Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3)

by Brian Wilkerson

  He still signed up for a library card.

  “Thank you, Mr. Watley; you’re all set,” said the librarian.

  Carnegie was a portly elf with golden-brown muttonchops. He wore voluminous clothes and wore glasses, which puzzled Eric. Since the Seed of Chaos would correct any problem with his vision, he reasoned they were for aesthetics.

  He snatched the card with grendel-like fingers and his lips separated into a grin. Then he dashed into a bookshelf and disappeared.

  “Please excuse my boyfriend,” Annala said. “He’s funny around large amounts of books. I have a theory that he's equated ‘reading’ with ‘eating’ since his mutation. This place is like the world’s biggest banquet to him”

  “He’s a literal bookworm? Fantastic! Ralm was too outdoorsy for you anyway.”

  “Carnegie…” Annala’s tone was a warning.

  “You know, there’s a ‘private reading room’ if you ever want to use it.” He wriggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

  Annala blushed intensely. “No! Not yet! Not for a hundred years or so….”

  “Your great aunt said the same thing,” he said with another eyebrow wiggle.

  “Uggh! Just show me primary sources dating back to the Conversion War!”

  Carnegie wrinkled his nose. “An awful time in our history. I was so worried about those savages finding us that I was ready to pull this entire building into a pocket dimension.”

  Annala twitched. “You don’t say.”

  “Oh yes. The spell preparations and energy requirements were so intensive I was unconscious for a full week. It was worth it, of course. Whether physical or digital, humans don’t appreciate this sort of thing. All day and night, they kill each other over petty grievances. In fact, I could direct you to a book that talks about this mysterious thing known as kuaki that drives humans to violent madness and how it started with a single orange.”

  “I’ll stick to the Conversion War.”

  “Sure.” Carnegie left his desk. “This way, please.”

  Soon Annala was laden with centuries-old books: diaries from prisoners of war, campaign logs of both commanders and soldiers, records of the exchange and development of mana mutation magitech in the years before the war, the hostilities leading up to it, and the various peace agreements made afterwards. While she read, her boyfriend explored.

  As he explored, he noticed the Flower of Chaos was carved in random places all over the library's interior. It was ten lines from ten directions pointing towards a center and intertwining. This was the same mark on the door leading to a chamber where he fought a phantom orc, and below where he found the gold dress that made him think of Annala. That gold dress was somehow replaced with the crystal that now crowned his staff, making it a spear. He remembered how much he wanted to see her in it, which led to the most recent time she dressed up, and the events that led to the collar.

  She’s mine, no one else’s. She belongs to me.

  They spent hours in the library reading about the Conversion War. Eric assisted her with the workload, but it was slow going. Roalt Public High gave the war a balanced view that was also brief. To them, it was one war among many. For the elves, it was a defining moment in their history. At last, Annala dropped her head into an opened book.

  “I don’t have time for this,” she moaned. “None of these books are working.” Suddenly, she sat up and snapped the book shut. “Of course it won’t work! It’s just more academics! That’s what Tasio was talking about! I need something more real!"

  Eric looked up from his book. “What's more real than a primary source?"

  Instead of answering, Annala dashed for other sources of knowledge. She searched the emotion jars and examined the thought boxes. She browsed the exhibition for the Conversion War and then stepped into a virtual reality simulation of it. In the end, she was still unsatisfied.

  Sure she knew more about the war now than she did yesterday, and yes, she felt greater sorrow and sympathy for the elves who suffered during it, but it wasn't enough. It was still more impersonal study.

  "If I want to find reality, then I must look in delusion!”

  "What?"

  Annala grabbed his hand, yanked him out of his seat, and pulled him out the door.

  Their next goal was far from the library. The path was through snow, ice, and other elves looking at them funny. She stopped at a weeping willow whose branches were parted around the entrance like hair. Annala pointed to the sign: Welcome to The Trickster's Shelter.

  "So this is where your Aunt Tris lives?"

  Annala nodded.

  "And Grandpa Nueces?"

  Annala nodded again. "Along with every other elf in this region that's gone insane."

  "That sounds really depressing...or really, really fun."

  Annala death-glared.

  "Depressing, got it! Why are we here?”

  “Victims of the Conversion War live here. I read it in one of the books. If I meet with them, I’ll gain a greater understanding of Aunt Alexis’ resistance to humans coming here. I won’t find this in a book. As an anonymous Anich sage once said, ‘Books are nothing but dredges.’”

  Like the Guardian’s Lodge and the Public Library, the inside was bigger than the outside. The reception area alone covered more ground than the circumference of the branches.

  The receptionist was a kindly older woman. Her hair was pinned back professionally, but her face was welcoming. She wore a sweater under an apron in pastel colors. Like the tree itself, she gave off the impression of a caretaker.

  She greeted Annala with a warm smile.

  “Good afternoon, Annala. Have you come to visit Tris or Nueces?”

  “Neither, Miss Polug. I’m not here for pleasure but business.” She gestured to Eric. “This is Eric Watley. I met him in Roalt, and now he’s my boyfriend.”

  “Wonderful!” She bowed her head to Eric. “Thank you for taking care of Annala. After what happened with Ralm, we were all afraid that she wouldn’t find another nice boy. Many of my charges are here because of loneliness.”

  Eric looked to Annala. “Ralm?”

  She gritted teeth. “Long story. I’ll tell you later. Miss Polug, I’d like to visit survivors of the Conversion War.”

  She shook her head sadly. With great sympathy, she said, “Those poor dears. What they suffered at the hands of mortals is unspeakable. Their condition is delicate, so I need to make sure you won’t cause them any more harm. Please tell me why you wish to see them.”

  "I want to synchronize with them, so I can truly understand them. I do this so I can understand Aunt Alexis and accommodate her concerns about a summit meeting here."

  Miss Polug blinked. Then she leaned over her desk and eyed Annala.

  “Poking at old wounds in order to convince our village’s guardians to allow mortals within our borders and give them our technology? You must be joking because you’re too young to be afflicted with chaotic madness.”

  “Neither. I’m serious.”

  “I can’t allow it.”

  “This isn’t about the mortals or their problems!” Annala pleaded. “It’s about our fellow elves! They’re toiling in slavery and this deal will save them!”

  Miss Polug’s demeanor became severe. From marshmallow soft to plate mail hard, it was dangerous.

  “You will not gain the understanding you seek by synchronizing with my charges. At best, it would only convince you to abandon this mad plan. At worst, you'll become crazier than they are. All you will have accomplished is forcing innocent people to relive the worst moments of their lives, along with ruining your own. ”

  “But Miss Polug—!”

  “Leave right now or I’ll lace you into a straightjacket, lock you in a cell, and tell your family that the Subjugation Collar took over your mind.”

  “Try it and I will stuff your limbs into your orifices.”

  “Eric, down! Recite Mom’s nursery rhyme.”

  Eric hummed the tone and his features shifted back
to human one by one. Annala held his hand for comfort and smiled politely at Miss Polug.

  “Thank you for your time and advice. Good day.”

  Once outside the building, she slumped against its bark. She looked so adorable and in need of comfort that Eric hugged her and kissed her neck while whispering sweet nothings between each one. Annala closed her eyes to enjoy his attention and put down her burden for a while. She was disappointed when he eventually stopped.

  “What could have been so bad as to provoke such a reaction?” Eric asked.

  “The war started over eight hundred years ago. To humans, that’s a long time out of mind, but to elves, it’s last week.”

  Hand-in-hand, they walked back through the village. From the weeping willow, they strolled to the Sage Tree Dnnac. No elves crossed their path for fear of the Subjugation Collar on her neck, and several sent hostile looks in Annala’s direction. Word travels fast in a small community.

  The guardians and bookworms must be gossiping about her. They don’t have anything else to do…!

  At the courtyard of Dnnac, Annala stopped. She looked up into its branches. This tree was the foundation of their community. It was planted to form the center organs of their society. In time, it became the source of the Chaotic Curtain that hid them from the world and supported the tree rings that protected it further. It served other functions—for administration, food, play, research, and worship—but everyone thought of it as a guardian tree. She sighed.

  “It all started with mana mutation and what to do about it. It was a bad time to be a demon. People like you would have been killed like vermin. There was a hysteria about mutation because of new understanding about how it worked and my grandmother had found a way to induce it on something. It was for science, of course, but it led to fears that elves were going to use it to wipe out the mortal races; mutation into elves or monsters.”

  “Just hysteria, right?”

  “Yes and no. Most of it was baseless, but several elven villages were researching it. Some of it was a reflection of arrogance and some of it charity, but all of them claimed to be emulating The Trickster. Whenever a human nation found out about this, they declared war on all elven villages. Many of them turned to ordercraft so they could turn elves into humans, or whatever mortal species they would be without their Seed of Chaos.”

  She touched the Subjugation Collar on her neck.

  “These were in use before the war, but complete suppression of the Seed of Chaos was brand new and it put hysteria into the elves.”

  “Thus the ‘Conversion War.’”

  “It was about more than that, of course. Wars are never so simple that they can be reduced to a single cause on both sides. There was racial hatred, ambitions of conquest, economic opportunities in production, technology or supplies, thirst for glory, de-stabilizing neighbors, religious fervor—did you know that there’s a trickster who detests elves and calls himself ‘the patron of humanity’?”

  “I didn’t. What’s his name?”

  “Aphelion or Larks Logos. He’s persona non grata in every elf village and the only deity that doesn’t….” She trailed off, stared at the Sage Tree Dnnac right in front of her, and her eyes widened. “That doesn’t have a shrine here!”

  “You sound awfully excited about that.”

  “Of course I do! If he doesn’t, then that means the opposite does!”

  She yanked Eric to the base of Dnnac’s trunk.

  “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I’ve been avoiding it because I couldn’t face it, but it’s just the place I need to move forward! Tasio was right the whole time! I could have saved so much time if I were willing to listen!”

  Eric, stumbling behind her and, trying to keep up, quipped, “We could have saved more time if he told us directly.”

  Through Dnnac’s roots and into the trunk, past the offices and community rooms was the holy chapel of Arin. It sat at the confluence of Dnnac’s many branches, high above the rest of the village. Annala didn’t slow down until she reached its threshold, at which point she stopped. There she dipped her hands into a pail of water and a made Arin’s Triangle: forehead, both elbows, and then clasped her hands together. She indicated that Eric should do the same, but he wasn’t interested in worshiping anyone (except maybe the Mother Dragon), so he didn’t. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and entered the chapel anyway.

  It was a bright place with illumination from both the sun and blessed crystals and framed by a trio of female elf statues. One held a broken chain in her shackled hands, a second held a staff and a book and the third held a microscope and a telescope. On the wall behind each statue was a painting of the Flower of Chaos, each in a different color. Within this double triangle, a circle of seats surrounded a single podium on which a cornucopia of gold sat upon an altar. Above this altar floated an image of Tasio. Seated next to it was a living elf.

  She was a short and pudgy woman. Her floor-length hair was loose and pooled about her like moss on the cliff of a waterfall. Somehow, her face possessed both the look of youth and sense of age. She wore a white habit trimmed in gold at the edges. On her wrists and ankles were golden bangles, and in her ears were gold rings. Around her neck was a beaded necklace carrying the Flower of Chaos, known as a “Paidrín.” She was in a meditative trance when the couple arrived, but when Annala crossed the threshold, she opened her eyes.

  "Chaos be with you, Annala."

  "And also with you, Sister Sagart."

  Annala crossed the room by the time Sagart stood and hugged her. From Eric’s perspective, it was like a young girl visiting her grandmother. When the hug broke, Sagart even reached into the cornucopia to give her a piece of candy. Then she tossed one to Eric as well.

  “Chaos be with you, Eric Watley.”

  “He already is,” he said sourly.

  Annala sent him an equally sour look.

  “And also with you, Sister Sagart,” he said half-heartedly.

  The two elves sat around the altar, but Eric held back. He had enough of the real Trickster hovering over him in his day-to-day life. He didn’t want to add an image of him. It would probably spring to life and douse him with holy water. Instead, he watched his girlfriend chat with the parish priestess.

  Annala spoke at length about her classes, her experiences with human society, and the friends she’d made. Then she gushed about her boyfriend in particular, apparently forgetting that he could hear every word. This included how valiantly he protected her from orcs and ordercrafters, despite lacking the power needed to fight them.

  “You seem to be doing well,” Sagart said. “Much better than when you left the village last year.”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve come to realize that you were right. To embrace Lady Chaos, I had to embrace change and bewilderment. It has led to personal growth and understanding. I feel greater compassion for those that lack the Great Mother’s blessing...” She touched the Subjugation Collar with her fingertips. “And those with the Awful Uncle’s curse.”

  Sagart projected such sympathy that Eric felt it as a physical force. It was similar to the effect Kasile’s emotions had on him through their link, or the physical contact with Kallen. Another name for Lady Chaos is the Spectrum of Emotion. Is that why?

  “Let me take a look, dearie. I may be able to do something.”

  Annala held her hair up and allowed her to examine it. What followed was a form of Magic Sight Eric had never seen before. While he could observe and manipulate mana, this was only the first under layer of reality. It was chaos, not mana, that was its true underpinning. What Sagart used was closer to Chaos Sight. At last she leaned back and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, but I cannot help you.”

  Annala slouched.

  “But I have good news.”

  Annala leaned up and Eric leaned forward. “Really?!”

  “Yes, this model is unique. It singles you out for captivity and possesses no method of release. On anyone else, it would be mere jewelry and a hig
h-grade ordercrafter drove himself to madness in crafting it. This means that someone with an enslavement authority considers you crucial to the success of their plan.”

  “How is that good news?” Eric demanded. “Being crucial for anyone’s plans is nothing but trouble.”

  Sagart smirked in a way that was too close to Kallen and Tasio for Eric’s tastes. It was as if she’d figured something out and was pleased with this revelation.

  “That must be why you are crucial. Yes, I imagine you will do well with that job.”

  “You must be a mystic.” Eric twirled his pointer finger near his ear. “You speak cryptic nonsense!”

  “Eric, show respect! I know you have reasons for disliking Lady Chaos and her children, but Sister Sagart is a benevolent sage who guided me through the worst period of my life.”

  Sagart chuckled. “Oh ho, dearie, you flatter me.”

  Annala looked back to her with wide and earnest eyes. “But it’s true! One year ago, I was a lost and neurotic mess. You showed me the path to recovery. You proved to me that I wasn’t forsaken for what I did or doomed to a tragic life because of what provoked me to such action.”

  “Yes, I did that much, but I couldn’t help you with your apostasy and bring you back to Lady Chaos. For that reason alone, I am not a sage.”

  Annala looked away and tugged her ear. “Oh, uh, well, I’m still working on that. A-anyway, about why I came. You see, I gained great understanding from my study abroad, but it has only caused me greater confusion.”

  Sagart nodded. “Chaos is like that. Tell me and I will do my best.”

  Annala let go of her ear and turned her full attention back to her spiritual advisor.

  “Aunt Alexis refuses to allow the Mana Mutation Summit to be reconvened here and, without her, I can’t convince anyone other than my flaky father and witch mother.”

  “Ah yes, Alexis,” Sagart said knowingly. “If anyone has a right to be cautious, then it is your aunt. She suffered terribly on her first trip around the world. Why, it’s tragedies like hers that justify Meza’s continued stance against humans.”