The Land of Broken Roads

Around midday, the egg was still alive and quite warm. The blanket kept so much of Socks’s heat in that Dirt hardly had to use his embers. In fact, it was uncomfortably warm, far warmer than the boys were used to. Warm as summer sunlight despite the winter all around them, but that was how the egg liked it and it wasn’t interested in compromise.

Socks didn’t run as fast as normal, since he was worried that the regular bouncing from his gait would hurt the egg. He did his best to keep it gentle and ran on the flattest paths he could instead of bouncing over everything like normal. It reminded Dirt of how little baby puppy Socks had run when they’d first met, when he had shorter legs.

The pup spent some time measuring distances against his direction sense and thinking how long it was from spot to spot, and how far away the forest still was. They’d stepped on the teleporter twenty days ago? Something like that. Socks hadn’t been counting and neither had Dirt. But that sounded right, and that meant they might be back by springtime. Maybe even before the egg hatched, if they managed to hurry.

The morning felt more focused than they’d been in a while. The journey back to the great forest had begun in earnest, although it was going to take a while. Anything else they stopped to look at was just scenery for the journey, not its own new destination. Soon enough, Dirt would be surprising them with Turicum and a hot bath in his villa.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t still room for detours, apparently, because Socks said, -I thought of something. Father told me where the nearby humans are, and one spot is in the direction those men said they came from. But Father didn’t tell me of any humans to the south. I wonder if they are gone now, or if Father thought they would be boring.-

“I don’t know. How hard will it be to find?”

-The question is how hard it will be to find quickly, and there is only one way to answer that. We can spend a day looking and leave if we don’t find it. If there is something we have to fight, we must still protect the egg somehow,- said Socks.

“I think I like the idea of at least checking to see if they need help. They might be hemmed in by monsters like Ogena was,” said Dirt. “We should go check, if it doesn’t take too long.”

Antelmu thought, “If there’s any danger, put me down somewhere safe with my egg, and you two can go fight. And I can use my spear one-handed if I have to.”

Socks’s curiosity easily won out over his caution and he turned southward. The journey led them onto flat fields with few hills that slowly became woodland, and while it was certainly wilderness, it hadn’t always been.

Standing stones, solitary and impossible to explain, appeared at irregular intervals. Some were as tall as Socks at the shoulder, each so wind-worn and weathered that Dirt wondered if they were older than humanity. If they had ever borne writing or decoration, it was all gone now.

The woodland thickened and the big pup slowed from a run to a gentle jog. Most of the trees were no taller than his ears, and that was only about twenty-five feet. Even for regular trees, these were short, and that meant he couldn’t cross under the canopy and had to keep going around.

As the day progressed, the woods filled with the scent of prey. Some of it Socks recognized immediately; deer, of more than one variety. Sheep. But that wasn’t all. There were other things wandering under the branches where it was safe, small things like rabbits and rats and other rodents, and some predators as well. Canines, yet another species Socks hadn’t encountered before, and which smelled uncomfortably similar to wolves. He didn’t like it and turned up his nose each time he encountered the scent.

“If they’re little, I wonder if they’ll be smart like you, or stupid like goblins,” opined Dirt. He was tempted to tease his friend, but decided against it, since Socks seemed truly bothered.

-They cannot be wolves if they are stupid or weak,- said Socks. There was a hint of worried indignation in his mental voice that Dirt tried not to grin at. The poor pup really didn’t want to encounter a miniature version of himself. It went against everything he believed about wolfhood. And everything Dirt believed about it as well, to be fair.

“It’s probably coyotes,” said Antelmu, and Socks chose to believe it.

They didn’t encounter the beasts that day, though, or any imperiled humans. They stopped for the night in an open meadow and Antelmu built a huge, blazing fire, just because there was enough wood for one. He felt richer than a duke, wasting so much wood like that. It left him giddy and full of laughter and he hardly sat down all evening.

Socks left to hunt and came back with a creature very much like a deer, but much bigger than one. The horns alone were as long as Dirt was tall and had seven points, some of them squarish and not even sharp.

Dirt and Socks ate their dinner raw and bloody, but Antelmu wound thin strips of meat around a stick to roast in the fire, which worked better than the others expected. The flesh kept the skewer from burning, which both Dirt and Socks thought was a clever thing to discover.

After the fire was no more than a faint bed of coals, no brighter than the sharp, bright stars in the cold sky, Socks curled up around the egg and everyone snuggled in for a good sleep.

Apkallu joined their dreams again, each time in a different guise, but they always knew it was him. First he was himself, the short blue-skinned man with violet hair, and then he was a green child like a dryad. Then a great serpent that caused a roaring earthquake as he slithered, crushing hills beneath him. Finally he was a dead predator like Caesius and the dream turned into a dark and haunted nightmare. Socks growled and the fairy fled, ending the night’s dreaming.

They knew they were getting close because Socks smelled humans, or rather, humanoid. He and Dirt shared their sense of smell and Dirt couldn’t quite identify it either. It was clear enough on the wind, which had just shifted and started blowing from another direction. There were other scents as well, the kind they’d expect. Hide, flesh, blood, smoke and ashes, as well as plenty of fur. Sheep and other animals. But the human scent didn’t quite sit right with either of them. There was something bestial about it.

Socks slowed and held still, listening, but nothing was close enough yet for even his ears to detect.

“Maybe it’s goblins,” thought Antelmu.

-It does not smell like goblins,- replied Socks.

They started moving again, but silently this time, so smoothly the boys didn’t rock in the slightest. It was like sitting on a piece of wood in a slow river. Socks slunk through the trees, nose low, ears wide open. They broke from the woods and crossed a shallow, noisy river ten paces across, which Socks dipped his snout into. The scent organ behind his teeth didn’t detect anything, so he slurped up a mouthful of water, blew it out into a fine mist, and smelled that.

-There are traces in the water. But we will follow the wind, not the river,- said Socks. He bounded gently over the river and kept moving.

Antelmu, surprisingly, was the one who spotted it first. Off in the distance, the ground rose a few feet above the forest and made something like a wide, flat hill. The top was surrounded by a fearsome barbican of wooden branches and planks, all disheveled and spiky. Smoke from several fires rose from inside, but not very high before it drifted down and settled near the ground like fog.

-They are not being very noisy,- complained Socks, annoyed that he wasn’t the first to spot them. He still couldn’t see the barbican since it was too far for his eyes, but now that he knew the direction, if he pointed his ears, he could hear them.

He kept moving forward, more quietly than still air, while he listened. -They are quiet. Their voices sound normal.-

Dirt thought, “Maybe they’re humans after all, and this tribe just smells weird. It doesn’t look like they’re hemmed in by any goblin armies, though.”

Antelmu snickered.

Socks moved closer and closer until he said, -Do not look at my mind now. I will use ghost sight.-

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Dirt and Antelmu closed their mind sight just to be sure, and a moment later Socks said, -I see them.-

“What are they?” asked Dirt.

-I do not know. They are mostly like humans, but that fur I smelled is theirs,- replied the pup. -They do not seem very dangerous. We will get close enough to see their minds, then decide what to do.-

Socks kept to the shadows as he crept between the trees, his dark gray fur blending well with the mottled forest floor. Despite the ground being littered with old fallen leaves and spots of icy snow, his steps were still silent.

He stopped at the foot of the flat hill the barbican was built on, right beside two fat pines with dark needles that he could easily hide behind, and they looked up with their minds to see what was living there. Immediately they realized that of the few hundred creatures inside, many were half dead. But not all. Not even most. All the fully living minds were full of light and undeveloped. Children. The Eye had made more creatures here, and they were breeding.

-I am going to look with my eyes. It might be best if we kill them all before they spread,- said Socks.

“What about the egg?” asked Antelmu, looking around for a good spot to put it and keep watch.

-I will put you down if we decide to kill everything.-

Dirt and Antelmu both stood as Socks crept up the hill. When he reached the barbican, he turned sideways so all three of them could look at the same time.

The inhabitants were absolutely not human. The first thing Dirt noticed was the tails and fur, and large animal ears, somewhat like a wolf’s but fuzzier. They looked like humans mixed with some sort of animal, which is probably exactly what they were. But they wore thick clothing against the winter’s chill and tended animals. They lived in tents, much like Antelmu’s people, although poorer in construction. A few wooden buildings still stood, which Dirt guessed were houses. Perhaps they hid in those when it rained.

There were at least two children to each adult, by Dirt’s estimation, and most of them very young. The oldest one Dirt could spot was just a bit bigger than himself, likely Màxim’s age. Although Felici and his friends had said they hadn’t seen this tribe for a generation, the Eye must have corrupted them much more recently, or there would be older ones around.

One by one, the animal people noticed them. Socks was the one they spotted, primarily, with his huge yellow eyes peeking up over the spiked edge of the fence. But since he wasn’t attacking yet, they weren’t sure what to do. The adults grabbed whatever little ones were in arm’s reach and held them as still as possible and waited, watching, hoping the predator would decide they weren’t food.

It was unpleasant watching the adults; all half-dead, with minds devoid of any thought, but acting like they weren’t abominations. Despite the beast fur covering their faces, the emotions they pretended were obvious and convincing. Hesitation, nervousness, various levels of fear. Somehow, the fact that their faces were so recognizably human made it worse. Yellow eyes and sharp teeth didn’t put them far enough from humanity, and the way they huddled over the little ones would have been perfectly convincing if he didn’t already know what they truly were.

The children, on the other hand, were completely alive. Their minds ranged from curiosity to wild terror. There was no containing the smaller ones, except to try and usher them out of sight. Infants and toddlers shrieked and cried, but the adults didn’t dare move enough to comfort them. Older children tried, ineffectually.

Dirt noticed how poofy the children’s fur was. They all had puppy fur, every single one of them. He suddenly didn’t want to kill them anymore.

Those inside the fence stared at those outside it. No one said a word.

A tree in the very center of the village, at the highest point of the flat, gentle hill, shouted gruffly, “What is it, you useless dogs? What’s everyone looking at?” It was Antelmu’s language, with a thick accent.

Dirt stared at the tree, perplexed. There was nothing special about it at all. Could that be another dryad? There was no way. That tree was way too small to be smart. So what was shouting, then?

Socks looked back at Dirt, and without a word they slid their minds together, a complete mind meld, and looked again with their joined mind sight. They found the mind in the center of town immediately, and it seemed fully human. It was a male, staring over the fence in a different direction. He could only turn his head so far, and it wasn’t far enough to see the visitors. He had his hearing and his sight, but no other sensation.

“Hello?” shouted Dirt’s body.

“Who’s there? What is that? Livu, was that you, you little rodent?” shouted the man in the form of a tree.

The wolf’s body turned and hopped lightly over the barbican and walked calmly toward the tree. The animal people scrambled out of the way, but the wolf didn’t give chase, so they stopped at a reasonable distance to keep watching instead of running for their lives.

Socks and Dirt looked once more over every mind in the village and found nothing else. Just half-dead adults, hordes of young children, and one living human. They ended the mind meld and Dirt scowled as half the world disappeared. Why couldn’t humans hear or smell better?

The pup snatched up a child with his mind and brought her closer to his face to get a better look. He held her to the side so Dirt and Antelmu could look as well. She screamed and twisted and panicked, unruly and terrified. She clawed desperately toward the ground, then toward her mother, but the half-dead woman came no closer.

“Hello,” said Dirt, in Antelmu’s language, which the tree had spoken. “Don’t be scared, little one. We just want to look at you.”

She spotted Dirt and Antelmu for the first time and he watched her mind trying to figure out what they were. She’d never dreamed of such creatures before.

The boys gave her friendly little waves, but she wasn’t impressed. She screamed again and twisted in midair, and Socks gave up and put her down, freeing her to flee behind her mother.

“By all my weeping ancestors, one of you wretched things come tell me what’s going on!” shouted the tree-man.

Socks decided to do that himself. He hurried to the center of the village, stepping right over inhabited tents to the dismay of their owners, and circled the tree until they saw who was talking.

An old man’s torso was fused into the trunk, his upper chest, shoulders, and neck exposed. No arms. A scarf had been placed around his neck to keep him warm, but his skin was pale and bluish and he looked more dead than the half-dead creatures. He was bald but had wisps of long, white hair drifting from the sides of his head down past his chest.

The old man regarded them in disbelief. “Are you haunting me again, you wretched fae?” he shouted, looking every direction he could. “Or are you spirits from the underworld come to finally let me die?”

“Hello,” said Dirt. “My name is Dirt. I’m not a spirit or a fae. And neither is Socks, the wolf, or Antelmu.”

The old man looked at him with rheumy, yellow eyes, and squinted to focus, so Socks moved a bit closer.

“Child, what have you been feeding that thing?” said the old man appreciatively.

“Whatever he wants, of course,” said Dirt. “Do you think I’m going to tell him no?”

The old man cracked a smile that added thirty wrinkles to his sagging face. “It wouldn’t matter what you told him, I imagine. Boy, have I finally gone mad? Or is the world coming apart? Tell me honestly.”

Antelmu said, “How are we supposed to know if you’re crazy?”

The man’s mind filled with memories, terrible ones. The sky cracking open and the Great White God descending to annihilate the tribe. What fools they had been to offend him! What a terrible form he had chosen! There must have been lightning and storms that night. Or had he imagined that part? Perhaps all of it. Who could say what was real, after what he’d seen. The night flashed with terror. Lights and screams and terror. Oh, they wept for him! And he for them!

The memory retreated, leaving the poor man stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. Dirt’s sympathy led him to consider how long the man had been here like this. At least ten years, he guessed. Maybe longer. No wonder he was losing it.

“I’m guessing you’re at least a little mad,” said Dirt, “but we’re real.”

“Well, I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Am I dead? Are you dead?”

“Nope, very much alive,” said Dirt. “On both counts.”

-I think we should kill them all,- said Socks. -We can guess what happened here, although I don’t know why it left him like this.-

“Hold on, not yet,” said Dirt. “They seem pretty harmless, don’t they?”

-Everything here is either an abomination, or a spawn of abominations.-

“So were the man-eaters that Maxima kept on her territory because sometimes they’re useful,” said Dirt.

The old man said, “Alive. I was afraid you’d say that. Although I would hope that if I was dead, I would be free, and I am not free. So I suppose it’s better to find out I’m still alive. How about you, child? You, the bigger one. Would you prefer to be dead or alive?”

“Alive, of course,” said Antelmu.

“You say that now, but trade me places and you’ll change your mind,” said the old man. He had a surprisingly expressive face, Dirt decided. Perhaps it was the madness contorting his emotions larger than they should have been.

-Why did the Great White God put you in the tree?- asked Socks.

“Now I know I’m mad. I’m hearing voices in my head. Can you believe that, you two?” said the old man. “Are you sure you’re not fae?”

“Yep, I’m sure. And if you’re hearing a voice you’d better answer it,” said Dirt.

Although no one was getting close, by now every pair of eyes was on the giant wolf and his boys, up talking to their tree. Even many of the animals—a few bleating sheep, several tired-looking cows.

The old man sighed and looked down. “He put me here to teach them. They must learn how to be a people. To hunt, survive, speak and sing, everything that makes a life. The little ones don’t want to learn, and the older ones have no souls. My greatest fear is that they won’t survive and I’ll outlive them. I’m already far too alone. It’s more than I could bear to watch over the silent grave of my tribe, decade after empty decade.”

“Who’s feeding everybody?” asked Antelmu.

“Oh, the soulless ones still hunt and plant crops. They’ll even talk, if you speak to them. But make no mistake, they’re empty inside. Don’t let them fool you. And what will become of children raised by creatures like that? Are they even children? They look like creatures. I don’t know. But when they ask, I teach them. I can do nothing else.”

Antelmu thought, “In case you were thinking of leaving me here with the egg, please don’t. I can’t live here after seeing their empty minds.”

-We weren’t planning on it, silly little Antelmu. I had not even considered it,- said Socks.

“Yes, but I considered it, and I’m considering that I really don’t want to, so please don’t.”

-The real question is whether we’re going to kill them all. What do you think, Dirt?-