The Wall

Alright, first post of 2015! This is a short story (from a writing prompt, which is the first sentence) from off the top of my head without any revisions. I'm going to be attempting some different styles and perspectives with my short stories, so look for those in the next few months. Enjoy.

“The last man who tried to scale the wall was never seen or heard from again. I still don’t know if that means he succeeded or he failed.” The elderly storyteller leaned back in his chair, taking a deep draw from his pipe and watching the smoke curl in the air for a moment before looking back at the group of listeners.

“That’s it?” Ori leaned forward with a frustrated exhale, hand on his knees, eyes narrowed. “But you never told us why the wall was built in the first place.”

The storyteller shrugged, motioning toward the young man with his pipe. “Nobody knows why it was built, lad. It just showed up one day, higher than the clouds and thicker than the ocean is deep.”

“No one even saw it being built? A giant wall?” He leveled a sarcastic glare at the man, crossing his arms.

“That’s because it wasn’t built.”

The group of men listening, ranging in age from youths barely in their teens to men who had seen far too many years as a field-working slave.  Their skin was darkened by the sun, their hands calloused, their eyes lacking the light of hope that some of the youths still held onto. Ori glanced around at them, bothered by their silent acceptance of what this man said.

The Wall stood for longer than any generation or historian could recall. It was too tall, too smooth to climb, and reportedly to thick to dig through. Reportedly.

He stood and stretched. The past few weeks working on the fields of Lord Kend’s plantation had left his back protesting the hours of working hunched over. The field workers, however had it easy. He knew firsthand.

Ori watched as the storyteller slipped out of the building--leaving the haggard group of slaves to stare silently into the flames of the hearth with nothing but their growling stomachs to keep them company.

Lad. That man had called him lad. Ori smiled to himself, shrugging into his cloak and working his way around the perimeter of the room toward the exit. Of course, the storyteller wouldn’t know a Changer when he saw one, but Ori was no lad. In fact, they had celebrated his seventy-ninth birthday just a few months ago.

He was one of the Changers--a faction of appearance-shifting Vendorians who had escaped King Matthan’s Great Purge. Now, they flitted from one Lord’s plantation to another, finding and collecting their own, never staying in one place for long.

Gifted with long life and youthful dexterity, the Changers had been working for six years now--ever since the King had decided to destroy all magic-users--with a single goal in mind. They were going to get to the other side of that Wall.

Or die trying.

Ori ducked out the door, pulling his cloak tighter at the cool wind that greeted him. He glanced around in the darkening light, but there was little motion between the common houses where the slaves lived. One bonus in working on plantations--the slaves weren’t closely monitored.

He paused at the edge of the houses--looking toward the trees, and beyond them, the giant stone face of the Wall. He checked his surroundings again, then he breathed in, and Changed.

It was a simple Change, only taking a little Breath, but the feeling of life-giving air being pulled from his lungs always brought a small touch of panic--even after all these years.

He entered the woods. A little taller, an average male face--brown hair, brown eyes, dark skin--and a strong body. He would need to be strong. This month was his turn to work on the tunnel. He approached the wall slowly, slinking from one tree to the next, watching for any sign of movement.

“You’re really bad at sneaking around Ori,” a female voice to his side made him jump and he turned to see Cayse.

She had taken an exotic form--as usual--with dark blue skin and narrow yellow eyes. Like all Changers--they could always recognize each other despite the forms they took. It was like recognizing someone you’d known all your life. You just know them.

Cayse slinked ahead of him, small and lithe in form she covered ground quickly. “You weren’t seen were you?”

“Of course not,” he assured her as they reached the base of the wall.

He helped her roll the boulder back--revealing the tunnel. It was damp and dark--Cayse lifted a small firebrand, giving just enough light to make the tunnel even creepier.

“Ready?” she asked.

Ori shrugged and drew in on his Breath. It was twenty-seven miles to where the workers would be. Walking on two feet would be too slow.

He Changed, fighting back the desperate urge to draw in a Breath, as he fell onto all fours. He hated animal-form. Especially dogs. He glanced at Cayse who had, of course, turned into a large cat--lean and speckled. She turned a glinting eye toward him, then took off with a bound.

He followed behind, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he ran. There was something freeing about being such a simple beast. He could almost sink into the simplicity of a dog’s mind--forget his worries--slip away . . .

NO! He shook his head, focusing on counting each footfall as he ran. Animal-forms were dangerous because you could forget yourself in them. And if you forget--you never can change back.

Seeing torch-light ahead, he Changed back. Suffering through several panic-ridden moments as his body screamed for oxygen. His vision tunneled, but he still didn’t breathe. If you took a Breath mid-change you would interrupt the change and became two-form. Which was extremely painful, and inconvenient, to say the least.

He gasped, straightening upright, returned to his previous form of choice.

Kael and Winn greeted them, both in the form of average Vendorian males--tall, dark, strong bones and muscles.

Cayse--of course--had opted for a different form again. Short, slender, dark hair, ghostly white skin. She pushed past the two men and stopped at the end of the tunnel. She stared at the rock--a scowl across her face.

“I’m sick of this stinking wall,” she grumbled, “what if it’s true and we can’t get to the other side?”

“Then we’ll have to live the rest of eternity in hiding,” Winn walked up beside her. The eldest of the group--it had been his idea to tunnel through the wall in the first place. Most of the Changers had given up on the idea.

She kicked the stone, grimacing and retrieved a pick-axe, “well, what are we waiting for?” She growled, lifting the axe and swinging with strength that defied her small form.

Ori blinked as the axe hit the rock with a loud ringing sound. Stone crumbled. Dust filled the tunnel.  Coughing, he lifted a hand at the bright light that streamed into his eyes.

“Sunlight?” Kael said in awe.

“Sunlight!” Cayse screamed.

They rushed forward. A crack opened in the wall ahead of them--barely a finger’s breadth wide--but light streamed through. With an expression of awe, the four looked at each other, then with exuberant shouts they all started hacking at the rock--chipping away each piece in a race toward freedom.

© Copyright Charity K, 2015