Rituals

by Ryan Hastings

  Rituals: Storm and Serpent Ryan Hastings

  Print ISBN: 978-1-54396-014-3

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-54396-015-0

  © 2019 All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Rituals: Mol’do

  Land of Beasts

  I Wouldn’t Call it a King’s City

  The Old Temple

  Colliding

  The Nature Light

  The Plague Queen

  The Wanderer

  Beneath

  There’s a Soul in There

  Wandered into What

  Where the Current Takes Us

  Southern Star, Northern Night

  The Dark Entanglement

  Worms of the Earth

  A Pearl

  Paperwork

  Veil’Umbra

  That Whole Relationship Between Wolves and Sheep

  With a Crowd of Onlookers

  Envenomed Whispers

  Oh, Humanity

  Song and Stalwart

  Mother of Dread

  Boom Goes the Dynamite

  When the Serpent Uncoils

  Land, Air, and Sea

  Speaking Fire

  Crumbled Stone, Fallen Star

  Codex W:L

  A Cool Breeze

  Time Flies When You’re in the Dark

  Rituals: Zuhetta

  Sons of Thunder

  Factions

  Marked

  Squad!

  Plains Suitable for Spirits

  Discord

  De’gra, Degraded

  An Old Council

  What is a City?

  Guided by Cataclysm

  People Killing People

  Refraction

  Surge

  Dark Above, Rising Below

  The Bonfire City

  Cruising

  What Lies in Such Depths?

  Your Energy

  Holding What We Have

  How to Bleed Someone

  Familiar Faces

  Landmine

  New Shiroan Winter

  What’s Becoming

  In the Service of Eternity

  7th Born

  Soldier

  The New Broken Bow

  Choose Your Weapon

  Welcome to Harth

  Rituals: Mol’do

  CHAPTER ONE

  Land of Beasts

  I guess it was the elven name that ultimately stuck after the dispersion. In an older dialect, “Mol’do” means “Land of fangs.” While it has all sorts of translations and ironic applications to its state of affairs, it quite literally came from the fact that monstrous beasts inhabited the expanses of the continent. Comrades, these beasts come in dozens of species.

  There are some like the Ser’ja, bearing four large wings, with the mane and claws of a lion and a face and tail of a fox. The mastiffs can weigh over 1 ton, while the average male weight is about 700 pounds and the average for females is around 500 pounds. While there are still mastiffs in the wild, they are one of the species that has come to mingle with mankind in the past. They are so well-tempered that a child can approach it without fear. They’re a personal favorite of mine among the Light’s work, even in their patterns of red, orange, black, and white fur.

  Then there are those such as the Gornwraith—30-feet bipedal reptiles with the jaw strength to crush ore-rich stone. The claws of its feet allow it to scale rocky cliffs. It has been recorded to clear, horizontally, upwards of 100 yards. Such distance is employed by the monster’s balance, momentum, and leg strength. They’re known for plowing through castle fortifications like children’s blocks in the continent’s younger days. They are highly territorial, aggressive, and they have hide that requires very fine weapons to pierce.

  Crazy stuff, right? You can imagine how much fun humanity has had growing up here! Keep in mind--those are just two examples. Perhaps a bestiary can be provided at some point. Nonetheless, Mol’doan beasts have killed multitudes of people over the millennia, leaving pockets of land uninhabited or even unexplored. The wilds of the continent were very cruel, but the cities were hardly kinder.

  Mol’do is essentially one solid hunk of land, with little in the way of large inland bodies of water. Rivers have always been a natural source of conflict between men and beasts alike. The continent’s establishment was a very dark and bloody one after the dispersion, with a history that walked a path of abyssal shrouds and thorns.

  The same dynasty has ruled this land for a few thousand years, and they have always ruled as god-kings. Realistically, the land was too large for a single man to rule from one location, so it was divided into provinces according to imperial advantage and vetting. Thus, numerous provinces remain separated from the “King’s Circle” to this day. Exploitation has been a regular part of life for generations, with a subjugate class that has paid in blood to build the cities in which they still serve.

  The Light’s word has managed to stay alive, but it now faces increasing persecution after a long and subtle road of removal from the few societies in which it was still found. There were three provinces among the total twenty that bore any practice of faith. Yuli was along the western coast of Mol’do and shared its northern border with Mera at the continent’s northwestern tip. Then there was the province of Oshe to the inland east, part of an area in Mol’do known for metaphysical tumult. It is in the province of Mera where this tale will begin.

  This was the time of year when much of Mera showed some shade of green; and despite the assortment of beautiful flowers in bloom, it was also hunting season for some of the more dangerous beasts that inhabited this region. That’s where the “Mavericks” enter. These “guys and gals” are a part of an age-old Mol’doan profession of hunting monsters that quite literally hunted the people.

  There were two such mavericks traversing the forests that were shared between Mera and Yuli. Sahja was a man in his late twenties, who was six feet tall and naturally built for strength. Baz was a bald, bearded, hulk of a man in his forties. “Sahja!” the older one beckoned. The younger one jogged over to examine what his comrade had found. Sahja raised an eyebrow when he came to the edge of the slope.

  He slid down the dirt and stumbled over to the older maverick. “I don’t think our trap did that,” Sahja remarked with a smirk. The older man was standing at the head of the Kogorus corpse with a puzzled expression. They had indeed trapped the 10-foot raptor, but this was a live-capture trap. The Kogorus had been mutilated at some point, seemingly for sport and perhaps a convenient nibble.

  “How much do you think they’ll dock us for having it be in this sort of shape?” asked the older maverick. “You ask that like you’re hurting for money, Baz,” Sahja remarked, as he spread apart one of the wounds to examine it. “The wife is having a kid soon,” Bazmari replied casually. “What is that? Nine?” Sahja inquired. “Guys like me have to make up for guys like you,” Bazmari replied with a laugh.

  Sahja noticed certain metallic items of his seeming to react as if there were magnetic fields among the wounds. Bazmari glanced over. “What’s with the look?” he asked. Sahja pointed to a small metal component of the trap that was seemingly glued to one of the gashes. Bazmari shrugged and sighed. “It’s a gamble to take it in.”

  Sahja pondered as he looked the mangled beast up and down. “I think whatever did this had some kind of charged saliva,” he finally remarked. Bazmari’s expression clearly didn’t agree with this hypothesis. “Electric saliva?” he taunted. “Do you think Kush’hera came by for a snack?” “I didn’t say ‘electric,’” Sahj
a rebuked.

  Let me interject that Kush’hera is the Celestial of Storm. Our mutual friend is mocking our other mutual friend.

  Sahja continued to examine the monster while Bazmari continued to amuse himself in the background. Sahja noticed some evidence of necrosis on various areas of the Kogorus’ hide and, now, exposed bone. He was betting there was quite a bit of venom in the beast as well. Sahja stood and shot a flare that soared over the canopy. Bazmari paused confusedly.

  “I think we may actually get some perks for bringing this one in,” Sahja stated confidently. “Plus, it gives us an excuse to go into Bel’adim. We could stand to get some supplies anyway.”

  To save myself from having to double around, it is useful to know that Bel’adim is the capital of Mera. Mavericks tend to live along their respective provinces known as “wild breaches,” not often traveling to the larger cities.

  It wasn’t long before the whirl of airship propellers could be heard in the distance, and the rush of air through the trees came closer and closer. It was a smaller vessel in comparison to other imperial airships, but it was designed specifically to handle the dead or alive monsters found on the job. There was nothing flashy about the airship. It had two engines closer to its front and two engines in the rear, with only one mounted machine cannon.

  A huge device was being steadily lowered from the ship that would encompass the massive reptile, as another wire was lowered to carry another maverick. The girl landed on the ground and detached her hook, seemingly happy to see the two until she glanced over at the corpse.

  “What the hell did you guys do?” the girl shouted. “We caught it,” Sahja replied casually. “Something else did that,” nodding at the beast’s corpse. “I JUST CLEANED THIS RIG!” the girl rebuked furiously, putting her hand on the grip of her pistol. “It won’t bleed! I promise! I Promise!” Sahja pleaded innocently. “Well, it might,” Bazmari added, securing tethers and netting to the monster.

  Sahja leered at Baz. “What?” Bazmari shrugged. “Even IF your crack theory proves to be anything, there were still claw marks where the wounds wouldn’t have been seared.” “Whatever,” Sahja mumbled. “MAYMAY!” hollered a deep voice from the airship’s megaphone. “SHUT UP AND HOOK UP!” The girl scoffed and looked at the airship as she stuck out her tongue.

  The three mavericks hooked themselves to the cable and were then hoisted into the air with the rising reptile body. Eventually, they were inside the ship and began to remove their weapons and excess equipment. “Ugh, you two smell like ass,” Maymay commented, pinching her nose as she walked away. “Maybe if you did some real work you wouldn’t be so offended by the odor,” Sahja playfully shouted over his shoulder. Maymay kept walking, simply giving a less-than-friendly gesture as she did.

  Bazmari sat down and leaned back as he lit a cigar. “So, you really want to get Research involved? I thought we didn’t like those people,” he asked. “Call me intrigued,” Sahja sighed. “BUT, if I’m right about this, that’ll be a ticket for an OFFICIAL-level upgrade. Every maverick in Mera will get a modernization sweep,” he said with subtle confidence.

  Baz chuckled through a puff of smoke. “Or, they see your mangled and rotting Kogorus carcass, and we get to dispose of it as a reward,” he boasted with a smile. Sahja chuckled at his friend’s remarks, glancing back down at the suspended bed where the monster’s body lay below.

  About this time, the crew’s local cog shuffled over. The boy was barely in his twenties. He wore tinted goggles and baggy fatigues. Part of his head was shaved, showing where three scars served as something of a natural tattoo. He went by “Sloth,” the call sign he’d acquired up to this point in his maverick career.

  Sahja looked at the cog curiously, as he seemed to be examining the monster corpse in his own odd manner. Sloth looked at the corpse, then at Sahja, then the corpse, and then again at Sahja. “I thought this was a live cap,” asked the cog. Sahja grunted. “Does that hack job look like us?” he rebuked. Sloth looked back at the corpse, then back at Sahja, and then back at the corpse.

  “No,” Sloth replied casually, hopping into the bed below. Sahja followed suit. “Maymay says you think Kush’hera did this,” Sloth murmured. “I know Kush’hera is the smallest Celestial, but that’s a little farfetched, wouldn’t you say?” Sahja could literally feel his veins starting to press against the skin of his forehead. It was difficult enough to just tell if Sloth was being serious.

  Sahja did notice that the cog seemed genuinely interested in the claim though, as he was performing more tests that Sahja couldn’t perform in the field. Sloth set down a custom alchemical device and forced some prongs into the monster’s flesh. He flipped a small switch and watched for a second. The cog put a skunkweed cigarette in his lips and used the corpse to block the wind as he lit it.

  “You think it’s something?” Sahja inquired. Sloth looked down at the device for a moment; then gave a simple thumbs-up. Sahja smirked and raised his flask towards Sloth. They were now headed northeast, flying over the verdant canopies and golden pastures. While there is a king’s highway that runs from Bel’adim to the imperial capital half a continent away, Mera, over the course of its history, has retained a certain modesty in its physical development.

  It was dusk by the time the maverick ship landed at the appropriate port in Bel’adim. The beast was rolled away, and the crew was given their leave until further notice. Bel’adim was nothing like the rest of the province. It was on par in terms of technology and luxury, but the streets were always noisy with music and ruckus. Mera is known for its retained faith; Bel’adim is not represented in such statistics.

  The mavericks stopped by the port’s supply store and placed the orders that were to be taken to the ship, but now they had some time to kill while their bounty was processed. “Usual spot?” Maymay suggested with a smile. “May as well,” Bazmari affirmed. “Sounds like we have at least an hour before we’ll hear anything. They did ask Sahj’ to go with ‘em,” he added in a grumble.

  “Barred told us to bounce,” Sloth said in passing. “He’s actually paying the port techs to detail the ship.” Bazmari burst out in laughter as he followed Sloth. Maymay was livid. She had, in fact, spent a full three days cleaning said ship after it had not been cleaned in several months.

  Maymay is 19. She’s a great kid with high energy, but she’s had her share of anger issues over the years. I can tell you now that she walks away from here without doing anything regrettable. Barred is the leader and pilot of this squad. He’s also Maymay’s father.

  Sahja had been escorted to another sector of the imperial port, one to which he hadn’t been in his now decade-long career as a renown maverick. The building, where he’d finally been told to wait, was industrial and blank with strange equipment that was more common than a simple chair. Sahja noticed how there was no sort of marking or brand on anything around him; but, then again, that could have meant nothing.

  The maverick turned towards the sound of footsteps and saw a sleek Fo’hemut elf woman turn the corner. She wore something that looked to be on par with an imperial medical officer’s uniform, but it was more distinguished. The woman’s skin was a common grey hue of her race, as were her whited-out eyes. Her umber hair was pulled back, and her overall demeanor was quite cold. She stood only an inch shorter than the maverick.

  Sahja had never seen someone of the “imperial race.” Outside of the imperial capital and the province of Tristen, the Fo’hemuts were few and far in between. “This was the first incident?” the woman asked, peering up from a document. “Yes,” Sahja replied. The elf quickly looked at the maverick from head to foot and then wrote something down.

  Sahja sighed among the silence. “So?” “So, what?” the woman replied, not looking up from her scribbling. “I don’t know; say something!” the maverick responded impatiently. “Are you originally from Mera?” asked the Fo’hemut officer. “Ye…Yes,” Sahja answered curi
ously. “Are you sure?” she asked him. “You didn’t sound sure.” “Yes, I’m from Mera,” Sahja stated. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It was a simple question, maverick,” she replied, seeming to finish with her notes. The Fo’hemut pondered for a moment and then turned to walk away. “Mera will receive its research compensation in due time. Thank you for your efforts,” she said plainly, obviously in a way as to end the encounter. “Wait a damn second!” Sahja hollered. The Fo’hemut raised her brow but said nothing as she turned to leave.

  The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?” she asked calmly and with unchanged expression. “I think some sort of information is warranted here,” the maverick replied. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter what you think, maverick,” the woman replied in the same tone. “You served your province well and will soon receive your reward. Information is not a luxury to you in this situation,” she concluded, continuing towards a waiting escort.

  Sahja eventually found his way back to the sky-docks, where he opted to return to the airship for the remaining stay. “Look who’s back,” Barred remarked, sitting in a collapsible chair outside the vessel. “You don’t look so happy,” he added. Sahja grabbed a ration and set his flask on a nearby crate. “I guess you could say it was bittersweet,” he said, after taking a bite of the dried meat. “Wam-bam-thank you-maverick?” Barred joked. “You’ve officially been on the job long enough to see the politics.”

  “How would you feel about a non-sanctioned tour?” Sahja asked abruptly. Barred groaned with content as he stretched in the chair. He then looked at Sahja with some amount of amusement. “You’d just convince Maymay to steal the ship if I said no,” Barred said with a chuckle. “Yeah,” Sahja replied. “May as well take advantage of the dutiful lot we appear to be,” Barred affirmed. “Besides, we’ve got the crew for off-the-books work.” “It’s been slow this month anyway,” Sahja said with a smile. “Exactly,” Barred agreed.

  Something caught Barred’s eye, prompting Sahja to turn around. It was the Fo’hemut woman that spoke with the maverick in the R&D quarters. Barred leaned into Sahja, still having remained in his cheap seat. “You really do seem to befriend women easily,” he joked. “I think you overestimate that relationship,” Sahja replied in kind.