Kingdom of the Weak

1. Death

When Remian Vin died and faced his Creator, he wept. “God, not like this!”

One of the nearby celestial beings spoke. “It is given for man to live and to die. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It is the natural order.”

“But not now! Not like this! I haven’t done anything worthwhile with my life! I’ve been weak from young, always a burden to my family! People have been kind to me yet I’ve done nothing to pay them back! I can’t die like this! I need to do something for them!”

“What worth could your life have, if you remained? What would be the point of returning you to such a weak, frail body? Move on, and leave the past behind.”

“I’ll… I’ll make it worth something. I don’t know how long I can last, but I want to make it worth something!”

“When?”

“Today!”

Remian gasped, waking up with cold sweat. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, pain wracking his body as he sat up in bed.

Was it real? Was it just a dream? Or had he really died and come back?

He did not know. But it did not matter. Today; that was what mattered. Today, he lived, and started anew.

He looked around at the ramshackle shack where he lived. He got out of bed and went to find his parents. “Mom, Dad… we need to leave.”

“Leave? What do you mean? Where will you go?”

“To the Frontier.” The idea had stuck on him and refused to let go. “If we stay here, nothing will change. Jobs will always be scarce. Money and food will always be scarce. Costs will always be high. Nothing comes for free. Here, our lives will always be dismal. We need to move.”

“But our friends are here. To move now, in our old age, and lose everything…”

“What is there to lose? The house? Our lives? What is any of it worth?”

They stared at him as if he was crazy.

So he began to read, and to study. Two weeks later, he packed a bag and went to the Frontier alone.

Or at least, that was what it looked like.

***

Boarding the airship to the Frontier with about a dozen others, Remian turned behind him and asked, “Why are you here?”

The figure behind him was ethereal, semi-opaque. It was like a projection of shadow that he could see through, a winged humanoid at least seven feet tall. On its back was a giant scythe.

“I am here to watch what you do.” The figure said.

“For how long?”

“Until you fail, and falter, and then I will do my job.”

“Your job? What is your job?”

“To care for the fallen souls. Some call me the angel of death. You can just call me Death.”

“I see.” Remian frowned. It was odd that he could see Death, but it didn’t really seem to make a difference, so he just shrugged it off and turned his thoughts to the matter at hand.

The Frontier was the border between civilization and the terrors of the Wilds, magical beasts with the power to rip apart this puny airship and this miserable city below without breaking a sweat. According to the Iron Legion, only man’s scientific capabilities separate man from beast and saved him from being eaten. According to the Ascending Dragon Empire, only the protection of the dragons really kept them safe from threats known and as yet unknown from the beyond. According to the Church of Celestial Light, only God’s divine protection upon the lands of the Seven Kingdoms protected them. The Sea People said it was the power of nature’s storms that kept them safe. The Sand people said that the great heat and cold of mankind’s territory was what kept the Wilds at bay.

Regardless of which nation, kingdom, empire or race you were from, everybody agreed on one thing; mankind needed protection from the Wilds.

Looking around, Remian saw people from all those places represented on deck. Three men in uniform iron armor stood at the fore, staring straight ahead as if to the future. They had short swords at their sides, short spears and long shields among the luggage at their feet. Fair of skin and dark of eye, the men of the Iron Legion protected the Grand Highway that ran all the way from the Eastern Sea, through the Empire, the Seven Kingdoms, all the way through to the Endless Desert. It finally stopped at the Fal’Herim, the city of the Desert King, the largest oasis known to man in the Endless Desert, and the richest source of Fire Crystal in all the world. The Iron Legion pledged protection and allegiance only to the Grand Highway, receiving their support from merchants as often as kingdoms, and appeared as a peacekeeping neutral party on the road.

Yet that road could not take them to the Frontier. This airship could. Dragons could. Magic carpets could. But the Highway ran no farther than Fal'Herim. The Frontier was beyond that, proof that the 'Endless Desert' was not Endless after all. So why were they here?

Opposite from the men of the Iron Legion, at the rear of the airship’s deck, six half-filled, half-empty carts, a few camels, and a family had gathered. Covered and turbaned from head to toe, these Sand People looked like they were going home after a successful caravan from Fal’Herim. Half-empty carts were somewhat unusual; but their business was their own. Remian did not poke his nose into it.

There were three others on board. One wore furs and leather, carried a bow, with an axe strapped to his back. A small serpent, snake-like but with claws and ridges along its spine, slithered out from his coat and spat tiny bursts of fire at everything that moved. It resembled one of the towering protectors of the Ascending Dragon Empire, and was supposedly a lesser cousin of the species, lacking their size, strength, and intellect. Many considered serpents to be to dragons what monkeys were to men. Dragons did not consider it rude for people to keep serpents as pets any more than men considered it rude for dragons to eat monkeys for lunch. Anyway, the presence of that serpent practically announced to the world that this man was from the Ascending Dragon Empire.

The second of the three in between was currently throwing up into a bucket. This was a rounded man, very tanned, wearing a loose short-sleeved shirt and short khaki pants. The necklace of beads and Aqua Stones on his neck suggested that he was one of the Sea People, very far from home and going even farther. He was very obviously not having a good time. The airship had only barely begun to move and he was already heaving his guts out. Weren’t the Sea People accustomed to the sea and immune to sea-sickness? Or was air-sickness different?

Finally, there was the priest. Black-robed, with a tab clergy collar, there was a wooden rosary hanging down the side of his robe. He had a bald spot on his head, and wore a monocle as he tried to read a heavy black book in his hand, fighting the wind to keep the page every few seconds.

“Thirty hours to the Frontier.” Remian stretched. “I wonder how many of the others here will be going that far?”

With a final glance at Death, he took out the bedroll tied above his backpack, spread it out on the deck and went to sleep.

***

He woke up hungry. The first thing he saw was a shy pair of eyes under a thin veil and a modest hood. The rest of her was completely covered, but the general shape of her form indicated that this was indeed a ‘she’.

Thinking he had awoken due to her intrusion, the owner of those eyes said, “Salem, salem. My father asks if you wished to join us for dinner.”

“Salem. I heard much of the Sand People’s hospitality, but we are on a Deutero Company airship.”

“The airship might be of the Seven Kingdoms, but we fly over the Endless Desert. To us, we are already home. Come.” She invited. “Eat.”

Remian packed up his bedroll, and glanced about slowly. The others, even the Iron Legionnaires, were making their way, following the Sand People who invited them to the rear for dinner.

Death was still there, hovering around behind Remian. “Still here? Why haven’t you left yet?”

“You are still here, are you not? I am here to give you an easy way out.” Death offered. “At any time.”

“No, thank you.” Remian said politely. “You may as well go home.”

“Not today, perhaps. But there may come a day.” Death shrugged. “Meanwhile, if anyone is going to give me some work today, it is more likely to be that guy.”

‘That guy’ turned out to be the fatty from the Sea People. He had taken one bite of the Sand People’s food and immediately returned to throwing up into a bucket. He was also sweating profusely, and looked like he was about to start melting on the spot.

“Be warned; our food is a bit spicy.” The girl who invited him whispered.

“Please, just let me DIE!” the fatty wailed.

Death calmly went over and swept past him, like a sudden black wind.

The fatty collapsed on the ground, almost knocking the bucket over.

“Fatty? Hey, fatty? Hello? Mr. Sea Man?” one of the children of the Sand People went over to poke him. “Helloooooo…?”

“Come here, son. Don’t bother him.” His mother called him, turning away uneasily. She did not look back at the fat man. Carefully, deliberately, the entire Sand People family ate without looking there.

The Iron Legionnaires spared a frown and exchanged glances. One of them went over to inspect the fatty. “He’s dead.”

There was a short silence. Then, the priest got up. “He was here with us but for a short while. May he rest in peace.” He gestured with his rosary.

“May he rest in peace.” The Iron Legionnaires agreed.

What else could they do? They were not of the Sea People. They did not know his culture, and the priest had no right to perform last rites over a non-believer of his religion. All they could do was leave him alone. Remian himself knew something of that man’s culture. He knew a bit about their burial rites. Their dead were normally given to the water, sunk. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near the sea.

As for a man suddenly dying in the Endless Desert, well… there was really nothing unusual about that. In the skies above, or on the sands below, people died in the desert all too often.

***

Dinner was mutton stew. It was beyond ‘spicy’, it was extreme! Remian was dripping with sweat, half-gasping for air and water. They gave him milk and that soothed his tongue and throat a little, but helped only a little. Remian swore off Sand People food forever more.

The next morning, when he awoke, the dead body and the Sand People were gone. The airship had reached Fel’Herim. They hovered there for a half-hour, taking on supplies, and then continued on their way over a veritable sea of dunes.

“Almost there.” The priest commented. “From here, we turn south.”

“South? I thought we were headed farther west.” Remian mentioned.

“No, farther west, there is only more desert and then the dark sea. There is nothing farther west. That is why they call this the Endless Desert. Even if you went past it, you would face only another kind of desert, one where the sands are below water that you cannot drink.”

“Have you been there before? The Frontier?” Remian asked.

“Not I. Members of my brotherhood, yes.” The priest said. “No less than half have given their lives to bring the light to the ends of Terra.”

“Tell me about the Frontier.” Remian requested. “What awaits us there?”

“Danger. Warlords filled with greed. Wilds hungry for human meat. Sandstorms and drought the likes of which you have never seen. Plagues of locusts that cover the skies. In short, death.” The priest said, smiling a smile without mirth. “Death awaits us.”

Remian glanced at the dark figure behind them. Under his breath, he muttered. “Or… he’s already here.”