We rose with the farmer's family as the eastern sky turned a pale lavender. I assisted with the morning chores while Sam bargained with the farmer for a small cart. I managed to do a fair bit of bargaining myself, trading in a child's storybook for fresh bread topped with thick hunks of salted pork.
I left the house to show Sam my hard-bargained wares. To my surprise, the Trader and Alfather stood in close conversation, the brims of their hats nearly touching. Both of their mounts were saddled, while mine was hooked up to a small cart barely large enough for our things. I must be driving the cart. Fair enough, the slender grey pony would be easier to deal with if I wasn't riding her.
Apparently Alfather was familiar with the area and had offered to be our guide. It sounded too good to be true. I glanced at Sam, but the Trader's expression was as inscrutable as ever. I muttered some vague consent to the idea and climbed atop the cart, picking up the reins and giving them a quick flick. The event was too serendipitous for my liking. I resolved to keep an eye on the stranger until whatever sinister agenda he had was revealed.
The road south was nearly overgrown; the black pavement more like random stones than the smooth surface it had once been. The trail we followed was nothing more than a pair of shallow ruts, illustrating how infrequently this road was traveled. The sun rose high, yellow and warm like I remembered. I let the warmth soak into my skin, falling into a sort of hypnotic state as we traveled the nearly invisible road.
It wasn't until we stopped for the night that I remembered there was a brand new person to whom I could subject my relentless curiosity. One who, in fact, had volunteered to spend time in my company. How could he fault me for wanting to know more about my fellow traveler?
Alfather rested his head on his bedroll, angled so he could read an old book in the firelight. I eased down next to him, plucking a strand of grass and twirling it idly between my fingers. I called his name to catch his attention. He glanced at me, then back to the book. "One second, I'm almost to the end of this chapter."
It was strange, seeing another person who seemed to enjoy reading just as much as I did. I settled back, blowing on the blade of grass in the attempt to coax out a whistle. I never had been very successful at the endeavor, and tonight was no exception.
After a few minutes, Alfather picked his own blade and used it to mark his place. As he placed the book aside, I caught some of the title: "Die Ärgste Götzen-" The rest was hidden behind his fingers. I recognized the language from an old primer, though I hadn't gotten far enough through the book to recognize any of the words.
Most of the post-plague books I find have a very distinct appearance. The covers and binding are made from a hodge-podge of whatever materials the author has available. The writing may not be clear, the spelling almost certainly poor, but each page will be carefully numbered.
Alfather's book, from what little I could see, had the rough appearance of a post-plague book, but constructed from pre-plague materials.
The man in question uttered a gentle cough, jolting me from my reverie. I remembered that I had been in the middle of a- no, I hadn't even begun to ask the question. "I was wondering if you would answer a few questions for me."
"Sure." He shrugged. "Fire away."
"To start with, where are you from?"
"Well," he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "I don't really know what it's called anymore."
Decidedly unhelpful. I tried again. "What do you do for a living?"
"You could say I'm a professional jack of all trades."
"So how long have you been a professional-" jackass "-wanderer?"
"Don't really remember."
At that, I closed my notebook, turning away to put it back in my pack. "Look, if you don't actually want to answer any questions, that's fine. I would rather have a 'no' than these half-assed responses that are just a waste of time."
Alfather stared at me, eye glinting in the firelight. "I really don't know. Time is... Look, I don't think it works the same any more, all right? People pretend it does, they try to use the same methods to track it, but how can you really know what time is when even day and night aren't the same from week to the next. How are we supposed to keep track of the years when seasons are dependent upon the whims of terrible beasts?"
His words rang true. We kept a calendar back home, but it was useless in the pitch black of winter when night lasted for weeks, maybe even months. How can we count the days when daylight is the memory of a half-faded dream? I wondered how others tried to mark the passage of time and how else the terrors of those lands managed to stymie the people's efforts.
"I didn't mean to shut you down like that." Alfather sighed, shifting around so he fully faced the fire, legs stretching out until the flames licked at the soles of his boots. "Tell you what. I'll tell you about the Endless Flock to make up for it."
I brought my notebook back out and prepared to take notes. "Does Roadkill come from the Endless Flock? Is that why you have a horse with feathers?"
He chuckled slightly. "No, but yes. The Endless Flock doesn't have what you think of as a territory. They rule the skies. They are the skies."
"Why are they called the Endless Flock?"
Alfather leaned in close, stretching an arm past me to point at a nearby tree. "See that?"
After a moment I was able to pick out the birds settled in the branches. There were at least two, if not more birds per branch. I nodded and when I did, each and every bird turned its head to stare at me. I felt my heart still in my chest for a long moment before it resumed beating double-speed.
"That is the Endless Flock." Alfather's voice was low, barely audible. But for the warmth of his body next to mine, I might have thought him a spirit floating at my side. "Every creature with wings, beak, or feathers belongs to the Endless Flock. In night, in day, across all lands, in places you have never dreamed of and can never imagine, they are watching you."
Goosebumps popped on my arms and a shiver ran down my spine, but I still caught the most important part of that sentence. "Me." I turned to face Alfather. "They're watching me, not us." He met my gaze squarely and gave a short, sharp nod. "You don't have any of those things. The beak, the feathers, the wings. So why did you say they were watching me?"
"You're a sharp one, Sen Stu Sha." Alfather drew back slightly, a humorless grin on his lips. "I'll show you as a reward for being such a smart cookie. Provided," and here he jerked his head in Sam's direction, "you don't share it with the Trader." Sam seemed oblivious to our conversation, intently watching the contents of a can suspended over the fire.
Shit. I wavered for a moment, my curiosity warring with my loyalty toward my companion. Finally, I nodded.
I reasoned that if or when it became necessary to reveal the information, I would do so at the drop of a hat. The health and safety of Sam (and the importance of my own goals) came before any spur of the moment promise to some stranger I barely knew.
Alfather shifted again, putting his back to the fire and Sam. "Try not to vomit. It hurts my feelings." As he spoke the flesh on his face bulged grotesquely, moving as though something was squirming under his skin. At first I thought it was an optical illusion generated by the dancing light of the fire. That notion was quickly disabused as his eye rolled suddenly in his head, replaced with something black and shiny, with the texture of... feathers? It forced its way out of his eye socket, easily twice as big as a human eye would be. Alfather grunted in pain and I saw a trickle of blood drip down his face, running past gritted teeth.
A soft, wet 'pop' revealed the source of Alfather's pain. A raven, or rather, a raven's head, jutted from his eye socket. It twitched its head left, right, and left again, eyes darting around to take in its surroundings. As I watched the curious eyes dance about, I understood why Alfather's single eye appeared avian in nature. The raven opened its beak, streams of viscous mucus dripping free.
"Good enough?"
Speechless, I could only nod. I averted my gaze as the raven retreated back inside of its host. I swallowed hard before trusting myself to speak. "And there's a whole bird in there?"
"At least." When I looked back, Alfather had pulled out a coarse linen handkerchief and was cleaning the blood and mucus from his face. His torn skin had nearly mended, only a thin red line remaining. "Kilroy and Roadkill are always with me, but if necessary I can act as a conduit for as many of the Flock as necessary."
"So Roadkill can hang out inside your head, too? Is that why you have the..." I indicated the eye patch by circling one eye with my finger.
"Yeah. That's why she spends all her time outside. It hurts like a bitch just to get Kilroy out. You can't imagine the suffering I have to go when summoning that one.
"Ugh." I shook my head, turning away. "No thank you."
"Any more questions?" His face had settled back in place so only Kilroy's eye was glaring out of his socket.
"Not about the Endless Flock, right now anyway. I did have a question about your book, though."
His eyebrows rose and he glanced at it. "My book? What about it?"
"I saw the title, what does it mean?"
"Die Ärgste Götzen Ansteigend. A rough translation would be 'The Terrible Idols Rise'. It's a first-hand account of the plague days. The title's kind of pretentious if you ask me. I don't really see the point in putting the title in a different language than the rest of the book. It's just snobby."
This was perfect! My new guide had a first-hand account of life during the plague. It could prove an invaluable resource for my almanac. I had to stop myself from ripping it out of his hands.
"Would you like to trade for it? I have a few rare books I would be willing to trade." Rare books was something of a redundancy. Only well-cared for books survived, which made each and every one of them precious. Though I would trade an entire case for the single volume in his grasp.
A volume that he handed over to me freely! "I might look through what you've got, but I'll loan you this for as long as you want." I caressed the smooth cover, wondering at the glossy finish. Each page had the same durable cover, clearly the author- Isaac Van Avery according to the cover- knew that conditions would be harsh and tried to protect his work accordingly.
"How's your handwriting? You could make a copy of it while we're traveling."
"Thank you." I looked up to see him smiling at me like an indulgent parent. At that moment, I didn't mind if he cut my food and spoon-fed it to me. "I appreciate this, I really do."
He chuckled and pushed himself to his feet. "I'll just go ahead and borrow one of your books so you can get started on that one.
"Thank you!"
No comments:
Post a Comment