He watched as the Essence vanished—but that was the thing. It didn’t vanish. It just went elsewhere.
As her song built and rose, the talented songstress reached her crescendo. Then, Artorian saw the ripple. Celestial Essence didn’t pour, or gush, or flood from the unfathomable, ungraspable passageway. No—such terms neither did justice nor service to the sheer amount of celestial energy rocketing into this layer of the world. The celestial cultivator’s request had been paid by Essence, attention, and devotion.
Something in the ‘above’ had received her freely given earthly-cultivated Essence, and the very turn of its attention towards the ‘here and now’ bloomed the region with Essence like a storm of pollen at the beginning of spring.
If Artorian had to describe this moment in the sublime, his awe termed it as the only words that whispered from his mouth. “Heavenly cultivator.”
As the moment of the crescendo passed, the celestial energy in the area snapped into the disc Jiivra held up. She seemed unaware of the utter magnitudes of energy that had just been moved to make her request possible. Something not her had sequenced events in appreciation of her mixture of song and request.
The round disc suddenly crackled with persimmon light, and Jiivra was moved by a will not her own. A puppet-like gesture—too perfect for her body to perform alone—sent the deadly energy-compressed object through the cloud layer in an equally flawless arc. She only used two fingers for the throw.
Her song continued as the disc spun, splitting the raincloud Essence-effect of the youngsters entirely. The energy was far too condensed and potent for them to even conceive of standing against it as the disk surgically sliced open their sky.
The ripple didn’t last longer than a moment, but the experience was profound while it was being observed. That very observation was an unwelcome occurrence as the ‘here and now’ rebuked the ‘error’ in existence. As if someone ran a hot rock over wavy cloth, the ripple smoothed over as if it had never existed.
As far as Artorian was concerned, he had just witnessed something potent soothe and flatten the fabric of reality. The philosopher dropped what he’d been holding. He couldn’t even remember what it was; instead, the memory of the celestial branded itself into his mind. Never did he want to forget such exposure to the sublime, no matter how small it had made him feel in the face of such… he didn’t even know what to call it.
He was powerless, irrelevant, unconsidered. A spec of existence in a world too vast for such a small mind to comprehend. Unfathomable magnitudes of difference separated him from the capacity to truly grasp the information his mind was now trying to hold. The experience was too much for him to process.
He didn’t even see the majesty of Jiivra’s kill. He only felt after effect as she lifted him with bouncing cheer; physically shaking him from what could have been a costly spiral into existential oblivion. “I got him! Did you see? Clean in two!”
Artorian blinked, cycling the celestial out of his vision so he could see the utterly gleeful woman lifting him like a ragdoll. He hadn’t seen, but smiled brightly at her regardless. “Marvelous my dear! Though please put me down, I’m tender!”
He collapsed right back onto the stool when Jiivra put him down, snapping a grip onto his shoulder since he was very much falling over. “You alright there, old man?”
The shaken philosopher trembled, trying to play it off. “Oh I’m… I’m here. As much as I can be.”
Those that surrounded them had a good laugh. They’d stopped throwing rocks. Essence-tapped, the storm was in progress of subsiding as well. Many hugged, more clapped hands together above their heads. Artorian blinked as he heard the growing sound of cheering. Had he zoned out a moment? It was entirely possible. “Did… I miss something?”
Astrea nudged him in the shoulder, flourishing her half cape before tearing the repulsive thing fully from her shoulder. She stepped on the image of The Hand, and while her breath was deep, her relief was plain to see. “We won!”
The old man smiled for a moment, but it turned to a frown near instantly as his still-reeling thoughts reached out to grasp her statement. It was wrong. Something about it was wrong. Won? So fast? No. No, this was too fast.
He’d seen the several thousand troops. Even encumbered, with tactics and landscape against them, it hadn’t been enough time. At least one, maybe two of Jian’s walls should have been overrun.
Artorian staggered from his seat. His daughter wrapped his arm around her neck and walked him to the edge, figuring her tired grandfather wanted to see the result of their win. “See? They’re all not moving. I know they’re just dots. But I can tell that they’re down.”
The old man didn’t stop frowning. “Something is wrong.”
Jiivra and Astrea exchanged a glance, their old man was talking to himself. They could both tell this battle was won. It was over. Artorian slapped himself on the forehead twice and peered with scrutiny over the edge again. “What’s wrong? What are you missing? Think. Think!”
His daughter rolled her eyes. Same old elder. Jiivra, however, was back to serious-mode instantly. She knew that the old man had a knack for oddities like this; when a detail didn’t fit, he knew and was bothered. “Headmaster? What do you need?”
Artorian talked with his hands, but no sounds other than small mumbles left his lips. His movements were stopped by both of the powerful women. Opposing Essences or not, he needed to reel it in, and it was becoming clear to both of them that he needed help. “Numbers. Numbers, my dears. What’s wrong with the numbers?”
The celestial warrior cleared her throat, and tried to help stabilize the conversation. Hopefully, also help Artorian with what he was working through. His stagger was unnatural, and he’d fall if both the strong women weren’t holding him up. “Several thousand raiders, the great majority visible look dead on the field. A chunk of them have made a sizable pile in front of the outer wall of Jian. Then there’s the preparation for infernal… geese? We didn’t see any of these.”
Astrea stood up straight with a sudden jerk, squeezing her eyes to focus her vision. “How do you see so clearly? They’re dots!”
A student next to them turned and filled her in. “Essence cycling to the eyes. This is basic curriculum once you’re at the cultivation level. Oh, also, welcome to Skyspear Academy.”
Astrea copied her grandfather’s appreciative nod, but didn’t have the time to address the curriculum right now. Business came first. Something felt odd now that details were being pointed out. “Didn’t we pass a whole bunch of C’towls? I didn’t see a single one of those either, reanimated or otherwise. Nor geese. Also, why would the majority of raiders just lay on the field? I know the plan was to mire them, but that shouldn’t have locked them all in place.”
Artorian had to sit back down; his head was killing him. He was hungry and short on Essence, so he began to stress-eat from his pouch to try and mitigate his dizziness. Pride got the better of him; and he didn’t speak up that this drain originated from the mental vertigo of ‘the ripple’. He didn’t want to look even weaker than he already did in front of some of his favorite people.
The ex-paladin cycled Essence sights, and slowly placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my heavens… they… I think they had the life ripped out of them. They’re husks.”
Both Astrea and a good number of nearby students didn’t in the slightest understand what she’d just said. Artorian didn’t respond to Jiivra’s gasp; he was off in his own world. His head tumbled through problems and revelations, dissociating from reality. There were times where he could push the academic into the background in favor of what needed to happen in the here and now. This time, he’d failed.
“As in, they’re empty? Devoid of life?” Astrea was quick on the uptake in Artorian’s stead. She squinted at the celestial instructor, suspicion mounting. “Are we sure they’re down for good, then?”
Jiivra snarled at what she saw down below. “No, no they’re abyss-blasted not. They’re getting up. Or
their skeletons are. They’ve all got that can’t-see-through blackness in them that feels foul. Apologies. Astrea, but they’re filled with the same stuff you are, and I doubt those raiders were cultivators.”
Astrea pieced together the problem, and she didn’t like the answer she reached. “Uuugh. Undead. Why did it have to be undead?”
Shooting a look to the woman in lily-white robes, she queried her directly: “Can you see a long-necked woman on a Palanquin down there? Feathers sticking out her everything, wearing more gold than fits in a treasure chest?”
Jiivra’s eyes scanned the ant’s nest of shambling dead below as the skeletons worked to free themselves from their meaty ‘shells’. She found the target in a hurry, but the result was no different. “Found her. I guess what you said about the geese’s diet was true. I’m not liking what I’m seeing.
“Also, I found the geese, and… what looks like an honest-to-abyss necromancer. I again apologize, Astrea. In comparison to the feeling I’m getting from… that, you’re a comfort blanket. I feel like I’m about to hurl just looking at that… thing.”
Astrea grumbled and crossed her arms. “Yes, well, solving problems first. Uncomfortable profiling later.”
She glanced over her shoulder at her grandfather; he was non-responsive. It reminded her of the end-of-life old man that rested most of the day in his tiny A-frame house back in the Fringe. She could not afford to be sentimental right now; pragmatism ruled the day.
“Grandpa is out of commission, but he was out of Essence anyway. Those Geese are likely vanguarding, but Jian has bows. Then there’s the several thousand undead. We… we didn’t account or plan for undead, and our high and dry mountain top isn’t going to be safe for long against an opponent that doesn’t get tired… I’m okay in a fight, but I’m no good leading anything. Tried that, mantle didn’t fit. If this needed a precision cut, I’m your girl.”
Astrea tried not to panic, but she was fretting as she gave herself the rundown. “This… I’m not ready for this.”
Jiivra took hold of her shoulder. “Hey. Look at me. We’re going to get through this. A city of spears and a mountain of cultivators will hold against some haphazard shambling bones. I’ll admit… I wish a stronger woman than I was in charge, but I’ve taken the mantle before, and it does fit. In the words of a wise old stranger with his head in the clouds; needs must.”
Ceding command silently, Astrea locked determined gazes with her and cut to the chase. “What do we do?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“You know we have more rocks, right?” Swaths of students opposed the ‘run and hide’ idea. It was just some skeletons; how could that be more difficult than fully-muscled raiders? “Doesn’t make a lot of difference when we’re throwing them down.”
Fingertips pressed to her lips, Jiivra kept her hands flat and pressed together. She dropped her hands towards the uncooperative, think-they’re-invulnerable, delusional teens. She couldn’t blame them for being cocky.
That initial bout had gone by like a breeze, and they were only poorer on some Essence for it. The students believed that some cultivating would top them right up, but their instructors knew they were missing crucial details about their bony opponents.
The first *honk* was enough to drive the point home.
Entire classrooms of people dove out of the way of grey-goo death-goose bombing squads. Those abyssal feathery honkers were either smart, or being directed. Likely the latter. Worse still, the flying menaces had been empowered.
The goop exploded far more violently on impact than previously reported, and the disintegration effect spread aggressively wide. Far more energy was packed into the infernal effect, and the entire roof of the Pagoda was gone in seconds. The top floor didn’t last much longer; the mountaintop afflicted by a booming barrage of muddled grey that ate patches of their home away.
Students found that they were okay with reconsidering past opinions, and were now running with the rest to get down the mountain. Their impromptu race challenges after Alexandria’s arrival had formed several interesting paths for them to leap, bound, swing, and jump from. Even better, these erratic patterns distracted the geese.
Zipping lines of people hustling down the steps stopped being the prime target as a fuddled goose squad aimed at the circus crew instead. Even when the stairs were attacked, agile students used to impromptu obstacles usually managed to dodge out of the way.
Goo was deterred from ever reaching them as students threw rocks into the bombing path, cleverly expending the effect before it reached them. As a counterattack, Essence laden strikes hurled back at the hostile flappening. A lightshow in the air flashed back and forth as grey goo was canceled out while whole flocks of geese were sent to the butcher. Bolts of fire, pressure lines of air, and blades of water all lowered the numbers in the sky.
A particularly accurate shot by Michealus—a water Essence cultivator—skewered multiple birds at once, giving him the chance for both a breather and a hasty question. “Why are we running away? Wouldn’t it be easier to just hole up in the academy buildings?”
Fei-long, one of the earliest student-turned-instructors knew better. He’d read the historical records on the War of Art by a renowned general, and rattled off the answer without breaking stride. “We do not want to be sitting ducks! Recall the third lesson of strategy, the natural lay of the land is the soldier’s best ally!”
Michealus got the gist of it, and hastily made a perception check. Their current foes had an absolute terrain advantage. There wasn’t a building or tunnel they could hide in up here where the significantly more agile feathered furies couldn't reach them. Creating obstacles would do nothing to slow them; that grey goo was entirely indiscriminate and simply ate right through anything it touched. Forget doors; it was best to stay on the move near fresh terrain.
“Wait, if the skeletons are below and the death-geese are up here. Where are we going…?” He didn’t have the time to ask the rest of the concern as a ball of infernal goop grazed his Gi, and the tulip and garnea robe coiled in onto itself; devoured as the remnant blew away in the winds caused by air Essence blades that arced above their heads.
Most geese self-immolated upon death with an explosive grey *pop*. Unfortunately, those that were merely incapacitated turned into living bombs that fell from the sky. Decapitated honkers that hit the deck were the worst; not only was the impact abhorrently loud as the air was slurped into a single point, but the smallest explosive radius they could measure at a glance was somewhere around five to seven feet.
The infernal animals were tearing holes in their mountain! The city of Jian wasn’t faring much better. As it turned out, the devastation on impact correlated to the distance a goose fell. A longer fall, a bigger boom. The entire east gate of Jian went up in colorless flame, leaving neither trace nor evidence of the destruction behind.
The celebrations from the people in Jian had died when the first undead clambered across their walls. Stabbing weaponry was ineffective, and using a bulky swordspear to smash down on fast-moving skeletons didn’t work too well given cramped spacing. Yet, it wasn’t the crushed tactics and ineffective weapons that was defeating them.
It was the fear.
When it was a few skeletons, it was fine. Farmers and crafters experienced jump scares, but they could do something with their tools to defend themselves. But after ten, there were a hundred. After a hundred, there were a thousand. The undead didn’t tire, and they didn’t care about minor obstacles like spikes, poisons, being stabbed, or terrain difficulties. They just kept going, walls or no walls.
Not knowing where to flee, the populace panicked. Holing up in their homes just added their number to that of the enemy. Fleeing over open terrain to the farmlands was met with claw and fang as zombie C’towls growled with twice the hunting ferocity.
All of that had been before the advent of garish grey explosions. *Crash*! A bright figure gleaming with shining white light rose from a three-point impact where the ac
ademy gate had once stood. Her sonorous voice boomed with amplified strength. “Flee to the mountain!”
A single jump launched her from the ground as Jiivra spinning-roundhouse kicked a falling time-bomb goose into a flock of its brethren. The entire delta went up in a torrential set of spectacular gooseplosions.
She had Jian’s attention now, so she repeated herself, “Flee to the mountain!”
While the mountain itself wasn’t particularly safe, the discovery of the tunnels and pathways beneath it had created a different story entirely. When Cataphron had left them two years prior, a complex network of interconnecting caves had come to light. They’d never found exactly where the previous Headmaster had vanished, nor had they ever fully mapped the underways.
The area those tunnels spanned was incomprehensibly vast, and Jiivra had decided on it as the point of escape. Not only could the entire populace of Jian fit down there, it excelled as an option to corral and herd enemies into tight corridors without leaving them exposed from above. It would be a protracted battle, but the chances of them fighting off an undead horde were significantly better if the terrain was in their favor.
Even if that terrain put them between a rock and a hard place.
Descending a mountain was easy, but corralling a vast populace into a dark tunnel network as they fled visible shambling hordes of the undead… not so much.
“Helliot! Take the burden from Astrea and get the Headmaster into the tunnels. I don’t know what hit the old man, but he took it hard. He’s no good to us like this, and we need to tuck him away as far and as deep as possible so he can recover while we hold the dead off. Atremides, go with him.”
Both men agreed to the task as they lifted a slumped, mumbling old man from the infernal cultivator’s grasp. While the daughter of the Fringe ached to go with them, she knew the end result would be better if she followed Jiivra’s lead. She bolstered herself, and saw the others vanish into the cave network with her old man.
Artorian's Archives Omnibus Page 76