The Humanarium.

Chapter 14: A dying World

The squeaking roar from the container is constant as the creatures shout at me. I watched as they attempted to climb over each other to escape, some dying in the press. I will build a roof over the top and separate them into categories. More containers will be needed.

His bond with Sonora grew stronger each cycle. She was consumed by her work and spent all of her time brewing potions to take into town and help those close to the Gillman family. She never seemed to tire from it, but with all her work, and no matter how tired she was, she still found time for Gorman. And Harl seemed to be a part of that world now. They would sit together in the evenings laughing and telling tales, stealing glances at each other in the firelight. Gorman would sit there as well, a contented smile on his face as he listened to them, but Harl had no idea what the old man was thinking.

The cycles passed and they walked often among the trees and grasses discussing life in all the worlds around them. They would talk endlessly of the people inside each one, attempting to guess how many there were and what the differences would be. What would the people look like? How would the buildings differ? But what caught Harl's imagination was the worlds themselves. What strange landscapes would there be? Would they all be the same size, or would some be vast expanses where you could walk for cycle upon cycle without reaching the barriers? Sonora laughed at his wild imaginings, but he could see the excitement in her eyes at the thought of it.

Harl had started building his own house. He cleared trees and dug a well hole with the help of some local lads, rewarding them with a tankard of Olger's ale at the end of each cycle. The house took shape quickly with all the help and within a few dozen cycles it was almost complete. One cycle a cartload of stone came rumbling up from the town, pulled by four stout oxen led by a jolly man. The cart was soon offloaded and stored despite Harl's objecting and saying he hadn't ordered it. The man just laughed and then puffed up his chest and announced that the stone blocks were of the finest quality as specified in the order. Dozens of red roof tiles were carted up next, along with two skilled labourers who set about the task of fitting them immediately. Gorman had paid for all of it, of course, but when Harl had begged to pay him back Gorman just waved him away with a smile and said, 'you already have my lad. You already have.'

Harl spent most of his time building the spacious workshop attached to the side of the house where he would establish a new forge in the hopes of paying Gorman back for his generosity, despite what the old man said.

When that was finished, he spent his time recreating an exact replica of the bench he had made to honour his parents. This time he did not place it facing Sightwards but instead towards the opening of the valley far below the hills.

When he woke the next morning and stepped from his home, he found Sonora sitting on the bench waiting for him. At first he thought something was wrong but the smile on her face told him otherwise. The morning was as bright as ever and a cool breeze brought sounds of animals deeper in the forest.

'It's wonderful, Harl,' she said running her fingers across the deep grooves in the wood.

'Thank you,' Harl said and meant it. He was immensely pleased that she liked it so much. He moved over and sat next to her as she turned on the seat to admire the faces carved on the back rest.

'Your parents?'

'Yes,' Harl said.

'Are they back in your own land?'

'No. They were lifted by god.'

'I'm so sorry, Harl,' she said, lowering her head onto his shoulder.

'It was a long time ago,' he said, 'and I was only a child. I argued with them over some trivial point and ran off. I obviously couldn't go far but they came after me and as they were calling for me, the hand of God came and snatched them away.'