Ravens and Writing Desks: A Metaphysical Fantasy

by Chris Meekings

  It made her brain burst just trying to keep all the thoughts inside. The answer was still the same one that Conscience had suggested before; she had to get to the Falls of Wanda and try to sort it out from there.

  For now, she thought, try to get into whatever is on Deck 7. Maybe, there are some more answers in there.

  I’ll try to get in the next chance I get.

  Please, go now. I think things are coming to a head soon, and we’ll need the answers.

  Even so, you might need me here. And it’ll take me some time to break in. I’ll have to find a back way in.

  Please, Conscience.

  All right. I’ll leave Miss Pride in command. If you need anything, ask her.

  I will.

  A silence emptied her head. She could feel Conscience’s absence, as he left to try to get into her most personal memories. It was done. She and Talbot were on their own.

  The party of Snippets and Nids, with the travellers in tow, came to a halt on a little footbridge which spanned the gorge between the two giant statues. There were two raised plinths on the bridge’s edge, one of bronze and one of gold, which the mayors mounted facing their respective gods.

  Mayor Curtis broke the silence, his voice ululating over the water’s rush like an air-raid siren over a church picnic.

  “Oh, great U’rac!” he supplicated, raising his hands in benediction. “We, your unworthy and sinful subjects, seek your council on the matter of this spy.”

  “Oh, benevolent and merciful V’Daphne, may all the blessings be upon you. We, your loyal Nids, beseech your wisdom on this matter also,” shouted Mayor Cletus.

  There was a loud rumbling from the statues as if a mountainside were collapsing. An unkindness of evil-looking ravens flew out from the male statue’s ear. They circled high above the party, cawing with their inhuman voices, the other words for pain.

  “Mayor Curtis,” said the male statue, without moving its lips, “It has been a long time. I had thought you had forgotten me. Both V’Daphne and I have been standing here for such a long time we’d almost given up hope of the announcement of our glorious Snippet victory.”

  “I doubt that!” said the female statue, in a high-pitched voice, which Lucy found grating.

  “I believe my brave Nids have been victorious. For is it not written in the prophecies…”

  “Prophecies? You think you are prophetic?” V’Daphne scoffed. “Yesterday you said it looked like rain today and now look at it—beautiful blue sky.”

  “Liar! I did not…and anyway, even if I did, weather is hard to do. It’s all chaotic and butterflies.”

  “It’s not that hard,” retorted U’rac.

  “Well, you are no better. Why, only last week you wondered if the Snippets and Nids had wiped each other out, and yet, here they are. Whilst I remained constant, I always knew I would win. That’s why I’m the god, and you’re just an idolatrous statue.”

  “I did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “I would never doubt my beloved, chosen Nid army.”

  “Errr. U’rac? I thought I was in command of the Nids. Aren’t you the god of the Snippets?”

  “Ummm. Yes! That’s what I meant to say,” corrected U’rac. “My brave Snippets will crush your snivelling backwater tribe, and that will be an end to it. We’ll pull down your statue and make a rockery out of you!”

  “Barbarian!” screamed V’Daphne, so loud that masonry fell from her forehead and tumbled down to the river below.

  “Witch!”

  “Deceiver!”

  “Harpy!”

  Now, that is interesting, said a suave voice in Lucy’s head. It wasn’t Conscience’s voice. This was deeper, more assured. It felt like an old-fashioned movie-star’s voice, Errol Flynn or Clark Gable. Lucy was alarmed.

  Who is that?

  Me? I am Intuition, said the voice, as the two statues continued to bicker. I am the back-up spell. Since Conscience is not available I will be helping you for the remainder of this quest, or until he gets back. And, what is interesting is, neither one of those statues knows who is on whose side? It is amusing.

  Amusing?

  Yes. These Snippets and Nids are about to engage in a pointless war to prove that one of these statues is all-knowing, and the statues cannot even tell who is a Nid and who is a Snippet. It is rather poignant. The Snippets and Nids have so much in common they are very probably one and the same species just separated by tribal names and yet, they cannot get along. How terribly amusing.

  Lucy could see it in her mind’s eye. A field covered in the rotting corpses of the Snippets and Nids, cut down by swords or impaled on spears, ravens pecking at the eyes of the slaughtered masses. A putrid miasma of decaying flesh and corpse funk rising through the air in a fog haze, a stinking mire of death brought about by foolishness. Blood, there was blood everywhere, running in rivers through the grass.

  There were prisoners put on crucifixes, their lifeless bodies hanging by nails driven deep into their wrists and ankles. On the field’s other side, prisoners simply were beheaded. Both sides committed atrocities in the name of the gods.

  She could see dismembered limbs and eyes gouged from sockets lying on the grass like driftwood on a shoreline—all discarded and useless. The grass stank of blood. The earth drinking it all in great gulps, slurping it down into its cavernous bowels to fester and infect the next generation with death. In a few weeks, the bodies and the blood would all be gone, then the world would try to heal itself. Vampire cowslip and sanguine poppies would litter the field as the corpses did now. They would feed on the rich nutrients of death, and in their own time, they would rot away too. The only things that would survive would be the statues, standing tall, immutable and monolithic like tombstones to religious fervour.

  She shook her head clear of the nightmare. That would happen to these simple creatures if she didn’t stop it. She could not let it happen—not, when she could see a way of preventing it. She would not let it happen. She was Lucy Alice Zara Gayle, a Childe of the white, and she had power. She had the power of the lion, but she needed a different type of power now. She needed the power of reason, and she had been training for that her whole life.

  It’s not terribly amusing, she thought, it’s just terrible. People will die—well, Snippets and Nids will die, and that amounts to the same thing. They’ll die in a pointless war over the names of their gods.

  It was only a few hours ago that you were ready to savage these creatures with your new power because they had annoyed you. You would have swatted them aside like insects and not thought twice.

  Well, yes, but Conscience stopped me, and he was right to. It would have been wrong just to kill them, no matter how much they annoy me. Now, I want to help them. I want to help them understand what idiots these Statues of Cleverness are. I want the Snippets and Nids to be free. We shall see if these statues are as all-knowing as they claim to be.

  She jostled her way between the mayors, who still stood on their raised platforms. She took a deep breath and railed at the arguing statues. “Both of you shut up!”

  The monoliths fell silent as if they could not believe someone would shout at them.

  “Honestly,” she continued, “you’re just like a couple of children. All this name calling. Where is it getting us? My name is Lucy Alice Zara Gayle, and I have the key. Do you two understand?”

  The cawing ravens flew in a halo around the stone heads.

  The pair whispered as they discussed what she had said.

  “Alice?”

  “She said Alice, and she said Gayle.”

  “She’s of the white, I think.”

  “Yes, errr. Lucy, did you say?” said U’rac. “We understand who you are, and what you represent. The ravens have told us of your coming.”

  “Good, then you know I can’t be waylaid by being held prisoner.”

  “Mayor Cletus,” thundered V’Daphne, “this girl is to be released. No harm may befall her on my land. She is under my
protection.”

  “The hell she is! She is under my Snippet protection!” U’rac yelled indignantly.

  “Your Snippet protection? Your people couldn’t guard a glass of water let alone a Childe of the white!”

  “Liar!”

  “Charlatan!”

  “Old harridan!”

  And, there they go again, laughed Intuition.

  “Teller of lies! Why does he lie?”

  “Why? Why does she lie?”

  The ravens cawed and circled round their heads. The river rushed beneath their feet.

  The Snippets and Nids stood in rapt attention, and the statues just whined at each other, like children who had stayed up past their bedtime.

  Ha! They will be at this all day.

  “Right that’s it! I declare war!” said U’rac.

  “We’re already at war, dullard,” said V’Daphne.

  “But this time I really mean it. It’s time for action, time to organise the battle!”

  “Oh, excellent, at last, some progress,” said Mayor Curtis, his face breaking into a smile. “What day would you like to pick for this battle, oh great U’rac?”

  “Tomorrow! Hostilities will begin at sunrise!” he bellowed.

  “Well, we should have a nice day for it,” chirped Mayor Cletus.

  War tomorrow and then rain on Monday—wonderful, laughed Intuition.

  “Tomorrow our two armies shall meet on the field of combat. Now, where is the field of combat going to be?” asked Mayor Curtis.

  The soon to be warring armies stood at attention as their fate was decided.

  “The armies shall meet on the party ground, by the old tree,” said V’Daphne.

  “The party ground?” asked Mayor Cletus. “We’ve only just had that resurfaced, and the younglings play area put in. Couldn’t we have the battle somewhere else?”

  “Which one of us is the Statue of Cleverness?”

  “You are, oh great V’Daphne,” said the mayor, in as humble a voice as he could manage.

  “That’s right, I am,” intoned the statue, “and I say you fight on the party ground.”

  There was a general murmur from the gathered crowd. Snippets and Nids exchanged angry stares. Some of them shouted insults and threats about how they wanted a new door knocker and an infidel’s skull would do just fine.

  The idiots are actually just crazy enough to do this, aren’t they? They’re religious enough to kill each other over these statues, thought Lucy.

  Yes, I believe they are. Perhaps we should get out of here before we become too embroiled in this skirmish.

  No, I told you, I’m going to stop this war.

  You should not get involved. This is not your fight.

  Listen, Intuition, it’s like Grandpa Will always said, ‘if those who can won’t, then where does that leave those who can’t?’ I can stop this war. I can save all these people, and therefore, I should, she stated.

  It is still not your fight.

  I shall make it my fight, she thought at the voice.

  Once a Snippet and a Nid were going to fight a battle, because the Snippet and the Nid differed on their prattle, sang Intuition.

  And what’s that supposed to mean?

  Mean? It is not supposed to mean anything. A Snippet, a Nid. Tweedledum, Tweedledee. Nonsense. It is all rubbish, and you are just being stubborn.

  She was stubborn. She had always been stubborn. It was a trait she got from her grandfather, and she was going to use it now, digging her heels in about this. There were times when you made a stand. She had made a stand in the clearing when the Tec-heeler had attacked. That had been a stand of light against darkness; this was a stand of compassion against hatred.

  “Enough of this!” she shouted, the whole congregation fell silent. “I have a puzzle for you two statues to solve.”

  “A puzzle?” V’Daphne asked.

  “Yes. Instead of a war to decide which of you tells the truth, I have riddles for you to solve.”

  “How will that tell you that I speak the truth?” U’rac asked.

  “You both claim to know all that there is to be known?”

  “I know everything that is, was and ever shall be,” said U’rac.

  “No you don’t! I do,” boomed V’Daphne.

  “You see? You both claim to have this knowledge, but you differ in your opinions. So, one of you must be lying. If that’s the case, then only one should be able to answer this riddle.”

  “That seems logical,” said U’rac, after a slight pause.

  “Eminently sensible, I agree,” added V’Daphne.

  You do know that this is a load of rubbish? You have no reason to suspect that they know everything, or that both are not liars.

  I suppose so, but then at least the Snippets and Nids will see that. Who knows, maybe one of them can solve all three riddles?

  “State your puzzle,” commanded U’rac, as another cloud of ravens flew from his enormous ear.

  Lucy unslung her backpack and pulled out the riddling box.

  I am a box without key for my lid.

  Inside all your…

  “Yes, we know all about that,” interrupted Lucy, placing the box on the bridge edge. “Just tell them your riddle.”

  Of answers you seem to lack,

  it seems that you still have to crack,

  my first one, it can be such a pain,

  so I shall repeat it once again.

  All of us are little creatures,

  all of us have different features.

  One of us in glass is set,

  one of us you’ll find in jet.

  Another you may see in tin,

  and the fourth is boxed within.

  If the fifth you should pursue,

  it can never fly from you.

  What are we?

  There was a deathly hush as the mob pondered to themselves. The only sound was that of the ravens around U’rac’s ear.

  “Little creatures?” U’rac said thoughtfully, after what seemed an age.

  “With different features,” added V’Daphne.

  “Some kind of jam?” asked U’rac, more to himself than anyone else.

  A poor solution that is friend.

  You’re still no nearer to your end.

  Though you’re tall, you’re small in mind.

  If my answer you cannot find.

  “That wasn’t a guess,” protested U’rac.

  “Yes it was,” said V’Daphne. “He’s had his guess,” she whined. “It’s my turn now. I think you’ll find the answer is elements.”

  You could give me that answer all day long,

  and in the end, you would still be wrong.

  The box answered in its music mistress voice.

  “What?” asked V’Daphne, incredulous. There were murmurs of disbelief from the surrounding Nids. Surely, their deity could not be wrong?

  “He said you’re wrong, you overgrown garden gnome. It’s my real turn now.”

  What is your answer oh great sage?

  For the truth, I’ve waited an age.

  “I think you’ll find the answer is Shakespeare poems,” guessed U’rac with an air of confidence.

  You are as wrong as wrong can be.

  No cleverness in you do I see.

  The box said the words in its high, screechy voice.

  More murmurs bubbled from the crowd. Both sides were restless, none of them liked the idea of their gods being fallible.

  “I cannot be wrong. Your riddle must be illogical,” protested U’rac.

  The box simply sat in smug, stoic silence.

  The crowd grew louder in the face of the defiant statue.

  “I thought these statues knew everything,” shouted one Nid.

  “Why do we listen to them?” asked a Snippet.

  “Mayor Cletus,” said Mayor Curtis, “may I have a word with you?”

  The two mayors adjourned to one side and whispered to each other.

  “Why are those statues in command
if they can’t even answer a simple riddle?” someone in the crowd asked.

  “Enough of this foolishness. Snippets, I order you to attack the Nids. Wipe them out. All of them! Pay no attention to the answer to this riddle,” said U’rac.

  “Err…why should we?” asked the small voice of a Snippet.

  “Because I’m your Statue of Cleverness. I’m your god, that’s why.”

  I think you have opened a can of worms.

  The two mayors turned back to face the crowd.

  “My fellow Snippets and very fine Nids,” said Mayor Cletus to the assembly. “My illustrious colleague and I have come to an understanding. We have decided to end hostilities between our two peoples. We shall live together in peace as either Snids or possibly Nippets. We’ll have to have a vote on that. The war is over. We shall know peace.”

  “Hey? What? You can’t do that!” protested U’rac. “We command you lot. You can’t have peace until we say you have peace.”

  “And as a secondary measure,” said Mayor Curtis, in complement with Mayor Cletus, “to ensure we have peace, we have decided we should tear down these Statues of Cleverness so that no one must suffer their infernal noise ever again.”

  The crowd greeted this with a loud cheer.

  Snippet embraced Nid in a coming together of two peoples.

  Lucy was overjoyed. She’d managed to avert the pointless war. She felt good as she had done after defeating the Tec-heeler. There, she had felt good for standing up for light; now, she felt good for standing up for compassion.

  “I think we might be in a lot of trouble,” said U’rac, as the baying crowd swarmed around the statue bases.

  V’Daphne for her part, despite being a hundred-foot stone statue, was trying to look smaller by being quiet.