Biomancy

by Desdemona Gunn

  “Sure thing.” First she stretched her lower arms, thinning the muscle slightly, but making the biceps and triceps more pronounced. The forearms didn’t expand much, but tightened noticeably. She bent over, her spine moving almost ninety degrees as her longer arms caught her, acting now as front legs. Her back legs shifted with thighs pointing down, calves going back, and the remaining leg going down at an angle to end on the split hooves, the “dew claw” retracted at this point.

  Her arms hung slightly loose as her head clicked nearly ninety degrees, looking forward, thick neck going back to her body. With the distance between the two sets of arms lengthened a bit in the shift, she arched her back slightly, puffing her chest out and putting her head up and arms forward.

  “This is how they run. This way, in their evolution, they could manipulate tools just like any other species, but had the option of speeding across the savannahs to catch prey, or getting up on two legs to manipulate with an additional set of hands.”

  Rue quickly flipped back up onto two legs, lower arms relaxing, spine slouching into place. “It’s quite a natural transformation to them, as much as switching from running to standing is for us. We simply lean a bit more forward and run on the front of our feet, they just shift into a quadrupedal state.”

  A Nojernan woman in the front row raised her hand, staring enraptured at Rue. “How have I never met one of your kind before?”

  “We’re not quite common in Antra, manzi. Well, truth be told, we’re not exactly common anywhere but southern Milakria. My kind don’t get out much.”

  “Despite their obviously sentient intelligence meeting anyone’s standards easily, their society prefers distance from most other civilization. Most Atroks prefer to live in tribes in southern Milakria. The largest settlement of them is a city named Obla Grada, both the ‘capital’ of the Atroks and the Constructs.

  “Now the sexual dimorphism usually apparent in most species is much less apparent in Atroks. You’ll notice with our model here that her face, while similar to the structure of a Northman, is distinctly different and catlike. Males aren’t much different.

  “Most females of the other species, Northmen, Nojerna, Milarics have less angular faces, softer eyes, and so on. Atrok women and men have the same general build, but vary in the minor details that allow a face to be unique. Unless one spends a good deal of time around Atroks, don’t expect to be able to tell men from women just by their faces.”

  A woman in the middle of the room shot a hand up. “Do the men grow beards?”

  “They don’t. While all Atroks do have a fine fur covering their whole body and longer hair on their scalp, the men do not grow facial hair. Now, you can tell the gender difference when you get farther from the face. For one, the hair is societally a giveaway. Women are far more likely to crop their hair short or, if they do grow it out, split braid it. Male Atroks will grow their hair out the majority of the time, nearly always braiding it in a long, single, thick braid, or occasionally a collection of long dreadlocks.

  “As you get further down the body, the muscle structures of the two genders are very similar, so bulkiness won’t get you anywhere in discerning which is which. Barring the genitalia, the most obvious giveaway is the breasts, though most obvious isn’t saying much. They’re usually quite subtle, either being completely flat, or only up to large As. Our model here is quite the anomaly, being large even by Northman standards.”

  “Is that weird for you guys,” a random student a few rows back asked. “I mean, does it, like, affect your daily life at all?”

  “Jus’ means I’m one of the few Kru— Atroks that spends most of her time upright. When we’re long, the way they sway and dangle irks me fierce. Naturally, we got bras like the ‘civilized’ world, but with the size of mine, they’re still obnoxious. Much more comfortable to be vert. Well, that, and I suppose I’m one of the few Kr— ...Atroks whose tits are deemed stare-worthy by you Northies.”

  Several members of the class diverted their gaze quickly, turning a shade of red while others giggled. A student Tab recognized as an arcane arts major raised his hand. “So how does spellcasting work with the additional arms?”

  “Ain’t no fucking wizzywig. Can’t tell you, boyo.” She crossed her arms indignantly.

  “What she means to say is that wizardry is uncommon in Atrok society. While it’s nothing biological, it’s a social stigma to them. Ninety-nine percent of Atroks are raised averse to magic. Despite this, the few Atrok mages there are out there are powerful, the majority of which are elemental mages, called shamans in their societies. Elemental magic is the most accepted form of wizardry to them, as it represents nature more obviously.

  “As many of you know, most forms of magic require not only a strong will and, to some extent, strong fortitude, but many require agile hand and arm movements. Naturally, with two sets of arms, this task is made much easier. Their stout upper arms focus intense power between their hands, forming the arcane energy while their more limber lower arms do the requisite dancing and moving. It’s a shame so many of them are raised as arcanaphobes, since few things are as formidable as an Atrok sorcerer.”

  The same arcane student as before piped up, “And you said they mostly stick to elemental magics? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, as you well know, magic has three subcategories: Physical, Abstract, and Arcane. The common four elements of most Atrok tribes, being Air, Fire, Water, and Earth, are all physical magical elements. Any Atrok mages that specialize in air, fire, water, or earth magics are usually accepted as a shaman into their tribe. However, any that go into the other branches of physical, void, sonic, etc. are typically shunned.

  “Electric mages are sometimes accepted as shamans, but uncommonly for sure. Absolutely no abstract mages, like life or frost mages, or conjurers, teleporters, exorcisers or the like.”

  “So the Atrok tribes have no magical healers?”

  “An’ we haven’t needed ‘em. Mess with the natural order, them.”

  Tab sighed. “No, they don’t. Wounds are treated physically, or they’re executed honorably. It’s quite common to be grievously wounded in battle and to be ritually killed afterwards. Since they don’t have the physical means to mend many serious injuries that magic can, they just trust that they’ve been broken beyond repair and accept death.”

  “But why go when they could be healed?”

  “There’s nothin’ wrong with dyin’ a warrior’s death, boy. If you die in battle, it means you lost. If you survive the battle battered, bruised, and broken, it means you won. And just ‘cause you won once don’t mean you’re meant to win again. Sometimes, you fulfill your purpose with one fight, and the gods don’t will another battle out of you. Sometimes, one battle is enough to show the gods you’re worthy to join them in the afterlife.

  “Northmen are selfish bastards, flyin’ a bird in the face of the gods so they can stand on their plane a little longer. A good few of you don’t even believe in ‘em anymore, which goes to show why. You think you ain’t goin’ nowhere when y’ die, you’d wanna spend much time here as possible. I get it, but yer all still heels anyway.” She smirked at the crowd before grabbing her robe and taking a seat by the door and listening to the rest of Tab’s lecture from the sidelines.

  Chapter 10: The Work of Many

  Greater Voorhaven Township, Fellblade Prefecture

  Let’s see. Ten plat on food from Kaplan’s on the second; credit Cash, debit Food Expense. Nine gold on rabbit food on the third; credit Cash, debit Pet Expense. One plat, two gold on fertilizer on the sixth; credit Cash, debit Miscellaneous Expense. Hundred plat from my speeches, debit Cash, credit Income from Services. Another ten plat on food from Kaplan’s on the first; credit Cash, debit Food Expense. Everything checks out, why are we off? We’re missing five plat.

  Anixemeter stood up from the kitchen table puzzled. P
apers, files, pens, and piles of platinum and golden coins littered the table as she looked on at them, hand on her chin, finger stroking her jaw slowly. It didn’t just disappear. It had to go somewhere.

  She slunk through the living room and down the hallway to Lea’s office where she pounded on the door. A painfully raspy “Come” was heard on the other side of the door. Ani walked in to find the usual setup of a huge desk in the middle surrounded on all sides by shelves and shelves of books. Behind the desk rested shelves of herbs and grinders, along with her emaciated sister in loose black robes cut off like a tank top. A white rabbit slept to her right under a bookshelf.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “’Sup?” Just a simple one-syllable response made Ani want to massage her neck. Her words sounded like every word to escape her esophagus was made of barbed wire, cutting every bit of flesh it could as it left her mouth.

  “I was just doing finances and we got five plat unaccounted for.”

  “Yeah. ‘t’s me... Needed some baneweed... You were sleepin.’”

  “You couldn’t wait for me to wake up? And where’d you get it?”

  “Did a message.”

  “To?”

  “A guy.”

  “A guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait, baneweed? Why did you need baneweed? And why’d you need it so bad you couldn’t wait for me?”

  “Needed stimpot.”

  “Oh come on, Lea. You have healing potions right there.”

  “Not heals. Stim.”

  “Stim... Wait, you needed a stim potion? Were your arms failing?”

  “Yeah. ‘S fine.”

  “No, Lea. It’s not fine. You’re not fine. Your legs have been out for over ten turns, now your arms are going too?”

  “Ani. ‘S’fine. ‘M good now.”

  “And how long ‘til you have to throw back another one?”

  Lea shrugged halfheartedly and grunted something akin to ‘I dunno.’ “Got another there.”

  “Damn it, Lea, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You can’t just-”

  “Hey.” Leana cut her off and held out a stone with a pink rune on it. As Ani put her hand on the rock, Lea spoke a word, the rock flashed and Ani’s grip tightened on it. A voice filled her head she hadn’t heard in an eternity. It was like her own, but more tired, more constrained, and less confident and booming.

  My throat ails far too much to continue arguing with you, Ani. Now if you please, open your damned ears... mind. Whatever. I am fine. I am well acquainted with my deterioration, as can be told by my studies for the past thirty-five turns. Despite popular belief, I am, in fact, working towards the goal of fixing myself.

  “But Lea—”

  No, Ani. I’m working on it. You need to calm yourself, relax, and leave me to my studies. A formula has been dancing about my head lately, one that could conceivably fix my limbs with enough power. That, however, is the catch. I’m too weak to power such a spell at the moment. At this current point in time, I’m working towards making Amber my familiar which should open my channel into the ether enough to begin work on limb regeneration. Also, this would allow me to converse with another intelligent mind without burning out my vocal chords.

  “Can you fix yourself?”

  Probably. Not immediately, not all at once. It has to be done bit by bit, and I must learn how the Northman body works and flows. Once a piece’s regeneration has been ferreted out, the rest should be easy, but I must reach that milestone first. Unfortunately, doing that myself is proving difficult, so it will take time. Once Amber has been awakened, I have a spell prepared for my lungs and throat.

  “Wait, why don’t I just bring in another mage or two to help you?”

  No. No outside help. No one can know, Ani. You know what could happen. Regardless, like I said, I’ll be working on my lungs and throat. Past that, my arms will come, then legs.

  I’m working on it, Meter. I apologize profusely for taking from our stash, but I knew that if I asked you, you’d be as angry as you have proved to be here. Next time, I’ll ask.

  She felt her grip loosen on the rock as Lea flopped back into her chair.

  “Don’t call me Meter.” Ani smirked and grabbed the door to leave, but stopped when her sister called out.

  “Ani?” She turned around to look at her sister, waiting for yet another demand. “Thanks. For... everything. You’ve been... helpful.” Lea tried to smile, but didn’t get past a weak smirk. Anixemeter smirked back knowingly.

  Roasted chicken cooked in the stone oven as Ani pounded on Lea’s door again. She was met with a raspy “Come,” though as she walked in, she saw her sister holding a soundstone, the rune fading slowly. Ani shuddered, trying to hide just how much those stones damaged her calm.

  “Got tired of saying it?”

  Lea nodded and looked at her expectantly. Amber sat on a stack of papers wiggling her nose at Ani equally expectantly. Or maybe it was hungrily. Or apathetically; she didn’t know. Fuckin’ rabbit.

  “I’m making dinner, chicken cool with you? It better be, cause it’s half done.”

  “Sounds good. Smells good.” She tried to smirk again, doing just barely better than the one earlier.

  “Thanks, it’s local. Good quality.” She went to leave but was called back.

  “Ani.”

  “Yeah, sis?”

  “I was... You seen me... cast before?”

  “No, actually, I don’t think I have.”

  “You... wanna?”

  “Dude, yeah. What are you doing?”

  “Amber’s… renewal.”

  “Hey, can you do that... mind melding thing?”

  “Need both hands.”

  “Can you do it without the stone?”

  “I... think.” She swiveled the chair around and slowly grabbed five herbs off the shelf behind her and began to grind them up in a mortar. After ten seconds of pitiful attempts at grinding, Ani took the mortar and ground it for her. After thanking her, Lea poured the contents into a vial carefully and poured what appeared to be water into it. She corked the concoction and shook it up slowly and as forcefully as she could.

  “Here, let me.” Ani took the vial and shook it hard, getting the potion to emanate a pink glow. She handed it back, and Lea simply held it while muttering some incantation. Her hands glowed a blood red as the potion went from pink to red and back again.

  “Drink.” She did so. Nothing appeared to happen, but Lea held up a finger every time she went to say something. After about two minutes, a striking pain shot through her head. Well no, she figured, not pain, really. Discomfort. Lea noticed this and put her hands on her head, making her palms flash a bright pink. She drew her hands over, rested them over Ani’s temples, and they flashed again. When Ani looked back up, she saw two thin pink tentacles stretching between their temples. Can you hear me yet?

  “Hey! Yeah. Whoa. Freaky.”

  Good. I’ll explain as I go.

  “What did you mean when you said ‘Renewal?’”

  I’m making her a familiar, a bonded soul to mine that I can channel energy through. In doing so, I’ll be able to cast higher spells and it’ll make her intelligent. Lea pulled out a rack of syringes, all full of different colors of liquid and gels.

  “Syringes?”

  Potions take time to take effect, as you just experienced. If I inject the potion directly into the bloodstream, it takes effect within ten seconds, and I need as much control over timing as possible for this.

  “Now why are you using potions instead of just casting?”

  I’m doing both. I only have two hands, and casting a different spell in each is decidedly more difficult than the stories imply. If it doesn’t require a lot of power, I put it in a potion and inject it. If
it requires intensity-control or high-intensity focused power, I cast it myself. This is a delicate process that’ll require both.

  “Gods, is this how mages do it?”

  No. They cast a ritual. Preparation for the animal takes half a turn, the ritual takes two cents, it takes ten sorcerers, and either a willing sacrifice or a prepared soul-in-a-jar. Most wizards that are allowed a familiar use a willing soul of an alumnus of their academy, a soon-to-be-passing family member or friend, or an inmate sentenced to death.

  “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want a prison inmate in my rabbit.”

  True. Regardless, the memories are destroyed for the most part, effectively wiping the slate clean and using the soul from the beginning, like being reborn.

  “So who are you using? You’re... not using me, are you?”

  No, I’m not. You’d have to be willing anyway. I’m creating one from scratch.

  Anixemeter stared at her sister blankly. “From... scratch? You can do that?”

  It’s not conventional, it’s deemed impossible and, even if it was, illegal for ‘playing god’ reasons. I think I’ve found a way to do it. I’m testing my hypothesis with this.

  “Is that... right?”

  Do you believe in reincarnation, sister?

  “Of course not, high priests have pretty much debunked that theory entirely.”

  Then where does one’s soul come from? When two lovers achieve union, where does the resulting child come from? Living seed hits the womb, fertilizes it, and forms a new being. We both grew in the womb and were born. You have a soul, and I have a soul. If we weren’t reincarnated, where’d our souls come from?