Day 5
After five days without food, the fainting spells started coming more suddenly and more frequently. Standing up was hard. Staying standing for too long was basically impossible. Reader had to pace himself with his weaving efforts. Physical tasks were just as taxing.
They stood before the floating oval of wood.
Grim suddenly jumped onto it and started bouncing up and down, kicking downwards violently. The board barely vibrated.
“Hmmm. Shit. Maybe you fucking did it. Knots are still a bit loose, but it’s not like it’s gotta last that fucking long.”
Reader stepped cautiously up to join him. The board didn’t shift at first, then began to slowly descend until it gradually came to rest on the ground. When he stepped off, it rose more quickly to its previous height.
Reader said, “It makes me nervous. If I needed to go down twenty feet or something then I’d be pretty confident. But if this thing accelerates as it goes down, from all the way up here… by the time we hit the ground it could be going really fast.”
Grim nodded eagerly, horrible teeth bared in a savage grin. “I know. It’s fucking great, isn’t it.”
Reader said, “Not so much… Can we test it?”
Grim waved at him in annoyance. “Ah, fuck. Where’s the fucking fun in that?”
Reader ignored him. He gathered the one thing he had in abundance: books. He pushed the floating board until it hovered just above the wall that bordered the island and began to stack the books on it. He could only guess how many might roughly approximate his weight. He had started out reasonably slight and only grown thinner in the five days he’d spent on the island. When there were enough books to possibly match his weight, he gently pushed the hovering oval of wood forward until it was clear of the edge of the island, using the tip of his staff to add a bit more distance.
Then he watched. It continued on the path he’d given it, mostly moving downwards but maintaining some of the lateral momentum he’d delivered with the staff. It made him shiver to watch it hanging out there in empty space hundreds of meters above the distant ground. A swell of nausea rose in him at the thought of standing out there on the next board, nothing between him and a terminal fall but an inch of wood and a beginner’s levitation weave.
As it grew further and smaller, he moved to the scope to track its progress.
He said, “It’s definitely getting faster.”
Grim just made a dissatisfied grunt.
Reader snapped, suddenly annoyed. “This is my life we’re talking about! I don’t want to die. You might get some sick thrill from the excitement or your fascination with dying but I FUCKING DON’T.”
Grim grew still and turned to face him briefly before returning to the scope. “Sheesh. Loosen the fuck up. And I don’t fucking appreciate being kink-shamed.”
Reader stuttered, “Kink…”
They watched in tense silence then. The board continued downwards, drifting further away, becoming smaller and smaller until even the scope struggled to discern it.
When it struck the ground some of the books fell from the heap, scattering across the floor. The board didn’t smash or splinter or even tumble over.
Reader said, “Hmmm… It wasn’t a feather landing…”
Grim was just annoyed. “Nah. If some of those fucking books stayed in the fucking stack like that it didn’t land hard enough to fucking break a bone, let alone make you go splat. I guess I should say well fucking done. I didn’t think you had that shit in you.”
Reader straightened up. “Okay. Time for the real deal I guess. I have a job for you while I set up the next board.”
The next weave should have been easier. He’d practiced long and hard, knew the steps, knew the tricks. The challenge was staying upright and conscious as the hunger darkened the edges of his vision. Concentrating, even on a task so vital, became difficult. He would find himself staring at times, the thread of reality just hanging from the end of his staff. He was forced to move away and sit at times. The weave remained when he took these breaks, but upon returning he was frustrated to pinpoint what step he had been on when he left. He had to trace back through the pattern with his eyes and this was only further confounded by the challenges of staying focused.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Eventually, with the sun touching the horizon, he stood, swaying and weak, before another floating board. He shakily mounted it and it only barely started to descend. He stepped off, nearly losing his footing as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
“Fuck, took you fucking long enough!” Grim’s voice shattered the peace. Reader looked to him as he dumped another book onto a small stack.
Unable to muster annoyance or enthusiasm, Reader just droned, “Is that the last one?”
Grim glanced at the stack. “Yeah. Basic alchemy. I’m just fucking guessing the whole time. Frankly it’s fucking lazy of you. My old master would never have pawned off a job like that.”
Reader walked weakly over, just waving thinly, not finding the words. He sank down on the ground by the pile of books.
Grim looked at him, brows sinking slightly in an expression that might have been disappointment or maybe, in a dreamworld, concern. “Not doing so fuckin’ good there, huh?”
Reader shook his head. “I need to eat… so badly…”
Grim said, “Ehhhh… Not that I particularly fucking care if you live or fucking die, but… and you’re not gonna like the fucking sound of this… you gotta wait until morning. It’s nearly night. You want to be staggering around out there in the dark?”
Reader grimaced, nearly sobbing, at the thought of delaying his escape.
Grim went on, “Besides, you’ll need to stay standing all the way down. You can’t monitor that shitty excuse for a weave if you’re sitting on it. Take it from me, best thing to do is eat these fucking books and get some shut eye.”
Reader truly hated the sound of that. The hunger that plagued him was like nothing he had ever imagined before. It was a hunger that went to the depth of his bones. The weakness, the dizziness, the strange nausea and chemical taste of his breath, every moment was a constant awareness of starvation.
But he was too frail to argue. He scanned the books, all eight of them, Grim’s eyes glowing faintly as he watched his master. Reader didn’t take the time to check the titles. He couldn’t care. He’d given Grim the task of making the judgment and he had nothing left in him but to trust his choices.
It was morning of the sixth day. Sleep had done something to replenish him. He stood with Grim on the edge of the island, the board resting on the low wall. The weave had weakened overnight but the task of putting it right had been far easier than making it from scratch.
He used the glowing tip of the staff to tug at the knots once more, making sure they were tight. The left knot was perfectly secure, as good as any he had made. The knot on the right suffered from a slight lack of thread, but he could not face the challenge of undoing the weave and starting over. It had mostly lasted all night. He only needed it to survive a few minutes more.
They brought nothing except a tiny collection of valuables. Reader understood he needed something he could trade for food. He also understood that overloading the floating platform would result in an end that terminated the necessity to eat ever again. The library was bereft of coins or precious stones, but he’d found a fountain pen plated in gold, a letter opener with a jeweled handle, and a paperweight that shone with threads of gold wrapped around a polished stone. These he chose to risk adding to his weight, and nothing more.
Grim looked up at him. “Wow. This is fucking it. I can’t say I ever thought a shitbag like you would get this far. But, fuck… I’m getting off this floating rock. Don’t get me wrong, it would be sweet as shit to be doing it at terminal fucking velocity, but getting out and about isn’t so fucking bad.”
Reader hesitated to step up.
Grim said, “Ah! Don’t chicken out now! You’re fucking hungry, aren’t you? Come on, boss, let’s roll the fucking dice and play the fucking game.”
With that, Grim bounded up to the wall and onto the board. Reader had to shut his eyes at the display. Nothing suspended Grim now but Reader’s weave on the board.
Opening his eyes just enough to prevent a catastrophic accident, Reader climbed up and stood on the board. He found he had to keep his eyes level; he could not bring himself to look down, not even at the board, for fear of seeing the fall below it.
He reached out with his staff.
Grim said, “No pussy shit here. Give it a good fucking shove. We’re pointed for Medley. Would be a fucking shame to get all the way down there only for you to not be able to crawl the rest of the way. I know you’ve gone all limp and wimpy now ’cause you’re afraid of fucking falling, but give it a good one. You’ll be glad you did.”
Reader gritted his teeth. “Or I’ll fuck it up.”
“Eh, then you’ll be too fucking dead to regret it. Either way, it’s win-win.”
Reader pushed off. He’d thought the moment would come with more excitement. There had been times when he’d been certain he would die on the floating island. He should be eager, free, hopeful of food and a future where he could find a way back to his family. All he could feel in that moment though was weakness and the consuming terror of something going wrong.
He did push off hard, and just like that they were gliding away, descending gently.
Grim laughed, bouncing about like they weren’t standing on a tiny platform of wood in the middle of the sky. “Fucking hell! You fucking did it. Hey, open your fucking eyes, you’re fucking missing it!”
Reader shook his head.
“You got to look at some point, need to watch the weave.”
“You do it.”
“I’m not a fucking adept. I can only see it when you see it.”
Reader groaned weakly, eyes still shut, feeling the air move around him, trying not to imagine just how much air lay between them and the ground.
Time stretched. Each minute felt like an hour. But they descended. All seemed well. It wasn’t until they were halfway down that the second knot started to come undone.
Reader snapped open his eyes, face contorting, twisting to look suddenly up to the sky. “What? The second knot?”
Grim groaned. “Oh, fuck, we back to the talking to the sky routine? Fuck, if you go loopy and fall off, do I still have to stay on the board?”
Reader looked down suddenly, keeping his eyes squinting, trying not to see the drop. Of course, he did see it. His head spun at the reality of it. But he was focused, at least for that second, on inspecting the weave.
It seemed fine. It seemed to strain, the threads swelling and glowing as they worked to maintain the spell. But it was fine.
Then he saw the thread starting to slip out of the knot.
