Amorlia: Age of Wonder

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Renewal

  Kel swam across the astral river, making for the opposite shore. The going was easy and he was barely winded, for all that he didn't swim much. As he neared the end, he began to feel a slight pull, as though from a current. The pull quickly grew stronger, and suddenly he was struggling against it to keep from being pulled under. Then he stopped. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd jumped into this river in the hope that he'd be swimming forever. That he might reach a point where he could swim no longer and would sink to the depths and drown. With that in mind, he ceased struggling against the current, relaxing his arms and legs so he was pulled down under the surface. As he was pulled along, he waited for the water to fill his lungs and drown him. He waited for some time before realizing that it wasn't happening. Then Quin Revo was there, his body insubstantial and wavering in the river's current. "Oh no, boy," the apparition laughed. "You don't think it's as easy as all that, do you? Jump in a celestial river and drown yourself for your sins? No no no. Death is not for you, lad. It's redemption you're after." "I don't deserve redemption," Kel argued. "My sins are unforgivable, irredeemable." He hung his head as the current pulled him further toward his ultimate destination. "I am Kel Vega, son of Artemis and Kael. I am descended from legends and myths, Quin. I should be..." he struggled to complete his thought. "You think that puts you above failure? Above mistakes and corruption?" He shook his head. "None who live are above such things. Why, your own grandmother, a goddess herself, was not above the folly of her own heart. You've much to learn about how this world works, boy." He smiled to take the sting from his words. "And much to learn of yourself." That's when the current grew stronger, dragging Kel away from the conversation and spinning him about. He was buffeted on all sides by the raging river until he was completely disoriented. He lost consciousness for a while, and when he woke, he found himself curled in a ball, surrounded by warm water. He could breathe just fine and felt completely at home and at ease for the first time in a very long while. He heard a woman's voice in his head and was comforted even further. "Peace now, my child," the voice echoed through the water. "Let go of sin and guilt. Let me wash you clean of them." "I don't understand," he said. "Who are you? How can you do this for me?" There was laughter, and it filled his soul with light. "Why, I am the Mother of all things," the voice said. "I am the Power behind all powers, the Engine that drives the universe." The voice paused, as though preparing him for her next statement. "I am the Spark," it said. Then Kel's awareness shifted and suddenly he was outside himself. He looked down and saw his body curled up inside what seemed a translucent bubble. Pulling further back, he saw a great woman made of starlight and void. She was naked, and one shimmering hand lay on her pregnant belly. She looked up at him, galaxies whirling in her eyes, and smiled. "You see now," she asked, "where you are?" He nodded, though still not sure. "Understand this," the shining woman said. "I am not as you see me now. There is no concept of I where I am concerned, really. But you are in need of renewal, so this form has been taken for your benefit." The Spark gripped her belly, grimacing. "It begins," she said softly. Suddenly Kel was back in his body. The water around him roiled and his surroundings shook. He saw light, then felt a great movement. "You are the fulcrum on which the conflict gripping your world swings," the voice explained. "You will bring balance and through you, balance will be maintained. Go now," she said, "and be whole once more." And then he was falling toward the light, moving quickly away from the comforting warmth. Then he was lost in brightness and knew nothing.

  Prophecy of Destiny

  He lay soaking wet and shivering on the floor of the cave. He normally didn't feel cold, but now he felt as though he'd been encased in ice. He remembered being very warm recently, feeling safe and comfortable and happy. But now it was cold, and dark. He pushed himself up and looked around. His memories started coming back to him. He began to remember who he was and what it meant. As he remembered, he felt the cold less. Soon he was standing. "Kel Vega." He turned toward the cave mouth at the sound of his name. Three women stood there, robed and hooded in black. They beckoned and he walked toward them. There was something familiar about them, as though he'd seen them before. "You have," they answered in unison, "though you were very young. It was your blessing day, in the first years of this new Age, and we came to offer you our blessing." Each reached out a hand swathed in black cloth and touched him. "Now here you are," they said, and Kel could hear the smile in their voices. One stepped out from the rest. Her face was obscured by shadow. "I was once Karma, of the Sisters of Luna," she explained to him. "I am now one of the Three." "The three what?" "We are the Three Sisters of Mystery. The Three As One," she said. "Now, I shall be the One As Three, speaking for my Sisters as we guide you to the next part of your journey." Kel looked askance as they exited the cave. He immediately shied away when there was room to do so. "Right," he said casually. The Sister seemed not to notice his skittishness. "Come," she said, walking toward a cracked and overgrown stone circle. Kel followed. He looked up and around him, marveling at his surroundings. He surmised he was in the Valley of Mystery and that he approached the ruins of the Yoni Luna, once the heart of the Great Wood. The Valley was more of a ravine, honestly, with steep sides teeming with plant, animal and bird life forming close walls about the circle. The cave he'd just exited was part of one cliff, though it seemed as though much of the cliff-side had fallen onto the cave and settled there. It also seemed as though the cave was once much closer to the circle, judging by the jagged path leading from one to the other. Birds flying at all levels up to the ground and beyond called out their songs in the echoing canyon, some settling on one of many vines criss-crossing the mystical Valley. The Sister stood in the center of the circle behind a large stone altar, upon which were laid an odd assortment of items. Behind her, a wooden sword streaked with black stood embedded in the center of the circle. The altar was a recent addition to the circle, though still bore its share of creeping vegetation. The only thing not covered in moss and vines in the Valley was the sword itself. It bore no sign of weathering, nor any growth upon its blade. Kel couldn't stop staring at it as he approached the altar. "Yes," the Sister said, drawing his attention to the items in front of her, "you'll get your chance with the sword, but I need you to focus on these right now." Kel looked down. Arrayed on the altar were an old Gunfighter's revolver in perfect condition, a carved and painted earthenware goblet, a pair of boots with thick heavy treads, a silver crown with a closed eye at its center and a torch that seemed to burn unceasingly without consuming the wood. The Sister gestured to it. "The Torch of the Burning Man," she said. "It is the last piece of the ancient dryad and burns eternally with the flame of Sar, the Fire Spirit." She indicated the goblet, currently filled with clear water. "Anya's Chalice," she explained. "It never empties, and the water will heal most any injury. In the right hands, the Chalice can reverse death." "The 'right hands'?" Kel asked. "I'll explain in a moment," she said before touching the soft leather of the boots. "The Boots of Kenar, worn by the legendary speedster himself. They will greatly enhance the powers of any Wind Adept." "Um, 'Wind Adept'?" "I told you," the Sister scolded slightly, "Explanations later." Kel sighed. "Very well. Tell me about the gun, then." She chuckled. "The Mystic Gun is one of the twin revolvers worn by the great Qi Drego, Chief Gunfighter of her Land at the dawn of this Age." "Where is the other one?" Kel asked. The Sister shook her head. "No one knows," she said. "It is lost to us." Kel nodded, pointing to the crown. "And this?" "The Panopticrown," she replied. "When worn by the right person, its eye will open, revealing all the myriad timelines of the multiverse and linking its wearer to the minds of others." They were silent a while as Kel took all this in. Then, looking up at the Sister, he asked, "So, is it time for explanations now?" "Yes." She led him over to the sword, pointing to it. "This sword is yours," she told him, "provided you can pull it free." The sword was embedded in the stone of what had once been the central pool of the Yoni Luna. Kel reached for the handle. "Not yet," t
he Sister admonished. "First your explanation." She thought a moment then asked him, "Given the choice, would you want a world of perfect order, or one of total chaos?" He considered the question, finally shaking his head. "I have to pick just one of the two?" She smiled. "Why do you ask?" He shrugged. "Well, I'm none too fond of rigid discipline or following orders," he said, "but I find a society of laws preferable to anarchy. So, I can't choose total order or total chaos. I'd like a mix of the two. Can I choose that?" he asked. "You just did," the Sister smiled wider. "Now, your destiny." "My destiny?" "Yes. This Age of Wonder is still young, with centuries ahead of it," she told him. "The current turmoil gripping your world is but the first challenge of this Age. As Champion of the Age, you are hereby bound to meet it." "Wait, what?" Kel looked around him, then back at her. "I'm 'bound' to meet this challenge? Why?" "I told you," she explained patiently, "you are the Champion of this Age. You will be the Champion of this Age of Wonder until its end. As such, you will meet many challenges, where the fate of the Age, for good or ill, will rest upon the outcome. The last challenge will come at the turning of the next Age, and your death will mark the passing of this one." "So, that's my destiny?" Kel asked, slightly horrified. "The lone Champion of all Amorlia for hundreds of years?" The Sister laughed. "My goodness, you'll need to smarten up a bit if you want to survive the Age in one piece. I never said 'lone'." She pointed behind her to the altar. "Who do you think all those artifacts were for? You?" "Well, I..." "There will be others," she assured him. "They will be among those known as Adepts, and each will bear one of the six Totems I showed you. Two you already know, one you will meet soon and others will cross your path later." The Sister took the Gun and the Chalice, putting them in a large leather pouch. She looked Kel up and down, as though just noticing his nakedness. "You should have clothes," she said. He looked down at himself. "Aye," he agreed. Then, "Adepts?" he asked, "Adepts of what?" "The Totems and their bearers tell all," she explained. "Come. Your own Totem awaits you." She pointed to the sword. Kel moved toward the sword warily. Now that it was time, he was reluctant to try. Old insecurities welled up in him, but he shook them off. Something had changed in him and he would torment himself with failure no longer. His confidence renewed, he gripped the handle and pulled. The sword sang as it was torn from the stone, the unblackened parts of the wood glowing in the shadows of the Valley. The black marks on the sword writhed and deepened, and dark thoughts entered Kel's mind. He shook them off. Other thoughts and impulses came through the sword too and he drew strength from them. This was the Sword of Nazeas, wielded by his mother at the turning of the last Age. Power coursed through it and into him. He felt stronger, he felt mighty. "Well," the Sister said, approaching him. She held out pants, boots and belt. "It would appear you are the Champion after all." "I am also," Kel said slowly, as though the words were only then coming to him, "an Adept of... of the Sword?" The Sister nodded as Kel dressed. She handed him the large pouch and he tied it to his belt. "Those are for the two you already know, your lover and your friend, Adepts of the Cup and the Spark respectively." "Kai and Mandhe?" he asked, stunned. "Cup and Spark? I don't understand." "They will," the Sister smiled, "just as you understood yours. But now you must hurry, Kel," she warned, "for Kai and Mandhe are both in great danger. If you cannot reach them soon, all could very well be lost. So go to them, quick as you can." She smiled and raised her hand to the sky. "Fly, Kel," she said, "Fly to your friends." Sword held high above his head, Kel Vega unfurled his great azure wings and soared up and out of the Valley, speeding across the sky toward the city he called home. The Old Man and the Shopkeeper Conte walked quickly, but not too quickly, down the sidewalk toward his shop. Not that he was open for business, but it was a safer haven than his room above the tavern. A gang of Jat Loren's "Peacekeepers" walked the streets, running down "lawbreakers". Coming up the street from the other direction, a unit of Pacifica soldiers marched, guns drawn. Conte grit his teeth. Another skirmish. Loren had marched into town days ago, a mob surging behind him, declaring himself High King. The Pacifica responded, but they were at low strength and led by another pretender to the throne. She was powerful, had dispatched the true High Queen in some unknown manner and bound the Vega City Garrison of the Pacifica to her. Other units of the Pacifica were working furiously to quell the chaos in the other cities and could spare no aid for this one. With the apparent death of Mar Dagnae, Dagnae Industries fell into ruin, closing factories and offices, throwing hundreds of workers into the streets. Crime was rampant, suffering was everywhere and no one seemed capable or willing to handle it. The Pacifica opened fire on the Peacekeepers, while the blue clad cultists responded with guns of their own. Only a few bore weapons, the others, bearing clubs, rushed the soldiers, overwhelming them with sheer force of numbers. When the Pacifica fell, they were stripped of armor and weapons by the gang, who turned their new toys on those citizens foolish enough to be walking about. Aircar and skyrail services were non-existent, and no one would ride them anyway after the bombings had started. No citizen in their right mind traveled without need. The Peacekeepers had cornered an old man, pointing their guns in his face. He labored under the weight of a large duffel sack. His frame bent beneath it and his knees buckled. For all that, he tried to move through the gun-wielding thugs in his path. "'ere now," one said, tapping the old man with the muzzle of his gun, "wot's in yer bag, old man?" "Aye," a sneering woman braced her rifle against her shoulder, sighting the old man down the barrel. "Wotcher got, old-timer? That a bag full o' trouble yeh got there?" "The contents of the bag are none of your business, you ignorant fools," the old man muttered to the ground. "Though you should know that it's heavy, and you're in my way." The Peacekeepers laughed. "Oi, lissen to 'im," a young man said mockingly, "Thinks 'e's a regular tuff un, this one does." The leader of that little group shoved the old man with his gun again. "Well, 'e's nothin'," the leader spat. "And 'e's gonna find 'is brains all over that wall there if 'e don't open 'is bag right bleeding now." An explosion rocked an alley several blocks away, and the Peacekeepers ran toward it, the old man forgotten. Once the gang had run off, Conte called out to the old man, gesturing to an alley across the street. The old man rushed as quick as his burden would allow, joining the younger shopkeeper as he led the way down the alley to the back entrance of his shop. The two men entered, barring the door behind them, just as the Peacekeepers rushed back down the street from the site of the explosion. "Well," Conte said, smiling, "that was closer than I like to cut it." He gestured to the closed door. "The explosion was mine. Nothing too destructive, more flash and bang than anything else." He sat down in a ratty yet comfortable-looking chair and removed his boots. "I have a few set up around here in case there are too many eyes about when I get home." He indicated a couch in a similar state to his chair on the other side of the tiny living quarters he'd set up in his storeroom. "Have a seat," he said. The old man didn't move, though he clutched his bag to his chest rather than over his shoulder and eyed the soft couch cushions with longing. "Go ahead," Conte said. Then he laughed, saying, "Trust me. I'm no one to be frightened of." He pointed at the couch again. "So, please. Make yourself comfortable." He winked at his guest. "I won't even ask what's in the bag." "It's all of them that's left," the old man muttered. "All of the ones Trae couldn't hide. The ones we couldn't figure out and take apart." His voice dropped to a whisper. "All the ones that were still dangerous." "All of what?" Conte asked. He'd risen half out of his chair to get a drink, but stopped to look up at the frightened disheveled old man in his store. "All the weapons," the other man said, looking at him as though for the first time. "The ancient weapons of the Mad Wizard." "Oh," Conte said quietly. Then he stood, taking a few steps to the tiny kitchen area in the corner. "Now you really need to sit," he said, "and tell me what in the Broken Hells that means." He busied himself making two drinks, which he brought back and set on the low table between chair and sofa. "And I expect we'll need these before you're done."

  Gun Play

  "Firs
t," the old man said, "I should introduce myself. My name is Anton, son of the Wild Clan, professor of the University." He shook Conte's hand, smiling. "Currently a vagabond fugitive." "Because of these weapons?" the shopkeeper indicated the duffel on the floor. "The... Mad Wizard's weapons?" "You've never heard of the Mad Wizard?" Conte shook his head. Anton sighed. "Do they teach nothing in the schools now? And after all that trouble I went to setting them up." He shrugged. "Well, the Mad Wizard," he took on his lecturing tone, "was an extremely powerful Engineer. He could manipulate the Spark to do just about anything. He built wonders and horrors beyond anything you've seen in your life and he did it over a thousand years ago. He was a genius," Anton finished, "and he was insane." Conte smirked, "Well, obviously. The name's a bit of a giveaway." Anton glared at the younger man. "Anyway," he growled, "the Mad Wizard built weapons, and it was using those weapons that he nearly destroyed the world. It took the Monarchs of every Land, their armies, militias and armed citizens to defeat the Mad Wizard and his fell creations and the victory was hard won. They finally--" he was interrupted by a loud rhythmic knocking on the door. He sat up quickly, turning to look. Conte waved him to sit, standing to cross the room. "Don't worry," he said, "the knock is a code. I'm expecting these people." He opened the door, revealing Kai and two of her soldiers. He stood aside and they entered quickly. He shut and barred the door. Turning, he made introductions. "Captain Kai Moxen of the Free Pacifica," he said, "Anton of the University." He introduced the other soldiers, who simply nodded by way of greeting and quickly set to inspecting the storeroom. "Ignore them," Kai said. "Since the new Captain of the Garrison sent that assassin, the rest of my little band take no chances with my safety." She raised an eyebrow at Conte's guest. "What's in the bag, elder?" Conte led her to another part of the storeroom, smiling. "That's a popular question tonight," he joked. "Come look at what I found for you, Captain." Kai allowed herself to be led away, already engrossed in discussion of the new weapons. "You understood what I needed?" she asked, holding the rifle Conte gave her and sighting down its barrel. "Perfectly," Conte nodded. "Those black shadow things block the Spark and a big burst of it hurts them something fierce." Kai grinned, "And a really big burst just might kill them." She glanced over at him. "And it does the other thing I asked for?" Conte smiled again and nodded. "Thumb switch near the- that's it." He pointed toward an imaginary target. "Fires a net that'll drain the Spark from just about anyone. Recharges the gun too, which is handy." "How many did you make?" "As ordered," Conte said, "two hundred. I can have the rest brought to you discreetly, though I imagine you'll want to take that one now." Kai grinned, slinging the rifle over her shoulder. She paid him, passed a few idle comments, speculated briefly about their mutual friends then slid out the way she came in, her guards close behind. She spared another glance at Anton, but didn't have time to speak to him again. Once the door shut behind them, Conte set the bar again, then locked it in place. "We refused to make them, you know," Anton said sadly, staring down at the sack. "Weapons," he clarified. "The University holds as its most sacred rule that we will make no weapons." He shook his head and laughed softly. "We didn't count on private industry, of course. Students came, learned, left the University, started their companies and built weapons themselves." He sighed again. "We really should have anticipated that." He looked over at Conte, a curious look on his face. "Why didn't you tell her about the bag?" he asked. "You're obviously arming her resistance, the contents of this bag would be invaluable." There was a lengthy pause, then Conte cleared his throat. "Once upon a time," he said, his voice tight, "I refused to make weapons too." The two men looked at one another a moment, both lost in their regrets.