(eng) Lawrence M. Schoen - Barsk 01 by The Elephant Graveyard

Author:The Elephant Graveyard [Graveyard, The Elephant]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

CONTACT

BETWEEN one chew and a swallow, Jorl twitched, as an itch ran all the way up his spine and radiated out through the pores of his skin. It resolved into a sensation like being watched; it came from all around.

He lifted his head and fanned his ears once, spat out the half-eaten vegetable cluster, and the yard fell away. With no sense of transition the snowy ground beneath him had become a wooden floor. His next breath did not create a visible puff in front of his face, and he inhaled air that was warm and moist and smelled of growing things. No barracks wall lay behind him, but rather the comforting intimacy of a parlor in some home of some island’s Civilized Wood. In front of him, seated in a frayed hammock, an old woman swayed and studied him.

He returned the favor. She had a familiar look, not as some once-met aunt of a distant friend, but rather in a way that suggested secondhand experience, not direct knowledge. He’d never seen a more ancient Eleph before, even among the Dying Fant, and the myriad wrinkles around her eyes showed someone who had spent years laughing as well as years in pain. On her forehead the mark of an aleph, dim and faded, exuded a faint glow.

Impossible as a dream, he recognized her. He was sitting across from Margda, the Matriarch of Barsk, discoverer of nefshons, architect of the Compact, creator of the aleph. He had finally lost his mind.

“Close your mouth, Jorl, you look like an oaf with it hanging like that.”

He blinked and, as an afterthought, closed his mouth. Somehow, he had expected a more polite apparition. He had never heard of anyone experiencing belligerent insanity. He blinked again and faintly, if he concentrated, he could still see the yard and the other abducted Fant, like translucent afterimages. Was the real world available to his other senses? He tried to listen for the sound of shuffling feet on packed snow, but the Matriarch’s words drowned out the attempt.

“So, you are the end result of my life’s plan. You are the consequence of my visions and predictions. You owe me for the aleph on your head, Child, and I’ve come to collect on that debt.”

He stared into her eyes, dark and cold and demanding his full attention. The dim image of the other reality faded away.

“Um, your pardon, Matriarch. This is certainly an interesting bit of delusion my mind has conjured, and I would love to play along, I assure you, but even if I actually felt I owed you anything, it would be quite the trick to repay you. You’re dead.”

Jorl rose from the floor, finding his feet and moving about the room. It felt good to be warm again. The Matriarch remained in her hammock, sitting, regarding him.

“Delusion? Child, you disappoint me. I had hoped for more insight from you, depended on it in fact. Did your time away from this world fail to open your eyes? Fine.

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