The Rest of the World

By Brandon Markham
 If the locusts come again to ravage the Blades of Grass,

nothing would defend the city-the world-from the Blood Sun’s

wrath. Tanaber crossed the locust-devoured webs of grass that a

spider never weaved named Ten Lines Bridges. Bridges still hung

limply in the air, held by broken or destroyed pillars. Fitting,

he thought.

Tanaber looked behind him. He had just left Death with an

inescapable contract in the bronze waves of uneaten grass. The

wind swept through, each blade ruffled against each other,

whispered their need to the duelist. Now, he crossed the path he

picked, the road to the Rock of Lies. She would be there, waiting

for him as she waited for the earth to die. I would love to see

my pet again. Tanaber smiled.

***

When Tanaber stepped foot in the Rock, he fired his gun at

the girl. It was not the girl, but rather a wispy image of her.

The bullet passed through, the image fuzzed, winked from

existence, darkening the black hollow. Well, the guardian is

gone. Tanaber never told the Lords in Asgred that the Rock of

Lies-which he created and named-was not a joke when they laughed.

Of the six Lords, two fell into a mad abyss, swimming in their

own foam. One clipped his ears.

Remembering the passages well, the duelist cut through the

winding, lying tunnels. Each step brought pain. Every inch

strained the truth. My daughter. Memories began to lie to him.

Tanaber was a duelist, serving the Fists, rulers of The Rest

of the World. Tanaber was a soldier, who served ___ before the

___. Tanaber was a father. He loved her. He killed her. He

remembered all these things, yet he is none of them. He

continued.

He stopped.

Looming like a spear-point rising against the skies from the

underworld, the rock that Shadaris lay sprawled on its face, was

cracked. She writhed. Held to the rock, bound by Tanaber’s

punishing serpent whose head and fangs just towering mere inches

above her hair, she screamed when she saw him. Tanaber had his

gun out.

“Tanaber!” she hissed. “The lies never twist you! You can

never accept!” She finished with a strong shout that stemmed from

hatred.
 Tanaber spoke. “I’d never accept the lies you twisted from

my memory, Shadaris, when I put you in your place.” Sighing, he

picked up his tone again. “Where are they?”

Shadaris smiled. “You know, then where!?” Tanaber shouted.

“In the truth, my locusts will lie to them, My Tanaber.”

Tanaber leveled the gun. Not at her, but at his pet. The

snaked jerked, hissed. If he shot it, venom would explode from

its head, falling on the witch’s crown, burning her with a

deafening agony. Then the head would grow back, administering the

daily drops that seared her once beautiful face. This was not the

first time he had done so.

“My life for death, and you Tanaber, I give thanks.”

Tanaber lowered his gun. “You do?”

“The world doesn’t have to end here, right now.”

Tanaber’s heart raced. That powerful? The witch was still

that strong, though his snake had her bound? No. She’s bluffing.

Ten Lines Bridges crossed his mind.

There were so many. Tiny insects diving like bombs from an

airship, or rain from the clouds in the millions. Biting,

feeding, and devouring everything and anything. Ten Lines

Bridges. The central network of the world that connected to the

Ten Cities, The Rest of the World. Destroyed. Ravaged. But how
could that many locusts destroy the heavily guarded…epiphany

struck Tanaber as he fired.

“YOOUUU!” he shouted before the snake exploded. Shadaris’s

scream resounded from the walls, looking for a path to escape.

Smoke curled from her poison drenched face.

Of Course! She destroyed the world’s only routes. Meaning…

no. She smiled, as the mirage of his snake dissipated into the

mist, the real one, its body sliced into two pieces, fell at the

duelist’s feet. She never moved. Tanaber had failed. He was

trapped. She wanted him.

“You and I are linked.” She said. “The second you bound me

after I spit on the world.”

Tanaber still held that memory. The spit from her mouth

brought the locusts, attracted to the sweet, venomous scent.

“I can see it on your face.” She said. “You realize that

the world can be destroyed at this instant. In a moment. In a

second. Can you bear it? I can hear your heartbeat. There is

nothing you can do.” Shadaris never laughed, but added: “Yet, we

are linked. The choice is yours, duelist. But I tell you a lie

that is the truth. Your kind already has the world marching to

its death.”

Tanaber believed her. It is no secret that mankind with

their petty ways, armed with blades forged from philosophy,

prejudice, and selfishness, had laid waste to this the world. The
rest of the world was The Rest of the World. Though, he too,

shared her ideas and beliefs. Though it was mankind who had

killed her daughter in the wars, he could act as a judge.

If Tanaber’s face reflected his thoughts, then Shadaris

read them, saying: “Not until the Blood Sun revoked those rights

and put Death on his second throne. Not until I spat on the

world, rebuking it did my existence threaten the lies that your

Fists constructed. I would have brought them down, telling

mankind that the world is the way it is because of them.”

Only two wars against Shadaris were fought, and she may

have already won this third war. Tanaber, without asking, knew

the options she has given him. Tanaber also remembered Death’s

deal. Bring her soul, or die. Tanaber was the only one who could.

A third option, however, raced through his head as he put his gun

to it.

“You’re going to shoot yourself?” Shadaris asked her face

twisted with confusion.

“If I have to take my third option, I will. The first, I

already know. Let the locusts do as they please, which isn’t

much. The second, let mankind finish off the world. The second is

crueler than the first, but the third will set me free from this

link. But I still haven’t made up my mind.”

Sahadaris just stood. She is still bound in here. Tanaber

thought.
 And thought, memories untwisting, the truth clearer than

water.

He was a father to his daughter, served the Nine Human

Lords. They raped and killed her while he slaughtered his own

insurgent city, unaware that Elarda was nursing her daughter. As

a duelist of the Fists, his perception of mankind changed,

twisted, straightened, and twisted again.

He decided. He remembered.

“My granddaughter…” he began. Shadaris’s eyes widened. “I

say this, I have made my choice. Let us live. You will only save

us from responsibility if you destroy us. The second option is

cruel, but kind. Just like your mother, my daughter, Elarda. Why

else wouldn’t you have given me those options? But let us pay. We

never brought the peace we wanted, but instead begotten violence.

We deserve not to die until the world does. Only then, will it be

too late. As for my second decision…”

Shadaris’s feet pounded against the ground, running as the

duelist fell on it. Blood sprung into the air where he fired. She

reached him, cradling him in her arms, looking down on his face

with her burned one.

“Tanaber…” she cried. She would not have done it. Even she

had lied to herself, justifying mankind’s actions by saying that

we were just human. But Tanaber-her grandfather-had said to let

us pay.
 Shadaris understood. She called her locusts, not to

destroy the world though. She commanded them to torment mankind

till the end of their days. They would find them, bite them,

sting them, and poison them with an unreal truth. They deserve to

die for the history they have paved, the lives they have slew

with their tongues.

Shadaris would pay as well. She refused to escape her

responsibility with Tanaber.

We are so close to the end. She thought. Maybe we are

already there. Each ending though, brings a beginning.