Crossing the Abyss

I had said that I would cross the abyss itself for a slice of comfort, but this... was ridiculous.

First off, when I said that, I had been considering the abyss something figurative. Casual shorthand for 'the ultimate terror.' Something that haunted people's dreams and imaginations. Kind of like speaking of the coming of Ragnarokk, in fact--which was another thing proving to be real.

In the days that I'd known Odjinn, he'd dragged me along on a series of missions "crucial to the salvation of the world." Each had been more perilous and inane than the one before, and I had my doubts about whether we were achieving anything more than his amusement.

I wasn't sold on the idea of saving the world, either, yet each time he'd tricked me into carrying out the appointed task. And for all my work, the world was obviously not coming together.

Now, he was setting me up for yet another 'test of character.' No test was necessary. My lack of character was obvious.

I said this, but Odjinn just snorted.

"'Treasure hides amidst the last of the world's comforts!' ...I believe you ran your life on such a thought. There before you is comfort and treasure both."

Yeah. The abyss was miles wide, yet there was one last spire of earth remaining, about thirty feet away. On it was a table and a layer cake, of all things. Comical, really.

It wasn't just any cake, though at this distance, it hardly seemed to matter. It was of a sort synonymous with decadence and richness. I'd only had it once in my life. Its flavors had a dense power to them, which had awoken me soul and bone.

Wars had been fought for those flavors, people had been enslaved. To the giants, all the world was made of herds to dominate, and treasure to hoard. Cakes such as these had been part of the fodder that tamed us into submission.

What this meant to the matter at hand was unclear, but ominous.

From this distance, my hand was bigger than the cake and spire both. I pretended to flick them away with my finger. Let it all fall away. We were doomed, obviously.

Odjinn scoffed. "Gullveig is your only vice, eh? Somehow I doubt that."

"I have plenty of vices. They're weaknesses." Do the bravest thing of my life for a weakness? Odjinn's understanding of the mind needed work.

"Look more closely..."

The table was made of gold. Of course! If I'd doubted the cosmic joke, this confirmed it.

I looked out on the abyss. Where once there had been pasture, the earth had split apart and fallen away to nothing. Trees had caught on a ledge some distance below; they were piled like corpses.

That was not the bottom, though. It went on and on, swimming into a dim, grayish brown where nothing could be seen for sure. The gravity seemed to have hands, reaching to pull me in. The force of the place seemed to be getting stronger by the moment; it was dizzying.

I backed away and sat down, the void pulling at my insides. I lay down, grasping at the ground and grass for support, and closed my eyes. There was a tingling beneath me, warning that the earth might vanish at any moment.

"The world is falling apart, and all you can do is lie down and cover your eyes?"

"I am not covering my eyes--and--we're all doomed, in case you hadn't noticed." Covering my eyes would have meant letting go of the blades of grass that were keeping me safe. I couldn't even laugh at Odjinn's mad plan anymore. The joke was definitely on me.

"What waits there at the heart of the abyss will be needed. More precious and dire in value than gold or magic beans."

"No one's ever looked to me for heroics. And there's a reason for that." I wasn't about to cut my teeth on something so obviously pointless, either.

"Surely I can expect more of Friyya's little pet?"

So he knew. Of course he did. She was the one person in the world who could shame me, even by mere mention of her name.

Senseless as it was, I sat up, and swung my shaking leg over the edge. I suppose everyone has something that would make them face the end of the world with a fool's defiance.

Nonetheless, my stomach sank and lurched. Moreover, it was a dumb, impulsive way to begin. But I knew that any measure of thought would only make me back out. My legs and whole body tingled. Everything might end for me at any second.

I didn't care about things ending, but I was terrified of falling into the hands of whatever lurked below. Vaguely sensing these things was bad enough, to be in their clutches would be infinitely worse. It wouldn't be an end.

It would be a beginning of something hopeless beyond redemption.

With an ugly yell, I flipped myself backward to begin the descent--feeling like I was tearing through a literal membrane of fear. After that, I felt different, but not better.

I was in a creepy, viscous soup of energy, that became more palpable with every move. It was a slow, creeping progress. Earned by stomach-clenching acts of faith, accompanied by constant sensations of slipping and falling. But I kept going.

Another part of me had fallen silent. I thought of Friyya. If I fell and became part of that soup forever, it would be deserved.

Those thoughts helped me not to care about the moment, and I began to move more swiftly and automatically. All other sensations just coalesced into a monotone of doom.

One way or another, this was a rite of penance. I would comply, descending until the price was paid. It was a relief, really. It gave sense to the horror.

By the time I reached the outcrop where the trees had collected, I was numb. I felt like a robot, commanding my body to execute tasks, and the bridge to reach the spire was next on the list.

The trees were battered, but they had tangles of branches and roots still intact. My plan was to attach them end to end, using the roots and branches to weave them together, then swing it across like a sideways drawbridge.

A doubtful plan, but all I had. Same as my imagined penance.

I got two logs lined up and was weaving them together, roots to limbs, sliding other loose branches crosswise to help keep things in place. I had plenty of practice with slapdash construction, living in a nest of jumbled wood as I did.

My work was never pretty, but I knew how to work with wood's whims. The bonds of the world had broken; nothing could be forced to hold. I could only ask nicely, and offer crossbeams of support to lighten the load.

As soon as I'd finished the basic join, the tremors began. I had been constructing 'the bridge' with minimal movement to the logs, keeping them parallel to the others on the pile until I was ready to put the thing to use.

The shudders found me facing neither the rock wall nor the spire, and straddling one of two trees--half of which was hanging off the rounded side of the ledge. The logs shifted, and I began to slide toward the pit, but not in way that would bring me to the intended destination. Leaning my weight toward the rock wall only helped the slide of logs.

I took a deep breath, and used my knees to swing the fore end of the log bridge into the abyss, aiming for the spire.

I immediately realized that things were hopelessly wrong--I was going down, not forward.

Part of me was ready to just hold on, ride on forward into whatever happened.

But some strange breath of heaven (or something) sent a shiver into me that shocked me to my feet, leaping up the flying bridge in three squirrelish hops, back to the precipice. There, I found myself jumping and dodging still more tumbling logs.

When the ground became solid again, I turned to look down. My pitiful attempt at a bridge was continuing its descent--the trees' woven join sliding apart like a half-hearted friendship.

They turned end over end as they fell, crashing frequently into the rock face, degenerating into a more pulpy mass with every collision. I was back to square one, but with more unfortunate information.

Suddenly, I could hear Odjinn's voice above, humming in what seemed to be one continuous gravelly tone. The sound resonated--sending a tingling in my spine, setting the hairs of my arms to stand on end, and tiny green lights swimming in my mind. All the other sensations of the abyss quieted, replaced by the ringing of Odjinn's voice.

The spire began to vibrate.

From high above, I could hear the plate jiggling against the table, and the spire began to sway.

With both horror and relief, I saw it begin to fall, toward me.

I guess too many things had happened in the past few moments, because I did not react at all. It missed me by inches, and continued falling toward the rock face. For the second time in mere minutes, I thanked the gods for the log bridge I ran up daily to get to my home. I hopped onto the tipped column of rock (now somewhat safely leaning against the rock wall) and raced my way back to its top.

The cake was somehow intact, still on the golden table. Odjinn was a few feet above my head, his arms reaching down to take the cake. After I passed it to him, I waited for him to return to help with the table. It was very heavy--assuredly pure gold. But he didn't return.

I climbed onto the table top, and scrambled the rest of the way to the landing. As I pulled myself up, I kicked a bit with my feet.

Rumblings began immediately. I watched, with some wry resignation, as the spire and the table slid sideways, first settling on the precipice below, then continuing to fall, down and down, into the abyss.

All I could do was shrug, and lie down on the ground. This, too, might betray me at any moment, but I definitely didn't have the energy to care. Beside my head, a little marigold had sprouted improbably in the grass, smiling as though the earth wasn't falling to pieces.

Odjinn appeared beside me--though I'd assumed he'd bailed on me, taking the spoils.

"Some treasures will have to wait. But you have earned your slice of cake--they call this chocolate."

Despite all its sordid history, the cake tasted sweet as the earth, all in one piece.

Thanks for reading! This story continues the adventures that began with Rent-Seeking at Ragnarokk, a runner-up in the Little Black Book Challenge.

There are others, too!

And below, "The Ferryman." Horrible subtitle, but a decent origin story.