The Land of Broken Roads

Leaving, it turned out, was no simple matter. The tribe had gone mostly unharmed, but their homes hadn’t. A tremendous amount of work was now required to make the outpost livable again. Everyone was cold, everything was wet and in disarray, and night was still expected to arrive at the regular time.

Three people had been captured and melded together with the corpse from the Aedes—the only deaths, as far as Dirt or Socks could determine—but a crowd of others had been injured in some way, with injuries ranging from scrapes to broken bones.

In short, there was more work than able-bodied humans around, so Dirt jumped in the first place he saw a need. He hoped, in part, to avoid having to think about the growing sense of culpability he felt. How responsible was he, exactly? Fortunately, no one but the two elders knew exactly what brought the attack. If everyone had known, he wasn’t sure what they’d do. Possibly throw things at him until he left.

A nearby family was trying to stand their tent back up, a middle-aged couple with two boys older than Biandina. Dirt took the fourth corner and lifted. Once they got it up, the mother went inside. She immediately gave a cry of dismay and said, “The pole is broken!”

The others scowled or looked at the floor. The man said, “How broken is it?”

Dirt let his corner sag and stepped around to the entrance to see. The center pole that held the majority of the tent’s weight was in pieces, and not just from the leather thongs coming untied. Dirt guessed that it had been stepped on after falling over, crushing one of the larger bones into jagged shards. It was fixable, but the tent ceiling would be shorter by at least a foot as a result and it wasn’t very tall to begin with.

“Do you have any wood around?” he asked innocently.

The woman gave him a half-hearted glare, and the man mirrored it almost perfectly. The larger of their two children, the boy, said, “If we had enough wood, we wouldn’t be using bone for everything, would we?” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, arising from bitterness.

“No, I mean, any at all. Even just a little,” said Dirt.

Nearby, Socks hefted the fused corpses with his mind and carried them outside. He jumped up through the open ceiling rather than try and squeeze through the door.

Dirt spotted a wooden ladle, old and worn, lying near the next tent over, which a different mated pair were struggling to put back up. He hopped over and snatched it, then held it out. Inhaling a fresh helping of mana, he spoke the magic to reshape it. In his hands, it straightened, grew thick as his fist so it would be nice and sturdy, and then began to extend in both directions. “How long do you want it?” he asked.

The youth’s sarcasm vanished in an instant and he gave a low whistle that sounded impressed, eyes eager. The mother climbed back out of the sagging tent and froze when she saw what Dirt was holding.

“How long? About like this? Or do you want it taller?” Dirt asked for the second time. It seemed about as tall as the broken one, and would probably be sturdier.

“Taller, if you have another one. How did you do that?” asked the man, trying to act less excited than he felt.

“I was raised by trees and wolves. Actually, you over there, do you want one too?” said Dirt, toward the next family over. When they nodded the affirmative, he extended it long enough for two, then made it sever in half. The top section clanked loudly on the stone floor.

The second son, taller than the first, reached down to pick it up but he wasn’t expecting the weight and it slipped from his fingers. “It’s real,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. The second time he picked it up, he used both hands.

“So is this the right length, then?” Dirt asked, standing his pole straight up.

“Yes,” said one father. “That’s fine,” said the other.

“Is everybody going to want one this tall?”

“If anyone wants a shorter one, they can just cut it. A little extra wood—” said one of the older boys.

“Yeah, we can just cut it shorter and use the extra for other things,” interrupted the brother.

Neither brother seemed upset, so Dirt supposed that speaking over each other was normal for them, which it may very well be. He nodded and channeled mana again, but this time instead of growing the extra length out the top, he had it grow sideways and then split down the middle the long way. The third pole was caught before it hit the floor. Dirt did it again, and again, and then word started getting around.

It turned out that wood was more valuable to them than anything he’d been offering before. Maybe if he could produce sap or those energizing berries, they might want those instead, but he couldn’t. After repeated assurances that Dirt could make enough for everyone to get one, they formed a line and Dirt learned from direct experience that two hundred was a lot of times to do something.

The first few lengths of wood were trivial, but after about thirty he started getting distracted, which made it harder. After another fifty, and his mana vessel seemed to tighten and wouldn’t gather as much mana at once, slowing him down. But he couldn’t stop, not until everyone had what they needed. Where else were they going to get it?

People stood in line with broken arms hastily strapped into slings, or with seeping bandages over cuts that hadn’t been sewed shut yet. Neighbors waited with their injured friends and helped them carry theirs back, to ensure everyone had a chance.

Not every pole was used to hold tents up. Some people lived in shacks of stacked bricks with skins draped over the top, for one, and not every tent pole had been broken. A good number of Dirt’s new poles were stored outside, leaning up against something for later use.

While Dirt tended to that, Socks collected the monster’s fallen flesh and burned that too, then scorched the blood off the stone when he saw people trying to scrub it. Anything its blood had touched had to be burned, and one of the things that kept distracting Dirt was watching Socks being led to this or that spot to pick something up with his mind and take it outside.

Cleanup took less time than Dirt expected, it turned out. Most of it just had to be picked up and set back in its place. Spilled things were wiped or swept up and whatever was torn or broken was either repurposed or tossed in a heap of refuse near the front gate.

Biandina came with her mother and the oldest brother, Antelmu, at the very end of the line to get their pole. The girl had a fresh shirt on, a baggy one that probably belonged to her mother. Her face had been washed to remove Socks’s dried spittle and her hair fixed, and she looked far more presentable now. There was no ignoring the way her shoulder sagged and the sleeve dangled uselessly, however.

Antelmu walked tall behind her, black eyes sharp and fierce as they watched everyone carefully. It seemed as if he was daring anyone to insult his sister.

The mother said, “Gnaziu said earlier we’d trade you better clothes for wood. Make me three poles like that, and I’ll give you something that fits you.” She had the same hard look in her face as always, perhaps even more determined now that Biandina’s return had indeed accompanied a disaster.

“What are you going to use them for?” asked Dirt.

“It’s none of your business. Biandina will be leaving by nightfall and I expect you’ll want to go with her,” said the mother.

“I’m asking because I can make them any shape I want,” said Dirt, growing somewhat indignant.

“We’re going to carve them as needed. I don’t know everything I want yet,” she replied. Her arms stayed folded as she glowered down at him.

“I haven’t told Biandina this yet, but I’m going to take her somewhere she’ll be safe. You know that forest I mentioned before, where I’m from? It’s a place the Eye won’t dare offend. She’ll be safe and happy there. There will be people to meet, both humans and trees. Dryads,” said Dirt.

The mother’s glare didn’t soften, but some of the tightness in her posture did. Dirt took that as an encouraging sign. “The trees there are so tall the clouds have to go around them and it never rains. There are ruins everywhere from the same empire that built this outpost, long ago. There’s even an entire library of records to read. It’s never too cold or too hot, and the trees give you food and water, or even clothing if you want any.”

The boy, Antelmu, stepped up between his mother and sister to listen. He might be almost thirteen, but that was still too young to keep his expression from giving away his thoughts. All the fierceness in his demeanor was quickly being replaced by curiosity. The boy’s mind spun as he imagined it all, making his eyes sparkle in wonder.

“Sometimes wolves like Socks come, and they have to be on good behavior because the trees are too powerful to offend. That’s how I met Socks. He was just wandering around and found me. But that’s not all. There will be humans there too, starting with Marina. The trees fixed her womb so she’s looking for a mate, and then she’ll live in the forest for a while. But if you want to see something other than a forest, the trees can send you to Ogena.”

“What’s Ogena?” asked Biandina.

Dirt had been talking mostly at the mother, trying to win her over somewhat, but now he looked apologetically at Biandina, whose fate they were discussing. “I mentioned that too, and so did Socks. It’s a city so grand it puts this outpost to shame. There are, what, five hundred people in the tribe here? Ogena has over three thousand but they could fit plenty more. They have metal and stone and all the wood they need, and in the center is a giant palace so beautiful I can’t even describe it. The Duke lives there with his family, and they’re my friends.”

The mother hesitated, but she shifted her weight as if she was trying to decide what to say. Finally, she muttered, “That’s all none of my business.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just telling you for no reason at all. Biandina will be safe and happy and healthy and see amazing things. She might even come back one day. Who knows? But never mind. Here you go.” Dirt handed them their poles, but during the short talk a few more people had gotten in line, so he would be staying here for a bit longer.

Neither Biandina nor her mother seemed completely convinced, but Antelmu certainly was. The young man was bubbling over with questions he wanted to ask, but had to restrain himself until later.

“I’ll come get my clothes in a minute. You should go pack up, if we’re leaving today,” said Dirt. Biandina nodded. Her mother didn’t. They turned to go, and Antelmu dragged behind, glancing backward and bumping his pole into something, almost dropping it.

The last few people in line weren’t the elders, and Dirt assumed he wasn’t going to see them again. He couldn’t blame them for not coming to bid him farewell.

First was a mated couple, and then a tall, lanky boy with a scruff of hair on his chin, and a few others.

Very last in line was a man holding a babe in his arms, and both of them were crying. The man wept quietly, tears streaming down his face, but the babe screamed with its pitiable, tiny voice.

Dirt’s throat tightened. The man was sadder than he’d ever seen anyone, truly deep in despair, and Dirt’s heart reached out in sympathy. “What’s the matter?” he asked lamely.

“My wife is gone,” said the man. He did nothing to hide his crying or summon any dignity. The mourning he felt radiated from him with nothing to veil it. “It took her, and she is gone, and now I cannot feed my son. I fear he will starve.”

“I’m sorry. I was too late,” said Dirt. He knew exactly which woman that was. He’d watched her toss that very baby to safety before being pulled up to her doom. Guilt crept up from the floor and twisted its pointed claws into his stomach.

“It is an evil day. An evil, evil day,” said the man. The baby wailed louder, and the man’s face tightened. He had to close his eyes as sobs shook him. A moment later he opened them again and said, “Please give me a pole, if you don’t mind.”

Dirt handed him the last pole, the one he’d been using to make all the others. He wracked his brain trying to think if there was anything else he could do. Home was too far away to give them any sap, and Dirt didn’t know the spell for it. The people here had plenty of water and didn’t need more. The baby couldn’t eat meat; it didn’t even have teeth. Dirt had no gold to give. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

The man turned to go, carrying his pole in one arm and the hungry babe in the other. Dirt looked down at the floor and their cries filled his ears as they drifted back toward their tent. The babe’s, and the man’s. He pictured that woman’s last moments, the courage she had shown. She hadn’t screamed for rescue, she’d saved her baby instead.

Dirt had mourned his own loss more than once, and that was only impressions and faded memories. This man had a real memory, a real face and name, a real person he could never touch again. Dirt felt dissatisfied if he went more than a couple days without touching puppy fur, so how much worse would it be if it was a mate, not just a best friend?

No tears came. He didn’t cry, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t miserable. He walked stony and ashen-faced, unable to step out of the puddle of guilt he was sinking into. He’d been hoping it was the goddess Melodia who’d helped them save Biandina. That she really was still out there watching, despite the state of things. He still wasn’t sure, but that’s what he’d been hoping. Things hadn’t worked out like he hoped.

Did Dirt’s hope and good intentions matter to the little baby who missed his mother and might starve to death now? It did not. Hunger and loss until it died. That was all the baby had to look forward to.

Socks nudged him and said, -Do not be too sad, little Dirt. They can find another woman to nurse him, or feed him mare’s milk, or sheep’s milk.-

“They have sheep?”

-Of course. Where do you think all the wool comes from?-

“Where are the sheep?”

-Not close. I can only smell them sometimes.-

“Socks, did I make things worse?” he asked, guilt and sympathy twisting his insides into knots. He squeezed his eyes shut and quit walking.

-I am on your side, always,- said Socks, simply.

“Is it my fault that woman died?”

-I am on your side, always. Let the accusers come,- said Socks. He leaned down to give Dirt’s face a little lick with the tip of his tongue. -Let the accusers come and I will tell them that humanity has only one real enemy, and it is not you. And they have only one person who will fight it, and that is you.-

“What if this keeps happening? What if I keep making it so people die or get hurt?”

-What did Father command us?-

“Cause havoc. Dig harrows in the earth and turn rivers from their courses. Leave fields of bones behind you. Explore and return with experience. But he was talking to you, not me.”

-I am his son, but he was talking to both of us or you would not have heard him. He did not tell us to be timid and cautious. Do not be sad and scared and give up.-

“I wasn’t going to give up, I just…” Dirt trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought.

They were already raising the roof nets back up, at least some of them, using pulleys and ropes, which they tied to hold them in place. Most of the netting was still in need of repair, but it seemed it would go back up faster than Dirt expected.

-I am on your side, silly little Dirt. Always,- said Socks again.

Dirt took that for how it was meant, and let it help. He stood straighter and patted the pup’s nose, sending a hefty puff of affection, which the pup returned. After taking a few deep breaths, Socks licked him again and he felt a lot better.

They stepped their way through the clutter, and Dirt waved at people he recognized, or who waved at him first. It wasn’t far to Biandina’s family tent, and with so many little hands to help, everything was already cleaned up. Dirt stepped inside and found the father cooking flatbread on a small copper pan. They had a tight basket of dried meat and fruit to put on the bread, and three of the children were already happily munching on their meal. The mother was still settling in, looking through some woolen bags to find things for Biandina to take.

Dirt sat, not wishing to presume he would get any, but to his surprise, the father handed him the next one. He got up and took it, then put a polite amount of the toppings on, and turned to sit back down. Miliu and Oraziu, the two little boys, both giggled when they noticed his torn pants, and then several of the other children leaned over to see.

After he sat back down, Dirt wondered about the charcoal being used for the fire, since they had very little wood. “Where do you get the charcoal?” he asked.

Gnaziu, the boy just older than Dirt, said, “We make it from grass.”

Lavisa, the older sister, was holding the infant to free up her mother’s arms. She said, “We cook it, then add water and starch and form it into that shape. Then we just let it dry.”

“From grass? Really?” asked Dirt. That didn’t seem right, but what did he know? It was right there in front of him.

The mother said, “Why don’t you tell them all what you told me, about where you’re taking her?” There was a softness beneath the iciness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Dirt felt a spark of joy that perhaps he had given her some hope after all.

He sat back and recounted everything, going into a bit more detail. Some of it they’d already seen in Socks’s vision, but there were things Dirt had only mentioned and not explained. And either way, in this recounting, Dirt placed Biandina there, and that made it all new again. The children listened in wonder, although the older ones had difficulty hiding their regret that she was leaving. Little Eudossia, in particular, clutched Biandina’s empty sleeve like a leash.

After telling them all about the forest and Ogena, Dirt said, “There’s one more part that I haven’t told anyone yet. Socks didn’t mention it and neither did I. We’ve fought that giant eye in the sky before. Here’s a story that only a handful of humans in the entire world know. First, let me ask, have you ever heard the name Avitus?”

None of them reacted to the name, and the parents looked at each other. Dirt was pleased. Perhaps his name wasn’t a curse everywhere on earth. Yet.

“Three thousand years ago, there was a man named Avitus. He lived in a great empire, so huge it would take months or maybe longer to go from one end to the other. This place your tribe lives in used to be part of it. An army used to operate here. In those days, people worshiped the gods, and they weren’t evil. The gods were not the enemies of humans; they were helpful and people worshiped them sincerely. Not like what you call the gods now. That statue in the Aedes that you call the Murderous Lady used to be Melodia, the Mistress of Song, and she didn’t look like that.

“But Avitus did something, and it broke the world. The gods were gone and the empire fell apart, and for three thousand years, everything has been getting smaller and worse. New kingdoms formed in the remains of the empire, and those broke apart, and then broke up even smaller, until there is hardly anything left. And the thing that made it all happen is the Eye. It wants to destroy all humans forever. I’ve seen way more of the world than almost anyone, and it’s mostly empty now. Ruins of cities, if there’s anything left at all. The Eye works slowly most of the time, whittling away, whittling away. No one knows what to do about it, because why should you risk yourself to change things?”

That was the part where Dirt got their full attention. They instinctively held still to keep from making any sound. The infant squirmed in Lavisa’s arms, and she gave him a finger to suck on to keep him quiet.

Dirt continued, “I haven’t been here long enough to know what that looks like for you, but what if you all got together and hunted down every last rucca? Maybe sometimes you want to, but it’s too dangerous, so you don’t, and so they keep eating your people. But not every human is like that. Marina found two men to go on a long journey to save her tribe, a dangerous one. She succeeded and convinced the Duke that he should fight back against the world falling apart, even though it’s always dangerous.

“The Duke in Ogena and his people faced an entire army of goblins, and they wore armor of metal and rode horses that sounded like a thunderstorm. They came out with us when Socks and I went to fight and together we killed and scattered the entire army. The Eye appeared then, and Socks and I fought it and won there just like we did here,” said Dirt.

Antelmu asked, first as a mutter but then growing louder when he realized he was speaking out loud, “Humans can fight that stuff? They can be strong like you?”

“Well, not like me,” said Dirt, “at least not any I know of. But they can be very courageous and strong and if no one is willing to do that, everyone is going to die out. It’s going to happen. That’s why I want to take Biandina with me and introduce her to Marina and the others. Maybe it was really stupid, what she did, but the point is she was willing to do something. She dared.”

“She dared, huh? I didn’t know about sacrificing but I did shoot at the rucca with my bow,” said Antelmu, somewhat surly. “And I’ll do it every time I see one. She’s not the only one who has courage.”

“Good. Then maybe this tribe has a future after all,” said Dirt.

The Babbu changed the topic of conversation back to something safer, asking about the clothing they wore in Ogena, and more about what dryads looked like. Dirt was content to answer all their questions. He’d said everything that needed to be said.

After that, Dirt was given clothing in better repair, the same wool and fur that they wore outside the outpost. He changed into the new attire and immediately noticed how much warmer it was. It even warmed up his feet, right through his leather shoes, where the fur collar draped across them.

That was about the end of it. It was time for the second farewell, the deliberate one. She’d snuck out on her own before, but this time Biandina was given a pack to carry, full of whatever supplies the family could spare. When she stood and put it over her good shoulder and tied it around her waist, the other children knew it was time and looked heartbroken. One by one she hugged them, messing their hair and kissing them and whispering in their ears. Then it was her father’s turn, and her mother’s. Dirt had been nervous about that, but the woman’s icy face finally broke and real emotion poured out. She buried her eyes in her daughter’s good shoulder, letting out only two sobs before making herself stop. She straightened, face red.

Biandina nodded, sniveling, and did her best to keep her own composure as she turned and walked out.

Antelmu didn’t cry, but the rest did, louder and louder. Dirt said, “I really do think she’ll be back someday. Goodbye.”

They left, following her quick march through the town and out the gate. Socks leaped over rather than squeeze through the doorway, since they hadn’t put the roof back over that spot yet. Once outside, she hid her regret, but Dirt could tell something about her seemed warmer. She’d gotten a real farewell this time.

She held her head high and put her hood up. “So, where to now? Will Socks mind if I ride him?”

The pup simply lifted them both onto his back, with Dirt in front and Biandina behind, holding on. Once they were settled, he left at a run.

-First, the place we left that bird meat to freeze. I want some more. After that, we will visit the wolves. I want to visit them next,- said Socks to both of them.

That was all they said for quite a while. Dirt left Biandina to her own thoughts, even though they were plain as text on a scroll with all the other humans out of the way, and there wasn’t much to say to Socks for a while either.

The rest of the day was quiet and cold, and Dirt was glad for his new clothing. It made all the difference, and with Biandina leaning over him to keep warm herself, the run was much more pleasant than the last one. They bedded down inside a half-circle heap of snow like before, and after everything that had happened during such a long day, sleep came quickly.

Until the middle of the night, when Socks woke them. A light wobbled in the darkness, following their trail. A horseman. No. He reached them, and it was no man.

Antelmu, on his prized colt Boulder, holding up a small copper lantern. The boy had followed the wolf’s trail, trusting his horse to carry him speedily through the darkness. If Dirt and Socks had left any earlier in the day, he never would have found them. The boy had snot and tears frozen to his face, but he looked resolute as a stone.

“I’m coming,” he said. “I dare, too.”