Axiom

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Axiom Page 29

by Dennis Vanderkerken


  “Yer crazy, but I can’t let ya just keel over here. I’ll be stabilizing yer heart. Don’t abyss-blasted fight me when I’m influencing yer system. It’s to keep ya alive, ya stubborn git.”

  Artorian laughed at the mention. “Ha! It will be quite alright. I’m going to get quiet and Essence-coat the outer edge of my Center, then begin threading my meridians. This should be a novel experience!”

  Hadurin leaned to the left to speak over the eccentric’s shoulder and honestly didn’t understand what the old man was talking about. “Yer gonna what?”

  “Just watch,” Artorian retorted, releasing Essence from a refined circle and sending it barreling outwards at significant speed. The motes were suddenly significantly slowed back down by a barrier. A zone of differentiation between Center and regular body did exist, it seemed. This small area filled with refined Essence like glitter ensnared in gel.

  The glittering light made the holes in his Center easy to ‘see’ and a formed thread spun and lined up with a clearly visible path. It was clear that Artorian had been hard at work getting everything prepared for this. Hadurin sighed with relief; if he had prepared so heavily and practiced, then this wasn’t a hairbrained attempt to end it all.

  The thread left Artorian’s Center, followed the meridian, and traveled directly toward his heart. He exhaled hard as the Essence impacted with the force of a hammer. For a few moments, his eyes boggled and his body clenched. He grabbed at his chest as a full-blown heart attack tried to begin.

  “I’ve got you. Fight through the pain!” Hadurin ordered, using his own Essence to keep the heartbeat steady. The old man had a strong heart for someone of his age, but opening a meridian was no joke. The thread looped around Artorian’s heart in a tight weave, tighter, tighter… until the organ had the thread moving through every part: tissue, artery, and capillary. The weave remained intact as the thread veered off to continue along its meridian.

  The pain subsided in its wake, and his heart ceased needing the healer’s direct attention. Hadurin thought the process was going to end there, but he cursed and pushed his hands against the old man’s lower back. “You ragged, pebbles-for-brains, old fart!”

  The thread had continued, flowing downward, and it hit his lower intestine. It did hit with less force than the heart, only creating a weave in a small area before splitting to move up to his lungs. The high energy-and-velocity Essence thread impacted both areas roughly enough that Artorian doubled over with wet coughs. Breath left him, along with a significant amount of blood. He never noticed, as his focus was purely on chasing down and trying to catch the overzealous—and out of control—thread.

  The weave around his heart and lungs repeated itself, and Artorian went pale and blue. He couldn't breathe until the pattern completed, and it seemed to be slowing down. Terrible timing! Though this did allow him to catch it, and he forced it to do an additional loop in reverse. Artorian was convinced that this was the same feeling as being dragged along by a startled horse running from a snake.

  The thread rejoined his Center from a separate opening than it had exited, as expected. Rather than smash into the circles of his Center, the end of the thread shattered and spiderwebbed connections among the free-floating, purified Essence in the limbo-zone of his glittery Center. Artorian opened his eyes and heaved before fully collapsing, blood spilling out of his mouth. The stream engulfed him for just a moment before the Head Healer managed a proper grip on him.

  “I’ve got ya, ya mad fool! What did Tib ‘just’ say about holding the flow back?” No internal damage needed patching up, but he was still whacking Artorian’s back to loosen the gunk his body was now forcing out. Thick, wheezing breaths were interrupted by agonizing coughing fits, and they sounded nearly as awful as they felt. It took a solid few minutes of repeating the breathing and slapping cycle before he began to chuckle.

  “Well then. That was–”

  Hadurin interrupted him this time, “A terrible idea? A great way teh scare yer healer half to death? Aye. Yer heart would’ve just stopped had I not been here to make it keep beatin’!”

  Flustered and red with anger, the grumbly healer checked his patient over. “Looks like heart, lungs, and lower intestines. What even was that thread ya made? It was dense… but looked like it was gonna fracture at any moment. I’ve never seen that space between the inside an’ outside of a Center be so clearly defined either. I can even see the rest o’ yer meridian channels.”

  Artorian nodded, needing to breathe deeply. He slowly spoke, “I wasn't sure how to stop the thread. Once I let it go, oh… did it go. On the way back to my Center, I needed to convince it that it was something other than a thread and altered its identity.”

  He could feel Hadurin drill him for information with just a look. “Admittedly, I was a touch scared—which naturally made me think of spiders. I’m also scared of those. So, rather than thread, my mind went to ‘web’. I don’t believe I got it all the way, but before the thread could make a mess of my entire cultivation system, it shattered and split, ‘webbing’ out to encompass all the glitter points. The broken thread used free, refined Essence as guideposts for where to tether. Now, I don’t know what this webbed circle around my cultivation is going to do, but currently, it’s what is actually connected to my meridians.”

  Hadurin helped him up to his feet and grumped, “Likely for the best. I dunno how your technique would have reacted to a direct meridian connection. I can handle that fine, but as usual, you’ve surprised us.”

  Standing on his feet again, Artorian felt wobbly while the healer steadied him. His gi was drenched, but he was alive. That’s a trade he’d make any day. Still, the old man was confused. “For such a big, painful, life-altering effect… I feel surprisingly good?”

  He’d been expecting to still be in severe pain. Hadurin grinned and shook his hands to get the water, grease, and blood off. “You’ll get used to yer meridians bein’ open. In short, any benefit you got out of ‘em before is going to improve. Your stamina is going to see a nice boost. I was expecting more taint as well, so you must have cleaned yerself up a little better than ya thought.”

  Hadurin grimaced and looked at Artorian. “You still need to clean yerself and burn that gi. Listen, I’m wantin’ a full, written explanation on how ya did that. As yer healer, I insist ya get two full days of bed rest followed by at least three weeks of recovery before ya attempt another meridian. Most people wait a year or so, but I feel like ya aren’t gonna do tha’, are ya? I want ya in the medical tent five hours a day as soon as yer rest has concluded. We’ll need to check you over for side effects, and I can’t keep lettin’ ya weasel yer way out of teh deal.”

  “Yes, *cough*, yes. I’ll be there. Is light exercise fine?” Swinging an arm around Fellhammer’s neck, Artorian finally got steady.

  The Head Healer thought about slapping the man silly, and an annoyed gruffness rumbled in his words. “Define light.”

  “Morning jog and some archery?” Artorian smiled out the tired response as Hadurin was already dragging him back to the bank.

  “Ya just love gettin’ that big nose o’ yers in trouble, don’tcha.”

  In response to the healer’s quip, Artorian tapped the side of his admittedly large nose. “It does it by itself, I swear.”

  Fellhamer snorted a *phah* and picked the dry robes up to carry. “Aye, that little bit is fine, but I’m siccin’ Yvessa on ya the second ya leave my care. Wash.”

  The glum groan that left the hanging old man made the entire stream event worth it for the healer. Artorian flopped into the water, kicking and splashing. He grabbed sand and started scouring his black-oil-coated skin, then did his hair. Frankly, he looked like a toddler having a tantrum, which only made Hadurin happier. The sheer pleasure of siccing a caretaker on Artorian—one who delighted in forcing Artorian to rest and sleep—made Hadurin enjoy a cackle.

  “Oh, look! Speak of the abyss!”

  “Artoria~a~an!” Yvessa’s furious voice cut across the
field as she stomped her way to the pair. She was livid and not hiding an iota of it. Artorian had not only snuck off without telling anyone but had likely hoped for a bonus serving of food by sneaking to Tibbins! She was fuming, and the motherly expression only made Fellhammer break down in raucous laughter as the dejected groaning of the man cleaning himself intensified.

  “Hah! Ha-ha, that’s what ya get for sneakin’ about. Hello! Yvessa! Over here! He’s naked and doin’ odd things again!”

  Artorian pleadingly glanced at the Head Healer for mercy, but there was none to be had. His groan petered out into a whimpered puddle. He wasn’t going to hear the end of this after Yvessa found out he’d not only snuck off… but opened meridians. Hadurin lived for this sort of torment. He was relishing every moment as Yvessa chewed Artorian out the entire walk home.

  There were always fringe benefits to being Head Healer.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  A full week later, the beatdown Artorian received from Yvessa was still making the rounds in camp. To make things even juicier, Tibbins had been assigned duty when Artorian had arrived for a checkup at the medical tent after his assigned bed rest days expired… only to discover Artorian had opened his large intestine meridian in the meanwhile.

  The Head Healer had hunted the old man down as long beard darted and ducked between tents. Artorian was laughing. “You’re laughing? You keep tryin’ ta kill yourself when no one is looking? I’m gonna finish the job! Get over here, you dusty tumbleweed!”

  It was quite the day for the Initiates when they were awoken up for duty via an old man careening through the window flap of the tent. He was squealing with amusement as Hadurin’s endless streams of Dwarven insults followed him, always only a step or two behind.

  The levity cut short when a loud *gong* resounded in the middle of camp, and the still-laughing, old man fell on his butt after running straight into Tarrean’s very ornate armor—with Tarrean very much in it. Having to explain to the Head Cleric that Artorian was having such a happy, energetic day was because his meridians had started to open was an adventure in facial expressions.

  Tarrean’s face was stuffed with evolving disbelief, concern, and hints of tormented jealousy. More and more of his face became obscured behind his hands as the explanation went on. When he heard the news that Artorian had four major affinity channels, his forehead was pressed to the table, and he outright asked for a drink.

  When Hadurin finally got around to Artorian’s checkup, the entire upper echelon of the cloister was present and observing. They had to see it to believe it, and even then they didn’t understand half of what they were looking at. When the checkup was done, Marud was in tears from laughter. Tarrean had his head against the main support pole of the medical tent out of sheer, rampant depression.

  Irene crackled with the tenderness of living lightning and stormed off to demand written accounts from Tibbins and Yvessa. Meanwhile, Hadurin was trying to suppress giggles at the visual dichotomy of Artorian’s peaceful resting expression… which clashed with the despair that hung over both Head Clerics.

  The expedition leader was haranguing Tarrean about why this man hadn’t been drafted yet, and gossip once again found life as secret after secret tumbled into the open like dominoes. When everyone left and it was just Artorian and Hadurin in the tent, the Head Healer slumped over to a padded cot and lit up a rolled-up bundle of herbs to puff. Practiced releases of shaped smoke blew from his nose and mouth as his leg lifted to lay on his opposing thigh. “Are ya pleased with yourself, old man? I know ya did it on purpose.”

  The previously ‘snoozing’ Artorian opened an eye, then sat upright like he’d never been asleep at all. Which, of course, he hadn’t. “It was getting too quiet. A little life goes a long way, don’t you think? I can’t tell you how tempted I was to try and open a meridian while they were all watching. Ow!”

  A pillow struck the side of his face, originating from the Head Healer. It smacked Artorian right back down on to the cot with an *oof* He grabbed and settled it behind his back with the others and peacefully sunk down. “Oh, another pillow. Wonderful!”

  Hadurin shook his head, needing a strong inhalation of his makeshift cigar. “Ye’r a piece of work, Artorian. Ya don’t adhere to anyone else’s speed. Ya realize, of course, they’re goin’ teh be watching ya closely from now on?”

  To Hadurin’s hidden enjoyment, the long-bearded man was once again a bundle of smiles. “My friend, I’m counting on it.

  The Head Healer rubbed his temples and took an extra-long drag of his cigar. “Alright, codger, I’m interested. What are ya plannin’? All these small things you’ve done over the time I’ve known ya all add up to some big hullabaloo. Ye’ve got the same look the Vicars do when they’re puttin’ somethin’ together.”

  He blew a big smoke ring right at the ceiling. “One old soldier to another. Sell me on it.”

  A sigh of relief left Artorian, who had gone from energetic and laying in comfort to drained and tired in the span of a heartbeat. “Releasing cycled Essence always takes it out of me.”

  Hadurin knew the feeling well. “Aye. I imagine you’re quite tired when you’re not usin’ it for a boost. Ye may have some good cultivation, but yer still old. Meridians are gonna help, but it’s not like yer twenty and spry. Someone with less cultivation and better training can cut ya off like a bad joke. Now, out with it. Yvessa warned me ya like to dawdle.”

  Artorian sat up, faced his new friend, and laced his fingers together on his lap. “The raiders took my children, on that day the first expedition arrived. I believe they’re alive, and I’m going to get them out of that terrible life if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Hadurin’s brows rose. That was a bigger punch to the gut than he’d expected. Artorian continued, “I have been reckless, done my best to be patient, and have spent these last… nearly three years working on my cultivation for any kind of edge that would let me get them back. I’m not one to ask for help, but I do trade for it. In a few months, the season will end, and the expedition will go back to the Choir. The trader comes once a month.”

  The healer didn’t understand why that last mention was important and made a hand motion that matched his befuddled expression. Artorian explained with a snarling retort, “The trader is complicit with the raiders. I have it on good word from… the other Elder of this village, before she passed. I simply haven’t informed the cloister.”

  This pissed Hadurin off more than a little, but contrary to his personality, he held his tongue. There was going to be more. He knew there would be, and Artorian didn’t disappoint. “The third visit from the trader, from this point, is about at the time when the expedition group needs to disembark. If I tell the trader the expedition party will be gone that day… a party of raiders is guaranteed to follow in an attempt to flatten this place and take it for every coin it’s worth. It will take me but a small mention to bait that hook.”

  “The raiders I’m after have holed up in Duskgrove. I know the castle. It’s a wreck but a well-armed wreck. On that third trader visit, I will be leaving the cloister and going with him. I know he won’t be able to resist the opportunity to cleave my head and claim this robe, so he won’t decline my company. Rather than follow the trading route back out of the Fringe, he’ll detour past Phantomdusk Forest in order to get to a place he can hide the evidence. That gets me to where I need to be.”

  Hadurin cobbled the information together, inspiration tingling as understanding struck him. He puffed from his herbs and tapped it to remove ashes. “I see. Would be an awful day for the raider group if they assaulted a position that wasn’t actually abandoned, and it would be equally handy if a good bowman were to annoy a castle that ran on a skeleton crew rather than a full one. Yer running was the basic training ya needed, and archery is yer problem solver.”

  “You’ve got teh Essence intake to build meridians, and unlike most people, pain isn’t a deterrent so much as it is something you’ve accepted you’re going to dea
l with. Ya don’t actually care about yer life, and you’re spending it with abyss-cursed abandon to finish a war the raiders don’t even know they started.”

  Artorian relaxed back down from his strong position. It was a delight to sit with another sharp-minded, old soul. “You’re a clever man, my friend.”

  Hadurin shrugged and puffed. “Just old, and it’s not my first war. I’m not gonna try to stop a righteous cause like this, so I’m on board. What do you need from me?”

  “A good bow, enough arrows for it to matter, and quiet checkups as I barrel through opening my meridians.” Artorian raised his hand and counted the necessities on his fingers, then winced at the memory. “It hurts like being chewed up by a beast, but I’m not actually losing Essence from the process, so I have plenty. I’m opening all of them before two months have passed.”

  Hadurin’s face hardened stoically, understanding the aged soldier’s march to his chosen end. Artorian swallowed and continued, “Potions if you can spare them, rations packed in a sack since I expect my personal siege to last a good while. Some basic sparring? I know better than to hope I’ll stay lucky enough to remain at range. For the remainder, I’ll rest and cultivate. I might be able to send my children back here, but I suspect I could be too spent to return.”

  Hadurin harrumphed. “Sword?”

  Artorian just shook his head ‘no’. “Won’t do me any good. I can’t handle the weight, and I don’t have the time to oil up my rusty skills. Hand-to-hand and bow are the best I’ll be able to do, and then only because I know I can drop the bow to run if I need to. I’m going to be using some rather… idiotic tactics.”

  The Head Healer just took a cigar drag and spoke along with a cloud of smoke, “Such as?”

  “I plan on assailing the castle… from inside the Phantomdusk Forest.”

 

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