Fallen World Page 5

  Eventually the structure was within what Seth thought to be a walkable distance, so he jumped to the ground and continued by foot. In the absence of the wind whistling in his ears, Seth started to hear a strange tone every now and then. Ding. He didn’t know what it was but it was occurring at regular intervals and was the same tone each time. It did not seem to get louder as he approached what he thought was the source, instead always remaining somewhere off in the distance. Ding.

  Seth arrived at the base of the structure. It was huge and rectangular, reaching up about 150 metres. Next to this building was another one about fifty metres taller. Both of them had intricate metal pipes infesting every inch of their surface. Some pipes were much newer than others, while some had been corroded through. It looked like the building had been repaired a hundred times, but each time the old part was never discarded or replaced. Beneath a complicated lattice of conduits at the base of the smaller building was what appeared to be a door. Seth walked up to it and raised his hand to knock. Knock knock. He tried a few times but got no response. The other building did not even have a door — or if it did, it was now lost to a web of pipelines.

  Seth looked around and noticed there was an entire village nearby these two buildings. He could see many humble houses made of wood, most with a material that seemed like curved, orange concrete tiles, laid out in a grid pattern forming a point. Some of the houses had walls made of red stone bricks. Sticking out occasionally between the buildings were thin poles, all with the same strange contraption at the top: three cones pointing inwards with their apexes touching, with their larger bases gaping open and angled outwards. The three cones had a smaller cylinder visible inside them making them look like three daffodils standing back-to-back, without petals.

  As Seth walked towards the village he heard that strange tone again. Ding. He then saw people walking around the village — it seemed to be a normal enough place, unlike the first two buildings he had encountered. It was a lot smaller than Swevender and fewer trees. The inhabitants shuffled around slowly and seemed to be paying him very little attention. Some did stop very briefly to acknowledge Seth and would mumble something incoherent. Seth thought he could hear Common, but then they would use a word that sounded like nothing he had ever heard before.

  One of the people approached Seth. He was wearing a grey uniform with a belt holstering what looked like effective tools for bludgeoning someone. He held up his hand in a manner that indicated Seth should stop.

  “Who are you?” asked the man in a deep, bellowing voice.

  His uniform looked quite sharp, with a few black stripes intended to emphasise the bulk of his shoulders — they now emphasised the curve of his protrusive belly. His face was occupied by a formidable dark brown moustache and hair of the same colour poked out from underneath his small, rimless hat.

  Seth was relieved it was actually Common that he had heard.

  “My name is Seth Cost” he replied. “Where is this?”

  The man was holding one of his bludgeoning instruments, pointed it at Seth and said from behind a thick moustache,

  “I’ll be asking the raggles here, young man!”

  Uh oh, thought Seth to himself.

  “Uhhh, what?” he replied, puzzled by the unfamiliar word.

  “Where did you come from and what are you mirring here?” asked the man.

  All Seth could see was a moustache moving around, completely covering the man’s mouth. I guess it’s a different kind of Common. Seth noted that in the context he could probably understand it.

  “What I am mirring sir, is looking for someone who can tell me where I am,” Seth replied, holding both his hands up in a sort of defensive manner. The moustached man raised one eyebrow and looked Seth up and down, inspecting his strange fashion.

  “You jink tarin and you talk funny, boy.”

  Seth assumed ‘jink tarin’ was in reference to his clothes, and found himself adjusting his robes self-consciously.

  “This is Chos Garren Village, and you better be on your best tractum while you’re here, boy,” said the man as he put his cudgel back in his belt. The cudgel had two small dots near the base where the man was holding it.

  “I suggest you go about your business peacefully,” he said to Seth.

  “No problem. I am not here to cause any problems, just wanted to find out where I am so I can go back home,” Seth replied calmly.

  Mr. Moustache pointed to Seth’s left.

  “You can buy yourself a verhil in the market stildrum.” He looked as puzzled as Seth felt; this language seemed to only have occasional differences, but it was always something miles away from the word he expected to hear. He didn’t know for sure what a verhil was, but as it would apparently help him find out where he was, he headed for the market stildrum.

  Seth approached what he assumed was a market stand. They seemed to be selling food — all sorts of vegetables he had never seen before. One looked like a zucchini with orange peel for skin, with a small flower sticking from the top of each one. There was also a small green apple, but poking from its skin were small spikes tapering off into tiny coils. Seth looked up at the shopkeeper who had been watching him, waiting patiently to hear any questions.

  “Hi” Seth said in a friendly tone. “Would you happen to have a… uh verhil for me?”

  The man laughed a little.

  “No, sorry boy, this is a pilm shop. You can find a verhil three stalls up.” He gestured a little further up the dirt road. Seth was getting a little tired of being called “boy” and “young man” everywhere he went. He had hoped his goatee would have stopped this condescending nickname.

  Ding.

  Seth heard the strange tone again. He stopped to listen in case it happened again, then said “thank you” to the shopkeeper. He saw the puzzled look in the man’s face just as he turned to leave for the other store, but ignored it.

  Seth arrived at the stall the previous shopkeeper had indicated. There was no one attending the shop now. Seth looked at the objects on display. The little building had three levels; the owner must have sold verhils downstairs and lived on the upper floor. The whole house was made from a dark wood that looked to be a very sturdy. He thought he might be able to use it for his own material manipulation experiments, and began picking at a wooden pillar that was holding up a section of the building. A small piece came off and landed in his waiting hand just as the shop owner came out. She was a rather attractive woman, probably in her early thirties with long and wavy of a fiery-orange colour. She had numerous freckles across her cheeks, and glasses with a thick black rim emphasised the size and hue of her bright blue eyes. She was about one head shorter than Seth and had her hands on her hips.

  “What the spizz are you mirring to my home?” she snapped.

  Seth looked guiltily at her while she glared angrily.

  “My apologies! I have a nervous habit where I begin picking at things when kept waiting,” he responded in a friendly tone, hoping to reduce the tension in the air — although subtly complaining didn’t really help. She should have been attending her shop though, Seth thought.

  “Hrmph. I saw you shaverse here — you barely waited two seconds before you attempted to tear my house down!” She said aggressively. She blew away one of her orange curls of hair that had fallen across her face. Seth let the piece of wood fall to the ground.

  “I am truly sorry ma’am. I don’t believe that speck of wood will contribute to the eventual collapse of your house though… I was just coming here to acquire a verhil from you.” Seth hoped he was pronouncing it correctly.

  “No grollarin young man, just mir not pick my house to pieces. Mir you want a verhil of just Chos Garren or the village including the surrounding norotory?”

  Seth needed more than just a map of the village to find his way back home, so he replied,

  “Ummm, the second thing you said.”

  She handed him a verhil. Seth looked at the folded piece of paper: ‘verhil’ meant ‘map’.
Seth was sure that a map wasn’t going to help his situation much. He had no idea what he would need to look for on a map, and the landscape from which he had come from was completely decimated; he had no reference points.

  The orange haired woman held out her hand.

  “That will be seven grilliks, young man.”

  Seth quickly unfolded the map to inspect it and, as he suspected, it revealed nothing to him. Seth realised getting back to his own world was going to be more difficult than he initially envisioned. The woman asking him for money was now becoming a little impatient. He smiled a bit awkwardly and handed the map back to her.

  “Sorry, but this is not what I was looking for.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted a verhil. This is the best Chos Garren has to offer boy!” The orange haired woman snatched the map back hastily.

  “To be honest I come from very far away — too far away. What I need is a map showing me how to get back to the blue sphere place. And my name is not ‘boy’, it is Seth.” Seth tried not to sound too desperate as he explained his situation.

  The woman raised one eyebrow and looked at Seth over her glasses.

  “Well then, now I can tell people there is a boy named Seth walking around Chos Garren speaking nonsense, instead of just a nameless boy wearing a blue dress.”

  “It’s not a dress, it’s a robe. This outfit is quite appropriate for a wa— matter manipulator, ma’am. And I am not speaking nonsense; not one hour ago, I was looking at a creature made of planets, surrounded by enormous turquoise-coloured orbs. Where is that place from here?” Seth asked rather defensively. He wasn’t sure if he was giving away too much information, but he assumed honesty would be the best way to find the path back home.

  “Well I am not called ‘ma’am’, Seth, my name is Katja. And I think your chip is affecting your brain. I’ve not heard so much nonsense in my whole life! Turquoise orbs? Creatures made of planets? If you mir not want a verhil, please make way for other clunders who actually want to buy something.” Katja waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  As Seth moved aside for someone else who wanted the assorted paper-related items Katja had to offer, he realised maybe a map would help in the end anyway.

  “Sorry to bother you again Katja, but I think I would like to buy a verhil from you after all. How much is the verhil showing only this lovely town you live in?” Seth did his best to act friendly; he had an inkling that Katja had a right to be annoyed with him now. Katja rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips again. She sighed somewhat pointedly and handed a map to Seth.

  “Five grilliks.”

  Seth was about to confess that he had no grilliks to speak of, knowing it would probably irritate Katja even further and she would send him on his way. Then the other customer handed Katja some small brass coins, which she reciprocated with a folded-up piece of paper covered in many parallel blue lines and countless small blue dots.

  In the process of the transaction, the customer dropped a coin, which rolled from the table and landed at Seth’s feet. He smiled at his luck and picked it up, studying it quickly, and attempted to use his matter manipulation techniques to replicate more of them inside his pocket. But once again, it seemed Seth’s powers were failing him; his pocket should have begun sagging within seconds from the weight of all the grilliks appearing inside it. There must be something about this world’s matter that was incompatible with Seth’s power. He could summon his water propeller with no problem, but flying with air here didn’t seem to work at all anymore — and now this coin was messing up Seth’s plans too. Seth was still staring at the coin when he noticed Katja and the customer were both looking at him. He quickly handed the coin back to the customer, hoping he had done it quick enough not to arouse any suspicion that he was contemplating its theft. Seth needed one of those coins. Then he could use one of his own rings of a similar metal to create some duplicates.

  Seth looked at Katja still waiting for him to hand her five grilliks.

  “Actually, I would like to sell you something.” Seth took off his gold ring (he still hadn’t found a purpose for it), and secretly replicated another one in his pocket.

  “This ring is made of pure gold, and I want only one grillik for it.”

  Katja’s eyes opened wide. She grabbed the ring and looked at it skeptically. She held her it flat in her palm as if to test the weight, and she put it on each of her fingers to find a good fit.

  She breathed in sharply.

  “Well, I mir not know what ‘gold’ is, but the ring looks prillisly well-made and it has a nice colour, like the colour of grilliks, so one grillik is a fair price.”

  Seth smiled as he held his hand out to receive his grillik for the gold ring. His other hand was in his pocket, fiddling with the new gold ring he had just made. Seth put it on unconsciously and then held up the coin to study it. He flipped it around in between his index finger and thumb to get a good gauge of its dimensions and intricate carvings. Katja was right, Seth thought. His ring was indeed the same colour as the coin. He used his gold ring to create a handful of grilliks in his pocket. Seth’s robe drooped to one side as the gold coins pulled on it. Seth pulled what felt like five coins from his pocket to hand over to Katja. Katja gracefully handed the map to Seth and placed the grilliks into her own pocket. She adjusted her glasses a little as her eyes followed the hand wearing the new gold ring and spoke to Seth in a somewhat exaggerated tone.

  “Kesson.”

  Before Seth could thank her, she turned away to return to her hidden vantage point above her stall.

  A jingling noise came from Seth’s pocket while he walked. He pulled out his map and tried to become acquainted with the small village of Chos Garren. He could see the small dirt road used to lead people through the marketplace — where he was — and to the east (if Seth was reading the map correctly) lay a series of buildings placed in no particular order or pattern, but they seemed to have roughly similar distances between them. To the west of the marketplace were more houses, most likely residential and, due to their dramatic increase in size, clearly owned by the wealthier residents of Chos Garren. Another dirt road snaked through the village and broke off into smaller paths leading to each house. One broad path led to the north of the marketplace, where there were no houses, only structures of a sort Seth could not recognise.

  The map showed the two pipe buildings also, but there was no road leading to them. Seth had expected the largest road of all to lead there. They seemed quite significant, given that they were gigantic in comparison to every other building in Chos Garren, and made of a completely different material.

  Ding.

  There were also some blue circles dotting the drawing occasionally — Seth was almost standing on top of one, according to the map. He looked around and saw a pole topped with the same triple-coned device from earlier.

  Seth needed to find someone who could answer his questions. His last conversation had just raised more: what did Katja mean when she said, “I think your chip is affecting your brain”? He didn’t know what a chip was nor why she assumed he had one in his brain. He looked up from the map and saw a tall man shuffling slowly along in front of him. Seth raised his hand and opened his mouth to ask a question, but the man turned to Seth with tears running down his cheeks. The sadness on the man’s face made Seth want to cry in turn and he felt water begin to accumulate in the corners of his eyes. The man looked like he had been crying for years; his shirt had a darker patch around the neck from where the tears had stained it. Seth decided he would do better to find someone a little less depressing to ask for help, and lowered his hand. The tall man shrugged his shoulders and continued to shuffle along, leaving trails in the dirt behind him.

  There seemed to be a lot of people in the same situation as the tall man, tears running down their cheeks constantly. Seth almost began to wish he was back in the strange blue land of the planet people; at least they weren’t so bloody depressing. Someone important must have died, and they mus
t have been very loved. But then Seth passed people with smiles on their faces so wide, their skulls threatened to pop out of their heads.

  Seth tried asking one of the deliriously happy residents for information, a rounder blonde lady about forty years old.

  “Excuse me, but do you know this area?”

  It seemed a fairly reasonable question to Seth, but the lady’s reaction indicated otherwise. She began spinning around on the spot, then jumped up and down four times, shouting “Yes I mir!” as she ran away from him, her grin still stretching from ear to ear. Chos Garren was getting weirder by the minute.

  Chapter 5

  Chos Garren was a very strange town indeed. The houses all seemed to be made of the same materials: wood and something that Seth discovered was called clay. It was apparently readily found by digging into the soil or in exposed riverbeds. The clay would be dug up and then left outside during the winter to freeze. The frozen clay would then be broken up and thawed out; the process would then be repeated several times. The freezing and unfreezing allowed for higher quality clay to be made, and when it was mixed with the correct ratio of water, it would become a malleable substance. This allowed the people of Chos Garren to create tiles and bricks for their homes. Seth had never seen any clay in Swevender so he was very fascinated by it and made sure to find a sample to bring with him (although it had proved to be unaffected by Seth’s powers here).

  The citizens seemed to go about their business as normal and the ding that Seth still could not pinpoint continued to occur at regular intervals. The citizens of Chos Garren seemed to be a very emotional lot; very rarely was someone walking by without some kind of strong feeling shining from their face. Some were sad to the point of crying, while others smiled so widely they looked slightly deranged. Seth had to hear the explanation about clay from a man in between sobs: he bawled the whole mining process to Seth.

  While exploring, Seth had gotten a little hungry. He went back to the pilm shop to try some of the strange food there. He got some odd looks from the owner of the shop while Seth asked him what everything was and what each thing tasted like. The orange skin zucchini he had seen earlier was called a ‘reen’ and you could also eat the flower sticking out of it — Seth discovered a little too late that that was an extremely spicy experience. He tried some round berries with a bright purple skin, and found their sweetness helped dull the burning from the reen flower. These berries were called ‘russocks’. A thin brown stick with a strange apple-shaped fruit had piqued Seth’s curiosity. The fruit on the end of the stick was covered in tiny red berries, each with a small black seed in its centre. The seeds and the stick were also edible; this fruit was called a ‘chusst’. Its natural handle made it a practical sort of food to take with him on the rest of his exploration of the village.