-From Cogitations: 1:1-3
Vivex looked out on a completely different ecosystem.
Obsidian black ground, weaving through the whirling tempest of color that was the Aetherflow. It was dotted with earthblood-like structures, huge crystalline growths that sparkled with a weird light. She looked back at the portal they had walked through.
Is… that the trunk of the cypress tree? She thought it might be. Obsidian ground smoothly changed hue into the browns, grays, and pale yellow white of true roots. She looked back out into the realm ahead of them, full of awe.
Thum-Thum went Tok’s massive feet.
She could see other pathways, and she could tell why it was called the rootway now, because that was what it looked like. The paths all spread out to lace with others, to sprout thinner trails, to rejoin with larger streets. Here and there she saw them pierce the aetherflow, terminating in similar trunk-like structures of various hues.
Other Barkskins? Or just portals back to the real world?
Barkskins. Her Instinct hissed, guessing from within her eyes. Not a guess. Barkskins. It snarled.
Some of the crystals and obsidian even floated up in the air with no support at all. Vines and roots and other strange plants dotted the surfaces of this strange jungle, but not as thickly as she was used to. They connected the otherwise free floating sections to the main paths, creaking with a slow regular rhythm.
Some of these plants look sickly. She eyed several that had withered into black crumpled shapes. What had happened? Though, if she was being honest, Vivex wasn’t sure how they grew at all.
There isn’t any water I can see.
Her Instinct didn’t respond, completely indifferent at the revelation. Run! Jump! She wanted to, and she thought she might at the next floating section that was within reach.
If the endpoints are trees, perhaps the greenery in here is parasitic in nature?
Her Instinct shrugged as Tok hissed contentedly, continuing his relentless stride forward.
Thum-thum.
It was wondrously beautiful regardless of that.
A land of crystal and light.
Cl-clink!
The chain shifted, and then it felt like she was falling! Her bag and bow also moved up, as if she was hanging upside down. Vivex gripped the hilt tight, feeling the entire blade shift in its sheath, pushing into her feet! Sliding out!
She yelped just as the blade jerked to a stop. Held in with nothing more than a buckle that wrapped around one of the quillons of the hilt. Everything started to shift sideways, and there was a distinct impression that down was slowly rotating around the path with each passing moment. Using it as an axis.
Visibly it wasn’t, but her bag, her bow, even Tok’s sword that she was still clinging to, were all slowly shifting and pulling in a direction that distinctly wasn’t down from a visual perspective. She started to feel nauseous. The felt movement and what she saw clashing in her mind.
Tok glanced at her and snorted before he kept walking, eyes forward. Unbothered. All the while his massive sword began to push up into Vivex’s feet, the chain clinking as her own possetions conspired to pull her up and out into the empty air. It was as if the items wanted to fall that way.
If he drops it, it will fly off around the path until it hits the aether!
The sword shifted again and she was jostled by the momentum of the hefty blade, almost knocked off of her perch.
What? N-no! This doesn’t make sense! The feeling of nausea increased, joining her fear of flying off to who knew where. The Initiate clung to Tok’s weapon tight, terrified that she would fall into the sky, hissing in distress. Tok turned to look at her, and shame joined the hues of fear in her scales.
Weak! Her shame redoubled as she saw her hue slip. I am weak! Tok wasn’t bothered! Why was she? And he had seen her fear. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his judgement. She hated this, it wasn’t right!
Not weak! Her Instinct snarled. Just new to this place, new to the world. World wasn’t the correct definition, but she couldn’t translate the feelings from her hindbrain into anything else.
The internal conflict must have shown somewhere, for Tok rumbled “Let your Instinct guide you, neonate.” Unperturbed as ever, prefixes not scornful, but gentle. And, supportive? That surprised her, and she felt yellow pride wash over her.
“Guide me?” She asked.
He grunted. “Let it take control. It should know this place.”
She hesitated, then mentally let her Instinct fill her limbs.
Part of the world. Again, world wasn’t the right term. There was a sense of something bigger to the emotion.
That doesn’t make any sense. The world is the largest thing. It is all things.
World. Her Instinct insisted. She left it be, moving her forebrain back into the spot where her hindbrain usually nestled.
She felt her hands loosen their grasp of the massive sword, felt her feet step back onto Tok’s shoulder. Her possessions continued to pull upward, and she could still feel the pull of gravity in that direction. But she didn’t fall.
How strange.
Natural!
Off in the distance, she thought she saw a flock of… something. Inflated like the singing throats of a hundred bullfrogs, they drifted, shifting with the shifting gravity, and she saw several pass through the crystal structures as if they weren’t even there. Based on the scale though, comparing them to some of those floating islands, they were much larger than even the Provider.
Then, the largest vanished.
She blinked. It was just… gone.
Strange upon strange.
Her Instinct grunted, though it didn’t have a name for the creatures.
They passed one of the floating sections, and she could see a structure there, destroyed, debris floating there in the air. No sign of who or what had used it before.
“Many have tried to study this place.” Tok said, a growl entering his voice, “Idiots, all of them. There are some things one must accept.”
“Is there no explanation, then?” she heard herself ask, finding that she could still talk with her forebrain at least.
He looked down at her, then strode forward.
“That the rootway is as it is.” Tok hissed. “It is not to be used lightly. This is a tremendous show of trust from the Barkskins.” He lifted the leaf of seeds given to him, taking out a pinch before scattering it off into the space around them, the seeds floating away with the shifting pull. “A debt that must be repaid.”
He shook his head, vertebrae cracking back into place like snapping trees. She joined him on impulse. Soothed by the joints shifting back into place, even as the ant head stitches pulled painfully.
After that, Vivex watched the seeds float off, her tongue flickering thoughtfully.
“To plant the… offspring? Of Cydis?” She wasn’t sure if the term was correct. Lay the offspring? Seeds were like eggs after all… But they are already out of… She thought for a moment before giving up. Plants were too mysterious. Mushrooms, for example, didn’t follow any of the rules.
Listen, fool.
Tok’s head shook, his large vertebrae grinding and popping like boulders, making her shake her own in the same way. “Yes. To try and build back what was lost.” He hissed, blue tongue sliding out as he tossed more seeds.
Vivex looked at the floating bits of path, the dead and dying plants. She wanted to look over the edge of the path, to see more, to check the growing theory in her mind, but her Instinct was still foremost.
Her hindbrain grunted, offering control back with a sort of emotional shrug.
Vivex’s forebrain pulled back. No. Don’t trust myself. She didn’t know if it was a matter of concentration, but being as… distractable… as she was…
Her Instinct hissed, disliking the lack of action, both around them, and on her part.
Tough.
There was a pause, then her Instinct grunted, a few drops of amusement causing ripples through her thoughts. Vivex didn’t like the sense of that. Her Instinct had her climb down, ignoring how the bag, her bow, and the rope belt all pulled upwards. There was something odd about that, but her Instinct wasn’t the most observant.
She placed her feet on the strange smooth ground. Solid, but little else. It looked like obsidian, but with each step, fiery ripples spread from her three toed feet. Inside the stone.
What is causing that? She had to know, and snarled as her eyes looked away.
Tough. Her Instinct hissed back at her. Then it hopped.
She squealed inside her mind, convinced that she would sail off to the left now as that gravitational pull continued to rotate. Instead, a brighter fiery ripple spread out from them as they landed back on the path.
Natural. Her Instinct sent again.
She didn’t reply. Though she did think of something else.
If these are roots, do the Barkskins sense where we are? Were there many of them? Or just Cydis? So many questions.
Accept as is. Look! Her Instinct jumped again, and the ripples bounced back from the crystals, which lit up brightly. She wondered what else it coul-
“Come, Vivex. Time is short.” Tok growled, impatience in his prefixes. Vivex hadn’t realized just how long she had dallied, but judging by how far away she was-
She felt orange amusement flood her forebrain as she realized something.
‘Idiot, distracted’.
It was too good to resist the temptation of having her forebrain send that back at her Instinct. It growled, and snapped at her as the Initiate’s body sprinted to catch up. Heading towards the edge!
No! There was nothing to catch her!
Trust. Her Instinct grunted, springing into the air.
She spanned the gap easily, landing next to her Provider and jogging to keep up with his massive strides. Vivex strained to keep her hindbrain in control, to not allow her anger to take that control away.
That was needlessly dangerous! She could have taken more time, been more thoughtful. But no, instead I risked eternally sailing off into the nothing for a whim!
Her Instinct snorted. Thinking of times when she had jumped much farther distances in the canopy. Confidence!
That… was a fair point.
Too much thought. Natural. Be!
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Fine! Enough being scared. Vivex took a chance, letting her forebrain push back into control. Annoyed at the smug feeling her Instinct felt.
Fortunately, she didn’t start floating away, though she did feel worryingly light. As if at any moment she would be whisked away like a dandelion seed in a breeze, like the seeds that Tok tossed away from the paths. She grabbed her new bow before it sailed away off of her shoulder.
Or all of my things. Yes, all of them except-
Her eyes went wide.
The knife!
She looked down at it, and it was true! It hung there, pulling in the correct direction for ‘down’. She drew it out, and nearly dropped it! As if to make up for everything else acting strangely, its weight felt like it quadrupled, and it stubbornly pulled straight towards the path below her.
So heavy! What is this?
Odd.
Very helpful…
She tested it carefully with her claw, notching it easily. The blade was still sharp, so that was good.
Why is it unaffected? Is it the runes?
“Come neonate!” Tok called, not looking back, still plodding forward.
Vivex jerked and sheathed it again, sprinting to catch up in a wake of fiery hues rippling along the obsidian roots.
“Provider, my blade is acting strange. It doesn’t… try to move like my other possessions.”
He hissed and looked down at her, his eyes shifting to the knife, noting it was still stubbornly acting as if gravity was correct here.
He grunted. “Most likely the energies of this place. Take no heed. Objects with runes are affected by the aether sometimes.” The Blackscale looked forward, taking one step for every twelve of hers. “A third genera would know more about such things.”
She grunted. She wasn’t sure where to find a dwarf though.
It wasn’t too long before they turned down a thinner branching fork, which pierced back through the veil of the aether.
Climb! Ride. Her Instinct hissed, remembering the buffeting from before.
She scrambled back up onto Tok, grunting her thanks as well as signaling it with her scales as she gripped the hilt of his sword once more.
They made it out of the torrent, though this time it was a little worse, and it had knocked the wind out of the warrior. She coughed slightly and blinked in the gloom of typical daylight.
“I knew you would try this, Tok.” A female voice, laced with prefixes of anger and scorn. Vivex crouched low, moving to be behind Toks head.
Threat!
Kill!
“Shashk.” Tok growled. Rumbling deep in his chest after.
Still blinking away spots, Vivex peeked around her Provider’s head, and could see a tall female of a different species down below.
Redscale.
Shashk was much taller than even the snapping Vuthra had been, almost seven and a half feet in total, but her build was lither, making her look nimble despite her height and size.
Even Shashk’s tail was slender, and it lashed with agitation, popping slightly with each swing at the very tip.
Whiptail. Dangerous.
I have two working eyes.
Could lose them. Her Instinct focused on the tip as it popped again, louder still.
Wide yellow earthbone bangles encircled Shashk’s wrists and forearms, and they chimed as she crossed her arms across her chest.
High status. Her Instinct continued.
Even from atop Tok, the Initiate could see that they were carved with very intricate designs and patterns, which denoted her rank, though the specifics her Instinct didn’t know.
Shashk glared up at Tok then snarled at her. “Get down here now, runt! I will not have your Provider ruin himself like this.”
Vivex glanced at Tok, but he glared at Shashk and growled deep in his chest. “Stay, neonate.” He said through bared teeth.
The Redscale hissed back, and the flaring frill that encircled her head snapped out with a little wumph. Her tail swung with a louder pop. Then a soft crack!
“You dare challenge my right? My duty?” She snarled, “Well you can’t. I name that Initiate Fodder-caste! She meets none of the prerequisites-”
Tok roared. “How dare-“
The tail blurred. Crack!
It echoed into the foliage, as Shashk gnashed her jaws. “I dare because it is my right! My responsibility. I name her Fodder and that is the end of it!” She spoke with prefixes of finality.
Wait… Hope drained from Vivex. She was shaking.
Fight! Her Instinct screamed as she looked at Tok. Her eyes were wide.
Tok growled, but otherwise said nothing.
Why wasn’t he doing anything?!
Attack!
No… She couldn’t let this happen.
No! Her Instinct snarled in agreement. Strike! Thrive!
If I let this happen… She wouldn’t have a legacy.
No offspring!
“NO!”
She had thought there would be a discussion! A chance to prove herself! For Tok to speak for her.
But once again anything fair is denied to me!
Vivex roared with hate. A rolling rumbling thunder of her ire as she tore the matte black blade free of its sheath and leapt off of Tok. Rushing forward that she sprung at her new prey.
Kill!
She thrust at the female’s throa-
CRACK!
She hadn’t seen it coming. She felt it after though.
Pain lanced up Vivex’s forearm, the knife was gone, Shashk’s long slender tail slapping it with enough force that it tore her scales. It hummed through the air as it spun away, slicing through vegetation until it stuck quivering in a pillarwood tree.
Snarling herself, the Redscale continued her spin, lifting her own leg. Toeclaws catching then smashing Vivex painfully into the dirt. Shashk’s frill flared and the much larger female bellowed in her face, spittle flying and splattering against the little warrior.
Yield! Yield now! Her Instinct screeched. Live! If she lived, she could run! She could Thrive!
It isn’t worth living if I am Fodder! She snarled back, struggling, locking in her black and red.
Shashk’s hood rippled, grudging respect in her prefixes as she continued to speak to Tok. “Fine, one desired trait. Boldness…”
The Redscale pressed down harder, powerful middle toeclaw pressing up under the Initiate’s jaw, forcing her head back. It kept pressing until she had the top of her head pressed to the dirt, her jaw forced closed else have the other female open up her jugular. Silencing Vivex except for her growls.
“I invoke the right of the Provider, Shashk.” Tok growled, and the Redscale’s bright turquoise eyes narrowed at him. Her frill fully extended with her anger.
Her tail lashed again, distinct motions, small pops for emphasis, and Tok’s moved ponderously in response, different motions. This continued for some time, and it dawned on the Initiate as a beetle crawled over her snout.
They are talking, with their tails? How much was there to learn off of the island? None now, I am fodder.
Idiot! Get free! Her Instinct growled.
If she could take advantage of their distractions. She started to move, and the toeclaw pressed hard against her throat. Enough to make her swallow.
“Do not try, fodder. I have named you. I could flay your skin and eat you bloody if I were to choose.” Shashk didn’t even bother looking at Vivex, her tail still moving.
Toks stopped. “Let her go, Ambassador.” Tok hissed, taking a step forward. “I am within my rights, too.”
Shashk snarled, and Vivex felt the toeclaw press down harder still. Could feel it puncture her skin, the blood welling up. Her eyes were wide, trying to see it.
I have to do something!
She was going to claw the Redscale’s leg, try and get her to pull away. Hope she wouldn’t press down. It was stupid, but it was the best she could think of at the moment.
Stubborn-Victory!
She would never stop fighting!
And then… the foot lifted. No desperate attack needed.
“On your head be it, Tok. But I remain unconvinced.” Shashk kicked Vivex painfully, but she curled her toes over to do it, not breaking the skin. It still forced all the air out of her, and she curled around herself, quivering in pain. She hadn’t been kicked like that since the beginning of the trial.
Her teeth ground as her jaw clenched.
“Come fodder-cast, I must tend that wound on your wrist.”
Tok grunted as Vivex forced herself to stand, cradling her bleeding forearm, and glaring at Shashk.
I will remember this…
Vendetta. Her Instinct hissed, matching its hues to her rage.
Raimond drew Dedication from its sheath, lifting the gleaming blade of the greatsword high with the rest of the knights. One final salute to the pair of coffins being brought into the Sanctum of Jonius.
They were all in full plate, gleaming bright in the warm candlelight. The statues held the candles, a somber sight. Drips of wax hanging from them like stalagmites. The remnants of hundreds of previous nights.
The living were all in their full armor. Each tabard emblazoned with the Sun of Jonius. Plate and chain polished to a mirror shine. Visors up.
A knight’s funeral.
A knight and his squire. Raimond managed to keep a stoic visage, but he struggled not to stride forward and scream at the larger of the two pine boxes.
That fool Pesce got that boy killed with his arrogance! He had wanted to find the Sword of Jonius, the spear that slayed Frakas-gur Tyranus, and any other number of relics spoken of that were well and truly lost.
How could he think any of them are still in that festering hell of a swamp? Or that even if they were, that any of them were worth saving? He answered his own musing almost instantly. He never learned. He wanted too much glory. And Fin paid for it. He could see his own page, Tristian, in the crowd, weeping. He and Finnley had been good friends.
Hector, who was still technically his squire despite being almost ready to join the order as a full templar, placed a hand on Tristian’s shoulder, his own eyes wet too.
Good lad. He gave him a slight nod once he caught the young man’s eye. Hector had become a good person in spite of Raimond’s own flaws. Both boys had both helped him so much, pulled him away from the brink. Helped him start to change.
Raimond had known Sir Jasper Pesce well, they had both ridden out together at the call of the crusade. The crusade against the Leatherbacks. Jonius help me, the Lizardkin. He had decided to let go of that hate, to try and do better. To make up for what happened back then.
I told him that the Blackscales grew enormous. He remembered a time from twenty years ago, when one of the massive beasts had smashed through their hastily erected palisade, wielding a whole tree as a club. But Pesce had been sent to a very different front than he. He had fought mostly Bluescales. Raimond though… He had been part of the spearhead.
Horses screaming. Staring eyes. Bright blood. The reek of the place. All the death.
Raimond looked at the smaller second coffin.
Finnley Russo’s corpse was all Raimond needed to know that it had been a Blackscale. His chainmail and gambeson both had been sheared through at the waist, and most likely swallowed whole. After a year there wasn’t much left of either corpse, but it was obvious that Finnley had had the cleaner end.
The larger coffin clattered slightly. A dull vaguely metallic sound.
Jasper had been flattened.
Completely crushed while inside his plate. His body had only been identifiable by what was left of the Joniusian sun emblem on the crumpled armor, and the hilt of his shattered blade. Raimond had seen it before, and frankly they were lucky to have this much left to bury.
Definitely Blackscale. As if there was a question. The brutes were truly horrifically powerful, matching many of the descriptions of the atrocities of the scaled devils in the scriptures.
But we were wrong… Just like with the Belmaians. At least, in their execution anyway.
Jasper had been the last of the order at the Sanctum besides Raimond and Abbot Agustas that had actually gone on the crusade too. And the Abbot was getting older every day. The knight had long wanted to retire, join the clergy completely, but there was an obligation to train and guide the pages and squires of the next generation. That along with the needs of the people in the old city had kept him from hanging up his sword for good.
How could they blame such terrible foes? After what the order had inadvertently done… He pushed the memories again, he couldn’t deal with them now.
A pair of legs, and smashed like a bug. And Jasper’s blade snapped in two pieces. There had been anger there. Rage. Whichever one of the lizards that had done it remembered that crusade too.
Guilt hung about the Templar’s neck like an anchor.
Soft tears became a wailing sob. Finnley’s mother.
Raimond couldn’t close his eyes. Not now. He’d see it again if he did. So he stared at Abbot Agustas as he started to read from the scriptures.
“Our order often claims the way of the hero. To be just to all. A bulwark against the dark and injustice of the world. To always and again, stand for those who cannot do so for themselves. We follow the teachings of Jonius the Hero, God and protector of the innocent.”
Raimond had to blink away tears, he could smell the swamp again, stronger now. Feel the mosquitos on his face. The thunder of ten thousand charging men. Jonius, please… not here… oh God help me…
“But, we must look deeper into that ideal, for it is not just the physical woes that our Lord carries us though,” The abbot cleared his throat, lifting a hand still thick with callouses from decades of sword work, “So say the Guardian “Take heart! For I am drawn closer by your need of me.”
Please, I need you now. Raimond reached into the place where he kept his faith, where the hand of the hero could steady him. I need to be strong for those who depend on me. There was no lie there, he deserved his guilt, but the only way he could be what he needed to for Tristian and Hector was with support.
“They need me, Lord…” he whispered, looking at Tristian, seeing the snarling grief in the boy as he hung his defeated head. Fists clenched. It was heartbreaking to see such loss in a twelve-year-old.
Slowly, as if a fire was lit in the space, a gentle warmth filled his soul.
The Abbot continued, “For every time you are beaten down I am ready with a waiting palm.”
Thank you, Hero… The pain and guilt were not gone, but the visceral memories tied to them faded.
“Every time you are overwhelmed, I shall give the strength and courage needed to persevere!”
Raimond still was angry though. Jasper had been such a fool. A comrade in arms, but it was hard to not blame the idiot for the death of the squire. He clenched his own jaw, frustrated. Never think ill of the dead.
“Have faith, and I shall always provide for you and yours.”
Please, let me give up this anger. This time it was not a request to the hero. He had done this before. He could do it again.
The caskets were lowered into the floor, their markers set in above them by several appropriately solemn dwarves of the silversmith clan. Finnley’s had been carved to resemble the boy in life, just sleeping.
Hymns were sung, one final presentation of arms, and the funeral was over.
“Nasty business, working on that idiot.”
Raimond looked down at Ms. Gwendolyek, also of clan Silversmelt. The dwarf was the unofficial armorer of the Sanctum, and this was the first time Raimond had seen her without soot on her face.
She still wore her boots and apron, still had her glossy brown hair tied back with a kerchief, and she still had her wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms bare. But there was a sense of having dressed up for the occasion about her.
Her boots shone with polish, her apron looked freshly brushed. The kerchief tying her hair was black, but with intricate patterns of jet beads sewn into it, and her hair was intricately braided and hung with yet more of the black semi-precious stone. Bracelets and rings that would get damaged doing forgework also signaled her solemnity for the occasion.
“I don’t know if someone has already said, but thank you for coming, Runesmith.” He bowed his head slightly, and she returned the gesture.
“Enough formalities, Tydrik’s hammer, I’m in no mood for them.” She said, her voice like coarse sand rather than gravel, moving closer and inspecting his armor. “You shored up still, Raimond?” she asked, knocking a knuckle against the chest plate, listening to the ring. She muttered something in dvundae and grabbed his arm, checking the movement.
There was something almost frantic about the inspection.
“I will be. Seems-”
“Good! Look, I need a project, it’s not right to leave things this way. How about I start working on that boy’s sword, eh?” She jerked a thumb over at Tristian, “Loss can only be countered with gain after all.”
“I…” He couldn’t say no, this was how she grieved, “thank you, that is overly kind. How-”
“Listen here manling, you ask me how much it is, and I’ll say three of your molars. Said it already, I need a project right now.”
Raimond closed his mouth and nodded. “Sounds good, Runesmith.” He bowed again.
She nodded and waved him off, and he started to turn to talk to Tristian. He could see that this was an important moment for the boy, and-
“Sir!”
He stopped, and turned to look at the runner for the city.
“Sir!” she said, snapping to attention.
Must be new. Most were more insulting.
“What is it, private?” he said calmly.
“Another murder, just as brutal as the last. No sign of forced entry. The captain wants your help.”
More death?! That couldn’t stand!
“Where?” Raimond was already heading to the door, motioning for Hector to follow.
“Signate district.” The runner said, jogging to keep up. “Aetherist, named Conner Floss.”
There had been a series of killings over the past three weeks, and the guard had started to rely on Raimond’s abilities to try and catch the culprit.
They were off and following the runner on their steeds in only three minutes.
● A unique, fully fleshed-out world and magic system
● Flawed but lovable characters
● Action and tension
● Humour
● Feels
● Secrets and mysteries
What not to expect:
● Constant blue boxes
● An unending, 19+ book series
!