Wind City - The Box

The Box


Copyright (c) 2009 Stephen Winterflood

The Prosperous Dove silently landed on the Airdock platform. She had been a vibrant, lively trading ship that had often visited the Wind City over the years, but today she was like a ship of ghosts.

Each of her crew was a pallid shadow of their former selves, and anyone who had taken the time to look into their eyes would only see a look of terror deep within. What they had seen on this voyage they would never forget for as long as they lived. But thankfully they would not have to carry these nightmares with them for much longer, for they would never reach their next destination. Lost souls who would soon be lost to the world.

The gangplank was lowered, and after a long pause their only passengers disembarked, watched with intense hopeless gazes by the crew, glad to see them departing at last. A man dressed in robes of such dark green that they could easily have been taken for the blackest of night, led the group from the ship, his robes glinting with the markings of arcane work. And behind him came two large ochre skin men carrying a large black box that was carved with intricate Glyph like patterns. The box was about half the size of these giants, but their muscles bulged from the strain of carrying something of such weight from the ship.

Noticing these new arrivals, the Northern Airdocks Master, Mortald, quickly made his way across the platform towards them, eager to see what business they had brought to the city, and how he could profit from it most.

“Good morning, Sir,” said Mortald, with a quick polite bow, “welcome to the Wind City.”

“Good morning,” said the cloaked man, with a pleasant voice that made Mortald feel slightly uncomfortable.

“Did you have a good journey here on the Prosperous Dove?” said Mortald, noticing the airship was already preparing to leave, which was odd.

“It was a pleasant diversion,” said the man, continuing to walk towards the exit of the Airdock as Mortald walked beside him.

“So are you here on business, or pleasure?” asked Mortald.

“My business is always a pleasure,” said the man, now standing still and looking at the Northern Airdocks Master, “is yours?”

“What?” replied Mortald, momentarily taken aback by his first glimpse of the face of the man, and those intense eyes that instantly ensnared him. He had the looks of one of the desert dwellers, that dark sun baked skin, and those sharp almost blade like features that regarded him with interest.

“Your pleasure. Is your business a pleasure?” continued the man. “Or is it a nightmare?”

“Well it does have its ups and downs,” said Mortald, continuing to be drawn in by those eyes that seemed to sparkle with an intense golden fire. “I mean, you get to meet some interesting people, and then there is always having a good laugh with the lads.”

“Interesting,” said the man, still seeming to examine Mortald. “And what do you dream of, Mortald?”

“How…” Started Mortald, wondering how this man knew his name, but then he thought of his dreams, his wishes for the future, and what would he one day hope for.

“You do dream, correct?” said the man.

“Oh indeed, who doesn’t?” said Mortald.

“Nobody, you would think,” said the man, with a slight sense of regret to his voice.

“So what does this have to do with your business in the Wind City then?” asked Mortald, momentarily shaking himself from the man’s gaze.

“I am Wuzralam,” said the man with a barely noticeable nod, “and I bring dreams to you and your fair city.”

“You bring dreams?” said Mortald, with a laugh. “How’s that work then?”

“Do you see that box, Mortald?” Said Wuzralam, pointing towards the burden that his two men still held aloft.

“I do,” said Mortald. “It looks pretty heavy, what’s in it?”

“Dreams, my dear man,” said Wuzralam. “That box contains dreams.”

“Really?” said Mortald with disbelief. “How do you get dreams in a box.”

“Ah well, that is the secret,” said Wuzralam, “but believe me when I tell you that within that box are all of your dreams, everything that you have ever imagined, and everything that you have ever wished for.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Mortald, now giving the box a closer look. “So you are selling dreams then?”

“You could explain it in that way, I suppose,” said Wuzralam. “But it is far more than that.”

“I see,” said Mortald, not really seeing what the strange man was going on about. “Well I hope you realise that there will be an import duty on that box then, if it is to be used for business of course.”

“Such simple terms,” said Wuzralam, with a smirk. “But, as is always the way.

“I am afraid so,” said Mortald.

“So where can we negotiate these import duties of yours?” said Wuzralam

“Ah,” said Mortald, relishing the opportunity of making a bit of extra money from this man and his funny box of dreams, “my office is right over there.”

“Then lead the way my dear fellow, and we shall see what we can do,” said Wuzralam, gesturing for the Northern Airdocks Master to proceed.


* * *


The day passed on, with airships arriving and airships leaving, as was the norm in this part of the city, so it was a few hours before anyone noticed the Northern Airdocks Master hadn’t been seen for a while. But as midday approached one reluctant soul was volunteered by his fellow dockhands to see where Mortald had gone. It wasn’t that they were concerned about their boss’s wellbeing, no they couldn’t really care less about the man, they were only worried they wouldn’t get paid today. And so the individual in question proceeded to the office of Northern Airdocks Master and cautiously knocked on his door.

Potwan always managed to get himself volunteered for the horrible jobs. Whether it was clearing up the mess from an airship’s waste tank, which had accidentally been emptied onto the docks, or having to hang from the beams underneath the Airdock, to unhook a securing rope that had accidentally got snagged, he was always the one that got the short straw. In fact the others had nicknamed him Short Straw due to the fact of this luck. So now he stood at the door waiting for some sound from within, not wanting to anger his boss who hated to be disturbed from extracting import duty from new arrivals, especially if they were of the female kind.

“Hello, Sir?” called Potwan, knocking at the door. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“How can it be?” said a barely audible voice from within the office, “It is not possible.”

“Hello?” said Potwan again, now cautiously pushing the door open, and peering within.

“Unbelievable,” said the voice again, from within the dimly lit office.

“Mortald, Sir, is that you?” said Potwan stepping cautiously through the door, and now seeing his boss sitting at his desk. “Are you alright Sir, as the lads were concerned?”

“Dreams,” said Mortald, holding his head in his hands. “How can dreams be so real?”

“Dreams, Sir?” said Potwan, not wanting to venture any further into the office, and wondering what was wrong with Mortald. The man didn’t look right, his shoulder were shaking and he seemed to be in a right old state.

“You should have seen it,” said Mortald, now looking up at Potwan with eyes that were filled with terror. “No, no, it wasn’t for you to see.”

“Sir, are you feeling alright?” said Potwan, now edging his way back to the door, “you look a bit unwell to me, Sir.”

“You should have seen it,” repeated Mortald again, looking down at his desk as if looking at something on it. “He showed me everything, no that’s not right. It showed me everything, yes that was it. It showed me it all.”

“It, Sir?” said Potwan, confused, “I think I had better go get someone, yes that is a good idea. You just sit there and I will get someone to help you.”

“Oh no, there is no help,” said Mortald. “He showed me it all. Give me your dreams he said. Promised to show me the wonders, but he showed me that. How could it happen? How can that be the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Potwan, now pulling the door open. “It all sounds very interesting, but I must just leave you for a minute now.”

“Give us your dreams,” said Mortald to himself. “We will show you what’s inside, he said. He knew it all. No it knew it all, the box could see it all, and it showed me everything. How could it? How could it?

Potwan wasn’t hanging around any longer, and quickly exited the office looking for someone to help him. Clearly Mortald had lost all his marbles and had gone completely mad. Maybe the job had finally got to the man.

“Give us your dreams,” said Potwan, as he hurried away from the office. “What was that all about?”

And the Wind City floated along above the land, on towards what lay ahead.