by Azalea Ellis
“It is a symbol to those who might meet you,” he said. “You have solved the second one, you said. Where is it?”
“It’s . . .” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re pretty interested in this.”
“I have been studying the Oracle and her sister since I was barely a man. And now, I see a gift from one of them with my own eyes, on the body of a human.” For once, he didn’t say the word “human” with a sneer.
“You know . . . I’d be happy to talk about all this stuff with you. Like the visions the Oracle gave me, the quests, the third gift that I haven’t solved yet . . .” I waited for a beat as he turned to look at me. “But it won’t come free. We’ll exchange answer for answer, and only while you’re training at least one person from my team.”
Jacky turned to look at me.
Torliam’s eyes widened, and for the first time I had ever seen, he laughed without malice. “You bargain like a skirling. I will accept your offer, though I wonder if you will regret your words once you experience my training.”
Jacky didn’t seem daunted by that at all, so I let him teach her first. I sat by the sidelines, talking with Torliam while they sparred out on the boulder-strewn plain. He was brutal and seemed to prefer showing Jacky her mistakes by exploiting them rather than verbal explanations. He asked me to detail the first vision I’d had, and listened intently, though it didn’t seem to affect his fighting performance at all.
“Why did you come to Earth?” I asked.
“There is a Sickness, on my world.” The way he said it capitalized the word in my mind. “A plague. Many of my people have given up hope for our salvation, as our world dies. But I refuse to believe we cannot be saved. There is one who can stand against the abhorrent—that which causes the Sickness. Its enemy is the Champion, a god who had disappeared some time beyond living memory.” He threw an almost lazy punch at Jacky’s stomach that sent her flying back despite the guard she put up, and then waited to see if she’d get up again for more. “I have studied long and hard, and I believe he may be on your world. Most did not agree, and I was scoffed at for my theories. But, I am the younger son of a powerful family, and my mother granted my request for a small unit to quest for him, though she thought I was a fool. We flew through space for years to reach your planet, but I was not able to complete my mission before your people attacked. I did not expect your race to have advanced far enough to do more than cower in fear, but even so I sent down my ambassador with gifts to treat for nonviolent passage.”
His words were heavy. “She was killed. And then your people attacked.”
I frowned. The media had told us that terrorists had caused the destruction that had hit targets all over the world about seven years ago. According to NIX and Nadia Petralka, it was really caused by the skirmish between the Estreyan group and our militaries, when they sent an experimental invasion group. But in her version, we hadn’t been the instigators. “That’s not what we were told . . .” I murmured.
His eyebrows rose, then fell again in a deep glare. “I do not lie, human. Not about this. Your people generated the enmity between us, altogether unprovoked.”
Jacky ended their sparring session not long after, and I did my best to commit what I’d learned from watching them to memory, then stood up for my own beating.
He asked about the second and third gifts, and I rolled up my sleeve to show him the armband around my right forearm, with a promise to take the third gift out of my pack later so he could examine it.
When it was time for my question, he grimaced, so I went for something neutral that wouldn’t make him angry again. “Tell me about your world. The gods, the Seeds, you know. How does it all work?”
He stared at me blankly for a moment. “That is hardly a simple matter, material for a single question or answer.”
I grinned brightly in response, imitating Zed, who Torliam seemed to have taken more of a liking to than the rest of us.
He caved. “Very well. But you cannot ask me to continually clarify my statements until you end up getting answers for which you have not paid.”
I nodded.
“You have learned some of these things already, I do not doubt. This world, as a whole, is formed of the gods. The Champion, the one who molds, guided them to meld together and create the earth and water and the forces of nature. The gods embody principles of existence, and many of them take a physical form or two to interact with each other and us.
“Beyond them, there are greater forces of existence, but they are more like . . .” He sighed. “Laws? Absolutes. They do not interact with us. Perhaps they do not have a consciousness like our own, and do not even notice our puny existence among the vastness of . . . the ‘everything.’” He lifted his arms and flung them wide to explain the word he was missing, gesturing out beyond ourselves, to the sky and wider.
“The universe?” I supplied, jumping toward him and attempting to slash at his neck.
He grabbed me by the arm, and showed me how he could have broken it, if he wanted. “Yes, that word suffices. In any case, I cannot tell you much about them. My knowledge is focused more on this world and its problems, its history. When you learn to read, you can read about what our scholars have theorized yourself.”
I resisted the urge to point out that I already knew how to read, just not his language, and ‘would he please not make everything into an insult?’
He smirked at my expression. “The mortals of this world, such as myself, traveled here along with our gods many thousands of years ago. This world sits at a junction, a place where travel is made easy. You will have to learn more about science before you can understand that.
“This planet has layers of a type, unlike your planet, on which life only dwells on the single mundane surface.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, but I resisted the urge to do the very thing he’d asked me not to and pry for an extended explanation. I dodged an elbow to the temple, and earned a small nod of approval from him when I kicked at his knee in the same motion.
“Most of my people have retreated to the cities, where there is safety in numbers, as the world itself grows more dangerous, and our numbers decrease. To gain strength, we train and study, and if we feel we are ready and willing to risk our lives, we will petition the gods. This is what you call a Trial. We prove our worth before the gods, and if they think us worthy, they will give a Bestowal. From what I understand of NIX, the Bestowals are what you call Skills. And very rarely, a god will find among us mortals one that shines bright with promise, and deign to give them a portion of their . . . life-force. They grant patronage, and give the mortal a chance to ascend. This . . . I wonder that the manifestation of Chaos did not do this for you,” he said, searching my face for understanding, or maybe confirmation.
My eyes widened. “Um . . . yeah? She did. I’m pretty sure. She said something about welcoming me as a godling. Honestly, I didn’t think she really meant it like that.” My mind raced at the implications. “What does that mean for me? Obviously, it’s not going so well. My body can’t handle the power—it tries to kill me on a daily basis.”
“My people would spend hundreds of years strengthening themselves before ever seeking to ascend. Of course your puny human body would not withstand it. Your lifespans are as short as a light-bug. You are like a walking corpse to my people.” He stepped forward, both hands attacking in a blur of punches and jabs that sent me scrambling backward, without even attempting to block or slip past them.
“You’re not being helpful,” I said through clenched teeth.
He stopped, and raised an eyebrow, and I realized he’d pushed me back against the side of the jutting outcrop, leaving me nowhere to run.
I jumped up, as far as I could, and pushed off the rock behind me with my legs, claws out to ward off the attack he threw to meet me in mid-air.
“If in fact you did gain her patronage, it does not mean you are a god,” he said, spinning around to face me.
I raised an eyebrow of my
own now that his back was to the wall.
He snorted, and simply stepped forward, a few quick blows forcing me to retreat again. “You have a chance to move beyond the mortal, if you can cultivate the power and, of course, stay alive. Unfortunately, I have no way to help you, as I do not know of anyone with your history, and I am no healer. Perhaps there will be records we can dig up in the capitol that will give some hint. If not, there is no being in existence that would be more likely to know than the God of Knowledge. If he will concede to help us, you will have your answer. If it is possible.”
“Do you think he won’t help?”
“He left the mortal world long ago, his only physical manifestation settling in wilderness. Many think he is searching for the answer to the Sickness. I have heard of the occasional person going to quest for a Bestowal from him, but I have not heard stories of any who have succeeded in recent history.”
That was worrying, but the Oracle had shown me that vision, so I could only hope that my answer would come out of it. We spent a couple more minutes sparring, which mostly consisted of me either running away frantically or getting the stuffing pounded out of me.
Jacky didn’t smile at me or clap me on the back when we returned to the center of the stone monolith, but she nodded, and we both nursed our bruises in semi-comfortable silence.
We left before the sun fully rose over the horizon, the kids stumbling and rubbing at their eye. There had been nightmares during the night, and no one had gotten enough sleep. Sam was still pale, but when Zed took off the bandage, the wound had sealed over on its own.
Blaine worried about sepsis, but Sam gritted his teeth and assured him that his healing ability could handle it.
We traveled in defensive formation again, Kris, Gregor, and Sam alternately walking or riding the one remaining hoverboard until it ran out of solar charge. We were all on edge, alert for attack and aggressive toward the slightest sound.
We walked all day, ate while we walked, and took few breaks. I even ordered that anyone moving away from the group to relieve themselves take someone with them. It’d be just wonderful if someone walked away to pee and never came back.
Finally, we arrived at a huge chasm. Wind whipped along it, singing as it sliced along the corners of the jagged rock. It put me on edge, but this wind didn’t sound like it had a mouth. The sounds it made were simple whistles and roars, made by its speed.
We walked north, then, until we arrived at a spot where the chasm narrowed, with the remnants of a broken bridge. “This was once the bridge of middle North,” Torliam said, “and we must cross it.”
It was obvious that the bridge had once been a beautiful, arching structure that was an accolade to Estreyan architecture, made of marble or something like it. But it was broken now. Only the ends remained, and between them stretched almost a mile of yawning chasm. On the other side leaned a half-crumbled tower, made of the same stone.
Blaine frowned. “Why has the bridge not been repaired? I am no expert, but it seems this damage happened some time ago.”
“The bridge was destroyed intentionally, to stop the creatures of the lands beyond from following us, when we abandoned the middle North.”
“Why would you abandon an entire section of your planet? With the kind of technology you are able to field, I imagine that you could handle some aggressive wildlife.”
“My people are not as numerous as they once were. Resources needed to be consolidated. The lands near population are much safer and more bountiful than where we are going. We will rest there tonight,” Torliam said, pointing at the decrepit tower. “The last time I was here there was still an inner room that had not been breached. It will be safe.”
“How?” Jacky asked. “Even I can’t jump across something that wide. And none of us can fly, last I checked.” She narrowed her eyes at Torliam. “Can you?”
“Not as such. Even at my strongest, I could not cross this with anyone else in tow. Birch might ferry us across, if he were bigger. At one point, the line of Aethezriel was known for their tailos mounts.”
The creature let out a peep, making me wonder once again exactly how much English he understood.
“The hoverboard might be able to make the trip across,” Blaine said. “Though it would need some modification to deal with the high winds, and without the sunlight, it would not have enough power for more than a single trip.”
“I might be able to Animate a connection between the two remaining ends of the bridge,” Adam said. “But I don’t think I could hold something that big long enough for us all to get across.
“I can carry someone,” Jacky said. “And we’ve got Seeds left, right? Except for Eve. A couple more into Strength and Agility, and we can just sprint across.”
“We can do the rope trick again,” Zed said. “Like you were telling me about when you had that Trial with the ratmen, remember, Jacky? I’m not as fast as you guys, but I’m pretty sure I’m faster than a totally normal human, and if I can’t make it, you can just pull me up.”
“My suit is damaged,” Blaine said. “If only I had had the time to complete the protective covering before we left . . . I do not know that I will be able to keep up with a Player’s level of supernatural speed, but I would be heavy enough to cause issues if you were to have to pull me up along with the suit.”
“Just take the thrusters out of the hoverboard and use those,” Gregor said. “Eve can carry me, and Adam or Jacky can carry Kris and Chanelle.”
I suppressed a chuckle at the boy volunteering me to serve as his mount.
Blaine stared at him for a second. “Yes . . . that might work.” He smiled, and pushed up his glasses. “You have potential as an engineer,” he said with poorly concealed pride.
Gregor rolled his eyes.
Adam got to work brainstorming bridge structures with Torliam. “You will add blood to the ink, of course,” Torliam said. “How long do you estimate that you can hold the mimicry?”
“Why would I add blood to the ink?” Adam said, taken aback.
“Is yours not a significance-based Skill? I assumed . . .”
Adam’s eyes widened.
“Do not tell me that you are unaware how your own Skill functions.”
“I’ve been experimenting, trying to figure out what makes a difference and what doesn’t, but I hadn’t been able to come up with such a broadly applicable rule yet. Tell me more. Are you familiar with other ‘significance-based’ Skills?”
“We do not have time for an extended lesson at the moment. However, some Skills are affected by the . . . importance, or the . . . implications of how they are enacted. When you spend your time carefully designing your creations, using the highest quality materials that have the most significance to you, if I am correct it will make a difference in the nature of the creation.”
“Like when you Animated your tattoo,” I said. “It was strong enough to hold back the attack of a volcanic Goddess.”
“Blood is a fitting sacrifice when you do not have anything more convenient, or when the situation is dire,” Torliam said.
While he and Adam continued to work on that, the rest of us set up a few meters away from the edge of the chasm and timed our running speeds.
Birch joined in, frantically flapping his wings. He failed to take off from the ground even a little bit, which made sense, because his wings hadn’t even turned completely to feather yet. They were still in the awkward half-fluff stage. After quite a few attempts, he mewled pitifully and lay down, legs stretched out fully to the front and back, neck resting on the ground.
“It’s okay, Birch,” Kris said. “You’re growing fast. Soon you’ll be big enough that people can ride you while flying through the sky, just like Mr. Torliam said.”
His ears perked up, and he turned to her, his human-shaped eyes projecting curiosity.
She began to weave tales of his future awesomeness and bravery to him, and it wasn’t long till he was sitting straight up to listen, interjecting with little sounds e
very once in a while.
“I’m pretty sure he actually understands what she’s saying,” Zed murmured to me as I watched in bemusement. “Does that count as discovery of the second sentient alien race?”
“I’m not sure he’d be the second one we’ve met,” I said. “But I think he is. His mother communicated telepathically, through touch. Maybe he’ll be able to do that when he’s older, too.” A small explosion drew my attention.
“Nothing to worry about,” Blaine said, waving away the smoke. “I know what I’m doing.”
After another quarter hour of frantic preparation by some people and worried waiting by the rest of us, we tied everyone together with the same plastine rope as before. Adam had been able to re-fuse the severed pieces, and assured me it would be just as strong as the original. Those who made it across, which would likely be Torliam, Adam, Jacky, and hopefully me, would pull the rest of the team up when the bridge gave out beneath our feet.
When Adam was ready, we all got a running start, sprinting toward the edge of the bridge which ended on the open air. I carried Gregor strapped between me and the pack on my back so that my arm and legs were free to pump mostly unimpeded. Torliam had Chanelle, and Jacky had Kris.
Adam ran a little ahead of us, and when he reached the edge, he threw out a spray of ink, which formed out in front of him into a narrow platform, connected to the real bridge’s broken supports.
The team followed him unhesitatingly, in order of fastest to slowest. Torliam kept pace behind Adam with seemingly little effort, Chanelle’s weight barely impeding him. The rest of us were straining.
Adam probably could have gone faster, but an unforeseen problem popped up. He couldn’t form the ink quickly enough to keep up with his speed, and so he didn’t draw too far ahead of us.
