by C J Timms
When I was ten, my father took me to the top of the family forge at Locomotyr. We looked out over his industry, his army, as the smokestacks filled the air with the signature of Jacobian Swan.
My father placed his hand on my shoulder and told me that Salt was the most powerful resource we had. He told me,
"Salt is the source of all impurity and that Salt would break my enemies. When you want them to thirst, salt their water. When you want them to hunger, salt their earth."
Then I asked him why. Why if it was so powerful, did we sell our salt to the highest bidder. He told me...he said to me that if someone should make money off vice, it should be the family.
Then he took me downstairs and tried to teach me how to make something beautiful and strong, on the foundation of our family’s blood money.
My father left me there for a full month to apprentice with the smiths of his foundry. These were the great artists of the forge. Champions of their craft. Generations of experience.
He returned a month later to check on my progress and could only shake his head. In the whole month, I had not produced a single weapon. Every time I tried to craft a weapon, it would end up the same, the metal would flow into the forms required then cool into an unrecognisable mass of scrap metal.
So I redoubled my efforts, working late nights, I was strong enough to succeed, I was a Swan. My father had said he would watch over me himself, day and night until I produced a scripted blade. I worked attempting time and time again. Then it happened.
I felt everything inside me flow. No resistance to overcome.’
Swan saw it in her minds eye once again.
In a great forge on a battered world of industry, the sound of hammers and tongs briefly overtaken by a cry of ‘Oh frak’, shortly followed by a deeper voice saying ‘Swear jar.’ Liquid metal roared out of dozens of windows. Gold, silver, palladium and rhodium twisted through the night sky in an exquisite dance. They were reaching columns of metal that grasped at the stars before collapsing down. They cooled into worthless slag on the street below. A young woman in blacksmith’s apron and short cut brown hair picked up a twisted blade of slag from the ground. Her well-practised arms trembled. She held the sword up in the night in front of her with first curiosity then reluctance. She looked out upon the blasted landscape of Locomotyr before she looked back at the rest of the forge in shame
Every piece of metal in the foundry liquefied, hammers, nails and armour. Priceless family heirloom blades, a new shipment of arms meant for the royal family guard.
She examined the Slagblade. It was ugly. It had raw, jagged edges, bubbles of aberrant steel protruding like boils. The young girl sat atop a pile of cooled metal cradling her weapon. She turned to her father, who turned away.
‘My father sent me away to school after that. He couldn’t afford to have me around his production centre. If I were to make something truly beautiful, to gain control, to stop destroying all the metal I touch. ’ She shrugged her shoulders.
‘Family can cause a terrible weight,’ Yip said. ‘My brothers, my elders, sent me here to learn. The Volkstor Islands are being destroyed. Not by famine or fire or war but by inches of tide. By the rise of the ocean. Every year a bit more land gets wiped off our maps. We watch and can do nothing.
I must find a way to turn back the ocean before it rises and wipes us off the map. My island is being wiped out by the assholes of this world. We don't even get an evil villain. Not the truly evil, we get the asshole who knows my island is going to be wiped out but doesn’t give a shit. It would be better if I were fighting some evil overlord, but instead, I need to wipe out the inconsiderate, the unwilling to give a shit, the assholes of this world.
It can put me in a grumpy mood sometimes.’ Yip said.
Swan snorted.
‘Alright, I’ve been a dick.’ Yip offered. ‘I don’t know what your father plans, hell I won’t even ask how you knew that member of the Unbroken. I still don’t trust the Swan family, but you, Jane, you’re okay.
Probably still shouldn’t have punched the Police Chief's son, it's a bad look that.’
‘Sometimes, its how things look that matter the most.’ Swan said. ‘Doesn’t matter much, we can’t do jack. We’ll rot in here until the Frisbee match is over. It's game over for the Lighthouse. The match, Frak.’ Swan said, standing again.
‘Swear jar.’ Yip said, holding out a hand with a mason jar.
Swan ran her hands through her hair, pacing back and forth. ‘Gale doesn’t know. I made them…I’ve been working for them since I joined Laurels…’ She stopped her pacing and grabbed Yip. ‘Yip we need to get out and warn him. Can’t you murky step through the bars?’
‘Reefstone, it wont work.’
She looked at her right fist, now free of the cast. How much force would she need to break them open? Should she risk a break to warn her friends?
Yip took her hand, lowered it and shook his head. ‘Put yourself first. Don’t fall down.’
Swan gritted her teeth, this situation stunk, and she still needed to pee.
‘I believe, as Titus would say, we need a drink.’ Yip said. He reached into his discarded suit jacket pocket and pulled out a VB tinny.
Swan rubbed her eyes, ‘Yip where have you been keeping that?’
‘Titus gave it to me for pre-drinks, I wasn’t going to throw it away, that's a waste of money.’
Yip took a swig and offered it to Swan.
‘To family ay?’ Swan snatched the beer, slammed the rest of it down.
‘Easy Swan, that's the only one I’ve got.’
‘No you bloody genius, don’t you see? The tinny? As in made of frakking tin!’
Yip cocked his head. ‘Technically I think its aluminium.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Swan. ‘I can use it to make a flipping key.’
Swan held the VB tinny before her reverently. Swan let go of frustration, let go of anger and let everything inside her flow. Nothing happened, apart from having to clamp down on her bladder. She felt the same blocking sensation as when she tried to summon the Slagblade.
‘Won’t work, not around the Reefstone.’ Yip said.
Swan focused hard on the tinny. She was strong. She could do this. She needed to transform the tinny. It was metal, but she needed it to be a different form. Even a humble VB tinny could become the greatest of tools. What it looked like made all the difference.
Something clicked in her.
The tinny began to change shape.
Joseph - A proposition
Joseph slunk into the ramshackle warehouse in Tideline. Stale bread clutched beneath his shredded cloak. His heart raced, his eyes darted back and forth. He rubbed his aching hip. He’d pushed it further than usual.
He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. Shifting the curtain, he glanced out the window. He pulled the cloak back to examine the tattoo on his wrist, the unbroken wall around Earth. Joseph spat to the side and punched the wall.
Unbroken indeed.
This crusade had brought him nothing but misery.
And he would never forget.
Why had Jane been there? Everything had seemed so simple, so justified, when Admetus told them their mission. They’d been fracking Robin Hood. They’d been Spartacus. They’d been the heroes fighting the reef-damned system. He hadn’t even struggled to get his father to build the equaliser. Jacobian hadn’t even asked what it was for. Just trusted him, his judgement and the large sum of coin that came. Joseph had brought ruin to their house.
And he would never forget.
‘When you are done playing spy?’ called a voice from the back of the room.
Joseph pulled a gun from his holster. The gun expanded rapidly, transforming into an elegant metal blade stamped with the symbol of the Swan’s. He held it out at a knight in blood-red armour. The knight sat in a chair, leaning back. The knight’s boots propped up on two of his men, hogtied on the ground.
‘Now, now, there is no need for that, Jos
eph.’ A knight in rusted armour stepped out of the shadows on Joseph’s left. ‘A Scripted working with the Unbroken. Tsk, tsk, what a twisted world where you are in charge of this lot. Still, a true leader seeks opportunity in new waters.’
The Rust Knight looked over at Red, ‘By the way, did you read ‘Blue Ocean Strategy’?’ Rust asked.
‘Yes, I very much liked the part about red oceans.’
‘You did, that’s amazing! But the point of the book was to avoid red oceans.’
‘What do you two want!’ Yelled Joseph, swinging his blade back and forth.
The knight’s turned to face him as one. ‘We want to give you an opportunity to protect your family. You remain…unbroken, do you not?’ The Blood Knight said and moved towards Joseph.
Joseph kept the bread cradled under his arm. These two reeked of Salt, yet he found their words melodic, soothing even. His arm relaxed as if to drop the sword. Instead, he let go of the bread and bit his tongue hard, using the pain to clear his head. The glamour broke.
The bread tumbled across the dirt-stained floor. ‘Frakking siren.’ Joseph said and raised his blade at the Blood Knight.
‘What a waste.’ The Blood Knight said.
‘All I ask is you hear me out,’ Rust said, holding out two hands. ‘Your men can move where we cannot, and you seem burdened, you tire of command. Why you tire of that, I couldn’t say. A true leader seeks constant and never-ending improvement. Look I do have some Tony Robbins material if you want to have a look.’
‘On task, Rust.’ Red growled.
The Rust Knight nodded. ‘Right, so I have a proposition. I need Admetus free from prison as much as you.’
‘Put the blade down and talk, your father would at least hear the offer.’ The Blood Knight said.
Joseph’s eyes flicked from the two knights, to his men tied up, to the symbol carved into his wrist. He couldn’t see a way out. He couldn’t see the right path. Admetus had always been sure of the right path. Admetus would never have worked with the Deep.
But Admetus wasn’t here.
Joseph slowly holstered his sword. He limped over to the countertop and poured himself a whiskey into a stained glass. He rubbed his leg and then downed the whiskey whole. He poured another and swirled the dark amber liquid, staring into its depths.
‘Do you know what my father taught me about Salt?
When I was ten, he took me to the top of our foundry in Locomotyr, and we looked down on his forges and his army.
He told me, "Salt is the source of all impurity, salt will break your enemies. When you want them to thirst, salt their water. When you want them to hunger, salt their earth."
Then I asked him…I asked him why sell it if it is so terrible?
And he told me, "If vice isn’t affordable, how will man test himself against temptation?".'
Joseph drained the whiskey. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
‘Talk.’
Gale - Ultimate Frisbee
Traditionally the teaching of Scripted magic was done in an apprentice style model, one on one with a master. Putting multiple students in the same spot, all drawing on different realms, places an incredible strain on reality. Therefore I propose that all Universities should be mobile.
Grimace the Heretic - Submission to Coronial Inquiry
The frisbee spun on the kitchen table, the blue plastic rolling over rough rock. It lost momentum, gave a final shudder and settled still.
The match was today.
Gale sipped his coffee black and pushed his eggs away, untouched. Swan and Yip’s empty chairs left a void in the kitchen. It had been two days since the formal, and they still hadn’t been released from the brig. He didn’t have time for a jailbreak.
The brig beneath House Laurels was like a fortress. The University had used it to store actual criminals, back when the University had been a roving courtroom. The Inquisition had run things back then, and they’d even burnt heretics at the stake. The brig was designed to contain and stop Deep users. It was the worst possible place for him to break into. He felt his stomach roil at the thought.
Titus ate with his usual gusto. He shovelled in food, breakfast pies mashed with Weetbix disappeared into the hydraulic press that was his jaw. Titus let rip a great burp that shook the kitchen table. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his flannie, a sleeve rich in the story of Titus’s life and meals. The flannie showed beer stains from the contest in the entrance exam. It had tears in the fabric from the fight on Locomotyr. Even patches of leech blood from the Hunt.
‘You going to eat that’ Titus said, poking at the Bookwyrm’s bacon and eggs. The Bookwyrm smiled and pushed her plate towards Titus. The Bookwyrm sipped a black tea, her legs dangling from the chair. Gale had pointedly not mentioned that the Bookwyrm had joined them for breakfast or that she had come from Titus’s room. Titus had, of course, offered to cook for her, as a man of honour.
‘No you have it, you need to replenish your strength,’ the Bookwyrm said with a wink. Gale choked a little on his coffee.
Gale looked over at Titus, ‘Titus aren’t you concerned about…you know…well…it's just I read, that when athletes are at the Olympic Village, they, errr, delay things until after the big game because it can affect performance.’
‘Oh he’s got no issues with performance,’ said the Bookwyrm.
Gale spat his coffee out, and Titus gave him two thumbs up.
‘Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud Gale,’ the Bookwyrm said. She placed her mug down. ‘Anyway, I need to secure a good spot in the stadium. I’ll see you there.’
Titus stood to walk her out. At the door, she turned back to lock eyes with Gale. ‘Oh and boys, don’t lose. I want you to stick around.’ Then she pinched Titus’s butt. Titus made a most unmanly sound. Titus returned to the table and eyed off Gale’s bacon and eggs.
‘You gonna eat that?’
Gale sighed and shoved it over. Titus Mangrove always found the best of the situation. Gale reached into his pocket and handed Titus two metallic earbuds.
‘Communicators, Yip upgraded them for the match, before he got locked up in the brig.’
Titus wedged them in his ears and shook his head. The earbuds gripped to his ears like barnacles to a ships hull. They expanded a fine, watery bubble over the ear. Gale also fixed the new communicators to his ears. Like always, Yip had made them precisely right.
He really could have used the little perfectionist right now.
‘They stick in a treat Gale, now I’ve got something for you too.’
Gale raised an eyebrow, if it was a pie he was going to scream. Titus handed gale a parcel wrapped in newspaper. Breaking it open, Gale felt the comfortable fabric, saw blue and white chequered patterns and a series of knobbly buttons.
Titus scratched behind his head with one hand. ‘They’re like team uniforms see, durable, keep you warm on the water and if they get torn…well they stitch up a treat. I got em shipped from Canu’cairns when we were at the Infinity Bazaar.’
Gale threw it on, and by the Reef, it was frakking comfortable.
Titus held up another package. ‘Where’s Sterlo at?’
Gale waved a hand and Pancakes bounded upstairs to wake Sterling. The bastard always slept in. He was worse than Swan. The sound of the seahound skidding around on the floors came from above, growing more and more frantic. Pancakes finally slunk back down the stairs and nudged at his leg, whining. Gale scratched Pancakes head then looked to the stairs. No sign of Sterling. Pancakes probably caught him sleeping in the nude.
Placing the frisbee down, Gale rolled his eyes. Sleeping beauty was going to get a bucket of cold water to wake him up. Gale poured a bucket of cold water from the tap and heaved it onto his shoulder.
The bucket rubbed on his tattoo. The tattoo on his shoulder itched like mad, and it’d woken him from sleep last night. It’d been getting worse the last few days.
With a smirk on his face, he climbed the stairs, and the timbers creaked heavily unde
r his weight. He paused outside Sterling’s room. Pancakes skittered back and forth.
Gale pushed the rough-hewn timber open and revealed a room stripped bare. The only contents left in the room was a letter on the bed with golden trim. It had been positioned carefully in the centre of the room. Gale picked up the letter, sealed with the beaker and coins of House Solvent. Gale paused, his hands starting to tremble as he cracked it open.
Gale,
I’m joining House Solvent.
A patron approached House Solvent looking to sponsor me. They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
This is my chance to make something of myself, to make something of my family. They’ll never write stories about me if I drop out. I’m my family’s last chance.
I’m sorry,
For what it's worth it wasn’t me who stole the lighthouse beacon, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Swan. I think you know who did it though, don’t you? You’re more cunning than you let on.
Tell Titus I left him a pie in the fridge,
Tell Yip he was right,
Tell Swan…well…it won’t matter, I’m probably ‘cruising for a bruising’ as she says.
I’m not really one for noble last stands.
Sterling.
Gale tore the letter in half and obliterated it with Script. His heart hammered in his chest, and a vice-like grip clamped down on it. He kicked Sterlings bed and broke it down the middle.
‘Motherfrakker!’
He punched the wall, shattering the timber and breaking it open to Yip’s room. The crack he’d opened up toppled Yip’s figurine shelf. The shelf hit the floor with a crack and Yip’s things scattered across the room.
Gale sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
Gale walked to Yip’s room and began cleaning. In a dull silence, he gathered the fallen figurines, mostly soldiers, space marines from Warhammer 40k. The glass bottle ship had broken from its container, shards of glass strewn across the room. ‘The Arghost’ was split in half down the middle.