Pangothean Legends: Chapters 3 and 4

Chapter Three

The Lonely Hippo

         Falroth had started hyperventilating over twenty minutes ago. By now he had progressed well beyond that. Certainly there was a better term for what he was doing now.

         “Well that’s the last of it,” said a workman. “God it’s hot in here.”

         He listened to the man’s footsteps slowly die away. At last it seemed Falroth was going to be left alone. He breathed easier now. Still, he waited for the ship to get moving, plus an hour or two, before moving a muscle.

         He felt carefully around in the dark. Apparent he had been lying with his face inches away from a wide, sharp piece of metal, which was attached to a long, wooden implement. Feeling around some more, he found there were tons of them. They were all set firmly against a large, metal rack.

         He jiggled one of them loose. Through a bit of careful shuffling he was able to get himself spread against the wall, weapon-in-hand, with its business end pointed to the wall. There wasn’t enough room for a good swing, but with repeated attempts he was able to chop one long notch in the side of the box. Finally, with a solid kick, he bust his way out.

         “You have been making quite a racket in there,” came an unknown voice. It was gruff, but had a measured cadence. “You are lucky no one has popped down here to raid the Philocack stores in all this time.”

         Falroth turned. There, sitting on a crate, was a creature he had never seen before. He was humanoid, but excessively short, with an oversized beer-belly. He had curly gray hair sparsely covering his overly round head. Plus there were long gray hairs growing out his ears.

         Falroth raised his eyebrows. “What are you?”

         “You really are an odd fellow if you do not recognize a Dorf when you see one. My name is Alper Zefta.”

         “Falroth.” He hesitated before offering his hand. When the Dorf shook it firmly, he smiled. “And I’m not an odd fellow. Just a regular guy.”

         “I doubt that. There are very few regular reasons for hiding in a crate full of axes aboard a warship.”

         Falroth gave a guilty grin.

         “I suppose you are here for the same reason I am,” said Alper. “To stop the invasion. It is good that we met.”

         “What in the blazes is an invasion?” said Falroth, slamming his fists down on a barrel. “Look, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not supposed to be on any warship. I meant to get aboard the Wrinkly Spaniard.”

         “Planning to steal some nushu, were you?” said Alper. “You do not look much like an addict to me, nor do you look to be a thief, however you have the look of a man ferociously dedicated to a task, which leads me to believe that my original assessment of your purpose was correct.”

         “I’m trying to get to Pangothea,” said Falroth. “I don’t know anything about any invasion.”

         Alper hopped down from the crate. He pointed at the barrel which Falroth had earlier struck. A small flame flickered atop its lid.

         “Relax,” said Falroth, and cupped his hand over the fire to extinguish it. “Happens all the time. Just one of the many hazards of being me.”

         “That explains it then,” said Alper, nodding. “You are trying to return home.”

         “Home?” Falroth pumped his fists. “God no. Anywhere but home.”

         “I do not understand,” said Alper. “You are not native to Pangothea, yet you have Meyta?”

         “Why the hell do you think I want to go there? Because I’m tired of being one of the blessed ones. I’m tired of being a constant disappointment.”

         “Who are you constantly disappointing?”

         “Everyone!

         “Look, me and my brother were the only two heirs to the Blessed Bloodline. We were potential successors to my father’s seat as Village Elder. It is the Village Elder’s job to assure our survival. He needs to be strong, because he is the salvation of the race.

         “But I was weak. My brother was always the strong one, and everyone knew it. So I became a wasted chance at prosperity, and I could see it in their eyes every day.

         “When I couldn’t handle it any longer I attacked my brother without provocation, scalding and scaring his face. My dear Kathrina was so frightened by my fury that she fled into the Forbidden Wasteland and was never seen again.

         “Afterward, though no one other than Kathrina and my brother witnessed my transgression, everyone blamed me for her death. It was obvious. They looked at me differently. I was no longer a mere forgotten hope in their eyes, but a full-on murderer. I could feel the condemnation in their glances.

         “After a week of dancing around the truth I finally admitted my guilt, and father sentenced me to the same fate as Kathrina, although I seem to have escaped it.”

         “And who told you about Pangothea?” asked Alper.

         Falroth laughed sardonically. “Only the fraud the village worships as God. You may wonder why I listened to him at all, and so do I, but I don’t have a choice. Either I go to Pangothea or I ought to just drop dead straightaway.”

         “I see,” said Alper. He tilted his head and brushed his fingers down the two-foot length of his ear hairs. “Your tale is quite intriguing. Perhaps one day I should like to hear more of it, although it is not the proper time. For now I shall ask your leave.”

         At that, the Dorf took off faster than Falroth would’ve thought possible. Without tarrying a moment, he gave chase.

         “Where the hell are you going?”

         Falroth stumbled over pieces of clutter in the low light. The dorf bobbed and weaved his way around barrels and crates with precision. He soon made it to the trap door atop a ramp and threw it open. “He is a threat!” he shouted. “Send down the man in charge!”

         Still struggling to catch up, Falroth clenched his teeth and fists, hard.

         “Manders is in his study, sir,” came the answer. “Are you sure you want to...”

         “Manders is not the man in charge,” interrupted Alper. “If he wished to remain the man in charge he should have given better thought to his choice of hired help.”

         “You mean Frost? You do know she’s a...”

         “I do not care what gender she is. You are all men to me.”

Chapter Four

The Man in Charge

        “Get back here you rotten little bugger! Let me show you how much of a threat I can be!”

        Alper yawned and stretched his chubby little arms as he stayed far ahead of Falroth. “There is no need for that,” he said. “Your story and your honest face was evidence enough. You could bring down the entire ship in the right frame of mind I fear.”

        Falroth came to a stop and leaned on his knees, out of breath. He could run all day and never catch the Dorf. “What makes you say that?” he said.

          “It is because you burned your brother’s face. If I am to believe your story, he had the same Meyta as you. This means that his skin, like yours, does not burn at the same temperature as normal human skin. The amount of heat you must have produced in order to burn his skin was very high. It is a rare feat in the world to match another’s Meyta apples to apples and best it in such a way. You say your brother was the stronger one, but I must beg to differ.”

        The nearby trap door creaked and then was flung open. The light of the clear blue sky came flooding into the cargo hold. A svelte young woman slowly descended the ramp.

          She had straight, shoulder-length hair that was very lightly colored, almost white. Her skin was also very pale, yet smooth and elegant. She wore a thin white shirt that stopped just above her belly button, and about her waist was a small, belted bit of hide, dyed light blue.

          “Well, well, well, what have we here?” she said, her voice crisp and full. “If it isn’t the devil of my days.”

        Falroth scratched his head.

          The corner of the girl’s mouth lifted into an asymmetrical smile. “Sorry. It’s easy for me to forget where I am. Meytalian expression. It means my mirror image. My antagonist, if you will. You might say I’m the antagonist here, but it’s a relative matter.”

        “You’re the...” Falroth coughed into his fist. “...man in charge? But you’re... well you’re a woman.”

        The girl laughed a rich, high laugh. “You’re obviously not from Goldale then,” she said. “Which puts me at a loss.” She seized Falroth’s hand. “Come. Let’s get out of this hellish heat and have a talk.” She kept a hold on his hand as she lead him up the ramp and to the upper deck.

          Falroth was awed by the seemingly endless blue ocean he could see in all directions. The sound of the waves continuously rushing upon the side of the boat, and the squawk of the white birds, and the wind in his face, all formed a symphony of novel experiences.

          Next he noticed a huge network of large, white cloths hung from tall poles above his head. This was probably the mechanic by which the vessel harnessed the sea’s winds.

          Then he became aware of several scrawny young men about the area, looking busy. All of them were staring in a rather conspicuous manner at he and the girl, while going about their respective tasks.

          “So tell me, Mr...” said the girl.

          “Falroth.”

        “They call me Frost. Tell me, Falroth. Do you mean to go to Goldale?”

        Falroth did not answer right away. He was looking down at Frost’s hand, which still hadn’t loosened its grip on his own. No one had ever been able to hold on this long.

          “Falroth?”

        “Huh? Sorry. Goldale? Is that anywhere near Pangothea?”

        Frost frowned. “You don’t really have a clue, do you? Perhaps you and I aren’t so similar after all.

          “‘Course they’ll accept you just the same, ignorance and prejudice and all. They’ll welcome you with open arms, like a little lost sheep that’s found its way back to the fold. The fools. It would be touching if it wasn’t tragically naive.”

        An unnamed sensation began to climb Falroth’s forearm. He couldn’t place it.

          “You’re calling me clueless?” said Falroth. “You’re the one who’s, what, sixteen years old by the look of it?”

        Frost sighed and shook her head slowly. “Aw, Falroth. For shame. Someone like you ought to know that heat is an agent of decay. The cold preserves my youthful appearance.

          “But time is such a poor measure of age. A man of seventy years time may be just a boy, yet a young man may age decades in just one day’s time.

          “I see such things in you, hidden behind the fire in your eyes. Though I’m not yet convinced I should fear you. What I need to know is this. Has your one day come and gone? Or is it today?”

        That mysterious feeling had already reached his shoulder. It was beginning to propagate itself throughout his body. What could it possibly mean?

          “Why does it matter?” said Falroth.

          “Because every man fails the test, on his one day,” She squeezed his hand harder. “There are no winners there, nor heroes made; there is only the pain of what is lost, as the hope of younger days will sour and turn to frost.”

        Cold! Of course that’s what the odd perception was. He’d never felt it before.

          “You will be tempted to think my power cruel,” said Frost, and locked her cold white eyes with his. “But it is merciful.”

        Falroth tried to pull away from her grasp, but faltered. She caught him before he hit the floor, still gripping his hand. His left leg had gone completely numb. She lowered him slowly to his back.

          “There is no softer decline, no kinder escort to the edge of oblivion, no gentler way to bid this world farewell.”

        Falroth could no longer feel any part of his body.

          How could this be happening? Was he really about to die? And like this?

          “It’s said that you feel your soul go numb before the end. You don’t even feel death’s sting.”

        His vision began to go blurry.

          Damn it, who did this girl think she was? He belonged to the Blessed Bloodline. If he was going to die he sure as hell wasn’t going to freeze to death.

          “Alper, come here a second. His eyes weren’t always blue like that, were they?”

        Everything went white.