Axiom

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  “Celestial corruption is the main culprit. It infuses the others with itself, unlike the others who fail to exert their influence upon each other. What I have within me is not fire corruption; it’s celestial fire corruption. The core identity of fire is altered to be an empowered version of itself! Not merely rage and fury but both! Then! Then tempered with an unhealthy influx of pride!”

  Artorian took a deep breath, shuddering lightly. Another bite of food helped him warm up enough to keep speaking. “It evolves into obsession. Mania clashing against celestial-infused water-corruption, which is not just mere lethargy but indifference and disinterest made manifest. Air corruption began as flightiness and a desire for activity but became volatile fickleness. A frivolous wanton whim that cannot see bounds, nor care for them if it did.”

  Yvessa scraped the contents at the bottom of the bowl into a pile, giving Artorian a chance to breathe. He just looked so pleased to have someone to share his thoughts with. She made him get back to the point. “How does knowing about corruption help you? It’s still eating away at you. Corruption doesn’t just go away.”

  “My dear, knowing is half the battle.” She saw his expression as she prepared the last spoonful. When her eyes met his, the spoon abruptly stopped its movement. His look was icy and cold—a look she had never seen on him before and hoped to never see again.

  Yvessa stuttered out an icebreaker, “Oh… W-well. I must have been wrong then.”

  The old man calmed down and patted her on the hand. “Not wrong, my dear. We all learn. Some of us just need to learn the hard way. *Mm*. Do thank Tibbins for me. Won’t you please?” He opened his mouth and ate the last spoonful.

  The full-raiment priestess nodded that she would. “I have some more time before I must attend to duties and prayers. You said… you handled corruption ‘individually’. How did you separate that mess?”

  Artorian wiped the provided towel across his face. “I suspect much the same way your spiral must separate Essence from corruption. I spun it! Given, I do have the benefit of clashing corruptions that refuse to settle. In fact, I’m fairly certain that if one does settle, I die.”

  He nodded to himself, certain that he was correct. “To prevent extreme exposure to their effects, I had to believe certain aspects of me were immutable. A ‘fortress wall’ against the waves of influencing corruption, so to speak. It takes a lot of mental effort to continue, so it’s a temporary trait that I am cultivating. Oh! Oh-ho, not cultivating, but… pursuing. No need to worry.”

  Artorian gave her another comforting pat, realizing his expression must have unsettled her. “I cannot influence my corruption directly or even begin to pressure them into anything that might alter them. This is my body, however, and I do have some Essence in it—or I would be dead. I thought about how a cultivator must interact with… friendlier aspects of themselves while in their Center. I came up with several ideas to try, and it cost me.”

  “I found that direction, shape, and design are malleable things, so long as you have even a little Essence to work with. I presume that your spirals work by pulling down what is good for you and pushing away the thick, muddy chunks of corruption. For this reason, a spiral does nothing for me. I have almost no Essence to pull down—only corruption. So, I thought to myself, ‘Why is it required that Essence be collected in a spiral?’ I came to the conclusion that for what I need, it isn’t!”

  Yvessa patted him on the shoulder and stood. “It is good that you are feeling better, but I really have duties and–”

  “One more moment, please! I am nearly finished. Now, I believe that I require something entirely different and thus am designing various shapes and movement inside of my Center. Finding the Essence was actually rather easy once I knew what not to pay attention to. They are the motes of light that had been swallowed up by the corruption. While the corruption refused to follow my requests, will, or desire… the motes of light that broke free happily danced and moved in whatever fashion I directed them.”

  Yvessa smiled and turned away, her smile turning into a sigh as Artorian continued, “Essence is oddly similar to a child in that respect. The Essence looked to me for guidance, and I think… I think that before I gave it direction, the Essence looked to my corruption for guidance! It seeks to change, to become, to adapt, and be part of a whole! It craves identity, function. So I, as the fifth—and most powerful—force inside my Center… directed a simple, absolute, unwavering desire into my Essence.”

  “Spin.”

  “You had them dance?” Yvessa was breathing deeply at this point, trying to be accommodating to Artorian but also needing to get going. “That’s nice. Well, be careful with–”

  “The motes were convinced to follow this directive and are now doing so by themselves. Dancing… perhaps, but I would say it looked playful! The motes of light with my direct attention were at least twice as swift, and I noticed the force of its movement pushed corruption away from it.”

  “I reached out at that point, finding pain in the attempt, and pulled another mote of light to the first. They merged from proximity and my will. I praised them for doing so, and the reaction was incredible! The feedback the mote of light received from me fed back in on itself! I thought the spinning movement had been swift before, ha! Now it is spinning with such intensity that the mote became a thread. I touched it, and I felt a wholeness that I’m… not certain how to describe.”

  Yvessa leaned in and added some details to clarify Artorian’s confusion, “Celestials above… you started actually making a cultivation technique. Artorian… there is no way to tell you how important it is that you keep this information to yourself. At least until you are strong enough to fight your own battles.”

  When she saw that Artorian was taking her seriously, she explained herself, “What you are describing, the motes of light? That was Essence, and what you describe as a ‘thread’ is called a Chi thread. It sounds like you discovered the first steps of creating a Chi spiral, and that’s both incredible and strange. Controlling a cultivation technique and using it naturally takes years of understanding and practice with a Memory Stone. I know that you’ve asked for one. I also know it’s not here. That means that you have an intrinsic understanding that many people would recruit or murder you for, and you are not strong enough to resist either option they will offer.”

  Artorian responded after a few long moments of thought, “I understand… but let me clarify for you. What I am doing is visualization, my dear. I do not have an understanding that others do not. I simply have better tools for understanding what I can observe.”

  “I see the shapes and movements I wish to happen and put those forth to the Essence. Since being in my Center is incredibly similar to being in my own mind, it was doable. I visualized myself with the shape of the idea in my hands, and I offered to hand it over to the Essence. The motes of light flocked to my promise of change, and as best I understand it, I gave them a choice to do something. They liked my idea and decided to do that instead of following the corruption. Then they formed a large ball, which is a sensation similar to… *hmm*… having overeaten is the best I can think of.”

  “How, and more importantly, what shape are you following? What are you making your Essence do?” Yvessa was finally invested in the conversation, and she seemed to have forgotten about everything else that she may need to be doing.

  Artorian smiled at her and decided to explain rather than simply tell her his reasoning. “Keeping the Essence flat, as if on a plane of water, was exceedingly easy, but I found that any change was effort. Making ripples on my flat surface nearly made me violently sick. I had to go and hit water for hours just to see what sort of effects I should be expecting with a liquid since the reactions of ‘stuff’ out there in the physical world and ‘Essence’ in my Center appear to be consistent.”

  “So, what I did was make a circle rather than a spiral. I connected the end of the thread with its beginning and set it to spinning. The Essence then formed a loop that,
while a little wild and unruly, reached enough velocity to rebuke the corruption that had been attempting to flood over the exact midpoint of my Center. Speaking of the midpoint, a question for you… is there supposed to be a hole there?” Artorian quizzed her, not sure how to phrase his question differently.

  Yvessa was startled, and her reply was uncertain. She realized with a blush that she had gotten comfortable in her chair and was listening intently. “Let me look.”

  She closed her eyes and delved inwards. Even given she had a considerably cleaner Center than the roiling maelstrom of the man next to her, it still required significant effort to find the hole even though that she was actively looking for it. “Huh. I never saw that before. Yes, there certainly is a hole there. That’s odd. I have no idea what that… *hmm*.”

  The old man was pleased to have the confirmation, but Yvessa didn’t give him room to gloat. “You deviated from what I asked, old man. You never actually told me how you’re separating your corruption.”

  Artorian wiggled his nose while thinking about her question; for some reason, it made him itch. “Then I shall. My Chi circle, as I suppose I’ll call it, is merely a proof of concept. My actual project is ongoing and far more complicated. Instead of ‘circles’, think of a tube that connects to itself. Spinning it too fast makes all corruption push away from it. However, you recall I mentioned that they had differing densities? The speed at which I spin a tube determines what kind of corruption is pushed away from it and what kind can’t escape once it is trapped inside. If I spin it at just the right speed, the inside of the tube may fill with, say, fire corruption.”

  “That makes no sense at all,” she complained and would have done more if he hadn’t raised a hand to stop her.

  “Hold on, I’ll get to the point eventually. No, if I spin the tube slightly faster, water-corruption fills it instead while the rest is rebuked. Unfortunately, this constant motion requires far more Essence than I currently have, and I don’t even want to talk about the leaks! Keeping any part of the tube uneven breaks the entire thing. So, as I said, it’s a work in progress, but… just maybe, I’ll turn it into something magnificent.”

  The idea of a clearly defined goal made his expression shine, and his fingers mimed the shapes his mind was making. “I will make four tubes, each for a specific kind of corruption, and I shall trap it all. See, I discovered that while the amount is constant, the size is not set. Corruption can be compressed! More corruption than I thought possible can fit in a circular tube. It was as if two buckets of water managed to fit in one without spilling. I marvel at it.”

  “I did ruin a perfectly good pillow that day.” His excitement turned somber at an unpleasant recollection. With a sigh, he pushed away from the softness-laden wall. Laying back down on the cot, he opened his robe to let more of the sunlight hit his chest as his caretaker ventured yet another question.

  “So… how have you not choked on corruption? You should have long been out of Essence to work with.” The young priestess was once again packing up to leave but couldn’t contain her curiosity.

  This, at least, Artorian could answer easily, though he knew that she may not like the answer. “Do you recall, my dear, how you mentioned that you could only cultivate at a very particular certain time of the day?”

  Yvessa nodded, interested to hear where this was going. Artorian decided to simply put it out there, “My source of Essence doesn’t rely on such specifics. I am cultivating by sitting in the light of the sun—the sun always shines, or the light of the stars always reaches us. The sun does give me a better influx, however, starlight works just fine. Therefore, there is a constant source of something that is ever-present. I am not actively cultivating—still working that out—I’m merely letting my passive absorption work with some directed will.”

  “I have not yet figured out how one pulls Essence. Yet, while I lay here, Essence slowly and steadily fills my Center. When I have a good handle on how much I need to keep alive, I will use the rest to play. So far, I have clearly been using more than I have to spare, and I shall work to remedy that.”

  He motioned at himself to reflect on his poor state. “The results are visible. I am bedridden. My absorption doesn’t end, so long as I keep myself exposed to starlight. I’m going to try and tune myself to it like the strings of a harp. The heavens and the earth may provide Essence, but if the Essence of the earth is spoken for by countless cultivators, I will simply direct my efforts to less tapped sources. Since one would need all four of my affinity channels to not retain massive amounts of corruption from drawing from such a source, I imagined my intake would be sizable. I can’t say I’m holding it well, as it merely floats freely in my Center. Yet, I was certainly not wrong.”

  Having eaten and spoken much, his energy was spent the same as if he’d run several laps around the village. His eyes sank to a half-lidded state, and his breaths turned shallow as the pleasantries of a full stomach pushed him to rest. That was fine with his caretaker; Yvessa had much to think about. Only monks who had nothing but dedication to the art of cultivation were generally so knowledgeable. All they did all day was cultivate and think about cultivation. The old man wasn’t that different, even if another purpose seemed to drive him. He had a burning need to live, and Yvessa couldn’t say he was doing it for his own sake.

  The conversation had given her some ideas for her own cultivation, and even the small enlightenment she had gained would prove beneficial. She’d get him lots of things to write on and then read the results. Though she had warned him not to tell others about creating his own techniques, she was protected by the umbrella of the Church and was already planning to spread any useful information to a few people she liked before passing it on.

  Nobody knew much about corruption, and since Artorian had mentioned the Skyspear Academy, her mind had put two and two together on how he’d figured so much out. Someone had been blessed with an education at some point in life. Not that this made any sense for what the old man was doing out here all alone in the Fringe, holding all that expensive knowledge. His mention of diverting his Essence into a circle had been unpleasant; moving Essence into new patterns hurt!

  The time it had taken her to pull her first Chi thread alone… putting her spiral together had left Yvessa with headaches, stomach problems, and she didn’t want to think about the actual feelings of pain she went through from direct manipulation. Then there was this absolute nonsense about starlight. She’d nodded and smiled her way through but hadn’t truly believed what he had been saying. If he was talking about stars, why mention the sun? At least half of what he had been rambling on about was garbage, the ranting of a man on his deathbed. It would be difficult to separate out the wheat from the chaff if she did get notes from him.

  Specifically, a sunlight cultivator was unheard of, a pipe dream, and she thought the old man must have been losing his train of thought and grasping at whatever hope he could find to keep going. She sighed and shook her head. She was late and had much to do; the nearby village of Lapis had agreed to a meeting.

  The expedition had gotten contact with the traders in an attempt to once again get goods flowing in and out of the area. The designated trader for salt had gone missing, sort of. The cart found at the raider trail was identified as property of the prior trader, so killed in action was the actual writ on the official report. To her delight, new traders coming meant a variation of goods and a use for her silver. Finally. All in all, things were starting to look up for this on-paper-only expedition crew.

  Time to give the requisite compliments to Tibbins. The special ingredient he’d added that helped induce sleep had been wonderful. Maybe the old fool would actually sleep for a change. His constant pretending was getting on her nerves! Yvessa muttered to herself as she strode back to her personal tent, “Thank you, Tibbins! A little rest for all of us, thanks to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The changing of the season was the signal for great activity at the encampment. In par
ticular, it was what people had been waiting for; the majority of the expedition force had served its due time and was to be released to go home.

  A predictable and set pattern repeated itself almost daily in the camp. With proper structures and fortifications now built, the cleaned-up village resembled a remote cloister. Every high noon, everyone attended the prayer chant. This included their two hospice charges. With the threat of the raiders gone and no sign they would be returning any time soon, it was time for Tarrean to announce the cadre that would remain behind.

  The selection could have been guessed, and some gambling did indeed make the rounds. Coppers and silvers exchanged hands between those who thought their line-up was correct. The rules for the new cloister had become ever laxer as Tarrean learned how to be a father first and Head Cleric second. At this point, when basic duty was done for the day, all Clerics could do as they pleased. Arbitrary tasks had simply been removed. The Acolytes and Initiates could, of course, expect the tedious tasks to return as soon as they rejoined the arms of the Choir.

  To the expedition’s grumbles, there hadn’t been a single conversion in the Fringe. The Lapis village was equally as stubborn as their hands were blue. When the announcement of the cadre staying at this new cloister came, nobody was truly surprised. Gossip had become as valuable as currency, as tips on cultivation were often included in the daily gatherings.

  Remaining behind was Tarrean, which people had expected ever since Tibbins let some things ‘slip’. Possibly as a punishment for his gossiping, Tibbins was to remain as well. The group at large was going to miss his cooking; Initiates swore up and down that he had food Essence rather than celestial. Jin was to stay, of course. The young lad had never been so adamant about something in his life. Returning to the Choir was to leave the family he’d come to love over the last season.