Fantastic Worlds #1 Page #3

The tale of a pair of brothers quest, discovering a a new view of their world from the perspective of the outsiders.

• Science fiction
• Short story
• Fantasy

								


   As Bordon slept he dreamt of the he and his brother used to live in the shack with their other brother and sisters. He dreamt of his mother who had loved the boys more than the world. He dreamt of his mother’s husband, who he and his brother challenged so often it was hard to understand why he cared so much for him. He dreamt of his mothers passing in the bed, from that incurable sickness that ached her so much. He missed her more than that life, he wished to the stars that one of his several siblings or his imbecile stepfather would have died instead, so goes life. Not a day passes he wishes he could see his mother again. He often thinks about how most others still have their mother and becomes envious and it pains him, angers him.
  
   Bordon awoke to their things having been stolen. The red sun is now above their heads already. Bordon wakes his brother, nudging him urgently.

   “Wake up, our things have been stolen.” he said without patience.

   “Which things?” Aimlon said, rubbing his eyes.

   “Everything; the Maps, the berries, the water, the manuals, my pipe, the red leaf, and the torch stub! My entire bag is missing! All that’s left is the correspondents.”

   “Do you remember how to get to the farsee’s hut?”

   “It’s just down this traveled path a little longer, but I don’t think you understand all of our things are gone we will not make it back home without the Maps” the Maps Bordon thought, the exquisite maps that Bordon has acquired through many declun or other means, rare now, priceless maps that detail his homeland. The maps of the destartled forest, the maps of the grimland desert and the rivers that cut the locals in half, maps of the distant volcanic wasteland known as blash, and most importantly the detailed map of the Kaloke. 

   Aimlon glanced down to his waist to see his weapon missing as well. “For The Even’s sake!” The weapon was a whip blade, made of bedrome hide, a  large tri horned beast with a forked tongue and face half the size of the whole body  that has teeth sharper than Vibar the unworthy’s hook blade, known for the use of making high quality  clothes, and prestigious shoes worn by kings. This whip blade was adorned with iron fragments that slashed. Missing this item Aimlon scattered and scrounged the bushes to look for his most prized possession.

   The brothers looked at each other in disbelief, how can everything be stolen out from under them like that. Mentally beaten and confused, understanding they had no idea where they could even be looking for their stolen items, they begin their march once again. Aimlon now flustered, starts again. ”I told you we were being followed!”

   Bordon chose to not respond in order to not cause another skirmish. Being disarmed and with no navigation the forest became a dome of inhospitable space with no end in sight, the further they went into the forest the more lost they became, waiting for the fabled Farsee’s hut. The Farsee’s hut Bordon thought, a mystical place many pilgrimage to for spiritual reasons, many do not complete the journey or complete the journey only to become a platter for one of the many beasts or worse a platter for the many tribes and clans. Often the subject of a tales, the hut had been pictured in maps throughout time since before his grandmother’s grandmother, a place for which people journey to seek prophecies, lost items, advice for life and more, the power of the Farsee is widely unknown. Those who make the journey and return have various interpretations of what the farsee is, an all knowing being, a demon who preys your darkest secrets, a benevolent god who helps those in need. Human or not it was now their only hope to retrieve the spherical cube. 

   It was a very dull witted idea to accept the quest, in the beginning g they could have turned back but now there was no turning back, perhaps the farsee could show them the way back unscathed, perhaps there is no farsee, but a no good fortune teller, a suicide quest. Bordon was deep still in deep thought, who was the short chubby faced man? Was there a reason he chose Bordon for this quest? Or was it just terrible luck? They were lucky to make it this far, but how much further would they be this lucky? Their main goal was not getting paid, but self preservation. 

   Their trek never ceased to end it seemed and the boys were becoming delirious, without food or water and the constant journey through the thick heat, smog, and hours of walking. The brothers were restless.

   “Where is the hut!” Aimlon said, sighing and swinging his arms back and forth.

   “I haven’t a thought, I can’t read an invisible map.”

   “I would have thought that all that time you spent on reading maps would make you useful in some sort of way, but no, instead we are stuck wandering the foreign evil land. We will die here, a fate worse than being burned alive or drowning. A slow painful death, we will probably watch as the winged panoys pick our bones clean.”

   “And if we do, I hope you accept your fate with dignity because you're the reason we are wandering around these evil lands.”

  “This isn’t all my fault, you were the one got the bag with all your precious maps stolen”

  “It’s disgusting you blame this on me, you fiend, if I wasn’t for me you would be dead on the side of trail by now times over by now, please be quiet there are probably people watching us now”

  “Oh, there most definitely are, waiting to cook us in that stew the tribals eat…”

  Bordon shuts his mouth and continues his steady strides, as Aimlon continues his incoherent rant. The hut has to be close, Bordon thought, they’ve been walking so long that it was late morning now. His legs were so tired and his mouth was drier than the dead shrubs of Horgam. 
 
  Eventually, the duo came upon a upon a sign with and sign in an indecipherable language, perhaps an extinct form of communication, they couldn’t help but stand there ogling at it, admiring the stone work and the convex characters that populated the obelisk that stood there taunting them, as elder would do to a student. They couldn’t help but rest, the distance they had traveled was palpable, the winding trail seemed to wrap around in circles as they became more entrenched in branches and dead foliage it was clear, many had not been this deep into the forest in a long time. They slowly drifted off into sleep worrying about the danger that creeps over them each time they close their eyes, it was as if the trees had eyes and mouths with sharp teeth glaring at them waiting for the moment to pounce. 

   The next morning, Bordon awoke to his brother missing, he stood up and began hastily combing through the near forest around the obelisk calling his brother's name when he heard rustling and his brother's voice. “I hear a waterfall north of the thing, we should head that way, it is off the trail but not far.”

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