A Frozen Sea at the End of the Earth

The world’s end…

 

A realm which lies not so much at the ends of the earth, but rather in the limits of man’s understanding.   It is a land, wrapped in ænigma, which exists defiant to any explanation.  Few travel these lands; under perpetual night, over ice-shorn fjord.  It is for this very reason, if one forsakes the humanity within him, these lands offer a surreal comfort which only the inhospitable can offer.

 

This story begins under the frigid and unrelenting wind which whips over the icy plain, as one of these few travelers had, through his travels, found himself at the ends of the earth.  Although he would surely insist that he had no need for a name wandering these desolate plains and lunar crags, Managarm was still every bit the human he would have denied.  And yet, to find and understand himself, Managarm had decided to search a land which defied human understanding.

 

Managarm was not sure what he was searching for; he knew only that the world of man offered nothing for the likes of him.  He was not like the rest of his kind; those who are content to chase the sun--its warmth and glory--to offer praise to that provider of life.  Such a life which was given so freely held no meaning to Managarm; so he, without particularly planning it, decided to travel a land where life was not so cheaply held.

But how long had it been?  It was impossible to tell, save through cycles of the moon.  When day never comes, such things have no meaning.  Managarm meandered his way through the cracks of an ice-flow, its walls casting an indigo glow which guided him down its crystalline-entombed walls to the lake at the bottom of the valley--a lake which exhumed a pitch of black which even the night withheld.

 

The lake’s depths did not so much as reflect the moon and stars above, but instead it glowed with an internal fire; for at the world’s end, such portals to other worlds may be found.  The banks of such portals are perhaps the closest you will ever come to an infinite cosmos devoid.  Managarm stood at the edge, staring deep inside the water, before gingerly placing a foot upon an ice which was sharp and smooth as glass itself--for Managarm’s foot did not sink into the depths.  As Managarm stepped farther out onto the pitch, he felt a chilled unease which the surrounding snow had never exuded.

 

The ice rippled.

 

It was a small ripple, like a pebble in a pond; but on ice, such a ripple carries a force which grinds and violently rends even the air.  Managarm felt his whole being shift as it was torn away from him, for but a moment.  Yet, much like a missed heartbeat, even a moment can cast one to the edge of the precipice. Managarm collapsed to the frozen obsidian, gasping helplessly--such was the force of a ripple.

 

A voice rolled over the land with such magnitude that Managarm could feel the cold itself tremble as the mountains which surrounded the valley crumbled to dust, as if they never were, “Who are you to intrude on my domain?”  The voice was not one of anger, but rather bemused interest; but with a voice as to crush mountains, even the smallest thought carries a primordial threat.

 

Floundering on the ice, Managarm barely managed a weak, “Just a man… Managarm.”  For although he would deny he was a man; here before such a voice it was all he could think--all he was.

 

From the heavens, seeming to part the moon and stars beneath its frosted-cerulean scales, emerged a dragon.  Massive--of such size as to dwarf the Earth itself, a single scale to fill the horizon.  It was a being with no conceivable end, whose existence defied comprehension--such beings can be found at the ends of the world.  Peering down at Managarm with an eye which overwhelmed even the largest of suns, yet glowed with the softness of distant stars as vast and deep as the obsidian at his feet, the Dragon remarked, “Man… Beings with the audacity to steal fire from the gods themselves?  It has been many an era since your kind ventured to this realm.”  Slithering forward like a great shimmering wave, the Dragon spun about, intent on the stranger before him; or perhaps, the world itself shifted under the Dragon’s might?  With a flick of a tongue which stirred a fierce blast of air, or rather an absence of air which seemed of another world altogether, the dragon added with a drawl, “I… Respect… That.”

 

Managarm looked on in awe, and in a hushed voice, rasped, “Who, are you?”

 

This question seemed to amuse the Serpent who, rearing himself up to a height at which only his glowing eyes could be seen as lone twins in the night-sky, proudly declared, “I am the progenitor of my kind.  He who predates: Jormungand, world serpent who encircles all.  Qing-Long, azure protector of the East.  Niohoggr, who gnaws the world-tree itself.  Quetzalcoatl, feathered serpent who divides heaven and earth.  Julunggul, infinite hued serpent of endless rebirth. Ryuujin, dragon-god of tides. Leviathan who lords over primordial depths.  I am he who stands before even these who followed; one who has existed and faded from memory before such names.  No name was given, and no name is needed; for I have always been, and always will be.”  Then, with eyes narrowed to gleaming slits, the dragon drew close enough that Managarm could feel an unearthly aura radiating, “What is your purpose... here?”

 

Managarm trembled, and without really thinking, he stumbled out the words, “To give... tribute.”

 

Again the dragon’s eyes drew together, but this time with skepticism, “Really?”  Coiling about, creating a valley whose sparkling walls stretched up to the edge of the firmament, the dragon rumbled, “What would one such as you, have for tribute?”

 

It took Managarm many moments to answer; after all, he did not truly have anything that he could offer up.  Especially to a primordial force of such magnitude; what could a mere man give a being which held the world under its clawed whims?  Weakly, uncertainty lingering on the word, Managarm suggested, “Fire…?”

 

As a rumble shook heaven and earth, Managarm realized that the dragon was purring in satisfaction.  Showing its open maw for the first time, with rows and rows of impossible fangs, the dragon… smiled.  “Indeed, such is a tribute which only your kind could offer.  This…”  The dragon inhaled.  As the air whipped around him, Managarm could feel his inner heat fade away, drawn away on the wind; but instead of a fierce cold, Managarm felt...nothing.  With a sigh the dragon finished, “…pleases me.”

 

The dragon seemed absorbed in thought, “A gift should not go unrewarded.  Few would so willingly give what was seized from Gods.  Some might call you a fool.  But I recognize the value of such tribute.  Fire…”  From the heavens descended an enormous claw greater than the moon, which shone with a similar lustrous glow.  Despite the claw descending upon him, Managarm felt no fear; and as absurd as it may be, the world seemed right for the first time. 

As the claw touched the obsidian at his feet, Managarm began to sink deep within its confines.   The last thing he heard, before the shadows consumed him, was a rumbled, “Join me in my palace, at the beginning and end.”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Managarm stood, in an absolute darkness, as though light itself would, could, never exist.  He said nothing, instead, he wandered about aimlessly.  While many would feel that there was no purpose to those steps, Managarm’s feet were guided by an unseen force, as though they were steps to a dance which Managarm had always known--had always been meant to perform.  Each step seemed to flow, to plunge, through the void, and as time passed, Managarm became aware of others which stepped with him.  What at first felt like a silent movement, became a maundering rumble which pulsed with a primal force.  From a distance, a glow echoed across the furthest recesses of the void; casting shadowed silhouettes of the prior unseen dancers across the dark.

 

Then, as if eternity had been waiting for a flame to kindle, the crowd of dancers began to rotate in a circle, each step a rhythm all understood.  Swinging to his right, Managarm leapt forward, and reaching out, felt his hands meet another of matted fur.  Startled, he looked up, to see the long silver-streaked face of a badger, its fur flowing through the dark like the Milky Way.  They spun about, each transfixed by the other’s eyes, and Managarm couldn’t help but wonder what the regal beast thought of him.  Then, still guided by an invisible force, they were apart; and Managarm spun to meet his next partner, a fox of purest white whose eyes seemed much as the obsidian that made up the floor upon which they danced.

 

With each step this world removed spun with a lambent frenzy.  Each of the dancers moving faster and more furiously than before, driven by a purpose held common.  Under each leapt step the whole world trembled, and with each sweep the air crackled a rending groan.  As the flames grew, like a sun to nurture all creation, Managarm noticed with each pirouette, that the walls of this palace were scales themselves.  Shimmering, moving... twisting about to the rhythm of the dancers.  Or perhaps they all moved to the rhythm of those coils.  The palace at the beginning and end, was none other than the dragon itself.  

For what seemed an eternity, in a land with no time, Managarm danced with the many others who stood at the world’s end: Bears, Wolves, Stags, Owls, Spirits of Ice and Mountain, and many others which he did not know.

 

Managarm was abruptly standing alone again--his feet sunk beneath tepid water.  The rhythm was gone.  Gazing down, Managarm saw the stars and moon flicker lazily within the ripples he had made; it was just a lake.  Abruptly, the lake flashed an unrestrained flame; looking up Managarm was horrified to see a fireball descend upon him, like a moon to clash with the earth.   Throwing his hands up, covering his eyes as if to banish a dream, Managarm waited for an inevitable impact… which never came.  Lowering his hands, and looking down at his feet, he saw a small box, simple in craft.

 

As he reached down to pick it up, the dragon’s voice reverberated, “Protect and cherish this gift I give unto you; but never open it.  Within lies what you cannot exist without, but if touched, will crumble beneath you.”

 

Managarm searched all about him, but no sign of the dragon was to be seen; yet all the same he asked in confusion, “What is it?”

 

“To learn of something is to touch it with the mind, and such a thing should never be done without what you have forsaken.” echoed the voice, fading away in the wind.

 

“What have I forsaken?!” bellowed Managarm, but only the wind was there to reply.  So without finding his purpose, or what he searched for, Managarm returned to his homeland with the box in hand.  Because the only thing which awaited him in the north was but an empty lake, and nothing more.

 

Where he had scorned the company of his fellow man, in the land of his fathers, Managarm found only a crumbling shell of that world.  Empty, dilapidated buildings slowly reclaimed by the land they had once tamed.  Managarm wandered, a chill set deep in his chest which he couldn’t thaw, searching for but a fragment of his fellow man which he had once held in contempt.  For while Managarm had joined the progenitor of serpents within its coils, many eons had passed--as had his kind.  Wandering the four corners of the world, he realized at last that he would never leave the ends of the earth, for without man, is not the whole earth but an end for its sole wanderer?  And yet still Managarm wandered; unable to find purpose in the Ends, unable to search elsewhere. 

 

It was only a matter of time; his fruitless journey drove Managarm to contemplate the box which the dragon had given him.  He had been told to never open it, but warnings are easy to forget: to rationalize, to ignore.  Standing at the ends of an earth which lacked that surreal majesty he had felt in the dragon’s palace, where each step had purpose and direction, Managarm unfastened the clasp on the box.  Looking within the box, there was nothing--absolutely nothing--until he raised his gaze.

 

Obsidian stretched to the horizon, a vast sea which scorned the small lake he had come across all those millennia before.  Filled with awe, Managarm stepped out onto the ice, which held sturdy beneath his feet.  This was where he belonged, he knew it without a doubt.  Peering down, Managarm could see something confined under the opaque black which held not even the stars above.  What was it?  Fixated by what seemed to be an unearthly pulse, a vibrant crimson isolated, trapped in a moment of time, Managarm could not look away.  He needed to hold it; he didn’t know why, but such things don’t matter when all you need is to hold it in your hands--to hold it in your gaze.

 

Seizing an icepick in hand, Managarm frantically hacked away at the brittle glass, desperate to reach, to understand that which lay under that enigmatic obsidian.  With each blow, the glass cracked just a little more… closer, he was closer.  With a final blow, Managarm drove his pick with all his might, and the ice shattered beneath him.  And with it, the heart--his heart--which had been sealed beneath the ice, shattered as well.  With a gasp, grasping at his void chest, Managarm looked up trying to find a dragon as great as the cosmos.  Yet it remained invisible to his searching eyes.  With no one to ask, Managarm gasped out a final, “What did I…?” before sinking to his knees and offering up a final breath,

 

To the frozen sea at the end of the earth.

 

Reviews

[AprilRN1210]

I was so wrapped up in the story, I wasn't ready for it to end. It really drew me in and captivated my attention the entire time. I particularly enjoyed the rich descriptions and brilliant use of language here. One thing I did notice was you did overuse a few words such as "travel"- which you could easily replace with something else in a few of those places. One other thing, (yes, just my opinion) the line where the dragon drawls "I ....Respect...That..." it is stressed here and doesn't seem like it fits the story... I would put something stronger here. I just can't see at that point in the story a dragon that old, that wise- saying something like that.... I really liked becoming immersed in this fantasy. Awesome write.

[Author Rucha Joshi]

Engaging! I wish I could read more! The story grossed me into it, totally and I enjoyed reading it!

[Mister_Sir]

I loved this story. I especially enjoyed the imagery. And, as usual, the style is good. Although, a little improvement is necessary, which is understandable, considering that this is a rough draft. I love Norse mythology, so this twist is especially appealing to me. And how the dragon is introduced is pretty epic. And I especially liked the tragic ending. My favorite thing about this story is that in an odd way it seems archaic and modern simultaneously. I suppose the story seems archaic, but the style seems more modern. It's a beautiful antithesis.

Neurotically yours,
Mister Splitbrain

[Jennie Baron]

An absorbing, entertaining story, for sure, one which I imagine being told around a campfire many centuries ago. You keep coming up with ideas for new takes on old stories and making them seem fresh, though. And you have a gift for detailed description, from which I've certainly benefited. Good to see something new from you.