Biomancy

by Desdemona Gunn

  The punches started light and slowly increased in power as she sporadically attacked the bag, all the while letting her mind wander back to her memories of the rebellion.

  Nearly a hundred seventy-two turns past, a woman of great charisma and strength laid siege to the mountain capital of Terathor where the king of Antra sat, King Zachariah Roth. Terathor, being home to the wyvern riders, put up a great fight. Many men died, but the rebel Valuraal Sesirah took the throne. While on wyvernback, King Zacheriah was killed by Sesirah who had, as the stories went, jumped from the highest point in the city, landed on the beast and sunk a sword through Roth’s neck. The truth was not far off.

  After naming herself Queen of Antra, she moved the capital to the city of Kandra, a more strategic location, in her opinion, in that it was surrounded on three sides by mountains and looked out on hundreds of kilometers of valley. Before she had much time to change the laws of the land, a rebellion had already begun to creep in. A warrior named Andorlash Octavian began to round up rebels from all over Antra, loyalists to Roth being her most common compatriots.

  Twenty-six turns had passed under Queen Sesirah’s reign before Octavian’s militia had high enough numbers to take Kandra. She blitzed the city, distracting Sesirah with a tremendous march on the capitol while she sent in battery after battery of troops over the mountains. Queen Sesirah stayed in her throne room, commanding her troops via magic, projecting her voice over the entire city.

  A strike team of ten troopers entered the city, made their way into the keep, and attempted to storm the throne room. While nine of them fought a horde of guards within the keep, one slunk from battle to break into the throne room itself. Before her absence was noticed, the woman had broken in through the rafters and stood directly above the throne.

  Ani remembered the scene perfectly. The Usurper sat on her throne, bellowing into a stone in her hand as two councilors gave her constant updates on the battle. In one swift motion, she dropped from the rafters, slid down the back of a pillar, and took out the councilors with a single swing of her hammer, crushing one’s skull with the hammer, slamming the second’s skull between the first’s and the same marble pillar.

  Stunned, the False Queen sat before Anixemeter Incubore. “You damned fools. You follow a sociopath and seek to unseat a benevolent queen. I’m helping the people of Antra. Roth was breaking Antra apart piece by piece.”

  “Zacheriah Roth was a great man, you piece of shit! He was the true lord of Antra.”

  “Thanks to him, the country lies segregated! We held strong before Roth’s prefectures. I’m uniting us under one banner—”

  “Your banner? Of course you’d toss any other leaders in Antra. It’s not enough to be queen of a continent, you want to take everyone else out of the equation.”

  “You don’t listen to reason!”

  “I only listen to reason!” Anixemeter shrieked, the bellow tearing at her vocal chords.

  “You just can’t stand the thought of a Milaric queen, can you? You disgust me.”

  Ani screamed and swung the hammer at her head as Sesirah swung a sword up from her side and caught the hammer before lifting off and kicking Ani square in the chest, sending her reeling back. The tan, powerfully muscled woman loomed over her, horns shooting out, all four eyes glaring down. “You rebels don’t care who’s king, what they do, how they rule, what they do to Antra. Anyone’s fine as long as they’re a Northie like you. There’s just one thing I don’t get,” she licked her lips, looking at the heaving woman on the floor, “most bigots hate everyone. You’re fine with a man or woman, but not a Milaric. I’ve been wondering, why is that?”

  She sprung up and swung again as the two clashed. Their weapons swung and blocked as their bodies bent and waved to dodge and parry each blow. Valuraal Sesirah was a renowned warrior long before she took the throne, and while Ani thought little of a woman who sat on a throne for her life, she couldn’t help but witness firsthand her skill and training.

  Every blow exchanged had force and resonance, challenging every bit of skill Ani had obtained. Despite her training with the hammer, her knowledge in balance, weight, tripping, piercing, slamming, dodging, weaving, parrying, the False Queen seemed to have her beat in every melee.

  Their battle waged on for what felt to Ani like cents, desses, a short eternity of stress, sweat, and rage. Salty spray flew from the heads of both combatants as Ani barely held herself aloft, losing ground with every swing.

  In the confusion of melee, Ani’s mind cleared but for a moment as she saw an opening. She twisted her body in a dodge, swung the hammer about backwards, catching Sesirah’s ankle with the hook opposite the blunt face of the hammer. The Milaric queen collapsed and Anixemeter repositioned her hammer, pointing the spear mounted on the end of her weapon at Sesirah’s throat.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done,” Sesirah coughed from the ground, “you fool of a rebel.”

  “I know exactly what I’ve done. I’ve killed The Usurper and put a rightful queen on the throne.”

  “Octavian is young and reckless. She will bring this kingdom to ruin.”

  “You’re wrong, Sesirah. An iron fist does not ensure failure.”

  “No, but inexperience, recklessness, and prejudice do. Enjoy your ‘paradise...’” She stared up at Ani, boring all four of her eyes into Ani’s two, and smiled wickedly. “Queen Slayer.”

  “Rot in hell, Devilspawn.” She swung the hammer down like a club in golfing with all her might and caved in her skull. Sesirah laughed at her until her dying breath. She laughed as the hammer came down, she laughed as her body ceased to function, and her laugh rang through Anixemeter’s head for the next hundred and forty turns.

  The punching bag was red with blood at this point, and her knuckles burned, flesh torn from the bone with every punch. She sighed, removed the tape, retaped her hands, and picked up the warhammer. Images of Sesirah flashed through her head, thoughts of her partners’ faces when they kicked in the throne room’s doors and found a warhammer embedded in the queen’s skull. Alasdair’s face when he saw Ani kneeling beside the body, glaring back at him grinning, bloodlust and fury in her eyes. She screamed as she drove the warhammer into the bag again and again and again.

  Chapter 21: The Brighter Side of Life

  The City of Bargatha, Ghostfire Prefecture

  The entire room smelt of death, like blood, sharpened steel, and raw animalistic instinct. The staff all seemed to have a primal edge to them, as he figured one might if they made a living chopping up carcasses. He walked up to the counter and asked if there was a star-coated lady named Liz waiting for him, but was answered in entirely the wrong direction by a smooth, almost bouncy voice.

  “I guess you’re Elon?” The voice was a peculiar blend of the Vol’Tyrian burr and an East-Antrian drawl, forming an accent that perplexed him. The two blended perfectly, with long, drawn-out vowels and a trilled ‘R’s. He’d never heard an accent quite like it.

  He turned to stare right into the face of a finely shaped star cluster. She wore fitted green robes and had hair the deep green of shade-grown grass. She wore a vivid green lipstick, and had equally piercing green eyes.

  Wait just a damned second.

  Her hair was green down to the roots, which then flipped into a typical Nojernan ‘window into space’ skin pattern, but right in the middle of her face area sat two gorgeous green eyes. A darkened circle formed a pupil while a lighter green made for a colored sclera. All at once, he thought thank the gods for giving me a Nojernan lady who’s eyes I can follow and dear lords do I even want to know how did she did that. His disconcertedness was increased by the fact that she was staring right into his eyes less than a nose’s breadth away.

  “Yyyyep. That’s me.”

  “Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Idrilis, but friends call me Liz. That includes you.” Her lipstic
k showed a distinct smile as she pulled him in for a hug. She showed off more strength than might be expected as she promptly popped his back, jarring him into hugging back. “I got a table already, but I haven’t ordered yet. Can I get a water?”

  The clerk nodded and looked expectantly at Elon. “Do you... have any tea?”

  “Traditional, north-green, or Milakrian style?”

  “Fuck, I’ll take black if you got it.”

  “Like the smoke, do you,” the green-themed lady asked him.

  “You know the style?”

  “I do. I prefer a good traditional Vol’Tyrian green, but I really like the kind the bird folk up in Hamash Kharhayin make. Those high-altitude silver needles, I think they call it? It’s real soft, takes a refined palette to enjoy.”

  “I... haven’t heard of it. And I’ve researched tea.”

  “You haven’t been to Hamash then.” She giggled, and Elon practically melted, at least, as much as he was capable. Her giggle caught him off guard as cuter and more alluring than any other girl he had known, though the fact that a woman’s giggle lost him his composure temporarily stunned him more than the giggle itself. It worried him deeply.

  “And you have?”

  “Absolutely. Saved up for twenty turns to get a port up to the sky pillar, and gaawwwds was it worth it. Gorgeous city, the nicest people, so many wonderful things to learn you just don’t find anywhere else. Standing on one of the sky docks, you can look down at the world. I caught one at a clear moment and I could see clear to the Milakrian coast. Crazy endless ocean, and if the spire were any closer to land, I swear you could see for a turn’s travel, probably more. It’s ridiculous.”

  At this point, they were both at a table outside on the sidewalk, as the inside had enough room for frozen chests of meat, a checkout counter, and a bit of food prep. There were a couple tables and no waiters. Very non-traditional; just the way Elon liked it. He looked up at the burning lantern above them and pondered over whether it was so bad after all.

  “How ‘bout you? Where’re you from?”

  “Uh, originally Marath, over in Fellblade. My, uh, my mom died when I was young and I never knew my dad. Grew up on the streets. I discovered the arcane arts in my early ones and was surprisingly quickly recruited into AIB. I guess they saw my talents.”

  Why the fuck are you telling her your life story?

  She seems nice.

  It took Cherry turns to learn about mom. You don’t talk about mom.

  …I don’t know. She seems… trustworthy.

  You realize that’s a bad thing, right?

  “I’ve heard about your talents. I hear you can cast independently? Not a common trait for a student.”

  “I’ve been able to cast a spell in each hand for tens of turns. I can cast up to a level six with both hands, but I’ve only pulled that off once, and I kinda fell unconscious afterwards.”

  She giggled again. Oh lord, that giggle. “Hey, it happens.”

  “Yeah. I can cast a level three one-handed, and a level two in each hand simultaneously.”

  “And you’re a lightning major?”

  “No, though it’s the basic school I enjoy the most. I’m actually an alteration major, but it’s seeming more and more that I can just kinda cast whatever I damn well please.”

  “Ooh, do tell after I get the drinks. What do you-” She was cut off by the butcher yelling her name to pick up her drinks. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Uh, salmon if they got it?”

  “Got it!” She practically floated out of her chair and bounced through the door. Elon breathed out, exasperated by her.

  Gods, just watching her makes me feel tired.

  He reached in his pocket for his pipe, help settle himself, then remembered firstly, smoking probably didn’t look terribly good on a first date. Secondly, being a plant-master druid, she wouldn’t take kindly to picked, dried, and smoked leaves being sucked in and blown about. Not very attractive. Instead, he opted to leave the pipe in his pocket and wait patiently.

  What’s going on with you? These people normally bug the shit out of you.

  She pulls it off.

  Pulls it off? She’s bubbly. You don’t like bubbly. You never have.

  This one’s different.

  How?

  I dunno. I’m just… I’m riding this one out, seeing how it plays.

  Why are you enjoying yourself? This kind of thing normally stresses you to the gills.

  Beats me. Maybe it’s a placebo. I told Cherry I’d try, maybe that’s making me enjoy my time. Hell, maybe this one’s just more charismatic than I’m giving her credit for.

  You’re way too calm about this. You should be running.

  You know what? No. She’s nice. I like her. For once, I’m ignoring my brain and going with my gut. Fuck you.

  This isn’t like you, Elon. This woman… She’s bad news. You’ve known her for ten minutes and she’s changing you already.

  “Those guys are fast.” A salmon presented itself to him, perfectly grilled, smelling strongly of garlic and local spices. In front of her sat a delicious-looking smoked steak. Both of their drinks were placed between them as well. How oddly quick.

  “So, Cherry told me you eat raw meat primarily?”

  “Curses!” She balled her fists and feigned a smash on the table.

  “Curses?” Elon said amusedly. “Foiled again?”

  “Here I thought I could surprise you, make you think I was a werewolf or something. Also, dang it, I was being polite and ordering a normal dinner when I could’ve gotten something yummy.”

  He smirked. “Sorry, should have broken it earlier?”

  “Not your fault, dude. Now then, you were spouting hubris?”

  “Uhh...”

  “I can cast whatever I damn well please.” Her voice dipped deep in an imitation that came nowhere near his voice, her feigned Antrian accent miserably inaccurate. “That’s where you left off.” She smiled and dug into her steak, looking at him expectantly all the while.

  “Uh, yeah. Most people it seems can only cast one or two, sometimes three schools? I can easily cast all of them, just some better than others.”

  “Is there any you’re particularly bad at?”

  “I don’t have a particularly good grasp on life, chaos, death, or divination. I’m at least rudimentary at everything else, and I’m more than proficient in lightning, void, air, and teleportation.”

  “Void?”

  “Yeah, void.”

  “What’s void?”

  “You don’t know it? I noticed there’s no classes.” Or reading material, now that I think of it... ”Like, a vacuum. Lack of anything. It sucks things into it.”

  “That’s... strange. You also said teleportation?”

  “Yeah. I’m getting better. I bet, if needed, I could shoot myself nearly anywhere within memory nice and quick.”

  “Prove it.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said prove it.”

  He thought for a second, and shortly familiar pink runes formed on his hands. He whispered into his hands words incomprehensible to Liz, closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and held out his hand, palm up, fingers spread slightly. A cobalt rune inscribed itself quickly, his veins flashed a deep blue, and blue tendrils came out of the rune.

  The threads formed a ball above his hand before reaching down and resting on his palm. It then flattened into a solid dome stretching across his fingertips back to his wrist, then simply floated away like ashes from a fire. Beneath the former dome rested a vivid green lotus flower in a small bowl filled with water.

  “To match your eyes.” He smirked at her as she stared at his hand.

  “You... I... Good
gods, how did you know?”

  “You’re plastidraed. I know you’d have my head for giving you a dead flower.”

  She stared at his hand in awe. “You... know my class rank, my studies, pegged my beliefs and preferences, also pegged my favorite flower, and on top of it all, got a live flower with my eye color without having ever seen me before, a fact I know because my eyes caught you off guard.”

  “I must admit, the choice of a lotus was a lucky guess, but everything else-”

  “How have you never kept a girlfriend more than a turn?”

  “Whoaaa, been talking to Cherry about me, have you?”

  “Rhod? She’s my flatmate, of course I have. Seriously, I’m impressed. What, you got some sick fetish or something? You’re too good.”

  “Can we not get into that, please? It’s a first date.”

  “Oh my, you do. Now I gotta know. What? Pyrophilliac? You like making force dildos or something?”

  “I- No, what?”

  “Hey, some dudes are into that. Lemme tell you, I don’t care if your major is force, or air, for that matter; no student has enough control to get the right shape with the right pressure. It just doesn’t work.”

  “Liz. No. Quite the opposite in fact.”

  “What? You don’t do sex?”

  “No, not really. It’s not a big thing for me. I like intellect, I don’t do the physical thing much. Sure, lean against me while I read or something, that’s nice, I just-”

  “Don’t get much out of it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah. Huh?”

  “I said cool. It’s not a big deal to me, either. I enjoy it, but I don’t really crave it. I’m cool with not doing it, though. Just tell me if you wanna give it a shot, but I don’t care if you don’t want to at all.”