Pangothean Legends: Chapters 9 and 10

Chapter Nine

The Simple Solution

         Falroth stepped into the long Worker’s Quarters. There were a dozen small cots lined up against the walls. On the far end of the room, eight or nine men were congregated, Mersel among them. Some of them were nearly falling over laughing.

         “Well, I’ve gone and done it,” Falroth announced, as he made the trek across the room.

         “What’s that?” said one of them. “What have you gone and done?”

         “I’ve-I’ve thrown all the money into the ocean.”

         Falroth’s declaration was met with a fresh outburst of rambunctious laughter.

         “You’re joking!”

         Falroth’s expression remained very grave.

         “You’ve... you’ve got to be. I mean, you’d have to be mad.”

         “It’s for your own good, you know,” said Falroth, raising his overlarge chin into the air. “Those things were making you all crazy.”

         “You’re serious?”

         “He’s serious,” said Mersel, breathlessly.

         There was an awful, agonizing silence.

         “You fowl little wretch!” yelled the nearest man, who flung himself at Falroth, wrapping his frail fingers around his thick, veiny neck. There was a mad look in his eyes. He seemed to be pouring all his strength into choking the life out of him. Yet Falroth hardly felt it necessary to resist. He just held his breath and waited for the contact to rouse enough heat to the surface of his skin. But the man held on. He tried to shake Falroth wildly, but only managed to shake himself. There was the terrible sound of flesh sizzling. At last Falroth was forced to wrench his grip loose and throw him backwards onto a cot. His palms were as red as a tomato and covered in grotesque blisters.

         It had been too much to expect a positive reaction, but this kind of lunacy was something else. Maybe the money hadn’t been making them crazy. Maybe it was the only thing keeping them sane.

         Another man was trembling profusely. He looked like he wanted more than anything to tackle Falroth himself but knew it was pointless.

         Falroth backed away. Every one of them stared at him in an all-too-familiar way. He had become a sickly stain on their lives, one they couldn’t quite blot out. At last it seemed his old luck had caught up with him.

         “Why?” cried Mersel, with a heartbroken look on his face.

         “Look at it this way,” said Falroth, and swallowed nervously. “Now you have a choice. You all needed both halves of your payment, right? So you had no choice but to go along with Manders’ insanity and complete the mission. But now that I’ve thrown away the first half, even if you get the second half you’re still no better off than you were moments ago. You’re in the same boat either way (am I saying that right?). So now you can do whatever you want. I’ve set you free.”

         “You haven’t set us free, you oaf, you’ve doomed us!”

         “If you’ll all just calm down a moment...” said Falroth.

         “Calm down, he says! Where do freaks like this come from? Mersel, you told us this guy was cool.”

         “Look, I’ve got a plan!” screamed Falroth. “Just hear me out. I think we should all pretend this never happened. Pretend you’re all just going to follow along with the plan like before. It’s like we’re all still playing Spatter. We can’t let our opponents see our cards, can we? Then, after we get to Telmas and everyone gets off the boat, we wait for just the right moment for one of you to knock out Manders. Then I’ll hold off Frost until you’re all a safe distance away, and we can meet back at the ship. Then we take it back to Jeweland, where we can sell it. That ought to get you enough money to get by, right?”

         “You’re mental! We’d never be able to sell a ship that belonged to a Noble.”

          “Fine, then we sell everything on board and then burn the ship, or break it up and sell the pieces for firewood.”

         “Manders would have it in for us! No one crosses a Noble, Falroth.”

         “What could he possibly do?”

         “He’d hunt each of us down and see that we all died in the most horrific way possible.”

         “Oh come now. Is there no Law in this country at all?”

         “Manders is the law! Don’t you get it? There’s no Committee here. There’s no Village Elder. There’s just the Nobles.”

         “But I thought a Noble was like a rich trader?”

         “Rich is putting it mildly. Money is power, man, and the seven Nobles have got the most. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

         “But that sounds like, what’d you call it, Mersel? Anarchy?”

         “Look, Falroth,” said Mersel. “Do you remember what I told you? Money makes the world go round? The Nobles are why that works. They’re rich, and that makes them powerful, but in order to stay rich they have to make sure their money stays good. To do that, they have to uphold the integrity of the system, prevent it from falling into chaos. They arrest criminals, build roads, regulate trade and maintain order. They work very hard to keep the world going round, but there’s nothing to stop them from going off book to stamp out a few obstacles.”

         This was not going right at all. This was supposed to be the simple solution. This was supposed to fix everything.

         “I...” said Falroth, “why don’t we... but what if... we could kill him?”

         “Right,” said Mersel, oozing sarcasm. “‘Cause the other six Nobles would absolutely let us get away with that.”

         There was a silence even more awful and agonizing than the earlier one.

         “Falroth,” breathed Mersel, at length. “What do you say we discuss this over a drink? I managed to smuggle some Philocack out of Manders’ private stash.”

         Mersel reached under the cot he sat on and pulled out a small bottle. He popped it open, poured a glass, and offered it to Falroth.

         “I don’t know, Mersel,” said Falroth, narrowing his eyes at the glass. “That stuff seems a bit dodgy to me.”

         “Come on,” said Mersel. “We need to think of a plan, and if there’s anything Philocack does well, it helps you think.”

         “Well, alright,” said Falroth. “Just a taste.”

         Falroth took a taste.

         “Sorry,” said Mersel.

         Instantly the world spun. Colors whirled around his head, draining into a single point. And then the point turned inside out. Now he was surrounded by a vast, unending rainbow and all the world was locked away in a space the size of a pebble.

         Every wall inside his head split open. There were no boundaries anymore, no veil separating him from the outside world. He and the universe were one. He could feel its beginning and end, see it shifting and swaying within the greater multiverse.

         Time was no longer something that flowed. It was something more material, like a string, curvy and bendable and frayed at the point where the past met the present. Possibilities wrapped around each other here, simultaneously coalescing into the past and unraveling into infinite futures.

         “He’s all yours,” Mersel said to Manders, who looked down at Falroth’s rigid body and ash-black eyes, smiling from ear to ear.

Chapter Ten

The Invasion

         The rest of the voyage was an extremely eventful experience.

         That is not to say that anything of particular interest happened to or around Falroth. That wasn’t important anymore. He was but a single specimen in the seething cosmic stew of humanity. The wide world was bustling with frenetic energy. All around him things were growing, changing and morphing into something greater.

         He could not afterwards have described this time in any detail, except to say that it was wonderful, and vivid, and there were intermittent periods where he could once again distinguish himself from among the Maelstrom, but there always came that tingling feeling in the back of his throat and he was but a drop in a limitless ocean once again.

         And then, at one moment the jagged teeth at the mouth of a colossal watery cavern hung high over his head. At another moment there was but a dark dot on the horizon. At another there was a massive angular rock rising high out of the ocean up ahead. He couldn’t say how much time (if any) had passed between these moments, or even that they had certainly happened in that order.

         Now the cave had opened up into an enormous, water-filled chamber. There were many identical boats all docked next to the stony shores about the edges of the place. High above, near the ceiling, narrow walkways were carved into the rock walls, with tiny little steps leading down to sea level.

         Alper Zefta made himself visible at the front of the ship as it was hauled in. An eager team of six small dorfs began securing the boat to the dock as a seventh dorf approached with arms spread out in welcome. He was about twice as fat as Alper and infinitely more bearded.

         “Alper! It is so good to see you,” he said, embracing him. “Of course, you know your arrival presents substantial problems.” He was still smiling warmly. “The Lonely Hippo was not due back until the 42nd of Rengsfell and we were not prepared to receive a ship today.” He shivered. “The proper papers will have to be filed regarding the scheduling discrepancy and the auditor will be wanting to see you personally.”

         “Good,” said Alper. “As it so happens, I already have business with the auditor.”

         Manders and Frost stepped into the open. Falroth was pulled along behind Mersel as he and the rest of the men followed, brandishing axes.

         “I do not understand,” said the fat dorf. “Alper, who are these men with you?”

         “We don’t have time for this,” said Frost, who stepped forward and shoved the dorf over the dock and into the water.

         “What is the meaning of this?” he said, flapping his arms as he struggled to stay afloat.

         “I’d get out of there quick, if I were you.” she shouted to him as she proceeded to the upper level. “That water isn’t going to be wet much longer.” Her breath had just become visible in front of her.

         Falroth was prodded along behind her with the others. They headed into a small opening in the back of the room. It lead into a tight, square hallway. It went on for more than a mile before it opened up into another large chamber. This one was rectangular and lit with a strange greenish glow. Most of it had no floor. One could only walk around the edges. The chamber went on and on below them, further than the eye could perceive, and there were many more floors.

         The whole place seemed eerily deserted.

         “Dorfs sure love to dig, don’t they?” said one of the men.

         “They’re always digging,” said Manders. “They can’t seem to stop. Everywhere they go, they dig.” As they crossed the room, their footsteps echoing incessantly, they passed passages with numbers over the top of them, one every few feet. “And they can’t resist numbering everything.”

         “We do tend to be compulsive creatures,” said Alper.

         Mersel whispered into Falroth’s ear while the others continued to discuss Dorfish culture. “How you feelin’, buddy?”

         Buddy? Why was he suddenly Mersel’s buddy?

         Furthermore, why was he now having such cohesive thoughts?

         Falroth moaned incomprehensibly.

         “Hang in there. It won’t be much longer now.”

         Come to think of it, his last dose had been... had been... dose had been...

         One finger at a time, Falroth made a weak fist.

         The bastard had poisoned him! They were not buddies.

         They were now proceeding along another long hallway. Soon they came out into a low-ceilinged, oblong room. There was a round stone table at the back of it. There were half-circle slices cut out of the table so that thirty-seven large dorfs (with variable amounts of curly gray hair on their heads, faces, ears, chins, and eyelids) could all be seated with one-hundred and eighty degrees of its surface surrounding each of them. Almost the entire thing was covered in stacks of papers.

         “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” said several of the dorfs, almost in unison.

         “I hope to make that perfectly clear,” said Frost, and leapt unto the table. She rushed upon the dorf with the largest beard. She placed her fingers on his forehead. He was frozen solid before he could take in a full gasp, his beard a giant icicle.

         “She has murdered the auditor!”

         “We must do something!”

         “This is highly irregular.”

         Frost snapped, “Quiet, you blithering windbags!

         “We have just one request. We wish for a fully-outfitted Dorfish ship to be sent to the dock at the City of Goldale as a diplomatic embassy...”

         “Mersel... Mersel...” groaned Falroth, salivating profusely. “Why am I not lost inside my head?”

         “Shut up,” whispered Mersel.

         Thankfully Frost took no notice, as she continued to lay out her demands. “...You may provide any crew you wish, as long as Alper Zefta is allowed to take the place of the usual embassador.

         “That is all. Now, as an act of good faith, our own Varmel Cartag, who has been reasonably well versed in Torzac’s Rules of Order, stands ready to serve the function of your auditor for the time being.” A member of Manders’ crew stepped forward. He sported a book so huge he could barely hold it up long enough for them to read the title. “And while we do not expect a Dorfish committee like yours to render a favorable verdict immediately, please be advised that the sooner you do so, the fewer of you it will be necessary to replace, in the manner of your late auditor.” She hopped off the table and headed for the door. “We’re off to make sure everything is going smoothly back at the docks. Make sure they get right to it. If not, remove one of their fingers down to the first joint. Make sure to cauterize it afterward.”

         When she and Manders left, Varmel took the auditor’s former seat. He started to lay out the meeting’s agenda and seemed a bit confused as to whether he ought to be reading the minutes of the last meeting (and if so, where in the auditor’s mass of paperwork that might be located).

         Meanwhile, Mersel took Falroth quietly aside. He shook him by the shoulders, as he wasn’t quite meeting his gaze. “Hey, listen to me,” he said. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

         Falroth had been developing a massive splitting headache for the last hour. On top of that, his whole body was now trembling with weakness. He tried to stand up straight and was hit with a surge of dizziness.

         “No,” he answered, blearily.

         “Well I’m afraid it’s now or never,” said Mersel, and pulled Falroth toward the door.

         One of the other men barred his path

         “What are you doing, Stenson?”

         “I was just about to ask you the same question.”

         “I’m getting this kid out of here. This isn’t his mess, and it’s getting messier by the minute.”

         Stenson furrowed his brow and started rubbing his chin.

         “Really sorry about this,” said Mersel, and grabbed hold of the axe in Stenson’s hand. In a fluid motion, he twisted it free of his comrade’s grasp and bashed him over the head with the blunt end. He hurtled over his crumpling body and out the door, dragging Falroth behind him. “Come on, man! I can’t carry you the whole way.”

         “Mersel...” said Falroth. “That last dose of Philocack. It wasn’t...”

         “It was another drug. Home recipe of mine. I needed to keep you compliant, but I had to get you off the Philocack. If you were too lucid, too early, they might’ve got suspicious. You’re going to be a bit stupid for a while, but you should at least be able to fight your way out of here.”

         “So I guess you’re not mad about the whole money thing?”

         For a moment, Mersel didn’t answer.

         “Let’s just say I appreciate what you were trying to do. Now up and at ‘em! I’m counting on you, you know. You’re the only one who can stand up to Frost.”

         Falroth was now keeping up on his own. He wasn’t quite running a straight line, but it was progress.

         Soon they had reached the large rectangular room again. They spotted Frost just inside the other entrance.

         “Listen Falroth,” said Mersel, looking him straight in the eyes to be sure he was paying attention. “They told me your power depends on you feeling anger. Look at her.” He grabbed Falroth’s shoulders and pointed him straight at her. “She’s the only thing standing in the way of you making it to Pangothea. How do you feel about her?”

         Falroth narrowed his eyes at the girl. She was so small, and pleasant to look upon. There was an invitingly crisp confidence in her stride. Sure she had that sort of stiff, frigid look in her eyes on occasion, but he couldn’t quite hate her for it. Plus she seemed to have more sense than any woman he’d ever met.

         Then Manders came into the room after her. Now there’s someone he could get mad at.

         “You take Frost, I’ll handle Manders,” said Mersel.

         “But I want...”

         But Mersel had already broken off to the right to meet Manders. Frost was half way across the room on his left.

         “Well, well, well,” said Frost. “Our very own Mersel thinks he’s some kind of hero. Going to rescue the helpless village boy, are we? That’s cute.”

         Falroth shot a blast of heat that caused her to stagger backward.

         “Oh, very well-played, Mersel,” she said. “He’s almost up to par. How long have you been planning this?”

         She answered Falroth’s attack with her own. It wasn’t a pleasurable blast of cold air like before. It was painfully cold. He could feel his joints stiffen in response.

         “Since he told me he had a plan,” said Mersel. “Really it was his idea. Needed a little help, but I made it work.”

         Frost and Falroth were now rapidly assaulting each other with hot and cold, shot from their palms. Their invisible attacks cancelled each other in mid-air. The two of them looked like they were doing no more than exchanging a series of rude gestures. Falroth began slowly closing the distance between them. Meanwhile, Mersel chased Manders toward the door, his axe raised above his head. Once Manders had ducked into the doorway, Frost turned and fired upon Mersel.

         “Not so fast!” shouted Falroth, and blocked her beam with one of his own. He then projected a steady wave of heat at the space between Frost and the door. She could neither penetrate it nor fire through it. He kept it in place long enough for Mersel to reach the doorway and pursue Manders. Next he started using the wave to back Frost towards himself as he continued to draw nearer to her. She attempted to pelt him with a few cold beams, but they were lost in the incredible amount of heat now radiating from his body.

         At last he had her cornered.

         But rather than finish her off, he simply ran past her. Trailing Mersel, he left her standing there with a strange grin on her face.

         Down the long corridor he ran. When he finally came out at the other end, he discovered things were not going as well as he’d hoped. Manders and Mersel (who had somehow lost the axe) were locked in combat just outside the door, high above the docks. Down below, all the water where the ships were parked was frozen solid. Presently, Manders managed to throw Mersel off the narrow precipice.

         Falroth mustered an intense blast of heat that accelerated past Mersel as he fell. It hit the ice below him, melting just enough of it to break his fall.

         Before Manders could realize what happened, Falroth was upon him. He decked him between the eyes, knocking him off his feet. He slid several feet before stopping, out cold.

         After that, the rest of the escape was fairly simple.

         Falroth stood at the bottleneck, expelling a constant barrage of heat. This kept Frost from being able to get close. Not that she didn’t try. She kept a steely expression and inched ever closer, as though his power were slowly waning. Meanwhile he turned some heat upon the water below to get it in liquid form, while Mersel prepared a small ship for a voyage. The whole time, there were several dorfs about the area. They just watched them with odd, impotent looks on their faces.

         At last, when Frost was only a few feet from reaching Falroth, Mersel shouted that the ship was ready and he ran down to meet him. He stopped for but a moment to take anything of value he could find on Manders’ person (just an opal necklace). They quickly got in the ship and got it moving.

         Frost didn’t even bother to try and follow them. She just watched, still as a statue, while they sailed off, the corner of her mouth lifted into an asymmetrical smile.

         “Well Falroth,” said Mersel, when Telmas was a comfortable distance behind. “What are you going to do now? I exaggerated a bit when I said Frost was the only thing keeping you from Pangothea. I don’t know how to get there. Do you?”

         “Not exactly,” said Falroth. “But I’m sure it’s somewhere west.”

         “How do you know that?”

         “Because Ancelin said the dorfs pass by the Senushua Islands on their way there. The Senushua Islands are west of here. We could probably head straight for them, go right on past them, and we’d run into Pangothea eventually. But I’m not worried about Pangothea just yet.”

         “You aren’t? What are you worried about then?”

         “How to stop the world from going round.”