Short Story: A Dream I Had

I found myself looking down a long road, the trees on either side bent and ancient. The sun burned low and golden on the horizon as my feet made crunching sounds on the gravel below. The path arched out, snakelike in front of me and I could not see more than a stones throw in front of me at any time. I walked through this path, smelling the long slow summer wind and listening to the rustle of tree leaves dancing, the cicadas tremolo made a counterpoint to the endless swell of the trees.

Travelers met me, smiled and waved and went on about their way. They were dressed in poor cloth, most hunched over like pack mules carrying their wares to market. Their faces blurred in and out of reality as the day wandered with me into sunset. As the leaves drank up the last of the day I came at last to the end of the path.

A blank obsidian wall loomed up ahead of me. consuming every bit of my vision. I looked to my right and could see the wall, a thousand feet high stretching out into the horizon. To my left the wall went on forever. The path lead right up to the edge of the wall and abruptly stopped. I walked over to the end of the path and put my hands on the wall. It was warm and pulsing, as if it had been soaking up the sunlight all day long and drinking in the life of the forest around me.

I stood there, staring at the wall for half an hour when an old man and his cart came teetering up to the wall. I walked over to his ox and cart and asked him.

"Excuse me sir, how does one get around this wall?"

"You do not go around the Wall, you go through it."

"Through it? Tell me, how do you go through the Wall?"

"Well, you'll need a sword." He said, patting the blade strapped to his side.

At this, he ticked his reigns and drove his ox-cart right up to the wall. As he approached, a seam appeared in the middle of it where it met the road. The wall swung open and he drove his cart right through the middle of it.

I ran after him as fast as I could and smacked face first into the wall. I could not understand this, the doors had become a blank face of black stone once more, no trace of the doors remained. I scratched at the Wall, trying to find where it had opened, I screamed and cursed the Wall, kicked and punched at with all of my energy and I cried until I could move no more. At last, when all of my energy had been depleted, I fell into a deep sleep at the base.

When dawn crept over my cloak I found the Wall stretching up into the sky still. A thousand feet tall, a thousand feet thick and no end as far as my eyes could tell. I squinted up through the morning haze at the travelers approaching the wall. A young woman and her child were standing nearby, waiting for someone and peering down the road every few minutes. I dusted myself off and walked over.

"Tell me miss, where can I get a sword to cross through the Wall?"

"Oh, there is a smith about three miles back up in the forest. In the village off to your left."

"Thank you very much!"

I knew this was what I was waiting for and I leapt up the trail, bounding past the faceless traffic on the road. Around three hundred bends, across the open field and back into the forest I ran. The fork to the village was as she said, about three miles from the Wall and by the time I had run there I was thoroughly exhausted. Panting and soaked in sweat, I turned off of the main road and made my way to the village.

The village rose into view as I passed over a small hill, it's size obscured by the trees surrounding it. Most of the buildings were low, conical reed roofed buildings with small chimneys. In the center of the village was a large well and market. Only when I got closer to the village did I realize how large it truly was. People were overflowing all over the center of the market, a thousand fruits and vegetables lined up, small crafts and smoked meat, bolts of cloth, a hundred packs of children running through the mess of it all. I wandered closer and found the closest stall.

"Step right up sir, we've got all a weary traveler could need right here."

The man behind the stall was as blurry as every other person I had seen. His face a pale blur like he was shaking it too fast for my eyes to follow.

"Can you tell me where the blacksmith is? I have need of a sword to get past the Wall down the road."

"Oh, so you're trying to get past the Wall are you? Very well then, the blacksmith keeps his hut on the outskirts of town. Just keep going down the main road through the market, you'll see it."

"Could I buy some water and food from you sir? My night was spent at the base of the wall and I ran all the way here this morning."

"Well, no man trying to get past the Wall should do so hungry, let's see what we can do for you."

I ate the eels and bread he had to sell after I walked over to the well and drained it dry. The wild packs of children kept their distance from me and the people of the village smiled and nodded, but said nothing to me as I lay against the cool stone of the well and rested. After eating and cleaning up, I made my way once more down the road, towards the edge of town and presumably, the blacksmith.

As I left the market area, the houses of the village got less crowded and I could hear the forest life once again. I smiled at the serene beauty of it thinking, "A man could live and die happy here." My resolve continued though, as did my walk towards the edge of town. As the houses stretched out into pasture I could see a single column of black smoke curling up into the summer skies. Aha, the blacksmith.

I approached the hut slowly, unsure of what I would find. The acrid smell of sulfur and etching acid washed over me and i could feel the heat of the furnaces from the road. A steady clanging issued from the front entrance and as I made my way towards the front of the building I could see the blacksmith hunched over an anvil. He stood six feet tall, a slight man, bent over in his back and covered from head to toe in a worn out red robe. The hood of his robe covered his face completely and he made no sign of recognition as I made my way into the front of the shop.

At once, the hammer stopped falling and a dead quiet fell over the hut. The cloaked figure turned it's head slowly towards me and all I could see were the hint of two eyes in a endless sea of shadow. He placed the hammer down next to the blade he had been hammering on and started shuffling towards me.

"What do you want?" His voice creaked out of the hood like parchment unrolling in the basement of a temple.

"I have come to buy a sword from you smith. I want to cross through the black wall down the road."

He made no movement, no sound. The world came crashing to a halt and the only thing that moved was the heat waves dancing through the hut.

"I do not sell swords here. I do not sell swords anywhere. Go somewhere else."

I stared at the old man, unbelieving. "There is no other smith in this town, you must be selling swords. Practically every person here has a sword on their belt."

He said nothing, shuffling back to the anvil and resuming his work. I stood there in disbelief and eventually gave up. Noon had passed me by and despondent, I set back out for the village.

I had no where to go. The road leading away from the wall lead back to the past and I knew that no passage could be granted there. I was stuck here in this place between worlds with no idea why.

Years went by. I worked at the nearby farms until I had saved enough money to take over one of the smaller plots. I learned the sun and wind until I knew them by name. My hands grew gnarled and thick as bark. I could grasp a burning log and never feel a thing. My muscles grew corded and my skin bronzed until I looked like the trees surrounding the fields.

I married by the fading light of my 40th summer. The village had become my home, my entire life spent feeding the people who worked there. I would spend my evenings turning wood in my hands and carving figures to sell in the market. Two fine sons, blurs in my memory came from our happy home. We worked long summer days, sweated through the harvests and whittled through the long dark winters. The years went by in a blur and I found myself blessing my oldest boy as he started a family of his own.

Death found us in front of the fireplace. He slipped in silently in the night and took my wife away from me while we dozed away a long dark winter night. Not a week later he returned for me. A sudden fever, a balsting chill and visions of my son standing over me. In my minds eye I could still see that looming Wall. Cold and unfathomable it taunted me by its mystery. It had been years since it loomed in my dreams and here it was on the eve of my demise, silently judging me from afar. I lamented never seeing the other side, my heart and mind clouded with remorse. With my dying breath I cursed it.

I awoke sleeping in front of the Wall the day I arrived there. I staggered around, confused and scared. The same young woman was walking towards the Wall. I waited for her to near and asked her if she had seen me before. She backed away and shook her head, shuffling towards the Wall with her children and hurried through.

The morning mist wound around my ankles and I wondered at the sureness of my memories. I had felt Death's hand close around my heart. I had seen my sons grow and be married. I had wept for a week when my wife went to the gods. Still, I was here.

My feet turned and took me back along that road towards where memory told me the village would lay. Sure enough, it was exactly the way I remembered it. The town square still bustled with a faceless crowd of people, the air tinged with commerce and chaos.

"Excuse me young sir, but are you not the blacksmith's apprentice?"

The man in front of me was covered from head to toe in trinkets and junk. He clanked and whistled just standing there.

"Well, no actually."

"Oh, my mistake. I'm on my way to see him and I thought I could hire you to carry my cart. Seems my porter has gone a bit deep into his cups while I attended to my affairs. Why, even if you are not the apprentice, perhaps you could be convinced to assist me for a few coppers?"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. A few coppers are always a good thing. Where are your goods?"

He pointed to the handcart across the street. I muscled the lopsided pile of junk up through the deep rutted streets and out into the open fields beyond. The junker was a man of merry mood and he whistled softly in time to the rattling of his clutter. The countryside peeled back and the smoke from the furnace filled my face once more.

The old man didn't acknowledge us as we approached and the junk trader stood there silently for a moment, turned to me and pressed two coppers into my hand. We sat in silence, listening to the constant clanging of the hammer on steel, the hiss of a red hot blade burning water away and the crows fighting over dinner until the sun started to set.

The hammer fell quiet as the sun dipped low behind the mountains. The old man put his tools down, wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke.

"Junkman. I see you have brought me what I asked for."

Clanking, he replied: "Of course I did old man. There is no need to thank me. I'll be taking my payment now."

The old man sighed and brushed back his hood.

"Let's get this done then."

The junk trader stood and walked over to where the old man was sitting. He reached back into his pack and brought out a small hand axe. The old man pulled up the sleeve on his faded old robe and placed his wrist on the anvil. I cried out: "What are you doing? You can't be serious!" I stood up and started casting around for a weapon.

"SILENCE!" The old man boomed. "You cannot interfere here. It is my price to pay."

The trader looked back at me and smiled. "You fetch a hefty price son."

The axe fell and blood poured out from the stump of the blacksmith's arm. He didn't make a sound, he simply reached for a blade resting in the red furnace and the air filled with cooking flesh as he cauterized the arm.

I stood motionless, uncomprehending and terrified. What did the trader mean, I fetch a hefty price?

The clanking pile of rags reached down and scooped up his prize and sealed it in the wax from a candle. I watched in growing terror as these two men completed their transaction. The hands of the trader shoved the hand deep into one of the bags hanging from his belt and he turned to me at last.

"Well, there you are son. I'm off to the next town past the Wall. Thanks for your troubles, enjoy the grumpy old man here."

"Wait, why did you take his hand? Who are you people, what madness have you brought upon me?"

The heap of dirt and rags just smiled and took up his cart. Only a merry whistling was the answer to this burning question. I turned back to the blacksmith, screaming for a reply. Only a wall of silence greeted me in the ever darkening air. I slumped against the wooden stool near the furnace dazed.

"Hmmph. What a terrible start to this. Alright apprentice, get to working those bellows while I figure out how to work this blade with only my left hand. Gods only know why I paid that much for you but such is the way of the world."

"I am not your apprentice, that man did not sell me. No one owns me, why would you say such a thing?"

"What wil you do then?" he spat in my face. "Go back to farming? Raise sons and grow old and fat in some stinking farmhouse? Tell me boy, how well did that work for you? Was that how you envisioned your life then?"

I reeled back and felt my blood drop into my toes. How could he know these things? Was it not a dream? I knew then that he spoke truth. I belonged here. I could feel my hand reaching out for the steel. It sang to me.

"Very well old man, I will learn your craft. You seem to know something of me. I have not the pleasure of your name sir."

"Nor shall you. You may call me Master. I will call you Boy. That is final. you will obey me in all things, is that understood?"

"Yes Master"

The days fled fast in that shack, I learned more in a week about the craft of forging than any man may learn in a lifetime. I knew that Master was truly more than the title of honor for this strange old man. It was the truth of him. Just as in the past, my weeks flew by me, seasons reeled through the heavens above and in the blur of time I lost my way.

I learned the sword with blood and bone. I poured my very soul into that forge day and night. We lived there in the forge, trading horseshoes and nails for food and cloth. I drew water every morning from the well in the village and carried it back up the road. It was a simple, unhurried life.

We would work on a sword for years on end, perfecting every fold in the metal, working it until it was as supple as grass in the wind with and edge harder than the anvil we worked upon. Once the edge was honed perfectly sharp, Master would wrap the blade in silk and carry it off to his customers. I never saw the customers or the money he received. We made everything we needed trading with the village and I never asked too many questions for fear of the old mans wrath. For years I trained under the Master and in time became known as Apprentice. By the time he stopped calling me Boy, I was 50 years old.

Master has died. This winter was too much for his ancient bones and he passed to the next world a tired and angry man. I am Master now, two young villagers apprenticed to me summer last have taken the role of Boy. I do not know their names, they call me only Master. We sweat each day in the fires of the forge and bend this earth to our wills. Every day I see the Wall looming in the horizon and every day I pine more and more to see the other side.

It is my turn to fade into the horizon now. I am too old for the world and no one has seen my work. 12 perfect blades I have turned out in my life. I can see them there on the wall behind my Apprentice as he damps the sweat off of my brow. I am dying and I have never gone through the Wall. I recall my previous life in that moment, the farm, the houses, my loving wife, my boys and their children. How could a man get another chance at living and find himself at the same place again? The Wall loomed heavily in my mind once more and I was wracked with suffering at having wasted not just one, but two lives in this foolish quest.

I awoke once more.

The mist, the Wall, the clacking of horses and the murmur of morning travel washed over me again. I could not believe I was here again. The woman and her child passed me by, the same look on her face, the same sunlight filtering through the trees.

I ran as fast as I could through the village, past the farmlands and to the blacksmiths shack. There was the tattered old red robed Master, clanging away at the anvil. I looked to his hands. Both appeared firm and whole.

"Master! You have your hands!"

He turned his face towards me scowling. "Of course I do. Why on earth would I not?"

"I thought..."

"You know nothing. Sit down Apprentice. Let me tell you a tale."

Long ago there was a young boy born of a simple family who sought to travel the world. Every day he would lie awake in bed and dream of the world far off in the horizon. While other children played in the rivers and forests, he would dream alone in the fields near his parents farm. His father indulged him for a time but when his majority came to him he sat him down at the hearth and spoke.

"The time for your dreams has passed my son. Now you must grow to be a man and take on more of the farm. This constant dreaming will do you no good in the days to come. You must keep your mind focused here, in the real world."

The boy was scared. He had no interest in farming or horses or the ruddy faced farmers daughters that surrounded the farm. His was to be a life of legend, full of adventure and the riches that it would bring him. Deep in the night he stole away from the farm, one foot falling in front of the other to bring him to his destiny.

By dawn he was further from the farm than he had ever been in his life and he chanced upon a travelling hermit at the spring near the crossroads. The hermit looked at the boy and smiled.

"Well, what have we here? A boy on his own? Are you lost young man?"

"No sir, I have set upon the path of adventure and this road has led me here. I am off to see the world."

"A noble cause to be sure! One I have undertaken myself these many moons. Are you prepared for the world? How will you defend yourself, what of food and shelter?"

"I have my knife here sir and a good stock of food. My camp tent is in my backpack and this fine walking stick."

The boy held aloft his hard wooden staff to the hermit.

"Fine it is indeed young sir, but what of the wolves that stir in the hills? What will you do when ill spirits rise against you in the night?"

The boy thought for a moment. "I don't know sir, I hadn't thought of that."

"What of the dragons lurking in the mountains?"

"I don't know!"

"And the terrible Guardians of the East? So foul that to describe them would cause the skies to darken and worms to boil from the ground?"

"Oh good sir, I do not know. Please tell me no more!"

"Such is the world you seek to see. I have seen all of these and more. It is a cold and unforgiving place full of demons beyond count. There is no rest, there is no respite. I bid you to return to your home and seek this world no more. It is nothing but a den of monsters and thieves."

The boy fell to the ground sobbing. His dreams shattered onto the crossroads in a thousand pieces. He reached down to scoop them back up and felt nothing but air. He scooped up what he could and pulled himself off the ground.

"I did not know. Thank you for telling me these things. I will return to my farm and see my parents."

"Good that you do son, good that you do."

As the boy turned back towards the valley the old hermit chuckled and sat down. He removed his hood and shook off his beard. There at the crossroads sat the boys father, laughing and drinking his wine.

The blacksmith unfolded his hands and looked me squarely in the face.

"Tell me then Apprentice. What is the moral of this story?"

I thought for a moment and replied: "One should know ones station in life and respect it."

He moved so fast I thought he never moved at all. His hand knocked me reeling onto the floor of the shack.

"WRONG you stupid child! The moral is simple. Do not believe in what you see. The world is more than simple stories, more than darkness and death, more than beauty and warmth. It is more than we will ever know and unless we push past our eyes, we will never know what lays beyond. This is the third time you have come to me in this place and still you have learned nothing. Why do I continue to speak? I gave you every secret of sword making I possess and for your whole life you sat here waiting on me hand and foot. What were you waiting for? Why did you not take a sword and leave?"

I stammered out "I thought it would be ungrateful of me..."

"You never asked. First you try to ply me with money, an insult to the concept of sword making. Next I decide to be kind and give up a hand for the chance to teach you. For fifty years I watched you yearn for the blades we forged and yet you remained silent. Why? Explain yourself."

I could not reply. I had no answer. I had never thought to simply ask.

"I do not know Master. Please forgive me."

I bowed low onto the dirt and felt his hand smack me across the top of my head again.

"Forgive you? Hmmph. Three lifetimes I have wasted here in this shack trying to show you the obviousness of the truth and you think it that simple?"

I said nothing. I kept my face on the ground and pulled back my tears. I had failed completely.

"Bagh, get up Boy. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't care. Besides, someone must fetch the water if we are to make you a sword."

I looked up at the face of the Master and smiled weakly.

"Thank you Master, I will not disappoint you this time."

"You'd better not or your next lifetime will be spent as a cockroach."