King Tides Curse

by C J Timms

  Gale stared out over the water, more questions than answers. ‘Where have you been this whole time, why come to me now? And what was that Rust Knight?’

  ‘I fought off the fathomless that attacked, but I couldn’t stick around with that fracturesmith itching to nail anything with a hint of Deep Script.’ Ash said.

  ‘You don’t know who he was, do you?’ Gale asked.

  Ash shrugged. ‘Anyway, I used the fracture site to track you to Ionhome but couldn’t track you after that. With so many magic users clustered in the city, you were masked.’

  ‘You tracked me like a bloodhound?’ Gale asked.

  ‘It was easy enough. I can conceal myself as human and pass through the reefwall. Well at least until…’ She coughed. ‘I sensed you when those fathomless broke through earlier in the year, but there were too many police around you. Once you started using your magic for the entrance exam out here in the middle of an empty ocean, I tracked you down.’

  ‘And the Rust Knight?’ Gale asked.

  Ash shuddered, ‘The Rust Knight is one of the lords of the deep, one of nine. You need to keep your head down.’

  Gale nodded, he would trust Ashley, for now at least. He’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t.

  ‘So, what now?’ He asked.

  ‘Now?’ Ashley said, standing with her hands on her hips. ‘I’m going to teach you how to contact me, so it doesn’t take you months to find me again.’

  Gale pocketed the adaptor to his phone that would let him contact Ash through the Penumbra…sometimes. Technology was still dodgy in Ionhome, even with adaptors. Still better than nothing.

  At the Lighthouse, something waited on the doorstep. It was a small golden golem, faceless, about the size of his palm. The golem stood up and held a card out to Gale. The card was as big as the golem.

  Dear Student,

  I am your debt golem, please don’t feed me.

  Gale chuckled. To a university student, debt was a familiar friend. Gale pushed the door open, and the debt golem toddled inside. A new home, the floor covered with packing cardboard, scattered pie wrappers and showing use for the first time in years. He felt the phone augmenter in his pocket, thought of Ashley. A new home but he was already finding some old patterns.

  Tomorrow was first class.

  Gale- First day

  The people of the Volkstorm islands, live above a tectonic plate. New islands form from volcanic activity. They believe that their island chain is the result of the god Vesuvial belching flames after a pleasing meal. Their sacrifices of goats, cows and pigs are meant to give him reflux.

  From the Journal of Grimace the Heretic

  Gale strode towards the first session of his career as a fracturesmith with a spring in his step. The twin suns beat down through a blue sky, his housemates beside him and a small debt golem trailing in their wake. The little debt golem trundled along, scrabbling directly over obstacles it encountered. They turned a corner, and it got stuck trying to push through the wall of a building.

  Gale sighed and ducked back around the corner. The golem looked like a glitched character in a video game, walking into the wall over and over again. Gale picked him up and realigned him. He’d never have expected they would have to babysit their debt.

  ‘Just let him go.’ Yip said, ‘Maybe if he disappears we don’t have to pay our debt.’

  Titus glared at Yip, stepping in front of the debt golem. ‘I say we name him,’ said Titus. Interestingly, while all of the other houses had debt golems, none of the others were following their owners around like puppies. Titus picked the debt golem up and placed him on his shoulder.

  ‘What about James.’ Titus said. The others just looked at him.

  ‘Well he’s our debt golem right, so James…Bond…’ Titus said, with a wide grin.

  They all just turned and walked on.

  ‘What about 007 instead? Bill? Tab? Tally? Kev?’ Titus said.

  ‘Kev?’ asked Swan.

  ‘He looks like a Kev,’ Titus shrugged, ‘solid, reliable and no surprises.’

  Gale snorted, he highly doubted that their walking credit card didn’t have some hidden terms and conditions.

  ‘Look you name him what you want,’ Yip said, ‘just focus on class and for Reef’s sake try to take some notes.’

  Outside the mess hall, the other first years had congregated. Gale recognised two of the Wyldfell first years. Bella and Hotaru were twins, both shorter, coming up to Gale’s shoulder. They both had the impression of Japanese ancestry, both had brown eyes, and short pixie cut black hair, but Bella spiked it to the right and Hotaru to the left. Hotaru dressed in business casual (apart from being barefoot) while Bella dressed in yoga pants and a loose floral shirt, in addition to being barefoot. They didn’t give him an evil stare, more of a knowing look. Perhaps they appreciated a good con?

  Professor Herlov, the head of House Laurels began to lead them around the school. The actual island was over three kilometres wide, but the school was concentrated to the left side of the island-turtle near the water. ‘We will train you in the perfect use of Script,’ Herlov said. ‘Some of you will go on to become fracturesmiths, but only the best. The rest of you will learn to control your abilities to function in civilian roles or academic ones.

  All graduates, however, are recognised as soldiers in reserve. You will be called upon in times of war. We hold the line against the fathomless. We are all that stands between man and a flood of demons from the Deep. We expect perfection.

  You will be tested three times throughout the year. The Hunt, the Splinterpoint Gate and the Battle Royale. Only one in four of you will make it to the end of the year.’

  Gale shared a look with the four members of the Lighthouse. Their odds weren’t great. ‘Its character building?’ Gale said to the other three. Swan and Yip snorted, but Titus grinned enthusiastically.

  ‘Character building! I love it,’ Titus said and slapped Gale on the back, hisverysunburnt back.

  The different house groups eyed each other off. Regal looking students from House Laurels turned their noses up while pious monks from Canute’s tower bowed their heads and a hungover House Baxtro just sort of did their best. House Eternus was a melting pot of inter-realm students that took some getting used to. Hulking komodo’s and scraggly goblins from Locomotyr, rumbling rock golems from Strata. Dryads and naga from Wyldfell. Even one waif of a girl from Tangentius, staring off into the clouds.

  This was Gale’s first glimpse at the other Houses physical buildings. Each House had a tower, the tallest tower on the island was House Laurels. House Laurels was a golden tower that expanded into palm fronds, each frond a large tunnel that contained multiple student apartments, similar to the central tower in Ionhome. The upper reaching branches of House Laurels were outlined in a fine shimmer in the morning light, as if the tower was on fire. The top of House Laurels only just scraped under the Harbour bridge whenever they flickered on the border of Earth’s reality.

  The Driftwood Tower reached up in crooked spurts, reaching to escape the shadow of House Laurels. The Driftwood Tower had been built entirely out of driftwood. A material believed so holy the ocean spits it out. The driftwood certainly stunk to high heaven. It looked held together basically by magic and gaffer tape. Those trained in the Driftwood Tower would go on to fulfil some role in the Church of Canute. All the fanatics (or Canutjobs as he’d heard them called in the bar), had chosen this tower. Well, apart from Titus.

  ‘Hey Titus,’ Gale muttered. ‘How do your tattoos work anyway.’

  Titus shrugged, ‘They give me strength when I need it, when I follow the rules.’

  ‘The rules?’ Gale asked.

  ‘The rules of modern chivalry. I wrote it up myself.’

  ‘So it's not a Canute thing then?’ Gale asked.

  ‘Nah see I did what you call…in-ter..pretation.’ Titus jammed a thumb against his chest. ‘Reading between the lines you see?’

  ‘Well, what about the others then? S
ame deal?’ Gale asked gesturing to the monk first years who bore the same markings.

  Titus scrunched his brow up, ‘Nah they don’t follow the rules, that's a Titus Mangrove special. The tatt’s let us share power, give and take from one big pot. The tatt’s link us, let us borrow a bit of power if needed. But it doesn’t create it from nothing. Some of us are weakened so others can be strong.

  A man sacrifices for the greater good. Rule eleven.’

  So it was like a communal power source, thought Gale. Like an electricity grid running off a bunch of rooftop solar panels. It was fine as long as everyone was sensible and didn't run their aircon, dryer and their dishwasher all at the same time. Would probably take a lot of trust, misuse it and your fellow warriors would be stretched thin, weakened. Kind of like a sick leave roster he reckoned. Anyone dips too much in, and it pushes the rest to breaking point. He’d have to get Titus to write down his ‘Rules of Modern Chivalry’ sometime. He wondered how far it diverged from the holy book of King Canute.

  Hadn’t Titus mentioned a rule about punching people in the nads?

  A giant golden statue stood nearly the size of House Laurels in the centre courtyard of the Academy. ‘Canute’ was engraved on the base. It showed him holding back a mighty weight with one hand, sword drawn in the other. It looked off to Gale’s eye. The pieces didn’t quite fit. The sword looked patched up, reforged several times.

  Other towers and buildings dotted the campus, House Solvent’s practical apartments, House Baxter's ramshackle building, the Ionic Labs with their smoky residue and loud clangs. The all-important library, with its massive domed roof, orbited by floating models of planets and ships. The library was capped by a sealed black top-level, locked off and windows barred, the only part of the university with no signs of life.

  The ocean stretched out around the University. The island-turtle straddled the realities between Sydney Harbour and Ionhome. Patches of fog rose around the islands miniature barrier reef, projected out from the Lighthouse. Spots glowed red as though being cauterised with a hyfrecator. From these burn points, blue smoke rolled off as the Penumbra prevented people without a Script from seeing the abnormal.

  Across the harbour, the Membranous Cathedral stood out from the shore. The Cathedral was part desalination plant and part holy building. The city of Ionhome was nearly entirely reliant on the water that was purified by the Membranous Cathedral. The Cathedral had broad shimmering polymer sheets that stretched across huge dams interspersed with smaller graphene compartments. In places, the water evaporated with thermal pipes creating a constant fine steam with the Cathedral. The vast majority of water, however, was obtained by Script exerting force on the saltwater and filtering it.

  The Membranous Cathedrals was a site of religious devotion for many in Ionhome. A podium within one of the desalination dams created a pulpit for daily mass. Even in the War of Brothers twenty years ago, even when Addison had besieged Ionhome itself with his fleet, he had not dared strike at the Membranous Cathedral.

  Herlov stopped in front of a reality fracture about ten metres tall that was surrounded by rotating rings and orbiting spheres. Herlov puffed his chest out and drew a deep breath.

  ‘Someone should fix that fracture,’ called Titus from the back of the group. ‘Hey Professor, there’s a fracture behind you.’

  Herlov crossed his arms. ‘This, Master Mangrove, is a growth plate fracture, old as time itself. It was torn apart by the birth of the universe. This is the Splinterpoint Gate, where you will take your second exam. It is not, Master Mangrove, fixable with a couple of short nails and a hammer.’

  ‘Did you try a long nail?’ Titus asked using a notepad for perhaps the first time. Nearby Yip beamed and whispered encouragement. Swan elbowed Titus in the ribs.

  ‘Yes…Master Mangrove, a long nail, has been tried.’ Herlov said.

  ‘Does that mean you’ve had a crack and couldn’t figure it out?’ Titus asked.

  Herlov stared Titus down. ‘Ten debt to the Lighthouse, Master Mangrove. Ask another question, and it’ll be twenty.’

  On Titus’s shoulder, Shackleton grew, just slightly.

  Herlov deposited them at a grand auditorium where they would pick from classes. Combat training was obligatory for all first years as was magical history, artificing and basic fracture repair. Gale tapped his finger against the final compulsory class, ‘Deep Hunter’.

  The teacher was Blush. The mystery woman who had pulled him out of the water during the fathomless attack. Was her employer the university? He had to take that class.

  He scanned the list of options and started filling out the rest. Yip passed him a series of coloured pens to transcribe his classes onto a sheet.

  ‘Go to the university, become a fracturesmith,’ Gale muttered.

  There was nothing like outlining your destiny on a timetable.

  ‘His first lecture is supposed to belegendary,’ Yip said.

  Gale milled about with the crowd of students outside the auditorium for their first lecture with Chancellor Helios. The doors swung wide with a boom, and a yellow light glowed from inside. Adam entered first, Alistair shoving right in behind him. In the auditorium, Chancellor Helios sat behind a kitchen bench set up with multiple ingredients. Helios lazily stood and approached the podium. He tied on a chef’s apron with the words ‘Pobody’s Nerfect’ on it.

  ‘Come on let's get a seat up the front, that's where you get the best notes.’ Yip pulled on Gale’s shirt.

  ‘But the backs where the best sleeping is done.’ Swan complained.

  ‘Nonsense. How am I going to ask questions from the back.’ Yip said.

  With reluctance, Gale found them some seats in the front. There was a real art to seating yourself in a lecture.

  ‘There’ll be some sandwiches during this demonstration would anyone like one?’ Helios asked to a wary audience. Titus’s hand shot up. ‘Excellent, excellent, come on up Master Mangrove and help me get to work…no…no, don’t just eat the turkey from the packet we’ll make you a sandwich shortly.’

  ‘Bloody bogan,’ Swan muttered.

  Helios assembled ingredients and passed some to Titus to chop. Helios held up a slice of swiss cheese with multiple small holes to the lecture hall.

  ‘Imagine this swiss cheese represents a world with fractures.’ His voice boomed through the auditorium. ‘It has holes but still structural integrity. Now if I lie it beside another world.’ He held up another slice of swiss cheese to place next to it and turned it to face them. A few of the holes overlapped.

  ‘The realms exist side by side, a multiverse. The worlds mix at sites of weakness, fractures in the world, breaks in reality. In some places, those breaks in reality overlap, and you may pass between the worlds.’ He used a toothpick to pass through some of the different overlapping holes in the cheese. Titus snuck a chicken drumstick while Helios was facing the audience. Some of the students gasped.

  Helios beamed, ‘Yes impressive concept, isn’t it. Now not all fracture sites are in the same spot in different worlds.’ With this, he held up a third piece of cheese on the other side of the original piece. Now more of the holes were covered up or impassable, leaving only a few. ‘This means that sites, where you may travel to all the realms, are incredibly rare and of particular note, places like the Infinity Bazaar, the Eternisea or the Molten Gate.

  Of course, with proper training, one may learn to punch through reality. One may learn to make a new fracture site.’ With this he poked a new hole through all three cheese slices using the toothpick.

  ‘Of course, punch too many holes in a realm, even small ones…’ he stabbed at the swiss cheese like a madman. The holes began to line up until a large chunk of it fell away, its structural integrity gone. He passed the remnants of the cheese over to Titus who dutifully laid them onto a series of sandwiches.

  ‘The fracturesmith must maintain…oh be liberal with mayonnaise Master Mangrove, can’t use that at home or the wife gets onto me about my cholesterol�
�is to maintain the world's integrity while making fractures only when you must. We cannot fix all the old fracture sites, they healed wrong an eternity ago, and indeed we would not want to heal them all. At locations where the realms fracture, Script is thickest, we can travel between the realms there without opening a new break.

  Earth is the only realm that has no innate magic. All other domains possess magic. For this reason, humans born on Earth have only a one in one hundred thousand chance of holding their own Script. Humans born in Ionhome however generally have a small spark of Script, enough to resist the Penumbra’s memory wipe but nothing else. One in ten thousand might have enough Script to do magic. Even those born with the ability to do magic may not have enough to be of use as a fracturesmith. There are few possible fracturesmiths, and few can bear the training.

  Many fracturesmiths never develop an alignment beyond raw Script. Some though take the risk of drawing on one of the nine realms energies to use magic…no don’t cut the crusts off master mangrove you aren’t a child…There are nine realms that fracture into Earth-Prime.

  "Ionisphere."’ He gestured, and warm purple flame heated a pan.

  ‘Celesta Firma,’ he levitated the food off the bench.

  ‘Locomotyr,’ he crushed a potato into a mash.

  ‘Wyldfell,’ his sprouts exploded into a blooming bushel of flowers, he picked the leaves.

  ‘There are those that require particular personalities, Tangentius, for example.’ A waif-like girl at the front stopped staring around and focused on Helios.

  ‘Then there are those that we have learned to avoid.’ He gave a glance at Gale.

  ‘There are, of course, subsets of power within each realm. Then there are hundreds of small pocket dimension worlds, small worlds with ambitious owners, eager to gain followers. Some fracturesmiths never develop beyond using raw Script to enhance their speed and strength. That is fine. You can still hammer a nail in without whizz-bang magic. Some though manage to channel the power of other realms to be better at their job, certainly doesn’t hurt the resume.’ Helios winked.