wonderful.”
Fleck told them that the Earth’s surface was nice. Seriously? Hundreds of complimentary words in the English language and all they had to say was nice? Fleck adjusted that statement; the Earth’s surface was wonderful. It was beautiful, fantastic, a great place to live and feel alive.
“They teach you anything about Mount Ebott? About the monsters that got trapped under there after the war?” Rita pressed on. She grabbed an iron poker off a stand and used it to rustle the fire. The fire did not need attention, Fleck thinks she only did it to act busy. “Been dying to know what happened to them for quite a while now. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about that?”
Heard about it? Fleck told the mummy couple that they had been there, seen it first-hand, and met the monsters of the Underground in person. The best – and strangest – days of their life.
“You’ve been there, and the monsters were still alive after all these years? Trapped underground with no light and all that dirty air?” Rita closed her glowing eyes. “I feel so bad for them, how anyone could be forced to live in such horrid conditions.”
Fleck told Rita that the monsters were not trapped down there anymore. This human was there to witness the barrier getting shattered, and escaped along with all of them. Rita went to place the poker back, but missed completely. The rod clanked hard against the floor, she paid it no heed.
Sam shot forward, the chair’s front legs lifted three inches off the floor. “What?” he said, awestruck. “Those monsters are living on the surface now?”
Fleck nodded.
“With the humans?”
Fleck nodded.
“Peacefully?”
Fleck nodded.
“No fightin’?”
Fleck shook their head.
“No discrimination?”
Fleck shook their head.
“No concentration camps? No ghettos?”
Fleck shook their head.
“You’re pullin’ my leg, aren’t you?”
Fleck shook their head.
Sam looked away for a moment before looking back. “Did you destroy the barrier, little ‘un?”
Fleck paused, then shook their head. They were not the one to destroy the barrier – that noble, closing deed fell upon another – but Fleck mentioned that they played a small part.
“No wonder the Emperor brought you here,” Rita said. “Probably thinking if you helped free all those monsters, then you’ll do the same here.” She finally realised that the poker was burning a hole in the floor. She snatched it up and scraped her shoe against the blackened spot in the floorboard, extinguishing the single strand of smoke.
“You can’t exactly fall up here, unless gravity took a nasty turn on you,” Sam humorously stated the obvious. “How did you get here, anyway?”
Questions. So many questions, and Fleck was happy to answer them considering the two saved their life. Sam an’ Rita were brave to be doing this, braver than anyone else, to be sheltering a human. What had Fleck not been Fleck? These monsters knew how dangerous humans can be, how easily a single one could take their lives, and yet they still saved them. The mummy couple would have been better off leaving Fleck to drown, but they didn’t. They reminded Fleck of Toriel in a way.
Fleck downed the last of the almost-tasteless milk from the glass, then explained that they were brought to the Outerworld by a beam of light, which pulled them away from the Earth… and away from all their friends.
Rita tapped a bandaged finger against her bandaged cheek and hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds like one of the Professor’s inventions to me.” She began to click her fingers. “What was his name again?”
“Err, Haze, I think,” Sam answered.
Something spurned Fleck’s memory: Haze. Professor Haze. They had heard that name back at Castle Highkeep. It was one of the first things that rat scribe, Rickard, had said, along with something about his inventions lacking tact.
“Yeah, from what I’ve heard, that guy worked up quite the reputation durin’ the civil war two-hundred years ago,” Sam said. He noticed the questioning look on Fleck’s face. “The civil war’s a long story, best not get into that or we’ll be here all night. All you need to know is that the professor figured out how to harness the power of that big, magical pillar – the one they now got stored in the castle somewhere. Pretty much ended the war singlehanded. He would’ve been the one who made the gizmo that brought you here.”
Fleck asked whether Professor Haze invented something that could send people back to Earth.
Sam rocked back and forth in his chair. “I dunno. The Outerworld’s surrounded by a protective field. Ain’t no-one been able to leave since the beginnin’, or at least that’s what we’ve heard.”
Rita stepped over to a drawer and pulled it open. “If you want to go home, hon, then your best bet is to find Professor Haze.” Rita pulled out a broad faced, thinly paged book. “Maybe he has a way to get you back.”
Fleck suddenly stopped them: Professor Haze was still alive, even after two-hundred years?
Rita looked at Fleck blankly. “Yes? We all are. Don’t you – oh, wait, I guess your kind don’t.”
Fleck turned back to Sam and wanted to know how old they both were.
Sam placed his hand against his chest. “I’m… I’m three-hundred-and-eighty-five years old.” He gestured to his wife. “Rita here’s three-hundred-and-eighty-two.”
Rita placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me! Three-hundred-and-fifty, mister,” she scolded.
Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Sure, knock a few decades off, whatever helps you sleep at night.” He leaned close to Fleck and whispered, “Women…”
Fleck wanted to know how this was possible.
�
��It’s the pillar,” Sam explained. “Its magic sustains everything, includin’ us. Everyone here ages at a super slow rate, some slower than others. Zeus takes to it better than anyone else; he was about your age during the war between humans and monsters, and yet he’s still so young even after all these years. Professor Haze though… he’s getting on in his years, but he’s still got plenty of fight left in him.”
Rita knelt beside Fleck and showed the book, revealing it to be an atlas of the Outerworld. Opening it up on the first page revealed a bird’s eye view of the seven islands; one in the centre surrounded evenly by six others. “Back to the Professor.” Rita pointed at the island in the centre. “Highkeep Enclave, where Castle Highkeep is, where you escaped from.” She traced her bandaged finger left to the island directly west of Highkeep Enclave. “You fell in the river and ended up here. The Plain-plain, where we are right now. It’s called the Plain-plain because it’s a meadow and it’s rather ordinary. Let me tell you a little about the others…”
Moving clockwise, Rita explained the remaining five islands. Northwest of Highkeep Enclave hovered Ice Island: the land of always winter. Fleck recognised it as the one with the snow-covered mountain. Black Ice Mountain, it was called, which took up most of the island. Ice Island used to be a thriving mining colony, but fell into disrepair during the civil war. Now, the island is nothing more than a snowy wasteland, its towns abandoned and its caves left for the ice and the cold to seize them.
To the northeast, the Forest. Yeah, they could not think of a proper name so they just stuck with the Forest. One massive woodland area, inhabited with trees a mile tall and as old as the lands themselves. This is where Professor Haze can be found. The inhabitants reside in houses constructed around the treetops, connected with miles upon miles of walkways. Below the treetops, down in the depths, lies a dark world where the roots are twisted and the light cannot reach. It was here where the first monster passed away, his dusty remains fell into the abyss, never to be seen again. After that, it became a tradition to sprinkle the dust of the deceased down to the forest floor, in the hopes that the monster’s spirit will one day become a part of nature.
To the east: Rocklyn. Another mining colony, except these mountains did not come with caves. At the beginning, they dug tunnels into the mountains and gathered all the resources they could mine. When they were running out of rock to dig, they considered abandoning the mine… only for the mines to completely disappear overnight. They began digging the tunnels again and found all the resources having ‘grown back’. Over hundreds of years, the miners have repeated the process of mining the mountain, waiting for it to repair itself, then starting all over again. Disheartening, but it pays well enough.
Southeast: Bob. Fleck didn’t hear that wrong, the island was called Bob, after the first monster who called dibs on it. Covered entirely in swampland, the amphibian monsters ruled, finding its humid and clammy environment perfect for keeping their skin slimy.
And finally, to the southwest, the Oasis, its sea and jungles separated by miles of coastline. Only lords, nobles and those loyal to the Empire live there, those who thrive on the exotic and the luxurious.
With all seven islands accounted for, Rita pointed at the Oasis, the swamp, and Rocklyn. “Wouldn’t suggest going to any of these islands, full of people in the Emperor’s pocket. They most likely won’t help you, might actually turn you in if it’ll get them a pat on the back.” Rita traced from the Plain-plain up to Ice Island then to the Forest. “Nobody ever goes through Ice Island nowadays, not even the Monster Military. It’ll be dangerous, but if you make it through, you’ll have a straight shot of reaching the professor.”
Fleck nodded, understanding everything Rita had said.
“For now, though, let’s wait until the rain passes...” Sam glanced at the aged clock ticking away in the middle of the mantle. “In the next thirty-four minutes. Wanna finish the rest of the milk, kid?”
Fleck held their empty glass up, eager for one last refill.
* * *
Emperor Zeus watched the rain as it fell across the gardens, the islands, his islands. He liked the rain, but no matter how hard it tried, the falls could never replicate the real deal. The memories of his childhood on the Earth’s surface were short and fleeting. He had witnessed the dazzle of the rising sun and the patter of falling rain, but those memories were like fading pictures in a photo album.
His own faint reflection stared back from the glass, his silver eyes like two faraway stars. Zeus had his father’s eyes, his hair, same ears, same shaped face, same shade of fur. Zeus focused on himself, on what could have been the essence of Emperor Juhi, gazing upon him from behind the crystal wall of death. Zeus was frowning, his father was frowning. Zeus whispered to himself that he was doing what was necessary for his people, his father silently said the same thing.
“I gave you my word, father…” Zeus whispered so low that he could not hear himself.
I don’t believe that… he thought he heard his father say.
Zeus scoffed. “Of course you don’t,” he nearly yelled, “you never did!” And just like that, the reflection was his own again.
The steps of his trusted advisor echoed off the four walls as they entered. Slow and heavy, Emperor Zeus recognised them from anywhere.
“Talk to me, Zeus,” came the voice of the Advisor. “Something’s eating away at you, I can feel it.”
How informal. Zeus liked that in his advisor; the ability to change mind-sets at the drop of a hat. When the time arrived to be serious, the Advisor puts on a straight face and speaks with the utmost of respect. At the same time, the Advisor knew when the drop the titles. “It’s taking too long,” Zeus replied, diverting his thoughts from his father back to the human. He pressed his hand against the glass. “My men should have found that thing by now. I shouldn’t be standing here, looking out this window – I should be collecting its soul at this very moment.”
“That river goes on for miles, and it’s only been a couple of hours. Have a little patience, my lord.” My Lord. The hat had been dropped. The Advisor was back in business.
“I’ve got men and women searching every yard of that river. Surely, a dead human could not have travelled far.”
“Where could it travel to?” the Advisor asked. “Where can it go, thousands of feet above the ground, and when nothing can get out of the protective field?” They waited for the blatantly obvious answer, and received silence instead. “Exactly.”
Of course, the Royal Advisor was far from perfect. Emperor Zeus hated obvious questions, and absolutely hated answering them. “Don’t forget what you said, Advisor,” Zeus said. “That human is dangerous. It could be out there slaughtering my people as we speak.” Although, if that was the case, he had to wonder why the human refused to fight him.
“That was a long fall, your excellency. Trust me, even if Fleck… it survived, it wouldn’t be in any condition to put up a fight.” There was a break in the conversation. The Advisor cleared their throat. “But if you’re not fully certain, we can always put up wanted posters around the Plain-plain, offering a reward for its capture. We could also hire the—”
Zeus’s hand shot up. “Not yet,” he said, silencing his consultant. “She’s expensive enough as it is without sending her out on a fool’s errand.” His hand dropped. “The posters, on the other hand, they can be made quickly, and can be distributed around with ease. Tell Scribe Rickard to start production.”
Speak of the devil, Scribe Rickard scurried across the room, with ink-loaded nib against clipboard. “Already noted, my lord.” He moved fast, his steps as quiet as pin drops. No wonder neither Zeus nor his advisor heard him enter. Rickard came to a stop before his emperor and said, “I bring you news from the Oasis.”
Zeus pulled away from the window. “Does it concern the human?”
The sight of Zeus’s silver eyes, especially when they looked upon him, made Rickard tremble, afraid that terrible things would happen if he so much as said
one syllable incorrectly. “I’m afraid not, your excellency. Our lookout scouts have reported a rumbling sound, followed by a large cloud of smoke coming from that island. We believe it may have been an explosion.”
“An explosion? Here?” Zeus repeated. An abduction of a human proceeded by an explosion, in one day, was too contrived to be a coincidence. The newly-appointed emperor had a bad feeling that this was going to happen; the Outerworld, having basked in order for many years, was secretly a bomb ready to go off. An explosion that would shatter the peace and bring about untold chaos. All it needed was a catalyst, and the human, Fleck, was that catalyst.
Scribe Rickard responded, “Yes, sir. The smoke seems to have risen from Bjornliege Manor.”
Just hearing that name made Zeus shake his head and grumble. Honestly, he was surprised that this had not happened earlier. Grill, Lord of Bjornliege Manor, was about as lazy and as useless as a lord could get. Grill fought on his father’s during the civil war, but those glory days had long ago outgrown him. How Grill elevated himself from nobody to somebody was both a mystery and ancient history.
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with the human?” The Advisor questioned.
“Quite certain,” Rickard answered. “There’s no conceivable way the human could’ve travelled from the Plain-plain to the Oasis in a mere couple of hours.”
“Should we at least send someone to gather information, Emperor? Lord Grill’s one of our most prolific subjects… whatever he does.”
Emperor Zeus faced the window once more. “Send out ten of our fastest scouts. Anyone we can spare, but no more than that.” His focus could not waver from the real target, but at the same time, he still had seven islands to rule over. “Question any and all witnesses, locate the source of this commotion.”