This city—this newly built city of Grater Barren--was a civilization like nothing anywhere on earth.
It spread in a grid of precision regularity with clean streets running at uniform widths across the shelf. Stone, clay, and some marble composed everything she could see. Apart from the one oak tree in the center of the market square, no large trees stood up anywhere, though Sonia did see a field of smallish trees, carefully cultivated with stakes. On one side of the street, water flowed in a canal, not wide enough to sail a boat in, but wide enough to swim in. And the air was arid, as desert air always was, though it smelled fresh and unlike the heavy, chemical laden oxygen of Arrow.
Sonia stared wide-eyed at the city street as she followed the general. Soon, a number of men and women fell in beside them, some of whom whispered in voices urgent and determined. And throughout this parade, they glanced at Sonia, eyes blinking with curiosity, wonder, and not a little bit of fear. When Sonia remembered the entrance she’d made, she couldn't blame them. She knew what to expect. It was, from her experience, the only reasonable response, but the general had spoken gently. Was it possible Barronites weren't as ruthless a place as the Arrowans taught her to believe? Maybe they would treat her well as a prisoner.
Her shoulders throbbed with pain, and the condor's image flashed in her mind's eye. The giant bird had saved her life--cruel and unsparing--she'd have died without him. And at each decision point, he had forced her to choose—even if she couldn’t grasp the risk. At last he had left her in this place with assurance that people would accept her. She battled inside her mind. What would acceptance be like among them? It had been a strange and difficult journey. Could an abyssal prison become a home?
Hands beckoned Sonia inside of doors and down stone corridors with cool air currents. At last, the general directed her to a stone chair within a room occupied by a round granite table. The general sat beside her, accompanied by a group of men and women with grave faces and strong opinions, which they put forward with barely restrained urgency. This went on for some time and Sonia understood little of the discussion, because though she knew the words, they seemed coded. Safety was a concern, as was her belonging. Resources. Water. Daughters and sons. But more than anything, the words Magnus Avem seemed to dominate the discourse from beginning to end. One woman, youngish to command so much respect among those old-headed men and ladies, argued more passionately than the rest of them. She challenged every proposal, and Sonia held her breath as she increasingly dominated and finally subdued the discussion.
When the woman finally spoke to Sonia, her tone of voice was much softened. Her round florid face smiled. She held out her hand for Sonia to clasp. “Hello, Sonia. I am Evra Feldspar.”
***
No one had ever spoken with such courtesy, offering Sonia a room in her own home. What could she do but accept Evra's offer?
Evra Feldspar lived in a central part of the city in a neat, though small, clay-built cottage with a grass thatched roof. Inside of clay walls was a large room with woven mats for sitting and sleeping and also a kitchen with a low table where the family gathered for meals.
Someone was an artist, because brightly colored murals covered every wall. The paintings were symbolic, because she couldn’t understand the images. No photographs hung on the walls of the family home, except one. This one hung in the center of the wall over a painted representation of the abyss. It was an old photograph of an elderly woman, possibly a family member. Her eyes were focused at a point beyond the camera’s lens, and her expression lent her a dream like quality.
The living space was nothing when compared to her father’s villa in Arrow, but the tiny cottage had a warmth and comfort her father’s home could never claim.
Evra’s daughter clasped Sonia’s hand. She was a petite girl with dark black hair, amber eyes and an unguarded openness which would have been comforting, if Sonia hadn’t bothered listening to the words that came out of her mouth. “I’m Nessa. And I think I must be near your age. Sixteen. It’s okay if you don’t remember, but I think you’ll be entering class with me—don’t worry about your level—of course, you’ll be admitted. The Magnus Avem brought you, so you must be. My mother says you are sure to be a blessing upon our house and upon our entire city! We would have died by now without the Magnus Avem. Since you come from him, you must know everything about him and where he lives and what he does. I am dying to hear everything.”
“Nessa, please don’t pester Sonia with so many questions. She’s very tired; can’t you see? Sonia, this is my husband Asp. And my son Faal.”
Sonia nodded her head at the quiet man with a trimmed black beard and then at the boy perhaps, two or three years Nessa’s senior who took after his mother with his dark, florid skin and bold amber eyes. The dark-haired man returned Sonia’s faint smile, but his son Faal did not. In his eyes was another expression Sonia couldn’t read. Something darkly ironic with a hint of a challenge. His bold expression met hers and Sonia almost flinched.
Evra stood up from the table. “Sonia, of course we’re all excited for you and for your future here—but enough about all of that. I imagine you’re far too overwhelmed to talk to us much. Let’s all prepare for sleep—but let me acknowledge how grateful we are and hopeful for the future you will eventually bring for us.”
Sonia blinked. “What do you mean—future?”
Evra smiled. “You represent—of course—our deliverance.”
***
Sonia’s throat tightened and she swallowed her bread with difficulty. What had Evra meant by deliverance? She knew nothing about the abyss or how anyone of Grater Barren had survived the fall. She knew little enough about her own survival, and she touched the wound on the back of her neck with a trembling hand. The gesture didn’t escape the notice of the family members around the table. They stared at her neck with unconcealed curiosity. Sonia’s stomach fluttered, and though weak with hunger, she couldn't eat.
Seeing her distress, Evra brought Sonia into the second room and helped her prepare for sleep. She then handed her a little towel and carefully poured a small amount of water onto it from a clay basin. “Wash with this. You’ll feel better when you’re cleaned up and ready for sleep. In Grater Barren, when the lights go out, we all go to bed together. It’s the rule. It takes great cooperation to survive in the abyss and you’ll find we have a lot of strict rules to keep us safe, and sleep time is just one of them.” A moment later she left Sonia alone to grapple with all of the new words.
Sonia’s stomach groaned. She wasn’t a blessing from the Magnus Avem. And how could she help the survivors of the city? What would they do to her when they found out she had no special power? Would they turn hostile?
Where had the Magnus Avem gone to now? Why hadn’t he told her anything about what the people would expect from her? Why had he left her here in the first place to face all of the expectations alone?
These questions swirled restlessly around in her mind hours. And while she lay still, she saw the darkness fall, swift and absolute. No light burned. No flame flickered anywhere. She had never experience darkness so complete. So impenetrable. No wonder the whole city slept at the same time. There was little alternative but to sleep…or lie awake in the dark, as happened in her case. She laid her head down on the cushion at the top of her bedroll, and she blinked into the blackness. The rhythm of soft, varied breathing punctuated the darkness. All rested.
A high howl split the silence permeating the cottage.
Evra spoke from a cot laid beside Sonia’s. “It’s only the currents from the abyss. The winds are wild and they make a mournful noise, but they can’t hurt you here. Be at ease and sleep.”
When, at last, Sonia slept, she dreamed dreams, dark and puzzling. Once again, the condor was there, daring her to brave the torpid river. Why had she trusted him? He’d been right about her survival, but why had she believed him?
Because he had once healed her feet. That was why. Because he had revived in her a burning will to live she could not even understand. Even the memory of these feelings quickened her heartbeat. She couldn’t explain it. The condor might be a god. Must be. And he had healed her feet and goaded her on to survival. And now a city of survivors looked to her, as though she were all-powerful. If they only knew.
But why should a god take any interest in her? And what was she meant to do in Grater Barren?
*
A new day’s light awakened the small cottage, igniting a flurry of busy activity. Asp lit a gas flame and heated soup upon the stove and the household swallowed back bowls as they flew through an organized, but hasty morning routine which soon saw them filing out the door.
Nessa hugged her mother and kissed her father and flew out after Faal, who simply grunted a terse goodbye. Evra, only, remained behind—though Sonia supposed she must have altered her plans for her sake.
Evra hummed as she went about washing bowls and folding her own woven mat. Sonia used a little washroom under which flowed a canal carrying human waste.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Grater Barren was going to take some getting used to. Their way of life was primitive—a kind of purposeful salvaging of only the most necessary things. Barrenites conserved every scarce drop of water, every tiny crumb of bread. If they couldn’t make a thing with clay, or some variety of earth-gotten metal, the thing or technology seemed to no longer exist for them. Grater Barren resembled nothing of the modern and blustering industry of Arrow. It was like a pocket cut out of another time and world. A tiny, floundering speck of a once great civilization.
But in their ignominy, the survivors seemed efficient, orderly, peaceful. Of course, they must be. They had to help each other; their mutual survival depended upon it. How different from Arrow, with its massive juggernaut military-based economy, with every man, woman and child tallied like bullets in an armory.
Later that morning, Evra took Sonia aside and explained, “If you’re feeling well enough, I’d like to bring you to the Academy. You’ll meet the headmaster and he’ll probably want to give you some kind of informal evaluation. Don’t worry—it doesn’t matter how you do. He’ll just want to see where to begin with you. You’ll receive special attention there. And the student body will welcome you. I wish I had a uniform for you, but we’ll see what we can do about that later.”
Sonia looked down at her threadbare tunic and trousers. They might have once been recognizable as Arrow prison issue, but the uniform was little more than rags on her back now, and she hugged herself a little self-consciously. How did they produce fabrics in the abyss? She’d noticed Faal had worn a smart-looking tunic that was almost white. White was an optimistic color for an abyss dwelling, Why take such effort over a school uniform?
*
Sonia followed Evra up a cobbled footpath switching back through the village as it ascended a hill—perhaps the highest point of elevation in the entire city as far as Sonia could tell. Curious sights and smells drew her attention right and left as they made their way upward. Laundry lines hung with fabrics dyed in brilliant hues. Displays of ornate metal work in gold, silver and copper stood on the street sides. Children playing games raced through the alleyways. Paintings rested against easels. An errand boy delivered packages by bicycle.
The distance between buildings spread wider as Evra and Sonia mounted up to a broad hill, where they began skirting a high wrought iron gate. The gate cast a forbidding shadow, with sharp, spear-shaped rods pointing skyward, aimed high in the air and any airborne thing.
Sonia might have spared more thought for the ominous gate, if she hadn’t at once glimpsed the building behind it. This building stood in sharp contrast to the neat, but simple clay structures of the city below. Stark white against the red clay earth, three large wings sprawled outward from an enormous domed center covered in bright copper metal—not an inch of which had oxidized. It shone like a sun. Each of its four gracious wings stood dignified and ornately sculpted with finely chiseled masonry, elaborate arches and passageways with cobble paths leading to a large park.
Not quite a park. Instead of green grass and a sprawling lawn, the dusty square hosted rock and clay sculptures of grand proportions standing up like kings and giants, holding court. Chief among them was the Magnus Avem with his great wings spread wide, and Sonia started to see: in its talons, hung a young child, clutched in its talons by the shoulders. She stared stupefied at the sculpture for several seconds, before Evra prompted her to keep moving.
The child statue was young—Sonia couldn’t tell its sex. Whoever it was, it was dizzying to see this sculpted representation of her life altering descent into the abyss. Blood rushed to her face and her heartbeat against her ribs as she gazed over her shoulder at the sculpture garden, which seemed to tell a tale as it progressed from sculpture to sculpture. What was it saying? Who was the child? What did it mean?
The child, the very same child gripped by the Magnus Avem appeared again, and again in the garden. His statute seemed to grow and mature and it was clear he was a boy. In one depiction, he appeared with something strange emerging from his shoulders. Sonia stared rapt at the sculptures, her heart racing in her chest. What did that story mean?
Evra traced her gaze and nodded, “They’re very good, aren’t they? Silas Plathe casted them. He’s our most prominent sculptor in Grater Barren, and he would be famous all over the world, if his work were known. I can’t wonder at it catching your attention, but we’ll have plenty of time for stories and exploring later. We’ve got to be sharp.”
Sonia followed Evra through a pair of white arches and up a wide staircase to a pair of double doors flung open to the outside. The doors opened into a large hall of polished stone tiles, granite columns, and ornate clay sculpture work. Upward ran another staircase with heavy stone chiseled banisters. A woman with dark hair and a red robe with a yellow banner met them at the top of the stairs. “Welcome Evra and is it Sonia? I’m Dr. Stonehocker. Please follow me. Dr. Gypsum is waiting to see you both.
Dr. Gypsum greeted them hands outstretched. He was neither young nor old, but he wore a robe like the woman in the hall, only he had two banners. One yellow and one white. His voice was warm as he invited them to sit and have some water, which Evra emphatically refused to take, but Dr. Gypsum insisted and he poured out the water from a small crystal vase into tiny crystal tumblers and Sonia sipped it feeling its preciousness with every swallow.
“Sonia—you are most welcome to The Academy of Grater Barren. We hope you will join us here and have every opportunity to develop to your highest potential.”
It was about this potential—and the expectations of the Academy that Sonia was both dreading and desperate to know. “Thank you, Dr. Gypsum. I am overwhelmed by your generosity to a stranger.”
Gypsum's eyes shone. “Perhaps you feel a stranger among us, and in a way you are, but you must know, if you don’t already, that you have also been long expected, even if your precise appearance is a little surprise.”
Sonia pressed her lips together tightly, to hold back the many, many questions in her head. And when she opened her lips again, out they rushed like a flood. “How am I expected in Grater Barren? What do the sculptures in the stone garden mean? What is it that you want from me?”
Dr. Gypsum gave a nervous chuckle. “Well, of course you have questions. So do we. So do we, but let’s see if we can unpack these things as methodically as possible. Shall we? Are you comfortable Sonia? Can we get you anything?”
Sonia sat up in her seat. “I’m fine. And thank you for the water.”
“Of course. We have a peculiar modern history in Grater Barren, and not knowing exactly who you are and where you come from—I don’t know exactly where to pick up the historical narrative, but being from the outside world, its unlikely that you know none of it, for mighty— cosmic events occurred, almost within your lifetime.”
There was a pause and an opportunity for Sonia to supply something, anything, but her tongue was frozen and she couldn’t speak.
“Very well. I’ll go first. Nearly eighteen years ago, there was a particular woman of the Grater Barren. She was a woman of some rank among us, and her friends esteemed her as one with a kind of spiritual sight. She was in fact,” he nodded toward Evra, “a close relative of your hosting family and her name was Loa. She used to dream dreams—visions—and of occasion, the strangest of her visions were in fact realized. One particular dream, however, had great consequences for us all because she dreamed of the destruction of the entire city by a violent event and she began to sound a warning alarm, first among her acquaintances and then more broadly. Some people believed her, and left the city—but leaving Grater Barren was a dangerous alternative to remaining. At the surface, you may know, we were surrounded on two borders by political enemies, and on the other side, by impassible canyons and badlands. Most didn’t know what to do. We stayed. And so did Loa, because she felt responsible to remain and to give her help.”
Evra’s eyes gleamed.
“The foretold day came. A shower of meteors pummeled the countryside and many, many died. That event would have closed the history of Grater Barren, but in the course of this shower, the land around the city collapsed and we fell through the earth into the abyssal vacuum. Explosions we still don’t understand, carved out the abyss into which you yesterday descended. At least one lateral explosion, created a deep shelf, extending perpendicular to the abyss. You are sitting upon that shelf now. We all are. On this shelf of the abyss, we rebuilt the city of Grater Barren—and we survive here, with the aid of an atmospheric energy field produced by the meteor shower. That energy field creates light, atmosphere, and a rather scarce water supply.”
Evra nodded and added, “Many of those who believed my aunt, became devoted followers. She rallied us to survival. We formed a new government, and we live here in peace, but we are always desperate for water and our future is uncertain.”
“But our plight has been eased in the past and will be in the future, or so we trust. You see, there were other dreams, the woman dreamed before her death three years ago, which provided aid, and also hope.”
Sonia’s heart beat a little faster. “What were the dreams?”
“She told of a giant bird—the Magnus Avem, who would come and give us help. And the same has happened. Once, he carved out a new path for a river that spilled over the side of the abyss and we collected the water that fell down into the abyss. But there are dreams yet unrealized, and this may concern you.”
Dr. Gypsum glanced at Evra. “You go ahead and tell her.”
Evra put her hand on Sonia's. “My aunt once dreamed of the image of the Magnus Avem carrying a child in his talons. In time, this child grew up and itself learned to fly. She said she heard a voice declaring that the child was a gift to the people and would be instrumental in preserving Grater Barren from destruction.”
Sonia gasped, “And now you think I--am the child?”
Dr. Gypsum cleared his throat. “You seem to fit the description of the dream, although to be honest, we all thought the Magnus Avem would choose one of our own children from within the abyss. We didn’t imagine that anyone of our people survived at the surface. You are the proof we were wrong—wherever you come from. I know it’s a lot to take in, but so was your strange arrival here yesterday. Please understand—to us, you are quite a miracle, whether you want to be or not.”
Sonia glanced from the headmaster and again to Evra, both of them aglow with hope. She swallowed over a tightened throat. “I know you want to know my story—my own account of how I came to be here, but I can’t tell it—not fully.” She paused. Her breath was coming too rapidly. “I suffered--something. Only bits and pieces--are left.” She had to lie. No one could know she was Arrow-born.
This explanation wasn’t entirely untrue. She'd suffered much. But remembering all, she couldn’t confess the truth--that their anticipated savior was half Arrowan. She couldn’t speak what would reduce her so absolutely in their eyes, become the enemy race yet again.
Evra’s eyes softened. “Of course, my dear, but whatever you can remember. Please tell us what you can.”
Sonia nodded and she told them how the Magnus Avem had healed her feet and lead her to the edge of the abyss and then about their first descent to the upper shelf of the abyss, and then the descent to the Grater Barren shelf.
They listened with eyes wide to all she described and when she had finished, tears stained Evra's face. “It is you. It must be you!”
Dr. Gypsum checked Evra. “Now, now. We don’t know that, and I think it better not to overwhelm the child with such vast expectations. What seems clear is that she needs an education and a chance to grow up and thrive. Perhaps she is one of the children of some of our people who branched out into the canyons. We supposed they had all died, but perhaps some survived, which gives us something to celebrate. As one of our own, we must do our best for her whether she is to one day fly or n
Evra squeezed Sonia’s hand, and Sonia's face bloomed with heat and fine drops of sweat.
Gypsum fidgeted. “Now. Sonia, please take no offense, but every student admitted to the Academy receives a thorough medical examination. Are you up to it?”
Sonia stiffened, and prayed her mother's blood wouldn't betray her as she'd betrayed her mother.