Ruin Star: Chapter Two

I don’t want to send families into the Desolation. I don’t even want to send Wardens who feel they’re being exiled. It would make my life easier if the Restoration of Ruin didn’t exist.

From Starward Dematrusi’s Journal

Seventeenth day of Hasina, 600 Post-Ruin

* * *

Gun felt the punch before it struck him.

The blow sent him reeling, and for a moment, all sense of up or down fled. He crashed into the mud, and for some reason, he heard Lurumah admonish him in his mind, disappointed that he'd muddied the clothes she’d sewn herself. 

Her voice left him, replaced by a bitter pain in his jaw. His head had rapped against a stone as well, stunning him.

Then there were footsteps, and Gun was too slow. Someone kicked him in the gut, and his lungs expelled all his air. For one harrowing moment, he thought he would die, writhing, and struggled to breathe.

“Starring sponger,” a voice said. “You’ve the gall to show your face, have you?”

“He’s even getting fat,” another said. “Look at him. He thinks he’s a Warden.”

Gun gasped when his lungs could work again. Tears streamed down his red cheeks. He could call for the city watch—for Erol Ranis, the chief watchman. Perhaps he would hear him and come running.

Or perhaps these men would beat him down even more for calling out for help.

His eyes flashed open; a half-dozen men stood above him and snickered at the joke. They glared down at him, and he curled up, choosing to remain silent instead.

“You reckon he felt that, then?” the first said. “With all that fat he’s stored up for the colder months?”

Gun braced himself for another kick that didn’t come. Instead, the man’s fist came down on his jaw again. Stars burst all around him, and he both felt and heard a crack in his left ear.

The men burst into laughter. “Stay away from these streets, your governorship,” a voice said, close to his ear. “They’re dangerous.”

“Right, stay away.”

“Wouldn’t want you falling and hurting yourself.”

The men laughed, and Gun could hear them walking away. He covered his head with his arms. Expecting another hit was better than getting blindsided. Instead, they left him alone in the mud with the paralyzing agony in his jaw. 

He couldn’t lay there forever. He needed to get up eventually and face the rest of the day—that is, unless he planned on dying there.

Stars…

Grunting, Gun rolled over and brought himself up to his knees. He cast a glance around him to make sure he was alone. The street had emptied the moment the men had caught sight of him. The others had abandoned him to his fate.

Gun stroked the jaw he hoped wasn’t broken. There were no healers in Grenstike. Gun had heard of others dying from the smallest cuts out there in the Desolation. He sent a prayer to the Mernar-Gods to spare his life.

When he climbed to his feet, Gun staggered in the direction he’d been heading. He couldn't go back to Lurumah like this. His only hope lay in Ward Governor Nori.

The muddy path he followed led past a few hovels on the southwestern edges of town. On his left, the vast expanse of the desert seemed to stretch out into infinity. Gun dimly noticed a gray distortion on the horizon that blended the pale-blue sky with the bone-gray earth. Sandstorm. It would cover them within the week. 

Starring wonderful.

The street ended at the front entrance of a small manor house. The darkened clay structure provided shade for him under the harsh mid-morning sun. He plodded up the low steps to the front entrance, hoping someone had noticed him coming from the upper-floor windows. Gun wasn’t sure he could muster up the strength to speak, let alone call out. He was grateful when he saw master-servant Parda appear at the entrance, holding aside the heavy curtain for him to enter.

“What a state,” the older man said, eying his muddied shoes. “What happened to you, boy?”

Gun closed his eyes, struggling against weeping and appearing weak before his mentor.

Ward Governor Nori Svet appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore a white robe darkened by dirt on its fringes. He’d cut his prematurely white hair and combed it backward. Gun looked up at the forty-year-old man and let out a heavy breath from his nostrils. 

This is what I get for being your student.

“Dark Star!” Nori exclaimed in a soft tenor voice. A worried frown darkened his features. “What happened?”

Gun pointed at his jaw and grimaced. 

Nori grunted. “Let’s have a look, then. Then you can tell me about it.”

Nori led the way into the parlor while Parda set about cleaning up the mess that Gun had tracked in. The parlor was as pristine and bare as ever, with a smooth white floor that looked like it had been sanded down recently. Although Nori was a Ward Governor, he didn't own many of the luxuries that most Ward Governors couldn't live without. His parlor had only two armchairs, a table, and a candelabra that seemed to burn candles at every hour of the day and night.

Nori reached behind one armchair and brought out a square stool that Gun hadn’t known was there. He had visited Nori only twice before and learned something new about him each time—that he was an outcast among Ward Governors and that he governed the ward with the fewest people in the Desolation.

“Sit here,” Nori said, situating the stool in the center of the room.

Gun obeyed, wincing.

Nori came around to his side. “Show me where it hurts the most,” he said.

Gun caressed where he’d felt the crack in his jaw. Nori placed his thumb against the spot, moving Gun’s finger out of the way. 

“One moment,” Nori muttered. Gun squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the man didn’t push with more force. 

Instead, Gun felt a surge of sorts that shot through the left side of his head—almost like something had pricked him. It didn’t hurt so much as startled him. It happened a few more times before Nori took his finger away.

“Your jaw is dislocated slightly,” he said. “I’ll need to set it again. Otherwise, it’s not broken—only bruised. Remain still.”

Gun furrowed his brow, unsure how Nori knew this with just a light touch. Perhaps it had something to do with merna.

A sharp pain jolted Gun’s jaw, making him jump in his seat. He let out a grunt and felt his jaw move back into its place, though he hadn’t noticed it had been out of place until then.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

Nori laid his hand against Gun’s cheek, and a warm sensation radiated from his jaw to the top of his skull. Though uncomfortable, he felt the pain in his jaw slowly subside. Nori took his hand away, and Gun tested his jaw, surprised at only a dull ache left over.

“Stars…,” Gun muttered in awe. “What did you do to me? Was that merna?”

Nori grunted. “I’m not what you’d call a healer, of course, but as it happens, merna has its uses in medicine. If your jaw had been broken, there would be nothing I could do besides dim the pain. We would have to wait even longer for an explanation. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He had Nori check his belly where the others had kicked him. As with his jaw, only bruising of the muscle remained. No broken bones or ribs. He then confessed how a half-dozen workers had waylaid him on his way to the manor house. Nori looked disgusted by the end.

“Perhaps you’d better find another route to my home, Gun. Wait here.” He left the room.

Gun lowered his shirt and sagged in his seat. As much as he hated the idea, he knew Nori was right.

Nori returned a moment later, carrying a glass of water. Gun blinked at it. It was glowing.

The Ward Governor grinned. “Ildan,” he said. “A more potent strain from the West. We just received a small crate-full of those worms in the most recent caravan.”

Lifting the cup to his lips, Gun sipped it warily.

“It’ll help with the pain,” Nori explained, noticing Gun’s hesitancy. “Drink it all.”

Gun downed the glass, and almost immediately, the effects of the tea took hold. At first, it tasted like plain water, though there was a hint of a strange bittersweetness. He could feel a warmth in his belly and a tingling in his skin. The pain in his gut and jaw faded.

Nori took the glass and fell back into his armchair. “And another thing,” he said, “you mustn’t listen to the others. They only want you to be miserable like them. Your aunt is providing you with a unique opportunity. Out here in the desert, I’ve seen people drown in their own waterdebt.”

A unique opportunity to get beaten every day, Gun thought, though he remained silent. Nori motioned to the other armchair, and Gun took his seat, relishing in the cushion's softness.

“Gun, have you heard the tale of the Sun Maker?” Nori asked with a slight smile on his lips.

Gun fixed his gaze on Nori, recognizing the name. “As in the Sun Maker ritual?”

Nori’s eyes brightened. “It’s related,” he said. “The Sun Maker ritual is based on the Sun Maker myth, one of the few stories we have carried over from before the Ruin.” He looked away in thought. “A manuscript was only recently discovered and translated, proving that our ancestors carried it over from Pre-Ruinic times. You know, it’s stories like this that give us a glimpse into what life was like at the time. Do you practice the ritual?”

Gun hesitated. “Er…Lurumah taught it to me.”

“How did she teach you?” Nori asked, leaning forward in his chair. His eyes shined with acute interest. “I ask because everyone practices it differently.”

Gun explained how it was an early-morning ritual that Lurumah had taught him after she’d taken him under her woman-guardianship. His purpose was to convey light to a dark universe by “creating” a new sun every morning. Doing so required a sacrifice of water, allowing it to evaporate as the new sun rises every morning.

Lurumah treated it as something sacred, and Gun felt an irrational fear that he'd betrayed her by revealing it—except that she'd never told him to keep it secret or hidden.

Nori lifted his gaze in thought. “That is the most common practice,” he said. “Anyway, you remind me of Aindr in that story. He was likely around your age and lived in poor circumstances. His mother loved him more than anything and gave him everything she had. As a result, he drew envy from the others in his town.”

“Envy?”

“That’s right,” Nori said with a grave nod. “They envied everything his mother gave him. However, that’s where your similarities diverge. The rest of the tale is laden with irony.”

“What’s that?” Gun asked.

“Irony is when events occur in the way you least expect them to—usually for effect. My point is that the people envied Aindr because of the privilege his mother gave him. How many flatlanders have the opportunity that you have to learn and understand merna? Your aunt is doing everything she can to give you a life she never had.”

Gun understood what Nori was trying to say, but he didn’t believe that everyone envied him. They wanted waterdebt, it seemed to him. They wanted him to have waterdebt, too—as long and tortuous as they were. All Gun wanted was to be included—not stand out because Lurumah felt she needed to shelter him. He kept these thoughts to himself.

“Yes, Ward Governor,” was all he said.

“You’ll understand in time,” Nori said with a resolute nod.

“What happened to Aindr?” Gun said, leaning forward. “Can you tell me the story?”

“Your aunt never told it to you?” Nori asked, and Gun shook his head. Nori flashed him a wry grin. “I’ll tell you the story if you promise to pay better attention to my lesson afterward.”

“I will.”

“All right,” Nori said with a nod. He leaned forward in the large armchair. “It’s not very long. I’ll try to recount what I can from memory. I don’t have a written copy—although, after today, I might purchase one and have it delivered.

“In any case,” Nori said, adjusting himself in his seat. “The story goes thus: Aindr, our hero, is walking down a street, presumably to go to the market for food, when he is scoffed and jeered at by a group of young men his age. He ignores them. A group of young girls then laugh at him as well. He ignores them. Then, the elders of the town rebuke him, telling him he should leave town or he will remain a child forever. Aggrieved, Aindr returns home to his mother.

“Later, we understand why the people mocked him so. His mother loves him so much that she gives everything to him. He wants for nothing. 

“The news that Aindr has everything he could ever want spreads around to other towns until a demon named Kor hears this and becomes jealous—not necessarily because of what Aindr owns, but because of his reputation. Kor invades Aindr’s town and executes the insolent elders. He demands to see Aindr. The town's youth run to Aindr for protection, since he has the means to protect them all from Kor’s army.

“Kor confronts Aindr then, promises to take everything from him—even the earth upon which he stands, and even the moon and the sun and the stars from the sky. He’ll spare Aindr’s life if he subjects himself to Kor. Aindr, however, challenges Kor to show his power and pluck the sun from the sky to prove he can take everything from him. In response, Kor causes a volcano—a mighty fire mountain, if you’ve never heard of it—to erupt and block out the sun and moon with its thick, black smoke. Aindr then challenges Kor to take the earth away even so that they cannot stand. Only then would Aindr submit himself to Kor. The demon Kor then caused the skies to rain and the floods to rise from the sea and cover the entire land.

“Meanwhile, Aindr builds a boat, and those who would follow him are saved from the floods. The smoke in the sky disappears, and the sun reappears in the sky. The myth makes a point of it that the sun has been ‘remade,’ which is why Aindr becomes the Sun Maker. Kor is swallowed up in the seas—not killed! No, he doesn’t die. The myth claims Kor’s body becomes the land on which Aindr and his followers can dock their boat and build new towns and cities. Whenever there are earthquakes, it's Kor trying to escape the prison of the waters. Because, you see, he’s trapped between the sea and the sky. The story ends with a warning: the day will come when the waters rise higher and higher into the sky, and Kor will finally escape his prison and consume the universe.”

Gun was biting his lip as Nori ended the story. “I don’t understand. Kor traps himself?”

Nori grinned. “Correct,” he said. “And therein lies the irony. Don’t think too hard on it, Gun. Myths like this are rarely logical, and they often contradict each other. It’s simply an old, old story meant to explain phenomena like earthquakes and floods. It’s not meant to be taken literally.”

It still felt—odd to Gun. Why would anyone create such a strange tale to explain earthquakes if it’s not true? The story’s ending left him unsatisfied and confused by Kor’s behavior. But he'd procrastinated his merna lesson as long as was possible.

Nori slapped his knees and came to his feet. “Well,” he said with a smile, “shall we get on with your merna lesson?”