Oct 18th, 2083: Southward Bound Part 2- The Eviction

I think a part of me was disappointed that Sam didn't want to challenge my decision to go south.  In my head I had built towering arguments demonstrating that the success of my mission depended on going south rather than any other random direction.  So when Sam accepted my decision without comment, it left me both disappointed and happy.

I was disappointed that Sam had not chosen to challenge my decision, but at the same time, I appreciated that I had been given enough autonomy to decide my own fate in the world.

"South, then."

I nodded.

"And this guy.  He just walked up to you?"

I nodded.

Sam sighed heavily, dragging a long-fingered hand through a head of close-cropped hair.  "I'll go where you go, kid."

"Thank you," I said to a hand covering a face.  The other hand waved me away.

At the end of it all, Sam managed to bargain away everythin in the sack except the strange metal sphere, of which there were eight more. One was tossed my way as we headed back to the hotel.  "Sit tight, kid.  I'm going to grab our gear."

Alfather waited atop his mount, next to a wagon hooked up to two oxen.  They were clearly not creatures of this pale place, with their rough fur and large brown eyes.  Their hooves were split into two sharp claws that bored into the cracked pavement.  Our newest companion had exchanged his mask for a simple black eyepatch and added a wide-brimmed hat, just as worn as his cloak.

Alfather's horse was another creature alien to this domain.  I use the term 'horse' loosely, for it while it might be considered a genetic brother to the horses I was used to, it was different enough to validate using another term entirely.  However when I asked, Alfather had raised an eyebrow and remarked that Looms was just as strange a sight to him and what right did we have to define what a horse was anyway?

Rather than a coat of fur, the coat was formed from sleek black feathers.  Baleful crow eyes glared at me and the thing stomped, feathers fluffling out briefly before settling back into place.

"Settle, Roadkill."  Alfather patted his.... horse fondly.

"Roadkill?"

He chuckled slightly.  "Yeah.  I was in one of those moods where stupid shit seemed like the funniest thing ever.  It's not a name I'm proud of, but she won't answer to anything else now."

"No, I meant what is roadkill?  I've never heard the term."

He paused, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.  "It's this creature back where I came from.  It races up and down old roads like this, attachking anything that doesn't move.  It kills on the road, so roadkill."

It sounded off, but plausible.  I stared at Roadkill, who shook her head and snorted.

"Here, go on and give her a snack."  Alfather leaned over and pulled a couple of carrots that were outrageously bright in this washed-out land.  "Just hold your hand out flat like this-"

"I appreciate the help," I took the carrots from him, bristling at the patronizing tone.  "But I've been around horses my whole life.  They weren't feathered, but unless she's got a beak hidden in her mouth, I think I can manage to feed her."

Roadkill stretched her neck out and nosed at my hand.  The feathers felt a little odd, but sure enough there were normal equine teeth that plucked the carrots from me.

"Your whole life, hm?  So that's what, 15 years of raising horses?  17?"

"Kid."  I grit my teeth on what I had been about to say (which to be perfectly honest I'm still not sure what that would have been.  I doubt it would have been as impressively scathing as I might have wished) and turned to face Sam.

The Trader was leading two horses up, Looms and a pale grey horse with blank white eyes.  Behind them was a wide man pulling a cart laden with our luggage.  I say 'our' when I should say 'mine' since Sam carried nearly everything in Looms' saddle bags.  Meanwhile I was the one who had burdened us with large trunks full of books that I had not even read since the journey started.  Works which seemed to be of utmost importance were quickly forgotten when running for one's life.  I must remember to tell Sam to trade them for supplies at the next outpost.

"Bought you a horse.  Wagon loaded up?"  Sam stared at the wagon, empty but for a stack of burlap bags, and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes."  The man behind Sam spoke up.  "Rudy, at your service.  Alfather explained what was up.  You can tag along until we reach the farmstead.  After that, you're on your own."  He didn't seem to begrudge the additional company, and even helped Sam load the luggage on the wagon.

I mounted my horse, who sidestepped nervously with its ears laid back nearly flat.  If the eyes weren't blank, I would have bet they were rolling.

"I thought you said you grew up around horses."  Alfather smirked.

"I did."  I could feel my face pull into the familiar tight grimace whenver someone made fun of my horsemanship.  "Doesn't mean the stupid beasts like me."  Once upon a time, they hadn't minded.  While I wasn't the best hand on my father's ranch, I still pulled my weight.  Recently though, I had been sentenced to the 'book work.'

I could feel the horse's hindquarters bunch in preparation to start what was sure to be an unholy round of bucking.  I jerked the reins to the right, forcing it to turn and shift its weight away from the impending jump.  "Did you have to get the ornery one?"

"She was calm enough until you jumped on."  A faint smile tugged at the corner of Sam's mouth.  "Maybe you smell bad.  Have you bathed recently?"

"Fifty's a right doll, ain't you girl?"  The wagoneer patted the mare on the nose before jumping up onto the wagon.

"The last time I heard that, the damn creature busted three of my toes."  Fifty tried to rear again but I managed to cut her off with the same trick.  I could feel a throbbing build behind my eyes.  "Let's just get going already.  Hopefully when she does throw me, it'll be over the blasted border and we can all move on with our lives."  My cynical grumblings prompted a short, sharp laugh from Sam.

A click of his tongue, a flick of the reins, and the oxen lurched forward.  The unexpected weight of the wagon brought them to a quick halt and their hooves dug furrows into the pavement as they strained to move.

Alfather pulled up alongside of me and muttered under his breath.  "You're not smuggling bricks, are you?  Because I hate to break it to you, but there are bricks everywhere.  They're not exactly a rare commodity."

"I'm debating on getting down there and pushing."  As I spoke, the wagon overcame inertia and creaked into motion.  We headed south down the heavily cracked road.

Once we left the city, the landscape immediately dropped into a flat plane.  Above us, the cold white sun (face) stared impassively down on fields of grey grass.  A brisk breeze ruffled my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

This would be my first winter away from Jack Frost.  Would he know we were gone?  Would he come looking for us, like a shepherd for wayward sheep?  Would his flock of laughing children, with their empty eyes and predator teeth, circle our camp?  Would we wake up with one member missing, their sleeping bag frozen into a solid block of ice?

Thoughts like this occupied my mind as we traveled down that road for what seemed like an eternity.  Then, from one eyeblink to the next, the sun was half-way below the horizon.  The sky fell darker and darker, pale dots of the stars blinking into existence.

"How far are we from the border?"  I asked, hating myself for the quaver in my voice.

"Come on, kid."  Sam didn't wait for the answer, pulling Looms ahead of the small group.  "Let's make a run for it."

I urged Fifty into a gallop, leaning low over her shoulder and narrowing my eyes against the suddenly biting wind.  Beside me Sam kept pace on Looms.  What should have been twin thunder of hoof beats was swallowed in the wide expanse of the plains.

I glanced back to see Alfather and the wagoneer already specks in the distance.  The fields, though...  Pale white flowers began to bloom in fields of grey.  White flowers with a single slash for a mouth, and stems of black.

"The Bone Men!"  I shouted to Sam.

"Shut the fuck up and ride!"  We dug our heels in and were rewarded with another burst of speed.  After minutes of riding, the border was nowhere in sight.

"How will we even know?"

Sam's hat was flapping on her back, held on by a piece of braided leather.  I glanced back again.  There were no longer fields of grass.  There were only Bone Men, their black bodies and stern faces eating the horizon.  The nearest of them would catch us in mere minutes.

Fifty stumbled.  The closest Bone Man reached out a long, slim hand, grazing the slender pony's tail.

A crack of thunder and a ragged hole appeared in the Bone Man's mask, followed immediately by spider-web cracks.  The mask shattered, and pieces began to fall.  It slowed, raising a hand to trace one of the cracks.

Five more shots, and five more masks came apart.  Before they were lost in the flood of Bone Men, I saw hints of raw flesh and teeth, a wide eye with no eyelid.

"Kid!"

I looked at Sam, who was reloading.  A bullet fell to the ground and Sam cursed vicously.  "Keep your eyes forward.  Don't look back for nothing!"

I faced forward once more.  In the distance, the sky was purple...

It was purple.  Not grey.  Not black.  "Fifty, go!"  I shouted.  Beneath me, the mare shook, harsh breaths throwing foam in my face.  I heard Sam call out.

The sun was a white sliver that seemed to slip away with each breath.  I could see the grass now; drought-yellow.

Like a line in the sand, color entered my world once more.  Sam drew even with me and I felt a vice ease around my heart.  We slowed to a trot, then a walk, wheeling around to meet with the others.

The Bone Men stood at the border.  The six that Sam had shot bordered our escape route, their masks still cracking and falling.  Sam cursed, a long stream of obscenities ending in a thick wad of spit in their direction.

They waited with us for the others to catch up.  Not a one reacted to the wagon rattling past, instead staring at us.  At me.

We traveled the rest of the way in silence.  The wagoneer is actually a farmer, who brings his harvest in each morning and sells it to the colorless people.  We are in the loft of his barn, sleeping on mounds of hay.

Sam is grumbling at me, saying the light is keeping them awake.  I don't think it is the light.

I think it is a brown, lidless eye of a woman taken from her family in the middle of the day to become one in a sea of Bone Men, staring at us while pale hands clench into fists.

Oct 18th, 2083: Leaving the Black Hills

Though the night lasted an eternity and I grew to know every twist and turn of the rafters' grains by heart, eventually I managed to quiet my restless mind and sleep.  I do not remember my dreams, though I woke at dawn drenched in sweat and a pitiful sobbing echoing in my ears.

Sam knocked on my door shortly afterwards and did not seem to be surprised by my neatly packed luggage.  "Some guy who looks exactly like Viceroy but claims he's not wants to talk to you."  A bundled napkin was thrust at me.  I unwrapped it to find an egg biscuit sandwich, steaming hot.  "Food's good."

I nodded my thanks and followed her down the narrow hallway to the main reception area.  The atmosphere was chilly and tense, people slipping by with their heads bowed as they nervously avoided eye contact.  No doubt the oppressive atmosphere was due to the Bone Man loomed by the front door.  The pale mask acknowledged our prescense with a brief nod.

"Passage has been arranged.  You need only let One know which direction you would like to travel."

I swallowed the last bite of my meal.  "We can't really say which way we want to go until I know what awaits us."

Another nod.  "To the south is the Whisperer, and furtherer south is Xochiquetzal.  If you go west, you will find the home of your unfortunate friend, the place where Angels and Sin Hunters dwell.  To the east you will find Emptiness and Quiet.  And north, as you know, is where your Lonely Boy rules."

I glanced at Sam, who shrugged.  "Up to you, kid."

My eyes scanned across the room, murmuring contemplative sounds to hide the fact that I truly had no clue where to go next.  No matter which way I went, I did know one thing for certain.  I would not be using the Tall King's Path.

"I appreciate the kindness, however-"  A glance at Sam, who only gave another wordless shrug.  "However I must attempt this journey using the same method of travel available to anyone.  Unless you can provide assurance that this Path is free for everyone to use-" A wordless stare in response- "then I must decline."

"Very well."  The Bone Man paused for  a moment to needlessly straighten its tie.  "You are aware, of course, that you still must be on your journey before the night falls?"

"I do."

"Good."  A brief pause.  "The night will not be your friend while you are in One's domain.  One suggests you start running."  Though the mask had stripped away all expression, the dark voice hinted at sharp teeth and torn flesh.  I heard the echo of Oar Ellis' head collapsing under pale fingers in a hand that was as long as Sam was tall.  I swallowed through a suddenly dry throat and nodded.  Then I blinked and the Bone Man was gone, leaving a chill that brought goosebumps to my skin.

"Well."  Sam pulled another biscuit from a pocket and started unwrapping it.  "I've got to stock up on ammo and other provisionly things.  Figure out which way you want to go and see if you can't find us a party to hitch on to."  With that Sam was gone, the front door swinging slightly in the Trader's wake.

A wave of vertigo and nausea rushed over me, most likely due to the sudden drop in adrenaline.  I rested my back against a nearby wall and closed my eyes for a moment.  My breakfast churned uneasily in my stomach, my eyes were gritty and dry from the long night, and my foot ached from the barely-mended bones that stupid horse had broken.

I rubbed my hand over my face and felt my mouth turn into a grimace as my palm rasped over the morning stubble I had neglected to remove.  Sighing, I opened my eyes to find a good ten to fifteen masked people staring at me.  As I met their gazes, they all turned away and back to their business.  All but one, a one-eyed man in a dark brown half-domino.  His skin was a pale brown, smattered with dark freckles, his hair a pale orange-blonde.

He rose from his chair, up and up, easily as tall as Sam, if not taller.  His tattered cloak fluttered as he crossed the room, offering an easy smile as I pushed myself away from the wall.

"Alfather."  He offered a hand, and this close I could see his other eye.  The pupil seemed to swallow his eye, a thin ring of yellow barely visible.

"Sen Stu Sha."  I shook his hand, the thick calluses not surprising given his well-traveled look.  "A pleasure."

"Well," he laughed, "you don't know that yet.  I could be a complete dickhead."

The jibe startled a laugh out of me and I relaxed.  "Fair enough.  What can I do for you, potential dickhead?"

"It's more 'what can we do for each other'?  I'm traveling south with a group through the Hushed Plains.  I don't think the caravan leader would mind a couple of extra bodies."  He leaned in closer, hiding his words from the curious onlookers.  I met his eye, my distorted reflection staring back at me.  "It's also the quickest way out of the Black Hills.  Six hours due south and you should be out before nightfall.  It's at least three days travel to the western border and weeks before you reach the Empty City in the east."

Alfather drew back and smiled at me.  It was an open smile, honest and friendly.  I distrusted it immediately.  Sam would have been proud.

"I'll need to talk with my companion first."  I stiffened my shoulders and walked past him.  He drew aside before we made contact, though his cloak fluttered against my hand for a brief second.  Unlike his hand, it was soft like eider down.

"Quickly, Sha."  I looked back to see his gimlet eye glittering beneath the domino.  "The Tall King does not give idle threats."

Oct 16 (morning), 2083: Slender Falls pt 1: City Hall

I want to get out of this city.

I don't know if I can put this feeling into words.  The cold sun seems to pull the warmth from the day, so it feels as though every day is a trial to confirm that I am worthy of drawing the next breath.  I am constantly bombarded with the concept that I have to ask for the right to exist, rather than the idea that because I exist, I have a right to maintain my existence.  Every day I am in this forsaken city it feels as though I have to prostrate myself before an uncaring god for the right to my next heartbeat.

I have never felt the impact of history as I do now.  In every neighborhood, without fail, empty buildings are being forced into disrepair.  The night before taught me not to trust a well-kept house and it seems to be a lesson that the people of Slender Falls have taken to heart.  Every so often there is a house in pristine condition, just like the one Anthony entered.  The houses which surround it are in varying states of disarray and they will always be inhabited while the kept up house is not.

Forgive me, but this will be a very long entry and I must ask in advance that you do not skim the contents therein if you intend to travel within the Tall Man's grasp.  As I understand it, Slender Falls is not unique in the many cities under his domain.  The experiences recounted here should serve as a warning and guidance for those seeking to travel safely through the Black Hills.

It is clear that this city once held so many more people.  In Bismarck it was different.  The Gear Baby tore down empty buildings and recycled the materials.  Here in the Tall Man's domain the buildings are left to fall apart, dramatically emphasizing the loss humanity has sustained thanks to the Plague.  I wonder if maybe the Tall Man leaves the buildings in order to reinforce his hold over his people.  As if to force them to confront their former independence just to emphasize how tight the shackles of slavery are.

The morning started out innocently enough.  We left the hotel early in the day and headed to the city hall.  The intent was to acquire a guide, just as we had in Bismarck.  I know that last night I mentioned the faceless masses.  Under the distant white sun, I saw that I had exaggerated somewhat.  There are people without masks, however they seem... less.  They fade into the background when compared to their masked counterparts.  If I continue through the Tall Man's domain without a mask to protect me, will I fade away just as these others have?

Yet it is not that the masks are excessively ornate.  They range from simple half-dominoes to full-face featureless covers with slits for eyes.  They are all ivory or ecru or the color of old linen, trimmed here and there in muted colors.  People stare at us, at our uncovered faces.  I think there is something about us, something new and strange, for we were not ignored like the other unmasked residents.  Instead, they stare.  Gawk, I think the word is.  They gawk at us.

"Sam..."  Behind me, the Trader gave a wordless rumble of acknowledgement.  "I feel...uneasy."

"Maybe there's hope for you after all, kid."

The comment did nothing to ease my nerves.  We followed the signs to the City Hall. The building is a hallmark of days gone by, and I will try to do it justice.

It is a grand white building that dominates the local landscape, towering above the other buildings in the area.  The building itself is constructed of a white stone with grey and gold specks.  Marble?  I think it must be marble.  It is not what I pictured in my head when I read about this unfamiliar stone, but it fits the all the off-handed comments about this seemingly regal stone.  Where I come from, ancient rivers have etched canyons into layers of sandstone.  I can see now that my mental image of marble was only a glorified picture of a weak and frankly cheap substrate.  Now I can see why marble is associated with opulence.  The stone glitters in a way that attracts my eye, and like a magpie, I am drawn to it.

Thick marble columns frame the polished wooden doors that comprise the entryway.  The doors themselves are a dark wood, the same brown as old, dried scabs.  Bas relief sculptures are set into the walls on either side of the doors, etchings of a blind woman in robes, holding aloft a set of scales while bearded men hold scrolls and appear to deliver grand speeches.  Wide, flat stairs lead up to the doors, though an odd, shallow ramp is built into the left side of the staircase, framed by rails that gleam in the uncaring sunlight.  The columns hold up a roof that is peaked, whereas the main building's roof is a dome topped by a spire.

The doors swing open with barely a touch.  The entryway is a cavern of the same scabby wood.  Tall, thin windows begrudgingly admit light into the oppressive space.  At the end of the room, a grand staircase rises to a secluded second floor.  Two guards stand on the landing.  They look...wrong.  Stretched out.  Tendrils of shadows dance at their back.  Their masks don't even have eyeslits, as if the wearer doesn't even need to bother to pretend to be human anymore.

Even without eyes, I knew they were watching us.

Sam walked up to a mirror with a sign that states in silvery lettering: HELP DESK.  I confess, I didn't pay much attention to the exchange.  Instead, I walked away to another mirror with the helpful plaque: LIFE LICENSES.

"Excuse me."  I didn't recognize my own reflection.  The face in the mirror looked more like my father's than my own.  I poked and prodded at the new bags under my eyes and almost missed the voice behind the glass.

"Yes, how can I help you?"  The voice that answered was a pleasant tenor, and unnervingly human when coming from behind the mirrored glass.

"Erm.  I guess I want to know more about life licenses.  I'm new to the region, you see."  I leaned my arm on the window sill and discovered that if I looked into my own reflection, I could see the man behind the glass.  He shared many features with Sam.  They both had the same narrow, fox-face, the same sharply angled cheekbones.  I had to wonder if they shared a common ancestry.

"Oh!"  He looked over his shoulder, into a dark area beyond the limited area I could see.  "Um.  Well, then.  Erm.  Every citizen must purchase a license for the privilege to live.  The Tall King graciously allows at least one offspring per citizen, free with purchase of a life license, however citizens may purchase a lottery ticket for additional offspring if they choose.  Does that answer your question?"

I glanced back at Sam, who was deep in discussion with the face behind the other mirror.  "Sort of.  So by purchasing a life license, they are purchasing a right to have a child?"

"Um, no, sir.  They are purchasing a right to live.  The right to have a child is provided as an incentive for citizens to purchase licenses."

My mind takes circuitous routes, sometimes.  I can't ever really say why certain questions come to mind as they do.  What is it, that when told about what citizens must do, I ask about- "How do you handle the non-citizens?"

"Sir?"

I took a moment to compose the thoughts running through my mind.  "I suppose the question I'm really asking is, do non-citizens not have a right to life?"

"Oh, no, sir!"  The voice on the other end of the mirror hastened to assure me.  "It is just that without a life license, the chances of ones' survival quickly shrinks."  He must have spotted my blank look from behind the mirror-glass.  "The life license assures that registered citizens are protected from any potential Bone Man hazards encountered over the course of the registration term."  After an agonizing moment of confused silence, he added, "Bone Men.  They are the guardians."  I guess he understood how completely lost I was by the whole encounter.  "Look....  If you see a mask with no eyes, that's a Bone Man.  They're the next highest level under the Tall King, so you'd better not make them angry."

He finally made eye contact with me behind the mirrored glass.  It was the strangest thing.  Once he realized I could see him behind the mirrored glass, once he had been "unmasked," he immediately turned away and started addressing the wall.  "If there are no more questions, please step back so that other customers may approach the window."  His tone was cold and clinical, but there was still an obvious underlying current of fear.

What is it?  What is the clerk so afraid of?  I just...  I don't know.  I really and truly don't know why the people of Slender Falls are so afraid.

I exchange polite goodbyes with the life license clerk, and turn away from my haggard reflection to greet Sam with the shadowed facsimilie of a smile.  "I think I'm done here."

Sam only nods.  "We'll have an official guide tomorrow.  Until then, we're allowed to walk through the city as we see fit, so long as we wear these."  She hands me a half-domino mask trimmed in a color like burnt wildflowers.

I hesitate for a hair's breadth before I fit the mask against my face and tie the ribbons behind my head.  It seems as if the mask adjusts to my face, moving and settling like a living thing.  I want to tear it off my face and throw it into the gutter, but indecision stays my hand.  If I throw this vile thing into the gutter, will I still be allowed to walk the streets?  If I choose my comfort, will I sacrifice information that might save the life of a future reader?

I don't know.  I truly don't know.  So for now, I grit my teeth and bear the alien monstrosity that squirms across my face before settling into the shape of a half-domino trimmed in orange.