by Odin Oxthorn
Her knees caved as the ground pulled her in, the soft dirt crushing her bones with its embrace. She raised her head to find a light dissipating the smog, voices calling her name. A score of them beckoned in sweetened tones.
A surge rushed up her spine, the vines lessening their grip. Fear seized her, unwilling to let her observers witness her shame. Blood splattered over the ground as she tore her arms from her confinement. A mighty bellow escaped her throat, a warning to those ahead. The ground shuddered beneath her in response to her summons. The rocks cracked and groaned.
Sludge poured into the widening chasm, the sound of water hurtling toward an inky black void. An impassable steel wall rose from the suture, splashing the refuse at her as it stretched into the sky. Its surface was carved with crude images of tormented souls, faces familiar.
The voices stopped. She turned back to the bog, wading into the muddy waters.
But then another presence disturbed the clouds above her. Cautious, silent, creeping.
She let out a gasp as it clutched her wrist, pulling her out of the mire. Her body flew out of the clutches of the trees, their branches delicately brushing her as she ascended above the crimson sky. Sound dulled around her as the force of water pulsed against her ears, blue swirls warping around her limbs. Sunlight tickled the ripples of the surface above her.
With a panicked exhale, she broke the surface, expelling liquid as a warm breeze caressed her cheek. Her body bobbed on the water’s surface as the sea cradled her with a gentle swaying. She took in the strange world of color and light. The sea gently ushered her to a lush green shore, the trees dotted with vibrant birds calling out to each other in sweet song.
She saw a figure at the edge of the jungle dissolving into a cloud of shadow before her eyes. Her mind was too exhausted from the struggle. She could only focus on the grassy earth beneath her.
##5.1##
Nara woke with the sensation of lead weights pressing against her limbs. She pulled her eyes open to find herself lying on the ground, entangled within a pile of the sleeping bodies of her units.
They tried to commune with me. A nervous spasm lashed against her spine. I hope they didn’t see…
Ara’yulthr didn’t dream in their sleep like she did, but perhaps her mind was left open for those to enter through guided meditation. On the few occasions she did rest while on command, she kept herself far away from sight to hide her affliction. It would have demoralized them to see her weakness.
She gently slipped her arms from underneath her captors, uncurling her body upright to greet the light of day shining through the trees. Kestra was several yards ahead, sitting on a felled trunk, huddled over in contemplation. After slithering out of her entrapment, she cautiously approached the warlord.
“Can you still trust me?” Nara whispered, hugging herself. “After what has been done?”
They straightened their back, keeping their gaze on the horizon. “Jav’ril absorbed your units until I was able to take over. I wish I could say I earned that responsibility under more deserving circumstances.”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched them closely. They sighed a shaky breath as shame shuddered their form.
“I fought against Abberon in the tournaments,” Kestra began. “They implemented bio warfare against us. A voracious virus that decimated our ranks.”
Their gaze intensified, their jaw protesting the recounting of the tale. Nara stood patiently as they gathered the courage to speak again. “It was horrendous and gruesome. The screams coming from the med bays are something I will never forget. I saw my comrades… Jav’ril was one of the first…”
They blinked back the tears welling around their eyes, taking a moment to recompose themself. Their voice hushed to a rasp. “Their skin cracked open, peeled away from their bodies and sloughing off in gelatinous lumps. Their plates just… fell off like they were scabs. And their eyes… their eyes just melted away into hollow bloody sockets. Seeing Jav’ril like that, I just couldn’t…”
Tears disobeyed their master’s command, flowing freely as they choked out Kestra’s voice. They buried their face in their hands, their nails digging into their scalp.
Anger cinched Nara’s jaw. It was a horrifying trick to play, but she expected no better from Abberon.
“We were able to contain it, but I was left alone to command. So I…” They hesitated, sliding a shaking fist to their mouth. “I commissioned the largest warhead known to us from alien technology, then set off on a ship of my own. Destroyed the mainframe facility. That was the objective, after all.”
Nara gently slid next to them on the log while their piercing eyes stared through the trees. Moments passed as she watched them assess their memories. The breeze chimed through the leaves, the glinting movements derailing Kestra from their thoughts. They inhaled a cleansing breath to steel themselves for the account.
“It was overkill. By a gross magnitude. I did not realize it then. Nearly half the continent was absorbed in fire. After the fall, I landed on the top of the tallest hill and watched them burn. Reveled in it, even.” Their knuckles faded to a bright pallor as their clenched fists trembled. “I thought Ӧtmarr would grant me relief. Serving the exact as they had inflicted upon us. But it was horrific. Even though I had won, I could feel Abberon’s glee. And the cost…”
Nara looked at her feet, unsure of what to make of their confession. It pulled against everything she had taught them, pulled at what she thought were her principles. But it also left her wondering. Why did she feel this way?
“Thinking back to the time I served tournaments under you, I thought it fine when it was just me who died. But they suffered.” They turned their mournful eyes to her. “You were right.”
She inhaled heavily, digging a toe in the soil. “You did what you thought was right. And in a way, you stopped more suffering by his hand. You are also aware of the cost of your actions.”
They nodded solemnly. “After the tournament, Abberon was brought to the Council to explain himself. They simply said they wanted to show us what we were up against in the outside universe. And that we needed to be prepared.”
That sounds exactly like Abberon. Her molars began to grind the flesh of her cheek. “And what happened to you?”
“I withdrew myself from all activities, social, training. Everything. But despite mine and the Council’s protests, Jav’ril appointed me Warlord. He said I had learned from this experience and would be a wise leader.” Their voice almost mocked the assessment. “I never led a tournament during my command. I didn’t miss much. They were closed soon after the dissension, anyway.”
She couldn’t blame him for being reserved after a game gone sour. While the tournaments were just a simulation, they had realistic consequences, shoving the burden of moral responsibility to the players. It made the leaders restrained in their actions, as the simulation had the power to leave grievous scars.
Kestra looked over at the pile of snoozing soldiers. “Like you, I kept them busy. Distracted from what was going on up high since I didn’t have answers. The Council kept me at arm’s reach, afraid of my association with you.”
They collected their thoughts, running their fingers along the indentations of the bark they were sitting on. It was the sort of tribulation Nara wanted to protect them from. But she’d learned now that she could not bear that burden forever. No one would ever grow.
“I suppose what I am trying to say is, I let my anger guide my actions, and others paid dearly for it.” They raised their head to the sky. “I know you wouldn’t do anything out of malice. And for that, you have my utmost admiration.”
“I appreciate the sentiment.” She leaned into his shoulder. “And I understand the trial. I am sorry it had to come to that.”
They shrugged. “It’s something I will have to live with. The past is there. Now we have to deal with the present.”
“What would you suggest?” Nara inquired.
“I don’t have much experience dealing with the Co
uncil head on.” They tapped a finger to their lips. “But perhaps a series of unofficial visits might leave them with fewer defenses.”
“I had considered that. And right now, it’s the only action I can think of.” She turned to face him. “Thank you for trusting me. I hope to never disappoint.”
Kestra smiled softly, then looked over to the stirring mass as the soldiers began to rise. “Perhaps you can try to speak with the Council later. We are here for a little longer. We might as well enjoy it.”
Or rather hide the severity of the situation from them, Nara thought morbidly. Some things will never change.
##5.2##
The current theory agreed upon by most Councilors of the Anthropology Division is that our kind have evolved from the Charr’Kanth approximately twenty millennia ago. Like us, the creature changes its coloration during maturity, morphing from the pastels of the grasses to the purple red tones of the trees.
The Charr’Kanth were omnivorous creatures, catching flighted insects and smaller animals in the trees as well as partaking of the fruits and leaves grown by the foliage.
The screen inside the reading corner displayed a tank-like quadrupedal creature, its back segmented in thick, rounded plates that appeared as if roughly chiseled from rock. All four legs were covered similarly, with divisions of thick, leathery skin separating its joints. It had an almost cat-like head and an elongated muzzle with a jaw filled with daggers.
While it was a large creature, it did not compare to the vast majority of the Apex predators it shared the world with. Its plating was used as a tempting decoy, either letting a hunter bite the large target of its back or tempt them to turn it over, allowing its clawed hands to slash exposed vulnerabilities.
Garrett stirred his not-so-tingly tea as he watched another creature slink into view. Its giant frame cast a looming shadow as it leaped up, snapping its jaw open wide. The hunter buried its teeth near the spine of the Charr’Kanth. It struggled with its mouth full as it attempted to heft the creature up, fangs jammed in fragments of the Charr’Kanth’s plating.
Paying no mind to its predicament, the Charr’Kanth lashed out at the ankle of the hunter. Blood whipped off its claws as it severed the tendons of its captor in a messy display. A screeching yelp of pain later, the Charr’Kanth dropped to the ground with a thunderous stomp of its feet. It belted out a mighty roar as its foe limped back into the forest.
Evidence from geological examination and extraction sites have charted a progression in the development of the original creature. Fossil evidence also shows that a global migration did not occur until several stages of development.
A chart of evolutionary advancement stretched into view, lines separating gaps in a timeline spanning thousands of years between each specimen. As the creature developed, it began to lose the density of its armor, swapping out protection for mobility. Eventually, it began to stand upright and its claws and muzzle shrank into the modern Ara’yulthr.
The first of our kind were hunters and gatherers, traveling the equator of the planet since it offered everything needed from sustenance to shelters. But predators were still a major obstacle against survival, and a separate class of fighters developed a rudimentary form of martial arts to defend themselves.
A lush streambed overgrown with vines and ferns coated the moist earth. Beasts of varying pointiness grazed at the drinking hole to refresh their needs. Smaller creatures zipped through the air on leathery wings, squeaking out calls to the rest of their flock. The serenity of the scene quickly shattered as the water began to ripple.
Garrett jumped in his seat as a maw of fangs the size of swords leaped from the surface, snatching the neck of a hapless drinker. The poor victim was quickly pulled into the stream in a surge of bubbles. Those that witnessed the attack scattered, letting out whoops and cries as a warning to others.
With the numerous casualties and low birth rates, a discipline of herbalists emerged, developing medicine and practices to treat wounds and ailments. From them, their apprentices began recording remedies, since the survival of their teachers was never for certain. They used dried reeds and sap from plants to form paper, and the fruits of nearby plants made rich inks. A pictographic language developed, which quickly evolved into shorthand to expedite communication.
What could only be described as a witch’s hut came into view, complete with clay campfire ovens and pots strewn all over the floor. Plants hung in neat rows all over the ceiling of the makeshift cavern, drying for future concoctions.
An herbalist walked into view, picking bits and bobs from the dried gardens and tossing them into a bubbling pot. Their acolyte sat next to the fire, meticulously recording every single action their master performed.
Relations between distant clans and families were always amenable. When they encountered each other out in the wilderness, they exchanged recipes and writing arts in addition to new tools and technologies for defense.
As the logs and records of recipes magnified, another dedicated group of individuals were required to maintain the collective. One master was tasked to be caretaker for the mobile libraries, the title now known as Loremaster. They appointed travelers to migrate between families to make sure all information was synchronized.
A traveler walked into an official’s office, their backpack overflowing with scrolls and bottles. The room resembled an elegant war room, a massive carved wooden table surrounded by endless shelves of meticulously placed tomes. The librarian greeted them warmly and helped unpack the information from their guest. After the messenger’s cargo was unrolled over the tabletop, the master analyzed the precious information.
With an approving nod, the master turned to select a book from the shelf, opening it to compare the two documents. They scrawled a few notes on the margin of the book, chatting with their guest amicably.
The records grew, and so did the need to settle. Farming and cultivating techniques were developed, adding yet another task for the record keepers. Information transportation advanced into more detailed processes as the continents drifted across the globe, adding new challenges to the already massive project.
Wooden ships occupied by librarians sailed across the screen, the crew hauling cases upon cases of locked chests and canvas bags brimming with parchment. The camera flew to a bird's-eye view of the craft, the ship shrinking as it soared into the sky. Land masses spread across the view as the planet shrank to a pinhead.
A seam split the earth apart as it rolled open into a flat sheet. Dashed lines traced the borders of the continents, separating the territory of thirteen clans in vibrant colors.
The librarians and scientists worked together to advance the efficiency of their needs, and the defenders morphed into crafters, the smiths and farmhands who worked with the scientists to make sure they were protected from the elements. They can be compared to a Monk class, where most of the youth and middle aged spent their time. Eventually, they developed formal combat styles to detract wandering predators, evolving into a written guide for self-improvement.
Scores of soldiers gathered at the flat plains of an outdoor arena. A perfectly symmetrical grid of observers stood in attention, watching the combatants in the sparring grounds. Combatants performed beautifully choreographed feats of agility and strength, fearlessly clashing with their opponents using a variety of wooden weaponry.
Garrett stared at the performance. He was used to seeing Nara swiftly dodge dangerous situations, but the thought of more people sharing her skills was unfathomable. A twinge of inadequacy wrinkled his lips.
Eventually, the Capital was formed, and a centralized location was chosen to house every piece of information. The Loremaster’s role became the primary beacon of order and experiencer, influencing the flow of government in addition to ensuring proper record keeping.
The scientists divided their efforts, developing branches dedicated to each specific field. They developed into a governing body of their own, reporting their findings and inventing new conveniences to daily
life readily accessible to every citizen.
The splendor of the capital city rose into view. Towers that mimicked the trees oversaw affairs from every aspect of the planet, land, sea, and sky. The sun rose behind the tallest pillar, cascading its brilliance around the monolith.
“That is the World Council Chambers,” Prism interjected. “That is where all branches of government congregate to discuss the issues of society.”
Technology developed into the backbone of production and lifestyle, eventually emerging into the societal norms of today. Knowledge skyrocketed as people from other planets began to visit. With the vast resources and medical technologies that were available to them, trade relationships flourished.
Ships from every nameable galactic civilization flew into view as the sun darkened to a star-studded sky. Engines hummed as the fleets gently glided to the twinkling buoys stretching beyond the planet’s orbit.
While most traders offered weaponry and other chemicals alone, we took them graciously to understand what the galaxy outside would be like. From the need of defense arising, the three councils arose, monitoring the progress of each aspect of the planet’s defense, science, and knowledge.
The projection flickered away in streaks, revealing the cozy reading hideaway.
“Well,” Prism began. “That is the abridged version of our history, of course, but there are plenty of events and nuances we can discuss at a later time.”
“I am sure of it.” Garrett hid his snark inside his teacup.
They ignored his tone. “Was there anything you wanted further details on?”
His irritation colored his thoughts. He had dreamed of this for so long as a child, to get a glimpse of how others lived besides the superficial lights of his decadent home world. Now that he had infinite knowledge at his fingertips, he found it all overwhelming. Prism’s bombastic personality didn’t help, but it wasn’t their fault. It was just the way they functioned.