“X’on!” Ven managed.
The half-giant beamed. “My friend,” he said, warm as the fire that glowed behind him. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up. You…you’ve been stone for almost a week.”
Ven grunted. “That’s…new.” Every word stoked a furnace in his lungs. “So I…take it you’ve…gotten friendly…with the natives? What…are they?”
“These,” X’on spread his hands wide, “are Humans.” He smiled. Or at least, he showed his teeth. “Isn’t that astonishing? Apparently the dragons were not as thorough as everyone thought.”
“Huh,” Ven said. “You’d think…I’d be more surprised.”
Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he lost consciousness.
*
He awoke again to find that another night had passed. His body had healed a bit during the day; his joints didn’t ache quite so bad, and his nose was working again. It turned out the majority of the Humans smelled of a deep, rich ocre, earthy and salt-soaked. He was still having trouble staying awake, though. The Human healer woman theorized that he had a concussion, but X’on was sure there was a much simpler explanation.
“You drowned,” he said bluntly, on the third night of Ven’s resurgence. He was sitting cross-legged by the ever present fire in Ven’s cavern, a casual hand on his book at his side.
Ven spit out the mouthful of soup he’d been spooning down in surprise. “Wait, what?” he asked, then squeezed his eyes tight and took a slow breath. His lungs still burned whenever he exerted himself, even just to speak. “You told me…I went dense… for a week. Besides…doesn’t drowned…usually denote dead?”
“Often, but not always,” X’on said. “And I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I…wasn’t fast enough to save you, my friend.” He paused. “At least, I didn’t think I was. I saw you, sinking into the water, just as the sun rose. Your transmogrified form was still wrapped in coils of rope from the decimated ship. I swam as hard as I could for you, but I was too late. All I could reach were the barest tendrils of the ropes. I tried to use them to bring your body to the surface, but without anything upon which to find purchase, I could not.” He was looking into the fire now, as though uncomfortable with Ven’s gaze. “Even I, for all my vaunted strength, could not.”
Ven had set his bowl and spoon aside. The broth, which was a pleasant, pungent mixture of spices, unusual meat strips, and chips of agate, remained unfinished. A young female--the daughter of the Healer Woman who was tending him, Ven remembered--slipped in on quiet feet and removed the crockery without a word. Ven stared at X’on with pregnant expectation, who continued to gaze into the embers.
“I dragged you,” he said after some time. “In my wake, behind me, I dragged you. I swam with all the might I could muster, occasionally resting on a piece of floating debris, if one was near. I swam in the direction I best guessed had been our course before the…incident.” He shrugged, a forlorn smile tugging at his lips. “It was a blind guess, if I’m being honest. I had no maps, no compass. Just a fervent desire to live and to try my damnedest to make sure you did the same. I swam…all day, hours and hours, until the only way I knew I was still moving my arms was because I could see them in motion. I swam…and as the sun set before my eyes and the stars came out to taunt me, I felt the braiding I had towed all that time suddenly come alive, thrashing, pulling…I could only spare a glance, but even before I turned I knew what I would see. My…friend, Ven, at the other end of the cables, awake, confused, trying to suck in a breath and finding only frigid ocean instead. And then the line went taut and heavy again, and…” he finally looked up at Ven. “You had changed once more. Once more, I was toting not my companion, but a statue. Has this happened to your people before? Have gargoyles staved off death in such a manner?”
While X’on had been telling his story, Ven had attempted to heave himself into a sitting position. It hadn’t worked out the way he’d planned, and he found himself in a weird, uncomfortable hunch. He took a moment to slide back down, rested his hands behind his head, and tried to breathe in a way that didn’t light his entire chest on fire. “There are…legends,” he mused, fighting through the pain. “Stories of great…heroes who overcame…mortal injury by…going dense… to stay alive. It was always… a one time thing, though. And…. It’s been… so long since… anyone transmogrified… they… nobody can say… for sure,” he finished. At least now I know why my lungs are still punishing me. “Personally, I’ve never… been hurt… so badly that… a single day… didn’t fix the majority.” He grinned. “Till now…anyway.”
He was surprised when X’on returned the smile. “Indeed. And I, at that point, was exhausted beyond all reason. I have pushed myself without sleep for days before, but never after such tremendous physical exertion. I feared that even if I abandoned your stony form, I would not make it to whatever shore I was fighting so hard to find, a shore that I was not even sure existed. But I held on, both to you and to hope.”
Ven started. He was overcome by…a memory? A hallucination? Was I flying? “Did we…X’on, did we fly here?”
X’on let out a startled laugh. “Fly here? On what? Do you think, what, a giant eagle just swooped down and pulled us out of danger, and set us on shore a little closer to our goal?” He laughed again, deeper and richer. “Why didn’t he just take us all the way to the hoard then?”
“Heh. Yeah,” Ven said, though what he thought was, It’s not that preposterous an idea.
“No,” X’on continued, the chuckle still in his voice, “I’m afraid the truth is far more mundane. I spent the night curled around a stump of rotted tree branch. Heartened by it, in fact, because a tree branch meant that some kind of shore had to be nearby. And in the early hours of the morning, I managed to flag down a fishing vessel crewed by the Humans of this village. They pulled me aboard, and helped me haul you in as well. That evening--for the crew continued to fish throughout the day, leaving me in the cargo hold to sleep and recover--the Humans thought me mad for wrapping what they believed a statue in a blanket, placing it under shelter, however tenuous that shelter may be, and starting a fire near it that I begged and pleaded be maintained. It was all to the good, however, since it has led to your…return.”
“Such…as it is,” Ven groaned.
“Give yourself time,” X’on encouraged. “You’ll be back to your old self before too long, of that I have no doubt.” Ven thought he detected a strange tone in X’on’s words then. Something…anticipatory? No, that wasn’t the right word. It was almost….
Predatory?
Nah, that’s not right. Come on, the water couldn’t have done so much damage it’s affected my perceptions.
That was strange phrasing, though. “Old self” held the connotation of his past as an assassin, or even his time before and after that as a comparatively benign Hunter. Neither of those were associations he was still comfortable with. Hadn't he died? At least technically? Didn't that give him the option to be something else, now that he'd survived?
Do I still have to be me? After all this, am I not allowed to change?
“Oh!” X’on said, knocking loose his inattention. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.” And he stood and lunged out of the cavern.
Ven tied again to sit up, this time with a little more success. X’on returned to see his companion with his back against the wall, his talons dug into the soft sand, holding him up.
“I found this tangled in the ropes when we pulled you aboard,” X’on said, beaming. He handed Ven the dwarven sword, its dragon hilt gleaming, its blade clean and sharp as the day it was forged.
“X’on…” Ven’s mouth was dry. He licked his beak and tried again. “X’on, that’s not… possible, I…I dropped this…before I even fell….”
X’on looked puzzled. “And yet, here it is. A tremendous stroke of luck, I would say.”
Luck, schmuck, Ven thought. You found this somewhere along the way and hauled it along as well. You magnificent bastard. Maybe not all
the parts of his former life were bad, at that. He still had his dwarven forged blade, and with it, the memory of the family that had bequeathed it to his care.
“Thank you…my friend,” he said. “I can’t tell you…what this means…to me.”
*
Ven’s road to recovery was not an easy one. It was aided, as always, by his daily shifts to stone; while dense, his body could heal the grievous wounds the water and pressure had done to it. He was also amazed to find himself the singular patient of the Human’s Healer, a female they called Fleisze. She was an elder in the tribe, though the typical Human lifespan appeared to be about half that of an average gargoyle, and her knowledge of medicine bordered on supernatural. Even when her ministrations were not accompanied by X’on, and therefore the two had no common language between them, Ven still loved to listen to her talk. Her language had a melodic, musical quality that reminded him of StoneLyric. Fleisze’s daughter, Veritea, not only worked for her mother as an understudy, but was also an excellent cook; she soon learned how to add small bits of silicate to every dish she prepared for him, which improved an already flavorful dish to something almost heavenly.
Veritea's a sweet kid, Ven thought, though she always wore a mysterious smile when she was around him. Like she was hiding a secret.
“You’re an anomaly. We both are, actually,” X’on said, when Ven asked him if he’d noticed. “Creatures like us are almost as unique to these Humans as they are to us.”
“Freaky-deaky,” Fleisze nodded in agreement. She checked a glass vial just removed from under Ven’s tongue with an approving smile. “You bigguns run hot, I’m guessing?”
“I’m sorry?” Ven asked. Damn, it felt good to speak without feeling like a branding iron was snaking up his larynx.
“She’s asking what a gargoyle’s body temperature traditionally holds at,” X’on said.
“Oh! Uh, well, a healthy adult usually sits at about forty-one degrees C,” he said.
“And you are only a couple of degrees above that, young man, and dropping steadily,” Fleisze said. “Your joints and bones, such as I can tell, are almost entirely healed, and your lungs, if that’s what they are, seem to have completely recovered. I’d suggest another evening or two of bed rest, then you should be up and around with no complications.” She set a fresh bowl of buffalo and bauxite stew next to him as she spoke.
“Thank you,” Ven said, and he meant it. He’d never before met creatures so…helpful as these Humans. Surely they weren’t all as exceptional as these two, but…it seemed like every other being Ven had encountered, and he’d seen his share, had wanted something. Sure, his line of work didn’t help, but there was an amiable compassion to Fleisze and Veritea that he wasn’t sure he’d ever encountered before. It was charming. “And make sure to pass my compliments to the chef, as always,” he called after the departing caretaker.
“As always,” she agreed. “You keep an eye on him, X’on Doth the--” at which point she walked out of range of X’on’s book, and the rest of her words descended into symphonic gibberish.
“’Young man?’ How does she even know how old I am? I could have thirty years on her, easy,” Ven said, chunking a taloned thumb in her direction.
X’on shrugged. “Elders often have a way of putting us in our place,” he said.
Ven snorted, took a sip of soup. “So hey, what did you mean just now? When you said that we were 'almost' as unique to humans as they are to us? Is there something else here?”
“There are stories, yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is there something I should be worried about? Are any of those stories true?”
“Every story has a kernel of truth, Ven. Humans were just a story to you until just a few weeks ago. Even now, the story of the gargoyle and his half-giant friend is sweeping through the city nearby, disseminating throughout this part of the world.
“But,” he continued, lifting a conciliatory hand to stop Ven’s unspoken protest, “that is a worry for another day. Rest easy, knowing that we are safe here, in this cavern near the ocean. Rest easy, knowing that no harm shall come to your new friends. Regain yourself, Ven. Worry not, you will soon be ready to face the challenges ahead of you.”
Ven had to admit, he found X’on’s words soothing. Almost too soothing, in fact, as he found himself almost dozing off into his bowl, even though dawn was hours away. He chugged the rest of his meal down with speed, and stretched out. Sleep caught him unawares soon after.
Chapter 31
Fleizse’s prediction was accurate, and Ven was up and moving two nights hence. With mounting excitement, Ven left his makeshift home for the first time to see what would prove to be the first miracle he would encounter that night--a chariot of some sort that ran without any visible means of power. It shone bright black, even in the moonlight, with an open four seat cab upholstered in something that appeared to be very like boiled leather. Whatever science or sorcery powered the vehicle roared with anticipation as Veritea slid behind the steering apparatus. Even at their most wildly inventive, the dwarven technomancers had never created anything like this.
Ven fell in love with it immediately.
The drive to Veritea’s city, Kqalipu’mnui, took a hair longer than usual--Ven begged for the chance to operate the chariot despite the fact that he’d only ever taken public transportation, which caused multiple delays. A bemused Veritea considered letting Ven take a turn, but X’on talked her out of it, to Ven’s chagrin. Long before they even arrived at the city, though, Ven was silenced by the second miracle: the sight of the city itself, climbing over the horizon.
Kqalipu’mnui put Weipare, Taal’anquar, Buzzard’s Bay and all the rest to shame, both in scope and sheer artistry. Everything Ven could take in was carved entirely from wood; buildings that stood as tall as some hills Ven had seen towered above them as they approached. Many of these towers were capped with domes or points, standing distinct against the clear evening skyline. But the detail that took his breath from him, that made him question his own senses and sanity, was the sprawl. In all his travels, he’d never encountered a metropolitan area so enormous that he couldn’t see the opposing borders at the same time, especially at the distance they were now. Kqalipu’mnui, on the other talon, just went on and on, further than anything Ven had ever known, had ever dreamed. And it shone, singular and brilliant, a beacon of luminosity. It’s almost as if…no, it couldn’t be. Did they…?
But they must have; it was the only explanation. The Humans had captured the bottled lightning, and were using it to power their whole city.
“You must have…there must be thousands of you Humans!” he cried out over the barrage of wind.
“Hundreds of thousands!” X’on said.
“Somewhere around two-hundred eighty thousand, yes. It’s the biggest municipality on the coast, a hundred hundred tribes come together to live as one people,” Veritea said. She spared a glance from the road a shot Ven her mysterious smile. “And every single one of them want to make your acquaintance.”
*
Veritea’s manic pace settled when they reached the outskirts of Kqalipu’mnui, and Ven got a closer look at the architecture along the highways. Not only had the wood used in construction been cured, waterproofed, and sealed; each edifice was carved with an intricate array of symbols. They appeared to be primarily maritime in nature. Ven asked about them as they waited at an electrified light that indicated vehicles should stop.
“Some are naval, yes,” Veritea responded. “But they also describe the functions of the building, its history, the important people who’ve occupied it, that kind of thing.”
“So like a living history, on the structure itself,” Ven said.
“Such a thoroughly novel idea,” X’on mused.
“Hey, where are we going anyway?” Ven asked.
“Nowhere in particular,” Veritea said. “I thought I’d drive you around, give you a bit of a tour. The streets are pretty empty at night, we won’t be
hassled.”
“I see,” Ven said. After a moment, he said, “Any chance a place like this has a pub, or a tavern, something to that effect?”
Veritea looked at him askance, one eyebrow cocked.
“He’s hoping to catch some news, or gossip,” X’on explained.
“Best way to learn the lay of the land,” Ven added, a note of apology in his voice. The thought of buying a drink while he was there didn't once cross his mind.
“Ah,” she said, that aloof smile crossing her face yet again.
*
“I am fairly certain this is not a tavern.”
It had taken Veritea a few moments thought to choose a destination for the group. Once considered, it had been all of a ten minute drive--“You can get anywhere in Kqalipu’mnui in ten minutes if you know the place,” she’d joked--to come to an ornate, open-air coliseum of sorts that stood near the center of town. Inside, under the stars and sky, a colossal bonfire rose from the center of the sandy room, baking heat rolling in waves into the already warm night. Sweat sprung against Ven’s pebbled skin almost immediately, and even X’on--normally unflappable in even the most extreme temperatures--tugged at the throat of his tunic. The Humans that surrounded the fire, however, didn’t seem to mind the heat at all. They sat and talked and laughed, and pulled bits of meat from the pigs and chickens that hung near the flames with long, double pronged spears.
“My people aren’t big drinkers,” Veritea said, as they walked around the fire’s edge. Ven had to be extra careful with his tail, navigating so many bodies; X’on was almost dainty, his towering form tip-toeing through the crowd with preternatural finesse. “But everyone shows up for a roast,” she continued, as they found an empty space that would accommodate the three of them. She fell into a sitting position, crossing one leg over the other, and reached for one of the skewers. Ven crouched down to her left; he was pretty sure his legs wouldn’t bend that way, and besides, gargoyles had a natural inclination for crouching. X’on, for his part, stood behind them both like a chaperone trying not to be intrusive.
SongWeaver Page 19
