by K M McGuire
Voden felt relieved Andar had voiced his own concerns.
Eigan sighed in an aged manner. “I suppose I should have anticipated this. It’s a bit complicated, if I’m to be frank,” he looked up through the trees, as though he could syphon the words from heaven. He placed his hand against his chest and closed his eyes. “We rarely have individuals leave the city. In fact, most, I would imagine, are terrified that they would never be allowed to return once they have left. They fear the world outside the dome is tainted and would curse them from returning. We, as a group, have hardly any interaction with the world outside this city due to this fear. It’s not anyone’s fault really.” He paused a second, allowing for the words to sink in. “I had thought you and Voden would be perfect candidates. Young and malleable! You are less like stone than most of the citizens here. Being stuck in our ways grows with our age. Perhaps that is the rot to youth. They are happy in this way. Why inconvenience them? As long as sheep have food to eat, and a herd to follow, they will be satisfied.
“But as for you two,” he said, smiling, his face lighting up at the thought. “The way I hear it is you were a bit outspoken with your thoughts. You challenged conventions. You looked much deeper than most. It is a trait that is of utmost importance, one that is missed with every swing of banal thought, becoming the poison we echo at our eulogy. To some degree, we abolished questioning and pushed risk away from our hearts because we believed we were perfectly well off. We forgot perfection is a dream that can only be reached by thrusting oneself forward and out of reach, but never out of sight. That is, in short, why we chose you. When you found a struggle, you managed to overcome with one another, unwilling to let the other fall behind. I think you will find how valuable that will become when you leave.”
Andar furrowed his brow. “So, essentially we are the only people you see as not being passive in self reflection?” he asked slowly.
“To an extent, that’s right. You two, above all others, seem willing to breach the Dome and journey forward. We must consume the world with love! We have great things to offer buried beneath, things we must bring from the crags of the earth. We must offer it to the world!” his voice spiked with excitement, his eyes almost turning to flames at the sound of himself speaking. “Few know how evil the world is. We can offer them something better. We can show them the right things and teach them what we see! For the sake of our home which, sadly, needs a taste of reality, we could bring healing to the pain.”
Voden shuffled under his bag, adjusting it so his arm wouldn’t fall asleep. “Why is the fountain such an important thing?”
Eigan turned to him as a sad smile etched into his face, “That is our symbol; our promise. If it fails, so shall we. It is the foundation to who we are, as the ones the Great Beyond has destined for greatness. It is the water that has always protected us. In it runs the blood of the Scarred King, and in that is salvation.” He began rummaging through his gown’s pockets, jingling items around as he searched. He pulled out two little vials sparkling with a clear liquid. “Here,” Eigan whispered carefully, handing one to each of them, “A small gift for you. I filled these with water from the Well, if ever you need encouragement. If ever your faith feels diminished, drink from these, and you will be filled again.”
They took the gift and stared at the crystal vials. Voden squeezed it tightly in his hand. It was smooth and cool, refreshing in the summer evening air, like a block of ice. Andar had already placed it neatly in his bag.
“Thank you, sir,” Andar said politely. “I’d imagine, though, if I’m losing my faith, I doubt I would consider this to regain it. Faith is, after all, a mindset, not a substance you can drink. I mean no offense. I just mean it would be too late for me to return to faith if I was to rely on an item.”
Voden remained quiet, dumbstruck. He could not believe how insensitive the comment. Eigan merely chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Such character! Something you will need a great deal of if you wish to satisfy the Lady of the Lake.” Eigan snorted, holding back his laughter. “Well, nevertheless, perhaps Voden will need two.” He slapped Voden’s arm as he laughed. Voden joined him awkwardly. Eigan composed himself and looked delicately at the two of them. “I won’t lie to you. This journey will be difficult.” His face became grave. “I pray you will not fail. Everything depends upon your success. Great Beyond knows what sort of things the Lady of the Lake has waiting.” He smiled kindly to them, as he grabbed his book from the bench. “I mean not to scare you, but she has mentioned some sort of favor in return for her gift. I think you have everything you need to manage. Come back safe, and give the elixir to the Well. Your success will craft you into heroes. This is your’s to complete. I cannot finish this for you.” He scanned Andar wordlessly, eyes lingering a second on the steel wrapped around his limb. He squeezed Voden’s shoulder one last time before walking back to the keep.
Andar waited for Eigan to be out of earshot. “Is there a reason everyone abruptly leaves us like that?”
“I want to know the answer if you find one,” Voden chuckled, staring down the path that opened to their destiny. He was plagued with the thought of how confident Koruza and Eigan seemed, even when the whole thing was oppressively ominous to Voden. Was this truly fate, sweeping his legs away from his home? It seemed he was meant to go, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him feel.
“It’s okay, Voden,” Andar said softly. “Look at it this way,” he smiled, pointing towards the horizon. “At least you don’t have to be a stable boy.” Andar laughed and walked along the trail, Voden following behind.
“Yeah, well…” Voden started, struggling to recover his wit. “Let’s hope this turns out better than that.”
The tension now broken, they started joking with one another as they exited the garden, entering the fields that stretched all the way to the edge of the island. The night brought cool air sliding across the hills, blowing towards the west where the tooth-like mountains towered over the world. Their points appeared to be the cause of the pinpricks that speckled the heavens above them. The cattle stood dormant in the fields, melding into dark blobs, with the gleaming greenhouses reflecting the moon’s glow towards the dark sheet that covered the sky. The little brook rolled out of the garden and carved its way into a bigger stream, splitting the fields in two, a navy string lain gingerly on the ground hoping to touch the horizon.
“You know,” Voden said, absorbing the landscape, “it will be hard to leave, but I can only imagine how incredible the rest of the world is.”
“I can’t imagine it being as bad as Eigan says it is.”
For a moment, they stood, capturing the scenery, realizing that excitement had surfaced. Their little world was about to become something so much bigger.
“I’m not going first,” Andar said, nudging Voden.
Voden scowled. “I would have thought you were the one to take the high road. The more ‘noble path,’” he jeered.
“Well, one of us is going to have to go first,” Andar sighed.
They turned to the transparent, pulsing wall. It wavered a moment, as though it swallowed their words, distorting the water just on the other side of it. They had made it to the dome rather quickly; the sun was now beginning to break the horizon, blossoming at their right shoulders. Voden yawned, trying to shed his weariness, hoping to replace it with excitement. He felt his nerves pull at his thoughts, knowing this was the furthest he had been from the main part of the city. Still, there was much to see, and sleep could wait a bit longer. The dome appeared solid, though it shook at the slightest breeze. It still looked unwilling to give way to anything wishing to pass through. It was intimidating enough that Voden began to reconsider.
“There’s the canoe!” Andar said, pointing to a tree rooted on their side of the dome. The branches curved in through the globe, sheltering a rocking, wooden vessel as the wake muttered softly against the shore.
And so, they marched with firm feet towards the tree. Voden became mesmerized by the leaves
shifting in the breeze just beyond the Dome, observing them shutter as if the image was broken, like a green mosaic that never ceased its recreation. He placed his hand on the bark. The umber colored texture felt as alive as any other tree he had tried to climb. The Dome rippled slowly around where it pierced the glassy surface to show its spirit’s pulse in the soundless ripples of the prism.
“It’s just a tree, Voden,” Andar said, giving him a sly grin.
“I…I don’t know. I thought it might be…different,” Voden responded vacantly. He sighed and looked at the Dome, staring at his faint reflection mimicked in the world just outside his home. “Alright, I’ll give it a go,” he said finally, puffing his shoulders. Andar nodded encouragingly.
Voden tugged at the air, hoping to draw out some determination, and closed his eyes, putting his hands into the dome. His body shivered a moment, squirming at the unusual warmth of the gel-like substance wrapping around his hands.
“Haha! Wow,” he said, turning his hands in the dome. They moved rather slowly. It was a dense material, but he experienced no resistance against his hands. He glanced at the iridescent shimmer of languid ripples, perplexed by its lack of restraint and its fluidity. He cast the thought away and inched forward, squishing his way through the membrane, submitting to the warm blanket of the dome. It felt like he had been marching through the stratum for days, and the longer he stalled in motion, his courage wavered towards paranoia, fearing his lungs would give out.
What have you done? You defile yourself!
He felt the thoughts bubbling as though from a cynic sitting upon his shoulder, but he pressed them down.
It’s for the greater good, he protested.
He broke through the dermis, staggering in the less thick atmosphere beyond, completely dry. Andar dithered inside the vitreous firmament, unaware of the queer experience that sent another odd quiver along Voden’s spine.
“It’s not so bad.” He breathed, slightly distracted by the foaming wake that shushed the nursery of rock on the shore. Andar was already making his way through, which seemed to give him no struggle, sliding out of the film, his face bright with excitement.
“That was not what I expected!” He laughed. “I thought I was never going to make it!”
“Yeah, it almost seemed like it didn’t want me to leave,” Voden said.
He found himself staring across the water, and the wind took his voice, fading out with the expanse of liquid. He could hardly see a faint layer of hazy green beckoning like a shadow of a ribbon. The wind heaved across his cerulean tunic, much more cutting than what he had experienced in Adetia. He felt the colors were more vivid than he remembered. The contrast was strong. The sky saturated with living watercolors, met by stark jagged rock, sinking its white crowns into the fruit of the sky, binding with the vanity of the clouds. The silence was vast and unrelenting, coated by mystery beyond itself. It made the subtleties of the silence thunder more violently than any storm. It was hard to handle their veneration, wanting the sublime moment to be held forever in awe. So, they stood quietly, looking hungrily to get to know it.
“Come on,” whispered Andar, breaking the trance. He flung his bag into the boat and followed it aboard, offering to take Voden’s things. Voden handed them over and untied the canoe from the tree, pushing the vessel into the tide. He stumbled, pulling himself over the side, nearly capsizing the boat.
Andar set the oars and began pulling them across the water. He continued for a good bit, every so often making minor adjustments as they went. “Here, Voden, you go. I want to rest my arms a bit.” Voden agreed, and Andar began searching through his bag. “Oh, right!” he said to himself, and dug his hand in his pocket, pulling out a square of parchment. He unfolded it, shaking his head. “In retrospect, maybe we should have asked for a better map. There aren’t even roads labeled on here!”
“I guess we shouldn’t expect much,” Voden said gruffly, yanking the oars back. “I don’t think there are too many cartographers in Adetia.”
“True,” agreed Andar. “Koruza may be smart, but I think a child could have done better than this. It just seems to be a lack of foresight.”
“We could turn back,” Voden said, looking over his shoulder. They were out quite a way from shore. He could hardly see the tree they had started from. He raised his eyebrows mockingly at Andar.
“It’ll have to do for now,” Andar said. “Hopefully, we can find better directions elsewhere.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“Hey, Voden,” chimed Andar, poking Voden’s chest. He had fallen asleep after his shift of rowing. They had decided to split the work so they could catch a bit of rest before they reached the mainland. It was just after noon, much of the day had drudged forward with a quiet grunt and humble swish as they urged the canoe forward. Voden stirred, bemoaning the fish Andar was sure to point out to him again, wishing for more dreams if that were the case.
Again, Andar nudged him, “Voden, look!”
He groggily rubbed his eyes and let his gaze follow Andar’s finger. He was surprised to see the shoreline so near! The green canopy halted the burnished water from going any further. It fell darkly back to an unimaginable distance where the phalanx of trees crowded in case the water decided to revolt. A grey ribbon pulled lazily up to the heavens, catching his eye as it wisped around like the armored trees’ banner. It appeared to be coming from a village, tucked quaintly between the woods and lake.
“Let’s head there!” blurted Voden, now fully awake.
Andar nodded happily, steering the boat towards the hamlet. Thoughts raced through Voden’s head as he considered how interesting these people could be, fantasizing how wild they were, or even how similar they were to him. It was a rush he rarely experienced in Adetia, but it dawned on him as they neared the shore and things came into focus, that thoughts were only prospects to validate what he wanted in his heart. Voden became increasingly aware that his heart had dropped like an anchor further from bliss. He could only watch as it sank into turbid depths of melancholy.
The canoe furrowed into the rocky shore as Andar jumped into the wake of the shallow tide. Voden followed his lead, and they pushed the boat up onto the shore. The dark soil was covered by smooth stones, where mud squeezed between them with each step Voden took. The birch and pine trees filtered the brooding heat, vomited from the sun. The mighty timbers swayed to the wind as though a priest demanded they worship the burning deity hanging above. The bark held cracks that appeared rusted, bubbling like thick scabs ripped open before the wounds had healed. A tepid ochre trunk hid inside the fissures. The bank sloped up into the woods, occasionally broken by outcroppings of shale. But the smell of pine brought a satisfying comfort; a stoic scent that did its best to hold the tyrannical odor of smoke at bay.
Voden snatched their bags, handing Andar his. He felt the slightest hint of shame at the words that fluttered into his head as he stared at the homesteads. It seemed the villagers here did not know what a tool was, let alone how to use one. Most of the buildings were mud; baked globs of clay, thatched with whatever happened to be within arm’s reach. It seemed, upon further study, that there was an ember of forethought and perhaps a bit of craftsmanship, but that hint of forethought was shadowed by its dismal upkeep. Many of the roofs had patchy holes that looked as though they had melted, as if they had used compost instead of fair material. They had erected their structures in no order other than close to the communal firepit, so they could keep everyone warm.
It was then that a group of disheveled people came stumbling towards them, appearing as confused as Voden and Andar felt. It must have been the entire village. Each dusty face was wide-eyed and eager to see the curious wanderers. They marched in a rather unnerving manner, and Voden considered throwing his things back into the boat and leaving. Andar gripped his arm and shook his head.
“Give them a chance,” he muttered crossly.
Voden reluctantly conceded, though his gut still lurched. He glanced at Andar, his eye caught b
y the helix shifting nervously along his arm, silently clicking into a point at the edge of his hand.
“Oy! ‘Oo are you? ‘Avn’t seens you ‘bout,” called a scrawny, unkempt man who led the townsfolk down the hill. He seemed eager to see another sentient, as though he hungered for new interactions and was shaking weakly with starvation. The few children who clung to their parents’ legs were meagerly dressed, with bloated stomachs expanded from the gases of empty bellies. The villagers crowded around the boys, and their eyes were filled with an uncomfortable lust for curiosity.
“The…my name is Andar,” he stuttered. “This is Voden. We saw your village from across the lake. We had only hoped to rest a bit. We mean no trouble.”
The villagers stared, like birds suddenly noticing seed scattered along the road. Voden stared back, scrutinizing their expressions. It suddenly dawned on him he could not fathom (no matter how simple they appeared to him) what sort of thoughts fluttered through their minds, especially right now. The moment sat on top of the pin where Voden found his hope, ready to be punctured by the point.
“Well, innit a pleasure!” smiled the grungy man, snatching Voden’s hand. He moved like a viper, his tight-locking fingers wrapped roughly around Voden’s appendage. Voden’s blood retreated back to his heart. The man then vigorously took Andar’s hand and repeated the greeting. “’Name’s Rastz,” he said, nodding a dusty head.
Voden watched the knots of hair shake and nearly rattle as the clumps of unspeakable grime wiggled atop Rastz’s head. He found it quite hard to look away. Instead, Voden tried to focus elsewhere, but his eyes landed on Rastz’s teeth; yellowish-gray plastered tombstones, placed lazily in his mouth and just as disheveled as the structures they lived in. Perhaps worse was the lack of ivory rather than the arrangement, which only emphasized the crooked smile Voden winced at whenever Rastz flashed it towards him. Rastz seemed to do so much too often for someone with a mouth of poverty.