Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (13 page)

At last the west gate loomed up ahead of them, wide open. There were enemy soldiers scattered about, but it was apparent that the contingent of invaders sent to this gate had already passed through, crushing whatever defense they encountered. Aeden and his companions slashed their way through the stone-faced men and women guarding the gate and sprinted down the road leading out from the western city wall. Up ahead in the distance, the clouds had broken. The setting sun beckoned, sending down shafts of golden light upon the green fields spreading out before them, illuminating the farms with their small houses crowning the tops of the rolling hills that stretched out to the horizon. They ran for several minutes until they saw no one followed them or marked their escape. Slowing to a quick march, the group turned to the northwest.

They passed countless farms and pastures, stopping momentarily at one that belonged to the Rossams to beg the residents to give what they could in the way of provisions. The woman and her children bowed low to a blood-stained Aeden and his tear-streaked mother, and gave them a few sacks full of bread, dried meats, and dried fruits. They thanked her profusely and gave her what coins they had, telling her that the invading army seemed more interested in occupying the city and directed most of their violence toward the nobility and that the peasants should be safe. They offered to take her and her children to Ramath, but she shook her head, saying she would wait for her husband—who had answered the muster—to return home before deciding their course. Aeden looked at his mother grimly, who closed her eyes. They bade farewell and resumed their march to the northwest, toward Ramath and safety.

Intermission

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Date:
 
Mon, Feb 13, 2012 at 1:23 PM

Cc:
[email protected]

Subject: Our last meeting

Dear Mr. Luista,

I hope you are enjoying your accommodations. I assure you, I put you up in the most extravagant hotel money can buy in this age of the world. Truly, the Motel 6 is renowned among men for its opulence and decadent luxury, which I know your exquisite taste requires of your lodging. The world of your past sounds very fascinating to me, and I look forward every week to our sessions together. I am writing concerning our most recent meeting, from which I left with many questions.

First, you mention that your world has two very distinct modes of speech, a formal and an informal. You say that the informal uses everyday slang, devoid of sirs and madams, and is full of jokes and one-liners, and so forth. In our meeting, however, you gave me no examples of such language, speaking in a very formal, bloated language yourself. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of making the informal language of your book sound very much like the common speech of my modern day, using words like “hot” for “exceedingly beautiful,” and “wow” for “verily, I am speechless,” and so forth. Also, your formal mode of language, the one you claim to use with me, sounds, well … not so much formal as … well, boisterous and extravagant. To truly make it sound formal and archaic to our modern ears (yes, I realize this is my future, please stop reminding me), I have tried to adopt the language of certain holy texts—at least, very archaic translations of these texts—as well as other modern authors who use “thee,” “thou,” “unto,” “ye,” and so on, in their tales of elves and dragons and middle earths and such. I hope you find this acceptable.

Second, I was wondering about the names of the characters, and other words, like, for example, the ones by which you call robots of the future: Rohva and Rohvim. I asked some friends of mine, Mr. Google, and Ms. Bing, what they thought of this word. Can we possibly change it to something else? Please? Unless you want to impute
R
ecreational
O
ff-
H
ighway
V
ehicle
A
ssociation membership to these robots, which, given that they don’t have wheels, wouldn’t make much sense—unless you want to use the recreational off-highway vehicle as a type or symbol of some deeper meaning in the story, but I’m no writer and even I think that’s pretty stupid, so, please, consider changing it. The names of the characters also seem all over the map—some are good old English names, some Gaelic, others sound vaguely Spanish, and looking ahead in my notes, others I can’t even place, and one of the main characters doesn’t even appear to have a name at all! I’m worried that the readers will think that I just pulled most of these things out of my … hat, or that I just picked some of my favorite books and tv shows and poached many of the names from there. Please advise.

Third, I looked through my notes, and, I realize you are not a religious man yourself—at least you’ve never mentioned it, and you seem more interested in profit than anything else—but I was wondering: many of the things you’ve said could fit very nicely into a structure of stories and symbols pertaining to some of the dominant religions of our time, and along the way, could possibly do some good by teaching nice things like love and forgiveness and mercy and so forth. If however, you and your publisher, Nile Holdings, Inc, believe this will cut into your bottom line, I of course understand your reluctance.

Thank you, sir, and I look forward to our next session.

Sincerely,

Dr. Endi Webb

P.S. I just re-read the first third of the book and I see a glaring problem: how could Priam’s parents see the army go past, and then
beat them to Elbeth
if the army is supposedly running at an astonishing pace? It’s in my notes from you, so I didn’t just throw that in. Please advise.

To:          
[email protected]

From:    
[email protected]

Date:
  
Mon, Feb 13, 2012 at 4:38 PM

Cc:          
[email protected]

Subject: Re: Our last meeting

My dearest Dr. Webb! I am truly, truly honored by your most gracious and noble efforts to satisfy my superb taste in the finer things of life! The lodgings are simply wonderful! In the mornings, they provide me with nearly a limitless supply of these delightful tiny toasted circular grain biscuits, immersed in the finest cow’s milk, and your attention to detail is simply stunning—next door to my accommodations, just like you told me, is a quaint, but quite gourmet Scottish restaurant of the highest caliber, run by the MacDonald clan of Edinburgh! They seemed very surprised that anyone was aware of their true origins—just as you said. Brilliant, sir, brilliant!

To answer briefly your questions: yes, no, and maybe.

Use whatever language you see fit.

The names I have chosen matter not. Choose them as you will, always keeping an eye on the bottom line: which brings me to your third question, and I give the same answer: I care not for messages of morality or teaching anything higher than the story I have laid out for you. If you think that adding deeper religious meaning to the story will increase sales, then by all means, “knock yourself out”! My waitress at MacDonald’s told me that when I asked for more of the delightful beverages they serve there—dispensed by, get this, a machine! I felt like I was milking a distant relative!

A quick note on the name of my people. I would like to maintain its use—if only for the fact that it is indeed what we call ourselves. The origin of the name is unclear, but it is truly ancient and full of history and is a point of pride for my people, being, as I believe, a far-sighted one to send me here to give you these stories. Please limit your use of your word “robot,” as I want to give the distinct impression that these people are, in fact, people! Am I not a person?

You asked about Priam’s parents. Yes, according to our history, that is indeed what happened. I did not just make that up so that they could tell Priam who could tell Aeden who could tell the master healer that the army looked a little odd. Fix it however you want. You’re a scientist! Make something up!

And so, my dear Dr. Webb, until we meet again, which according to this hand-held cousin of mine you so graciously gifted to me, is next Wednesday. Of one mind and heart, fair sir!

Siesta Luista

Act II

Chapter Eight

“… but fear not, for friends thou shalt meet along the way. The Creator shall speak through them, to His glory, and shall use them as instruments to hedge up the way of thine enemies …” —The Adventures of Ilien, 3:10

The next few days passed as a dark dream for Aeden. The small group he travelled with moved quickly, pausing only for brief rests during the day, and a few hours sleep at night. The images of the swordsmen with stone faces haunted his restless sleep and the screams of his sister jolted him to a waking nightmare every morning. His mother walked alongside without speaking during the weeklong journey northwestward, though at night he could see her shake, sobbing silently as she tried, and failed, to sleep. Onward they trudged during, passing what in other conditions would have been enjoyed as beautiful pastoral country, but which to them looked dull and grey and tired. A few times, Aeden attempted to talk to his mother, who only replied with short, practical answers such as, “Yes, Ramath is only a few days hence.” Or, “We should have enough provisions until we arrive.” Otherwise, she said nothing, and Aeden likewise said little to their traveling companions during that long dreadful week.

They continued their trek to the northwest until they came at last to the western green mountains, a small range, gentle and rolling, in contrast to the white-capped peaks of the eastern mountains across the great Puertamandian valley. They followed the foothills northward until they found a road that wound its way up to the city of Ramath. The road snaked through the hills, rising and falling, stretching ever onwards. At first, the refugees flew—they believed they travelled on the leading edge of a storm, or the first wave of a tempest. They spent two days in the mountains, and on the third day they rose over the last ridge and saw the green valley of Ramath stretch out below with the great lake of Ramath surrounded by farms and small houses that dotted the landscape. They descended along the ridge, staying on the road, and saw a large hill to their right on which the main part of the city was built, which started at its base and ascended up about halfway. The city looked peaceful, but as a precaution they stopped to send ahead a scout to ensure the invading army had not come conquering in that part of the land as well. Fortune smiled on Ramath and it was spared from the blight of legions of blank-stared soldiers blindly following the men and women at their head with the true knowledge.

They passed many farms and smaller buildings, and a gentle cleansing rain fell on them as they approached the southwestern city gate. Guards at the gate questioned the refugees, who warned them of the impending disaster and asked where to find the lord of the city. The guards pointed upwards, directing them to climb the rising streets up the hill, and find the estate of the lord near the top of the city on the southern side of the hill. In the distance they could just make out a medium castle, rather like a large mansion, surrounded by other white granite buildings and accentuated by hardwoods harvested from the surrounding forests. They climbed the hill, following the streets that crisscrossed the gentle lower slope of the small mountain before rising, culminating in the vast estate of the lord of Ramath. They entered the estate and approached the guards at the doors of the mansion.

Aeden summoned the strength to speak firmly, as a lord ought: “Good men, we seek an audience with the lord. We are noble families out of Elbeth, running on the edge of disaster, for a great army has swept out of the east and overrun our great city, and we desire now to warn your lord of the danger.”

One of the guards opened the door and motioned for them to go inside. “Please, enter quickly and find the lord in his court. He will no doubt want to hear your story.”