Ladies and gentlemen of the literature section, welcome! This is the thread for my prequel to A Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale, which is written by Kmandy. You can check that out here.
But what is this story, you may ask?
Well, it still works as a standalone story, but to get the full value out of it, I would recommend reading at least some of FAAR, as it directly follows several main (and supporting) characters from this universe in the lead up to its events. The story focuses on Astro, at the start a young magician, and tells the tale through his perspective. This includes the first origins of the entire gang in Zinecraft, to the eventual exodus to Vanillacraft (after a number of other chapters.)
The status of the story is still a work in progress. Last year, I wrote the first two chapters, then went on a hiatus from the project due to other commitments. As it is, writing currently may be slow due to exams that I have coming up. The next two chapters are currently complete (and I'm sure you can see the difference in my writing style between then and now, as well - I will be touching up the first two chapters a bit at a later date.)
Without further ado, I present to you The Tale of Gaia Before Gaia!
I've put together a teaser for the story - this is an event that occurs much later than in the initial chapters however - there are no direct spoilers but when I've written those chapters, it's very like that this will be incorporated into one of them.
The Parts
This one is just a teaser, and can be read quickly. Astro meets his match.
I hurry up the stone steps towards the center of the arena, the blood that I’ve had no choice but to spill drying on my hands. I grip my iron sword tightly, though its blade is not yet red with the innocent blood I’ve managed to spill.
Magic leaves few traces, except those on my soul itself.
At the final step, I’m exhausted. Two days in the arena would be enough to drive any man mad, and I fear that I am no exception. I am one of two who remain in this, the bloodiest of Vechs’ games, where only the slaves and those unlucky enough to have angered him end up.
In the center is what I’ve been hoping for. The portal that will take me out of this place, to freedom, once and for all. But of course, it could never be that simple. It’s unlit, the beacon signifying its location still transmitting. Before me stands the final obstacle. The final contestant in the games.
His hands are covered in blood, his brow with sweat. Dark, cold eyes stare me down. I keep a firm grasp on my sword, although it is likely to prove useless in the confrontation. He is heavily muscled and strongly built, unlike my own slight frame. This could get ugly if I don’t end it quickly. My leather tunic feels heavy as I lock eyes and prepare for war.
I make a pre-emptive first strike with magic, hoping to incapacitate him so I can end this mess. I strain from the raw concentration of blocking his electrical impulses, making him unable to move. At first, I think it works. He doesn’t move.
Burning pain pierces my arm, a huge wound you would need a mace to inflict materialising before my eyes. My knees buckle, and I desperately redirect energy to heal the wound, my vision going white.
And then, he speaks.
“Did you honestly think we would let you win, Astro? With the threat you pose to Lord Vechs? We sent you to the arena to die. We were hoping that someone else would finish the job for us, but that doesn’t seem likely. This is your final chance. Submit. Submit, or I shall end your pathetic time on this Earth. Submit.”
So that’s it…I was foolish to think that I could escape. After all this, I was only a pawn in a game too large for my own understanding. They sent a sorcerer in after me, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be able to defend myself from a magical attack at this point.
“How does it feel, Astro? How does it feel, all that pain and suffering you caused, to have it coursing out of your veins as we speak?”
The wound isn’t healing.
I’ve escaped before. I’ve been in more near-death experiences than many of my companions. If only they could see how truly destroyed I am now. Would their opinions change? Kay, and Aaron, would you spit and be on your way? For I cannot fight this as I am.
As I am…
I lock eyes with the sorcerer once more, desperately trying to stop his flow of energy that keeps my wound open. Blood loss will kill me in less than two minutes if I don’t do something. I prepare to give up hope and let the brute force of magic overrun me, if merely to take my killer with me. And as I do, I notice the slight aura behind the sorcerer, only visible to those who can use magic.
He’s weak. They’re supplying him with energy. If I can cut off the supply or tap into it myself, I can still win this. Maybe I care less about getting out and more about showing them that I will not submit to their ways at this point, but it’s as good a motivation as any.
I shut my eyes and focus, trying to sense the source of energy. It comes from above. The beacon beam. Of course. Pushing my limits, I force myself to ignore my injury and instead will the beacon to smash.
Within a split second, it’s gone, and I feel the pressure cease as the gash in my arm goes numb.
My opponent is dumbstruck, but he doesn’t have that expression for long. Without hesitation, and without mercy, he dashes towards me, eager to land the final blow before I can respond.
My energy exhausted, I turn to face him, for this will be the most fair fight I’ve ever had.
The ZineCraft Chapters
Chapter 1: A strange acquaintance with familiar qualities. (Title change incoming.)
The hull of the boat glides across the crystalline surface of the water, sending ripples out in every direction. Just beyond the misty horizon is my destination. Zinecraft. With every second I get closer, and anticipation grows. I’m just one of many to come to the thriving land, hoping to make their fortune as previous others have. I’ve received letters from my friend of many years, Aaron, who spoke of gold, diamonds, and untold riches in the fabled land. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Aaron in person. My livelihood as an intellectual has been made redundant in my homeland. Not even with magic can I support myself now.
So I did the only logical thing I could. I packed up what little material possessions I was to bring; my trusty iron sword, pickaxe, and a photo album given unto me by my mother. The precious memento is the one thing that links me to my heritage. I was, and am to this day, alone.
Coming closer, I begin to make out various features of the landscape. A thriving seaside town, complete with coastal defenses; a show of just how well off the people of Zinecraft are. However, something catches my eye: the prosperity lighthouse. A sign that all are welcome, and that there will be freedom and wellbeing for all, no matter who they may be.
I stride powerfully down the uneven gangplank towards my fate, and as I do so I note the caliber of my travelling companions. One seems very familiar to me, though I can’t quite place him. Purple and white clothes with a glum expression on his face. How uninspired.
My first thought upon setting foot on Zinecraft soil is that it’s evening, and I’m hungry as well as tired. My limbs are exhausted. Just because I was travelling did not necessarily make me a passenger, and indeed I had been taken on as a hired hand for the journey that brought me here. I explore the local area for a few minutes before finding the inn my contact in Arcadia had mentioned. The outside looked akin to a picture I saw before I left. Indeed, the not-so-grand windows and the drawn blinds only add to the menacing aura it emanates. Perfect. With a groan I drag my tired limbs through the entrance.
The inn itself is small and cosy. There are several warriors on the far side of the room, trying to settle who was in fact, “the bomb.” I sigh, but smile as I upset the drink the loudest is swigging from across the room without lifting a finger. I notice the drain in my already depleted strength, and for a second I worry that I may have gone one too far. However, the look on the face of the warrior is priceless. One suppressed snigger later as the warriors begin fighting, and I start conversing with the rotund innkeeper.
“Yes, I’d like to book a room for this evening.”
“I’m sorry, you haven’t reserved a room, sir.”
“But you have rooms spare?”
“Well technically yes, but-“
“I don’t care. I’ll only be one night, and I’m tired from a good day’s work.”
“Sir, it would be unorthodox for me to offer-“
I lower my voice conspiratorially, and get up off the barstool. It was uncomfortable anyway. I dwarf the smaller figure of the innkeeper, but not by too much. The look of intimidation on his face leaves little to be interpreted.
“I have just spent the last 3 days toiling on a ship that I believe was linked to your business, good sir. What I decided to ‘ignore’ was the collection of soon-to-be-slave prisoners kept in the hold. Say I was to spend the night out on the street instead. What if an authority were to come along, and ask me what I was doing? Would you be happy if I were to tell said authority what had happened to me? The choice is yours, good friend.”
His intimidated look at first becomes terrified, followed by anger.
“You can’t!” he simply retorts.
But he’s already lost the argument, and he knows it.
“Room key, please.”
It wasn’t a request. It was an order. He grimaces, but hands me the rusted key.
“Get out by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Cheers.”
I ascend the stairs with a sigh, the pommel of my sword rubbing against my thigh. I knew I’d need to look at that. The room is bland and uninteresting, with a sea view. Sitting on the bedside table is a newspaper, clearly just a local spreadsheet but still useful for catching up with what’s going on. The bed is warm and comfortable, and better than the hammock I’ve just spent 3 nights on. With a sigh, I settle down and hope for a better tomorrow before falling to sleep.
***
I awake in less of a calm state. Pointed straight at my throat is a bright blue sword, glistening in the morning light of the sun. The thug holding it is muscular, and his two eyebrows are so long that they’re like two lovers, desperately trying to reach each other, but not quite forming the depressing monobrow. An expression of malice litters his face, but he doesn’t give the best impression of himself as a mercenary, considering there are still stains from the inn’s “continental” breakfast on his white shirt. I would have laughed if it wasn’t for the innkeeper sitting on the stool in the corner, bow trained on my neck.
“Well, what can I do for you two gents?” I question, rhetorically of course.
“I’m afraid you know too much about our little operation,” replied the innkeeper.
The enthusiasm of his voice extinguishes any hope of some kind of compromise. The side of myself I had shown the previous evening is a side I aim to avoid.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid I don’t have any money to give you.” I neglect to mention the wallet stuffed full of notes hastily shoved into my pocket last night. It was a good move. I do legitimately want to know why he didn’t kill me in my sleep, however. It would have been so easy.
“So why am I not dead?”
“You’re weak. I can tell by the way you talk.”
Wrong answer.
“I think you’ve made a mistake then.”
As I say this, the hired hand in front of me cringes in pain, while the innkeeper’s bow catches fire.
“What…are you…?” he stammers in fright.
“Oh, me? I’m just weak.”
Whilst the innkeeper flails about in pain, I take advantage of his turmoil and jump out of the window before he can recover. What a moron. I walk down the street, regretting the actions that these extremes have pushed me to. But I have to keep going, as everyone does. In fact, maybe I will have ended at least one branch of the slave trade here today. Without an employer, the mercenary ships will probably just release the slaves.
That possibility is heartwarming.
I’m already tired from having used magic, so I trudge down the street to find somewhere that will serve me breakfast. It’s a lovely day, with not a cloud in the sky, and I can’t help smiling as I bring my hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s rays.
The promenade itself is very pretty. It reminds me of a bustling main street, sans the angry brawls people seem to get into everywhere else, and the litter. I hated the litter in my old home.
I find a café and sit down, ordering a glass of milk and cereal from the waitress who seems utterly baffled by my request, until I point out that the café does serve breakfast according to the menu. She jets off, and I take a look at the newspaper I found earlier.
The front headline reads in bold typeface “LONG TIME CRIMINAL FINALLY CAPTURED.”
I’m momentarily intrigued, before I realise that it’s just more of the True Court’s propaganda. I suppress a chuckle, drawing the eyes of a few other patrons of the café, but I don’t care. They had been lying about this for a long time; the ‘criminal’ in question used to be simply an urban legend. It had developed into more than that, and I’d heard the stories from my fellow travellers about the possibility of his presence within Zinecraft. It doesn’t really affect me, so long as my magical ability remains. Still, teleporting is more of a last resort; it leaves me bedridden for days to use my magic like that.
Flicking through the newspaper, I don’t see anything of note until a small headline on the third page. “Apprentice to Emperor Ghostly WANTED.” A quick skim of the ad reveals he wants an apprentice to instruct in the ways of magic. Well. I secretly thank the fourth wall, and scan the newspaper for anything else of value.
Nothing…except…what’s this?
“Today an aviator was arrested for petty theft of a goose near the capital city. It is reported that the goose is still missing, despite the aviator being captured. When the aviator was questioned on his motives, he simply said “This is a free country, and we are able to take these resources if they are not owned by anyone. Is this not true?”” The rest of the article appears to be government propaganda, but what I do notice is the picture.
The aviator arrested, yes. The man standing beside him, and shouting down the media, though? That would be Aaron. A low-level goose thievery team? I shake my head and let out a chuckle. I thought better of him. If he was going to steal something, he could’ve at least gone for gold or diamonds, rather than a goose.
That was Aaron all right though, and I catch myself smiling. So I know where I’m going now. First and foremost, find Aaron. I now know I should be able to find him near the capital city.
I look up from my paper as my cereal arrives. It’s surprisingly bland, but at least it’s not poisoned. After having eaten, I take my leave from the café and move on. Walking through the side streets of the settlement is interesting. Everywhere you look, you can see a street performer, a busker, or more worryingly, a beggar. One man, with dirt encrusted teeth and a lazy eye hobbles towards me with difficulty.
“Please…sir…” he rasps.
I hand him a note from my wallet. He needs it more than I do.
“May you have good fortune evermore,” I bless him, and continue walking on.
The man starts to follow me. Slightly wary of a trap, I turn with a raised eyebrow and assert my case.
“I don’t have anything more I can give you.”
“Please, take me with you. I’ve been here for longer than you’ve been alive. Even just take me to a hospital,” he pleads, and something in his eyes speaks to me more than his words ever could.
The ghettos in any place are not desirable to live in. This man seems like there is more to him than meets the eye. No one should end up in the filth and infection riddled area that the ghettos are. The decision is an easy one.
With a smile, I turn to the man.
“Okay, let’s go. Just be careful, there are criminals everywhere.”
We begin walking, but only a short while later, the old man begins to groan and complain.
“My back…really hurts.”
I stare into his eyes and I know I’m going to regret my actions. I take a look at the red welts on his back hesitantly. It’s bad. They’re infection riddled and he’ll probably die in a few days. Two emotions come to mind…mercy, and kindness.
I could kill the man, and end his suffering.
Or I could heal him. The latter option would definitely make it impossible for me to travel quickly, let alone use magic again for a while. Even so, I feel the need to atone for the damage I’ve caused to the coastal port, and maybe this would be an appropriate way to make amends.
“Hold still.”
He stops and doesn’t move, but I can tell he is scared.
“Just relax.”
I move my palm over his wounds gently, and direct energy from my body to treat his welts and destroy the infection.
“Agh-“
This…my strength is fading…was this advisable?
Just as I’m about to pass out, I feel myself losing no more energy.
I open my eyes to find him standing before me, marveling at his back. The welts are gone. There’s no more infection.
“There…you go,” I stammer, barely managing to force the words out. He doesn’t say anything. He just offers me an arm, and I take it. I hobble along the street, supported by the man I just saved.
I feel happy that my deed was able to help the man, but it also scared me. Improper use of magic can kill any sorcerer with ease. All you have to do is start and it can all be over. Magic itself is the manipulation of the world around you through mental power rather than physical exertion. Rather than swinging a sword or drawing a bow, you can incapacitate an opponent simply by making a small cut in the spinal cord, or damaging organs from the inside. Very few are blessed with the power of magic, and those who are end up being killed off by those around them, or by their own hands.
Fear is a powerful thing.
I stumble over a rock, but I’m not alone. The man offers me a hand, and I take it.
I’m not alone, at least for now.
***
Some time later, he and I are walking upon an overgrown path out of the city. It’s only a short time later that I notice I’ve gone too far ahead of him, and so I backtrack to find him resting against the cobbled stone wall.
“We need to get going, you know. There are people looking for me.”
“You never told me your name.”
Despite everything, I am still hesitant to reveal my name to this man, in the unlikely event that my history has followed me here. He takes my silence as a chance to switch to a different line of inquiry.
“How did you fix my back?”
I suppose I can’t lie about my blatant use of magic here.
“I used magic. I’ve been blessed with magic and I’m only an amateur. But I can do a few different things.”
I chuckle, as if to say “No big deal.”
His eyes light up, and there’s something there that I hadn’t seen before. Loyalty? Or maybe something more sinister?
The sunset is clearly near, and we’ve been walking for a while. I pose the question of accommodation.
“Do you know if there’s somewhere we can stay for the night?”
“We’re in luck. There’s a field we could use as a campsite to the East, if we continue for a little while.”
Thankful for his knowledge of the area, I give a sigh of relief.
“Brilliant. It won’t be comfortable, but at least we’re less likely to get attacked in such a remote location.”
The rest of our trek, it seems, will be through the woods.
As I walk through, I amuse myself trying to identify the trees present. That knowledge feels like it’s from a previous life. Regardless, it’s important to know your environment; if you’re ever in peril, knowing what can and cannot be relied on to help you will decide your survival in most cases.
Trudging through the thick grass, we make our way towards the campsite. It’s a simple clearing in the centre of the woods. The moon casts an illuminating glow over the clearing, and I briefly consider settling down here for good. It seems so peaceful. The promise of a peaceful life is indeed one I’d consider. But not for long.
We collect firewood, and set up a camp. The old man is surprisingly competent. Maybe you learn more than I’d have originally thought, just from living in the ghettos.
We lie under the stars, and I notice a lack of pressure in the pocket where I keep my wallet. I’m not going to get very far without it, so I decide to venture out and hope that it hasn’t gone far.
“Hey, I can’t find my wallet. I’m going to go look for it. I’ll be right back.”
He nods, and tries to find a comfortable position to sleep in, failing and ending up curling up like a kitten. The sight is oddly comical.
Venturing through the forest at night isn’t easy, even with magic to aid your sight, but without it, this is hell. How do they survive without magic?
Before too long, my stylish leather wallet presents itself to me not far from our makeshift camp. Aaron frequently mocked me for my bad fashion sense, but look who just managed to find their wallet?
I pause, an unknown sound coming to my attention. The sound of movement through the underbrush.
I am not alone here.
Without light, I stand no chance of fighting off an attacker, so I take off back to our fire as fast as I can push myself. I’m already exhausted from today’s events, but this is too much. My attacker is hot on my heels, and I can hear them getting closer every second.
Muscle fatigue begins to set in, and my vision begins to go hazy as I struggle to keep up my physical exertion just as I approach the campfire.
I step to the side and spin to get a good look at the assailant, but before I can think about retaliating, there’s a dagger to my throat, wielded by none other than my travelling companion.
Betrayal. It was to be expected and planned for, and yet I did not. I wonder what they promised him. Money, titles, or perhaps some other great ‘honour?’ To me, they’re mostly superfluous anyway.
The scourge of my pursuit quickly speaks up.
“Well, well, you thought that you could run away from us? That you could take down an empire by killing one man?”
“I might ask you some similar questions,” I quip back, utterly unimpressed by his routine.
My remark catches him off guard, and I quickly focus on incapacitating the old man. The dagger clatters to the floor, and I give the assailant a quick smile before punching him square in the face.
Sometimes, it’s more satisfying to do things the old fashioned way. Blood spurts from his nose, and he falls back, unconscious and close to death. I think about helping the old man, but he has made his choice.
I take a step back, and bolt for the trees so that I may find a safe place to wait out the night. Meanwhile, I have plenty to think about.
Why did I actually enjoy that?
My ‘fresh start’ is a disaster. Magic is risky, not just because you can kill yourself using it, but you can lose yourself using it. It’s a well-known fact that most sorcerers ended up using their magic for bad, instead of for good.
Tomorrow will be better.
~End of Part 1~
Chapter 2: The Road Ahead is Long.
It’s a new day. That doesn’t exactly mean it’s a good day. I rise, completely exhausted from the exertions of the previous day. I need food or I’m going to die. What a start that would be. Dead within two days on Zinecraft soil. At least I could be proof of the propaganda being wrong that way.
In the search for water, I find a small well, made of hewn stone and a wooden bucket, and pull up a substance comparable to liquid gold in my situation. I drink, and feel much better than before. I should really learn to control water better with my magic. Who knows when I’ll need to wash my enemies away with a tidal wave? I try to manipulate the water at the bottom of the well, and laugh as tiny ripples form. Tidal wave my foot.
I set off from my campsite at a steady pace, leaving the unconscious man and Locus’ corpse behind. I guess I can’t repress the questions raised by the actions of last night. Why did the man come for me? Why did he kill Locus? How did I manage to knock him out using pure mental instinct? These questions claw at my mind, refusing to leave me alone until I answer them.
I leave the forest, and end up back on the dirty track. The forest on one side, the meadow on the other, I set off, continuing my journey. As I walk, I start to solve my mental conundrums.
First things first…why am I being hunted down? I’ve barely been here a day and a half and I’ve already got the law of the land looking for me. I think, with a bit of luck, I could probably talk my way out of it and set the record straight, but I did just knock a man unconscious. So why…? Use of magic isn’t exactly strict, although in many places it is unheard of. Surely they wouldn’t believe the liar innkeeper?
But they’re afraid. Of course. Afraid of what I could do to them. I’m only a novice, with no endurance. I’m not a threat. And they have their own sorcerer besides, their leader, Ghostly. If I’m a threat, why not have him kill me? All these questions raised seem to be the unwelcome offspring of only one of the questions I have to answer. I guess my brain will be their chew toy for a while yet.
Why Locus was killed continues to baffle me. His death was completely unnecessary. Perhaps he was questioned, and even tried to defend me? I feel terrible about Locus. I barely knew the man, and he potentially saved my life. What if that knife had ended up in my back instead? I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact that I have blood on my hands. I’m hoping it’ll be the last time it comes to that, but something tells me this won’t be the last time I’ll be responsible for the death of a friend.
How I managed to disrupt his consciousness with instinct alone worries me, more than baffles me. I’ve used magic on instinct before, and indeed it has even saved my life in the past. But it worries me that I can be such an uncontrolled and destructive force. Being honest with myself, I need to think of some way to control my magic. Some way that doesn’t involve those mysterious shackles they put on dark magicians. Those are the last things I need at the moment.
With my mind in a worse state than it was previously was, I survey my surroundings for the first time in a while. The seaside town is a long ways behind me know, having vanished over the horizon. The only thing in either direction is the road. A glint catches my eye, and the source comes into focus as I tilt my head. I pick up the fake jewelry and grimace. A well-placed prank. Touché, scoundrels.
Wait…they’re still here…
“Put your hands in the air.”
The voice is remarkably high. It reminds me of an entertainer that had provided about half the reason for my leaving my homeland. I can’t quite remember his name. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t, lest I end up finding his music later on.
I slowly move my hands to the air, still holding the faux gold.
“What can I do for you, young man?”
He steps into view, but there’s no taunting or jeering. I guess “young man” just served to make him angry. Well done Astro, well done.
“I’m not a ‘young man’, you infantile moron. I’ve got you on your knees and you’re going to give me your money.”
“I’m not on my knees, last time I checked I was standing up and was taller than you.”
“It was figurative.”
“I figure that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His momentary distraction towards my mind games is all I need to punch him in the face. He crumples to the ground. No one will care.
“Kids these days…” I sigh, and continue on.
Twilight has just fallen as the capital city comes into view.
The sign reads “Zinecraft Capital City.” Wow. Just wow. I thought it had a name! Ghostly, you have failed me as a leader…
Disregarding the lack of a name, I walk up to the gates. The guard hails me, shouting, “What’s your business in the Capital?”
His voice is gruff, but I can tell he’s tired and just wants a good nights sleep for a change.
“I come seeking a new beginning, and to look for the friend that invited me here.”
Apparently my explanation for my situation was not enough, as a sniper trains his bow on me from his position in one of the guard towers.
The guard gestures tiredly, doing his job but giving the impression he’d rather be anywhere than here at this moment.
“Do you have evidence?”
I pull out one of the letters Aaron had sent me; the only remaining letter. I toss it to the guard and he catches it lazily. After a quick skim read, I can see him visibly tense.
“Is that the bloke that was with the aviator who was charged with stealing the goose?”
I loathe admitting that I’m associated with such people in this scenario, but I guess I have no choice.
“Yes. That would be the man.”
He bursts out laughing and his colleague promptly takes over as he leaves the guard tower, presumably to find something to wipe his eyes with. The second guard speaks up.
“Well…I’m sure my colleague’s verification of your identity,” he says, trying not to laugh, “has told you what you wanted to hear. You’re allowed to enter.” The gates promptly open, and I shoot the guard a friendly wave. He calls me back for a second.
“We’ve now got the geese on lockdown, so don’t try anything funny.”
He sniggers as his colleague returns. I take the opportunity to make his trousers fall off into the road, without him realising the true culprit.
“I won’t, officer. You can count on me,” I say, calmly and confidently. It takes him a second to mentally process what just happened, but the gates have already closed by the time he thinks to shout after me. Aaron owes me for that.
The city itself is impressive. There are smaller establishments, though none look like the inhabitants are anything less than well off, surrounding the huge metropolis in the distance. The road heads directly to the center of the city. Interesting choice of design, but in the case of a siege, it can only cause the undoing of the city.
So I begin my leisurely stroll among the buildings. The stars above cast a pleasant aura around this place. There are a few names I recognise on various billboards; entertainers from my past. More worryingly, one of the billboards boasts the slogan “IMMIGRANTS OUT” in large letters, with art of a boat full of what I suspect are immigrants being sent out into the sea to burn, and people of Zinecraft cheering on the coastline.
Things like that make me sick, not at least because the hate crime is directed at me. What happened to Zinecraft, the land of the free, of riches, of a place where anyone is welcome?
At this time I’ve ended up in the middle of the city. All around me are scanty ads, propaganda, and shops. There is one thing left to comfort me, however, and upon sight of it I visibly relax. Free food. A noise from my stomach confirms my destiny, and I rush towards the fabled farm complex.
Aaron had told me of this. The food was supplied completely for free by the Administrator, Ghostly, and his two colleagues. I enter the room, and have to shield my eyes from the sight ahead. Rows, and rows, and rows of free melons. Normally I’d turn my nose up and go for steak, but being in the wilderness with no food does something to a man I won’t soon forget. I take the nearest watermelon, and split it into 8 equal slices with a quick burst of magic. Oh, it’s the little things most people miss out on. They’re definitely the most satisfying.
After having satisfied my hunger, I stand up cautiously. Around me are two guards, with spears pointed straight at my chest. Rather than tensing up and preparing to fight the two guards, I simply relax. The guards themselves don’t seem to be eager to stab me, besides.
“Hello, what can I do for you?” I query, but they don’t speak. Instead, the farm complex goes dark, and even with enhanced vision, I can barely make out what’s going on around me.
“Welcome.” The voice comes from the other side of the complex, and it exudes power like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The source, however, is unknown to me.
The complex illuminates, and I find myself standing before a man. No, not just a man. This is a sorcerer. I can feel his magic emanating from him: a star in dark space. His face is young, but I can tell of many years of experience written there, despite the deceptive youth. Blue eyes, brown, short hair, and a smile that would make even the most timid person stand at ease while talking to him. His frame is lean, but muscular.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am?” he ponders, not breaking eye contact with me. I find myself afraid to break eye contact, if only because of the guards, still close enough to me to raise their spears and cut me in half should I choose not to cooperate.
“Funnily enough, I guessed. Ghostly, yes? What businesses do you have with me? I am but a humble traveller.” I think that was pretty transparent, even for me.
“You know why I’ve found you, Astro. You have the ability to use magic. And you show an unusual aptitude with it. How interesting.” I don’t deny him, though if this had been anyone else, I would have raised my objection by now.
“I lack endurance or skill though, Ghostly. I can do no harm.”
“If I thought that you were here to destroy my kingdom, slay my people, or usurp my position, you would already be dead Astro. No, I’ve come for you because I am offering you an opportunity. There comes a time where one must pass on their studies of magic, for the greater good. Despite what you see, I have endured many years, fought many battles, and learned great things. But when I am gone, what a pity it would be to waste my experience. So I decided I should become a mentor. And of anyone to be suited of wielding magic at my level, how curious that it be someone to just arrive in this land. I’d almost say it was a prophecy, but everyone knows that’s just the excuse a mentor uses to convince a pupil to join him.”
I don’t need a prophecy. I know what I’m going to say already.
“So, with that in mind, would you like to be taken on as my student in the magical arts? Of wielding the energy flow of the world around us, of manipulating those who oppose us, and gaining mental strength beyond comprehension?”
If this weren’t Ghostly I was speaking to, I’d think he was trying to sell me drugs.
“I accept,” comes my reply. I do a good job of not letting him catch on to how excited I am inside. A smile emerges on my lips, only a poor representation of how excited I really am.
“Thank you, Ghostly.”
“That’ll be Sensei from now on, Astro.”
“Yes, Sensei.”
Despite his exertion of his authority, I’m still really excited for this. It’s what I have always dreamed of: being able to use magic so freely and easily, without concern for the fact that it might kill me in the process. To become good at this will certainly help me out in the future…
I’m pulled out of my reverie by Ghostly.
“Just kidding. This isn’t a martial arts film. You knocked out one of my soldiers earlier. And you set an inn on fire. Why is that?”
His voice is gentle, not angry, and I consider lying to him. However, his mental strength far surpasses mine, and if I lie he’ll probably pick up on it and I’ll be in a far worse situation than I am now. Maybe silence is the best option.
He surveys me for a time, after having called off his guards.
“You are indeed an interesting person, Astro. You are to come to this address tomorrow at daybreak.”
He brandishes a piece of paper with “Ghostly’s Palace, 1 Ghostly Way, Capital City, Zinecraft” written on it in my face. I take it, albeit concerned that he believes that I need such guidance to find his abode.
I of course, cannot wait, but first I must find my friends.
Chapter 3: The Best Part of Any Man.
I hurry down the dark side streets and alleyways of the Capital. The skyline is barely visible, with various clotheslines and and balconies blocking it off from below. The stars are barely out anyway – dark clouds fill the sky. Occasionally, there is the dim glow from the fires I see people huddling round for warmth.
What I had heard was lies.
I keep wandering through this area. Off the beaten track is how I prefer it, anyway. Nothing could be more interesting.
I know the house the moment I arrive on its street. The sign in bold letters: “INHABITANT UNDER HOUSE ARREST” leaves little to assume. As I walk towards the house, a guard stops me, clearly assigned to prevent Aaron’s friend from leaving.
“What’s your business ‘ere?” he mutters, alcohol on his breath and his voice thick with accent.
Zinecraft hasn’t really given me a great first impression. Or a second, third or fourth for that matter.
“I’m visiting a friend I haven’t seen in a long time.”
Before I can react, his spear is pressed up against my throat. Using magic would just lead to the end of my adventure here before it could even begin. Apparently he’s not as drunk as I judged.
“I’ve ‘eard that story many times.”
The spear is thrust close to my throat. One casual movement and that’s it. I have to play this properly. I’ve got enough enemies here already.
“Tell me the truth! Or I’m going to leave yer guts splattered against the floor.”
This guy is serious. I guess it was too much to hope for that the alcohol would intoxicate him.
“My friend lives in the house with the arrest sign. I just want to see him. If you need to verify my identity as a benevolent, you need only ask Ghostly.”
At the mention of the leader of Zinecraft, the guard backs off, muttering dirty remarks under his breath.
“Be on yer way then. If ya cause trouble, I’ll make sure ya pay for it.”
He spits in my direction, and there’s nothing I can do but accept it. I turn and knock on the spruce door of Aaron’s abode.
…
No answer.
I knock harder, and through the window in the door I see a figure silhouetted against the obscure backdrop. However, I could recognise that silhouette anywhere.
“Aaron! By Notch, it’s been a long time!” I exclaim as he opens the door wide. He embraces me briefly, before standing back.
His dark hair and bright eyes remain unchanged from the last time I saw him, but he is built more muscularly than I remember. It’s hard to keep in mind all the things people without magic have to do by hand. Deadpan as ever in the face of an emotional moment, he gives a small smile then surveys me.
“You look awful. What’s happened to you?”
“Immigration happened. I’ve been walking for a long while to get here.”
“I’m glad you finally made it. Come in!”
I enter into a small room, made even smaller by the fact that there are ornaments everywhere. Of course, the elephant in the room doesn’t really help matters; the goose thief is sitting at a table, nonchalantly chewing on some poor morsel. He has wild, auburn hair, as if he had neglected to groom it or is doing some kind of ‘Movember’ gone wrong, and a face that betrays an age maybe a year younger than myself. Upon his hair is perched a pair of worn aviator goggles. He looks up, jade eyes staring me down, as if analysing me.
“You’re the one who stole that goose. In the paper.”
He doesn’t look surprised. He’s probably had enough of it over the last few days, and I don’t blame him. His expression quickly turns to a grin, and his eyes light up.
“Well, ‘twas a brilliant goose, was it not? The name’s Kay. Pleasure to meet you, mister…?”
He speaks with a slight exotic accent. Irish, perhaps?
“You need only call me Astro. It’s what everyone else calls me.”
“Astro it is then. You’re Aaron’s friend? You don’t look like an undercover officer to me.”
His wit takes me off guard, and I realise that my initial impression of Kay from the paper was probably wrong. Trust the media to disrupt anything and everything.
“The goose wasn’t that important, Kay. I had a good laugh though.”
I grin back at him, and he smiles widely.
“And I bet none of Ghostly’s officers can do this.”
I snap my fingers, and glowstone appears in front of him. He stares, dumbstruck.
“How’d you get that past contraband?” comes the retort.
“You need not worry, I didn’t smuggle anything unless you call teleporting between the dimensions illegal.”
I’m sure the interdimensional police will catch up to me one day, though. I break the awkward silence and change the subject.
“So, how did a most accomplished and professional goose thief such as yourself meet Aaron? Last I checked he was going further than geese.”
“Ah…I was hoping you would ask. ‘Twas a dark and stormy night – that is, the night before we met. The following morning, I was strolling in the woods, after having sheltered in them from the storm. Aaron was face-down in the mud a little further along. He seemed unconscious.
As I started towards him, I heard a disturbance behind me. Turning, I noticed a bandit wearing a black bandana and an earing. It was all I could do to stop myself from hurling myself at him, but he was armed, and I was unable to stop him. He swaggered towards me, and signaled to an accomplice, apparently behind me. I dared not turn. He swore, and shouted, “Another tourist for the pile.” The accomplice brought his hand round my neck and held me in place while the bandit searched me.
Without warning, the grip around my neck slackened, and whilst the bandit searched my left trouser pocket, I kneed him in the face. He fell back, furious, and I delivered a right hook to his face, before stealing his crown jewels.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet, both literally and figuratively. Aaron took the place of the accomplice, a knife under my throat.
“Who are you, and what do you want? Why did you come here?”
It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the greatest threat my life had come under. However, with no wrong done, I knew it would be bad to have lied, so I told the truth.
“I meant no harm, I was walking in the woods, and I saw you face-down, so I went towards you in the hope of being able to help. Before I could, I was ambushed by those bandits.”
“********, you were the one who knocked me out last night!”
At that point, I was unsure about how clear his memory was given that he had been assaulted to the head. I decided a little diplomacy was the way to get myself out of this situation.
“I don’t think I’m capable of knocking you out, personally. I don’t mean you any trouble.”
The knife was removed from my throat slowly, and cautiously, and I felt his presence move away from directly behind me as his shadow retreated, as if signifying my fate was not to die that day.
“You can stand up. I believe you.”
I stood up, every moment tense, waiting for an attack that never came. With a turn to face him, I asked this most curious stranger his name.
“Aaron. Aaron Ecodew is my name. One of many.””
With that, his story ends, and he sits back with a smile on his face as he recalled the memory. I found myself smiling too at the display of what became camaraderie and friendship. It is rare, in these times of complete anarchy [that are obviously not to be matched by times of greater anarchy later on,] to see such friendship born out of anything, let alone a bandit attack. Yet, something still doesn’t add up.
I turn to Aaron.
“Ecodew? That’s not your name. What kind of bull have you been selling Kay?”
Aaron looks at me a little guiltily before replying. “Actually Astro, there’s a skill I’ve recently developed. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” He pauses for dramatic effect, a cheeky grin on his face at being able to hold this moment in suspense, before he practically shouts, in a ludicrous, magician-like voice, “The art of disguise!”
I stifle a chuckle at his extravagant reveal, and Kay shoots a grin at me from behind Aaron’s back. But back to business – these two and Ghostly are my only friends here, and I need to know what they’re up to.
“Well, regardless of what name Aaron told you, it is a most thrilling tale, Kay. So tell me, aside from your occasional goose theft, what do you two do at present?”
He visibly droops at this question, before replying.
“Well, Aaron does his own thing. That is to say, odd jobs that bring in money in the most legal way possible. I have to admit we’re short on cash. Recently we’ve had to stoop to doing jobs that stray closer and closer to the line, which is where the goose incident came from, although that was a largely hilarious incident all the same. We’ve gone one too far this time though.
I help Aaron with these jobs where I can, but my own passion is the myth and legend of this world. I’ve always been interested in Herobrine and the lore that surrounds him, though that’s not everything I’ve been looking at recently. I practically lived in a library as a child, so I was exposed to this stuff at an early age.”
I nod. In truth, myths, legends and lore are something I’ve been fascinated in for a while, considering my background. I can still remember excited researchers running into my office, merely a year ago, telling me about new Historical developments. Although it interested me, I kept to studying my branch of History. That was, of course, until I stopped getting financial backing, which prompted my journey to this land. I still don’t really like to think about the final days of my research and the disaster that ensued around it.
I realise I’ve zoned out, but Kay is just waiting for me to return from my reverie. When I finally come to my senses, the tables are turned, and he has a question for me.
“So Astro, whilst I know a bit about you from Aaron, I don’t know much beyond why you came here.”
I acknowledge what he means. I can assume we are friends now, given that he told me about his passion, especially in a community where anyone different is given flak – my experience with the innkeeper was enough to teach me that. I suppose it’s my turn to tell Kay a bit about myself.
“I’ll keep it brief Kay, as I’m sure you don’t want this to become the cliché adventure story. Aaron and I were born in the same land maybe a year before yourself.
I had a happy childhood for the most part. My parents did their best to look after me while they could, and I still have memories of performing tiny bits of magic while they were around. The ‘excitement’, shall we say, in my life didn’t kick off until I was old enough to realise it, though.
People didn’t exactly have easy access to education, culture, or indeed anything that makes life, as I know it, worth living at the moment, Kay. My parents and I were content just to go on with our lives, not realising what we were missing. That is until I set myself onto a completely different path.”
Aaron rolls his eyes at my dramatic phrasing of what one could imagine as the most hilarious, embarrassing and all around stupid event of my life.
“The leader of the Craft was giving an address. Everyone had turned out to see him speak, given that he had offered to feed everyone. Like I said, most people didn’t exactly have rich lives where I come from. He began speaking, and everything was fine until about half way through, where I had zoned out, being young.”
I pause, about to once again relive the most facepalm-worthy moment in my entire life.
“That was when he decided to inspire the people and shout “ – I ready my best Glaswegian accent in impression of his own – “ ‘Today is the day we light the fire of our economy!’ And what was so bad about that, you may ask Kay? Well, being completely incompetent with magic, somehow 8-year-old me decided the best thing to do would be to light a fire in his beard.”
Kay bursts out laughing, and even Aaron behind him can’t help but display a wry grin at my tragic action. I concede a nod of humiliation at having revealed the defining point of my life. Aaron, in his comic manner, decides that this is a good point to take over the story briefly.
“So Kay, Astro – I was stood not far behind him – decided to shout ‘Fire, fire!’ and before he knew it, he was being whisked away by armed officials.”
I decide it’s time to take control of the story before he begins to sing the satirical songs that were written as a result of my actions that day.
“That was one of many low points of the experience, Kay. The brief summary of what followed was that I got a job in menial labour, before they discovered that I had other talents; magic and decent intelligence. So they gave me a scholarship into education after ensuring that I wasn’t an assassin. I studied History, and liked it too, so I became an academic before…unfortunate circumstances meant that I was in trouble. So I decided to come here, as I could no longer see my parents, and had few friends.”
I look at Kay, gauging his response before he even begins it. His eyes don’t betray much, unless…I think there’s a hint of sympathy there.
His demeanour becomes much more serious as he makes eye contact.
“You poor sod, Astro, as funny as the beard burning was, it’s a shame that your academic career ended that way. You should have a drink.”
He goes over to a small, worn cabinet in the corner, pulls out a bottle and pours Aaron, himself and I a glass each of its wine. I swirl the purple elixir gently before taking a sip. The flavour is somewhat pleasant, and a refreshing change from the relative mud that I’ve been buying from inns while I’ve been travelling.
We all adjourn to a sofa in a somewhat larger room, which in itself is enough to make me feel far more comfortable about the situation.
Aaron speaks up from my left, his voice slightly muffled as he’s lying against the armrest.
“So Astro, you made it. What will you do now you’ve made it? ZineCraft certainly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
I give a chuckle and nod.
“Well, today I encountered GhostlyMike.”
Kay and Aaron both look up in astonishment.
Kay is the first to speak.
“How did you even find him, Astro? He’s illustrious enough as it is!”
I briefly recount the events of earlier today for their benefit. By the end, they’re both smiling again.
“Who’d have thought you’d manage to ever do anything real with your magic Astro? This is brilliant for you, and eventually for us too! Who knows what we’ll be able to do once you get good. We could be rich!” says Aaron, full of excitement.
This prospect hadn’t crossed my mind before. I remain silent though, not wanting to make any promises about my magical abilities. I don’t really know the full extent of them yet beyond that they make me tired the more I use them or the more effort I have to exert. Making promises about being able to transmute iron into gold, or some such idea, would just lead to disappointment later on if I couldn’t master that kind of magic.
In fact, I should probably shut this down now, before they start thinking I can steal the goose for them.
“Guys, I don’t know what my magic is going to become. So don’t expect anything amazing from me. I could end up learning how to transmute oak saplings into birch saplings, and that would still be a step up from my current level. I can do a lot, but it’s in a very limited field.”
They both look disappointed. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my statement, or maybe both, but it was better to be honest.
“There was another thing though. Aaron, did you discuss already with Kay?”
Aaron doesn’t have time before Kay cuts over him.
“Aaron told me about how you don’t have anywhere to stay Astro. I’d be glad to help you out as long as you help with the rent and, if you can, get the press off my back. I’m not even a proper thief, and they’ve got someone employed to watch me any time I have to leave the house, due to legal proceedings of course.”
It won’t be hard to scare the man off with some magic, after all.
“Then a deal is a deal, Kay.”
We shake hands, and briefly discuss sleeping arrangements. Despite the living rooms being tiny, the small house actually has 3 reasonably sized bedrooms. I’m directed up a flight of stairs and down a small hallway to the space that I can call my own, at least for now, a warm room with stone walls, a painting, a dark wooden floor, and a bed. However, the most striking feature is the skylight.
The stars, beautiful as ever, are clearly visible, with the full moon illuminating the room the way a torch never could.
I’m left to my own devices and I find myself staring at the ceiling, in bed. But for the first time in years, I feel like I have friends.
I close my eyes and fall asleep, dreams filled with hope.
Chapter 4: A Question of Mentality
I wake up with a start, and gaze out into the skies through the skylight. It’s still not quite dawn, and that suits me just fine, considering where I’m going today. I get up, get dressed, and descend the flight of stairs to the assortment of small living quarters.
There’s not much to eat, so I take three pieces of bread out of the pantry, and leave the rest for Aaron and Kay. I’ll make sure to restock on my way back, as the food situation looks quite dire. Neither of them is up yet, so I leave a note for them in the written book that’s on the counter. Signing the message, but leaving the book itself unsigned, I open the oaken door and step out into the back alley.
Taking a proper look, the ground is covered in dirt and mud, which immediately makes me wish I had something more substantial than my dye brown leather boots on my feet.
The fresh air is bracing, and helps wake me up properly. It would be a shame if Ghostly decided to have me killed for seeming too much like one of the undead.
No sooner have I thought about such an idea that I realise the guard from yesterday is still here, only he’s passed out and talking in his sleep.
I decide I should be on my way, and start heading down the alleyway. I pass derelict storefronts and homes full of poverty, following rough signposts to the central district where I might hope to get some proper directions to the palace.
Before long, the poverty disappears and I am instead met with gleaming towers and incredible architecture. Several buildings give off the subtle red gleam of redstone machinery as I pass by them, and I wonder whether I’ll ever be able to work with some myself.
Occasionally, I walk by another person, and I give a nod. There is rarely a response, other than their hand tightening on the often badly concealed sword in their overalls. I question why, of all places, I chose to come here, considering the hostile attitude of most people I’ve met so far.
There’s nothing that I can do about it though, so I might as well get on with it.
I reach the very centre of the city; a large plaza with a proud monument to the administrators of ZineCraft. The focal figure is Ghostly, the other two small and insignificant in comparison. Still, I read their names all the same.
“Worthmaster, and Carsey” I sound out in my head. It could be that I meet them today; so knowing their names will be a good start.
I look up to the sky, and notice that the moon is about to set. I’ve got to hurry if I’m going to avoid being late. With a start, I look around the square, trying to find a sign to the administrator’s palace. Ghostly was right. Finding it is harder than I thought.
Luckily, an iron sign catches my eye. It reads “Ghostly’s Palace – North. Commerce District – East.” I begin to head north, and make a mental note of the location of the Commerce District for later.
Before long, the towers begin to peter out and are replaced with plains, despite the towers further on in the distance. I reach the top of a hill, and am greeted by a view of the palace and its grounds.
The lawns and elaborate hedge mazes are remarkably well kept. There are no signs of debris or cobblestone grief here. Targets are set up in one area next to what looks like a barracks. There are still some arrows in one of the target, sticking out as the only sign that anyone actually lives here. Gently flowing streams run through the various gardens, creating a soft gurgling sound. The flower displays are impeccable as well, seemingly drawing a lot of interest due to the well-trodden paths in between them. Other, larger paths link the areas of the garden together, and between them, in the centre, lies the palace itself.
Its gargantuan presence towers over me like nothing else. Quartz spires pierce the heavens, culminating in bright turrets that doubled as archer posts. The windows are stained glass, depicting various scenes from the History of the Craft; something I was able to do some research on before I came. Ghostly and his administrators founding the land itself, and building its beginnings, the people they had brought with them beginning to build bases and infrastructure, and how Ghostly had fought back the forces of a rival Craft, running them into the ground in a bitter defeat. The quartz walls are adorned with gold and the crest of ZineCraft, a sword on a shield in the shadows.
I start to walk forward, wondering if I’m really allowed to just walk to the palace, or if I’ll be arrested and taken away, as if this was all a cruel joke.
By the time I’ve made it halfway there, the grand oaken doors begin to open, Ghostly standing in the opening. I quicken my pace, just as the sun begins to rise to my right. When I’m within one hundred metres, he calls out to me.
“Astro, you came. I wondered if you would flee, but I expected no less of you.”
“Greetings, Ghostly. It is a pleasure to be here.”
I keep my speech as formal as possible, nervous about slipping up. However, he soon smiles, and I begin to relax as he lists off the plan for today. As he talks, his features become increasingly more animated.
“So, first I have to know what you can do. Once I know what I’m working with, we can begin your training. But first, do you have somewhere to stay?”
I’m hesitant to explain about my staying with Kay due to his current reputation, but in the end I tell him where I spent the night.
“Interesting…I never knew the aviator was so well connected. Although I suppose with the ability to track down geese, tracking down people isn’t too hard either.”
He pauses and chuckles for a moment.
“You need not worry Astro. While my administrators are cracking down hard on any crime at all, I find such things mildly entertaining.
“So, to business. I need to see what you’re capable of Astro. Follow me.”
We enter the palace, heading straight down a flight of stairs into a stone room full of straw dummies, weights, swords, bows, and other equipment I’ve never seen before.
Ghostly turns round, his face placid, making direct eye contact with me. It takes all my willpower not to flinch.
“Set this training dummy on fire.” He gestures to a straw figure fairly close to me. I turn and concentrate, simply willing for it to burst into flames.
Within seconds, it complies, intense, bright flames burning it to smoldering cinders before my eyes.
“Good. Now, I want you to put it out.”
This was not something I was expecting. There are two ways I can think of doing this. I can either try to manipulate water to put it out manually, or I can simply try and stop the reaction with my mind. After a few seconds of thought, the latter seems like the most elegant option.
I concentrate hard, extending my mental presence to try and prevent the dummy from continuing to burn. The flames flicker for a moment and then burn normally, just as I feel my knees go weak. I shut my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, working to keep myself conscious in the battle against fatigue. I recover after two minutes, and slowly get back on my feet.
“That is the first lesson you must learn Astro. To really master magic, you have to understand it, rather than just hoping it will work on a whim. If you do not understand the potential consequences of a spell, it can kill you from using your energy rapidly. Alternatively, it can overrun you and shut down all reasoning. Many magicians have ended that way, causing untold havoc to those around them as they struggle to recover and then taking their own lives after they realise what they’ve done.”
I nod, humiliated. I’ve already failed the first test. That doesn’t mean that I’m out yet, though.
“So Ghostly, what will you have me do now?”
For the next few hours, Ghostly continues to ask me to demonstrate various feats of magic. Some of it I find easy, like levitating objects, healing minor wounds, and teleporting things between dimensions, like I showed Kay yesterday.
The other side of the coin is that most magic is incredibly complicated and requires serious concentration and strength. Actually causing serious mental damage to someone, manipulating large objects or fluids, and transmuting materials is something I won’t be able to do consciously for a while. I decide not to tell Ghostly about the incident with the law enforcement man. It was a savage and brutal attack, and something I don’t feel proud of admitting at the moment.
However, soon the magical tests are over and we are sitting at the top of one of the quartz shard towers that made my first impression of the palace, observing the rest of the city as the markets become busy and the machinery begins to work in overdrive to produce enough resources to meet the Craft’s huge industrial demand.
I study Ghostly’s face. It’s impossible to read. His dark eyes tell of a man who has experienced much, yet neglects to tell anyone. Before long, the silence is broken, and he once again makes that jarring eye contact.
“You were surprisingly good earlier. The only other untrained sorcerer I’ve ever come across couldn’t even manipulate fire. I think, given time, you will become an excellent sorcerer. But that brings me on to the next part of the briefing, per se.
You’ve noticed since you’ve started using your magic properly that it’s caused you extreme physical exhaustion, right?”
I give a sage nod, inwardly wondering where he’s going with this.
“There are two ways to reduce this fatigue. One way is to store excess energy in your gear. However, this is dangerous, and not something you will be able to accomplish for a long while.
The other way is far simpler. All you have to do is become physically more durable. This means training. You don’t have to be strong, or a good swordsman, to wield magic but you need to have reserves of energy to supply yourself. Otherwise, you risk exerting yourself far more quickly. The more you do that, the more your magical endurance will increase, and the safer you will be when using magic.
Equally important is your strength of mind. When you fight with your mind, it too has stamina. This takes energy from your body but it also requires determination and devotion, and above all mastery of the mind itself. If you can do that, you can control your magic precisely without any chance of it failing you. So far, you’ve been lucky, but I fear that in future your magic will leave you vulnerable to serious danger or worse, just when you need it most.”
I sit, thinking simply for a moment and digesting the information. Magic is either complete devotion to the art, or to ignore it almost entirely, it seems. I feel like putting the effort in will eventually pay off though, so I nod again.
“I’m willing to devote myself to this, Ghostly. Magicians are few and far between, and I love being able to do what magic I can, even now. It would be incredible to be able to perform magic with as little fatigue as possible.”
He smiles again, apparently pleased with my answer.
“That is indeed good. I have decided on how I shall train you. In the mornings, we will work on mastery of the mind and magic itself. In the afternoon, we shall work on physical endurance. And I will attempt to teach you to fight, both with magic and without, at that point too.”
I think this will work.
Three hours later, I’m made to eat my own words as I round the final corner of palace gardens for the seventh time. Physical endurance meant physical training, and here we are. Ghostly told me the best way to improve fitness is to do physical training without use of magic to augment stamina. As a result, I’m exhausted.
I come to a stop outside the front of the palace doors, legs on fire and nausea threatening to encompass my vision. A vivid smell is coming from within the palace. This is…? It must be steak.
The smell distracts me from the ominous figure in the doorway, so when I look up, I am surprised to see a small man narrow his eyes and prepare to yell at me.
I speak up before the situation escalates.
“Woah! I have permission to be here from Ghostly!”
He pauses, hesitant, and I finally get the chance to survey him properly. My impression of small was not wrong. He has jet-black hair, small eyes, and a scrunched up mouth. I think to myself “Why do all the annoying characters fit the stereotype…?”
“Like hell you do. I’ve never seen you before. You have five seconds to leave, before I-“
“Stop, Worth!” I recognize the voice of Ghostly; in this case my saviour, coming from within the palace. He steps out beside the small man he identified as Worth.
“Worth, this is Astro. He’s talented in the magical arts, and I will be training him to become a magician in the future. He is not to be bothered whilst he is on these grounds.”
Worth doesn’t look convinced. He turns to Ghostly. “Magical arts? I really hope that you’re talking about real magic this time and not what you meant the last time you tried to bring someone in here under that guise.”
What…
“That’s all many years in the past, Worth. Anyway, Astro, this is Worthmaster. He is a fellow administrator of ZineCraft.”
“I recognise him,” I respond. I offer my hand to the administrator, and he takes it with a measure of reluctance. His grip is extremely strong, not firm like Ghostly’s, and if Ghostly weren’t here, I think I’d be lucky to ever get my hand back.
“Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, Astro, you are to return here tomorrow at the same time you arrived today. We will begin your training then.” Ghostly hands me some steak, enough easily to feed ten people for a week.
“And this is for you. I’ll see you here at daybreak tomorrow.”
Ghostly and Worthmaster retreat, leaving me on my own outside the palace. It’s still early afternoon, so I exit as fast as I can, given my physical fatigue, and trudge back to the city centre. I still have plenty of money after all, and I feel like I should help out Kay and Aaron a bit more. There’s plenty of time left in today.
After a while exploring the industrial district, I come across what I was looking for. A mining corporation. It will be easy to buy some raw materials here.
Soon I’m face to face with a man who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
He’s not very enthusiastic, clearly.
“I would like to buy ten of your raw diamonds.”
He adds up the costs for me, and presents the diamonds, slightly awestruck that anyone could actually afford that many. Luckily, it’s only enough to clean out half of my savings.
“Thank you.”
I walk off, the diamonds stowed safely in my inventory.
I turn for home, hoping to see Kay and Aaron this evening before I turn in.
The trip back is mostly uneventful, aside from the occasional merchant trying to get me to buy their noob dirt at extortionate prices. When I arrive though, something catches my eye.
I enter the small living room, and spread out on the table is a blueprint. It looks incredibly complex, with many moving parts and complicated mechanisms requiring special tools. I study it closer, and realise that the sum of the parts is an airship. A proud mast, powerful redstone engines, and a brilliant oak finish were the completed product. But why did Kay have a set of blueprints for an airship?
My question is answered when Kay walks into the room from behind me. Before I can ask, he starts to speak.
“This, Astro, is one of my dreams. When I was young I learnt how to construct an airship, and this knowledge has always stayed with me, though I’ve never been able to use it yet. Sometimes I just get the blueprints out, and imagine what I could build if I had the money and the time.”
I turn to look at him, and in his eyes I see a child like excitement. I feel my wallet like its burning in my pocket, and I know what I’m going to do.
“Kay…you’re really sure you can build this thing?” I make eye contact with him, to show I’m serious about the situation.
He hesitates briefly before responding.
“I’m sure, Astro. I spent enough time reading books about it when…I was a child.”
I pull out the wallet, still stuffed full of notes. I hold it up so that Kay can see it.
“In that case, we’re going to make this happen, Kay. I’ve got the money; I’ll rent a warehouse and acquire the materials. You don’t need to worry about the costs. I’ve got them covered completely. This seems like something you have to do, and for us, the airship would be an insane boon to our income. We could use it to acquire materials, and sell them, rather than having to suffer extortionate prices.”
Kay is speechless, mouth open as he processes what I just said. I’m sure I want to do this. Besides the obvious benefits of being able to improve our income, Kay’s childlike wonder at the situation is something that I’ve rarely seen before. The goggles he wears make much more sense to me now. Maybe he rode in airships when he was young, and he yearns to feel the winds of adventure on his face once more.
Kay lays a hand on my shoulder, and grins.
“Let’s make this happen Astro. Cheers.”
Chapter 5: When Life is a Backdrop.
Over the next 2 months, I grew to learn many things about magic, meet many new people, and have many rewarding experiences. In between these events, life was as it should be: Normal. For this section, to save the reader unintended monotony, I have merely selected days from my log where events of significance happened. None of them are deserving of a chapter on their own in this tale.
- Astro
Day 9: It’s about what you can see, not what you do see.
The day has arrived quickly; it’s time to find a warehouse and construction site for Kay. He’s finally been allowed to leave his house, after the ZineCraft court has determined that it was not him, but his paymasters that were responsible for the unfortunate fate of the goose. As a result, the aviator, once desperate, now inspired, strides confidently on my left as we enter through the gate that marks the beginning of the huge industrial sector in the Capital.
I turn to Kay, puzzled by the huge assortment of buildings that stretch as far as the eye can see. I have no idea what we’re actually looking for, given that you probably need a certain type of construction area to build an airship. He notices my look of confusion, and explains.
“We’re looking for a tall tower; we only really need the top floor – or two – to build the airship. It has to be in a place where if we build it, it can easily take off and land. Equally, building it at the air pressure will affect the integrity of the airship itself. Build it down here, and any areas that we have to seal off or keep closed will have a different pressure to the air outside, which’ll destroy the entire thing in time. Other than that, somewhere that has good access to our building materials would be useful, but not essential.”
He finishes, leaving me with a lot to take into consideration. I knew that construction of this wouldn’t be easy, but that’s a particularly specific list of requirements. Still, I agreed to it, and I’ve never really seen Kay so excited before.
As a result, we spend the next few hours just exploring the industrial sector, which Kay knows about as well as myself. That is to say, badly, but we still manage after a considerable amount of time to locate a site that fits his requirements within the labyrinth of arches, quarries, mines, run-down storefronts and industrial skyscrapers.
Kay surveys the entire building; a strong yet mismatched wooden-stone building with various assorted braziers keeping the place lit up. It is late afternoon now, but I would guess that at night it’s a real help to those that use it. This time, it is him that turns in my direction.
“I think we’ll need to have a look at this one.”
I nod, and we approach the entrance, which is only a set of simple, polished wooden doors. The lack of security doesn’t inspire any great sense of hope in me about the building. As we approach the main desk in the foyer, I note two main things about the building. The first is that there are two very burly looking security guards eyeing us carefully, as if waiting for me to reach for the scabbard that is badly hidden beneath my travelling cloak. I stifle a chuckle at the futility of their gesture, though inwardly I thank my lucky stars they didn’t notice it. The second is the strange looking pulley system on the right of the foyer. I note its unusual existence and then look forward once again.
The man behind his desk looks to be quite old, sporting a greying beard and dark hair that is just beginning to lose its colour. He stands up and removes his reading glasses to greet us, shaking both Kay’s hand and my own. His grip is somewhat overpowering, though I decide this is not a good time to mention that. The painful moment is soon over, as he addresses us.
“Welcome gentlemen…to the tower. I am Enrik, and I own this place. The finest construction site for all small wares in the industrial sector.”
I sincerely doubt his words, but smile and listen as he continues.
“We’ve been in business for a long time, and welcome any project as long as the price is right.”
“And what is ‘the right price?’” I interject, before he can continue. That statement could mean trouble if I let him establish it.
“Merely a price that we both agree on,” Enrik replies, a calm smile on his face as if he’s heard that question before. Clearly, this man is not the average crook looking to rip people off in any way he can. Rare indeed.
Kay takes this moment to speak, wanting to get down to business.
“If we could, we would like to see the construction levels on the top floors. What we are building requires use of these levels. We can discuss more once we have seen what we’re working with.”
Our host nods, and beckons to a set of stairs that looks like they may fall over at any moment. I am, unfortunately, the first person to have to set foot on them, but instead of crumbling at my feet, they hold firm, contrary to their appearance. My first thought is that magic must be holding the place together, but I turn to Enrik and he merely smiles.
‘Steel rebar. The place is not as it first seems.’
Kay beckons for us to continue, and we begin to make our way up the stairs. As we climb, the deafening roars of many different projects fill our ears. Each level presents a new sight for us to bear witness to; everything you can imagine produced by small family businesses in the Craft is on show. Kay is equally impressed, and we exchange various small talk about the contraptions until we reach the penultimate floor.
Enrik stops us at the staircase to the last floor as we look to survey the contraption that stands before us. An elaborate machine adorns the construction site, occasionally emitting a puff of steam or a short whirring noise amongst the din of a dozen engineers moving around it with wrenches or other such equipment. They are, however, easily dwarfed by the enormity of the machine, as is the rest of the floor; it takes me over twenty seconds to notice the wooden joists on the ceiling.
Enrik hails one of the engineers, and the confident mastermind walks over.
“Why is this still here? Worthmaster told me it wouldn’t take more than a fortnight to get the generator built and out of the tower,” Enrik questions.
The engineer responds coolly, not giving him an inch. “Worthmaster said that we could continue building here as long as we needed to so we could finish the project.”
Enrik is not amused. “I lose money for every day you spend here. Valuable patrons, such as these two men” – he gestures to Kay and I – “would also like to use these facilities. Tell Worthmaster that he owes me payment for this. He may be an administrator, but that doesn’t mean he can break the rules he’s supposed to be enforcing.”
Kay doesn’t seem perturbed, a cool façade upon his face, but I am slack jawed. In Arcadia, no one would have dared speak to a moderator, even indirectly, in that fashion.
The engineer doesn’t even bother to respond though, and moves off, going back to his work. Enrik addresses us.
“They’ve been bleeding me dry with their construction; expecting that they’ll get anything and everything for free.”
Kay responds with a sage nod, and we proceed up the staircase. After all the buildup of the previous floors, I find myself hoping that this place meets our requirements. My ache in my knees is a testament to just how much of a pain it’s been to get up here.
We ascend to the top, and are greeted by a sight that causes a huge smile to break out on Kay’s face. A beautiful solarium by day, and a perfect observatory by night, the top floor is revealed to be a huge construction bay with many tools, different platforms in a logical arrangement, and spruce floors. We stand briefly and observe the now setting sun through the huge glass dome, before Kay and I make eye contact.
We tell Enrik, who stands vigil at the stairwell, that we want to see if the building has any other features. The place would be perfect, except that we need to get the materials up here, and we need a way to move the airship out when it’s finished. We share this with Enrik, and he grins yet again.
He moves to the right and activates a lever. At first, its purpose was unknown, but it is revealed to us as the glass retreats upon itself, forming a perfect opening for an airship. Full of surprises, and part of me isn’t too sure that I like that.
What about the parts, though?
As if reading my thoughts, Enrik chimes in.
“I suspect you’re wondering about getting your materials up here. Not to worry about that.” He gestures to an item elevator, a strange mechanism using pulleys and pressure.
I take Kay aside to discuss. Before I can start though, he says what we’re both thinking.
“It’s perfect. We can begin construction immediately.”
With no more discussion to be had, we turn back to Enrik and inform him of our decision. He looks overjoyed, if only because he’s desperate. Despite the lavish nature of the construction site, we agree on a fairly reasonable price, and say that we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with our materials. He bows at the door of the foyer, and bids us farewell.
We head home, making excited plans for the airship.
Day 17: The League of Acquaintances.
Last night, Kay and Aaron asked if I’d like to go with them to meet some of their friends. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt that the friends weren’t drunks, or fools, and that’s what finds me here tonight; walking in the centre of our trio to a pub.
It’s a nicer sector of the Capital, with many varnished wooden storefronts around. No doubt there’d be hundreds, if not thousands of workers here during the day. The paths are of good quality, each tread barely making a sound. I love the ambiance of this city, perhaps even more than that of Arcadia.
The sun is merely a rim over the horizon at this point, its setting form illuminating the streets with a subtle glow. I stop surveying the surroundings and turn to Kay and Aaron. I don’t fully understand it, but both of my companions have a new sense of purpose. Since I arrived, Aaron has been able to stop working into the nights because I’ve helped out, and Kay’s been preoccupied with the airship. I’ve been able to renew my friendship with Aaron, and whilst I haven’t spoken to Kay as much, he seems genuinely happy to have my company.
My thoughts are interrupted by Aaron’s tap on my shoulder. We’ve arrived at a pub – more of a restaurant – that matches every other storefront. Varnished exterior, bay windows, and an arched doorway.
“Shall we go in then?” asks Kay rhetorically, his hand gesturing towards the pub.
The pub is full of commotion, even fairly late as it is now. There are many tables adorned with cutlery, and reserved signs. Maybe the description of a pub was somewhat hasty for this place. Aaron glances around the interior, and finds what he was looking for. A crowd I don’t know send him a wave from their table, and he returns it, motioning to Kay. Kay notices the group too, and starts over. I cut in front of Aaron to let him bring up the rear and follow Kay, hoping to get a seat where I don’t have to make contact with too many of them.
As Kay sits down and shows me to a chair right beside him, and also conveniently right in the center of the table, I sigh inwardly.
No such luck.
I sit down, and Aaron takes his seat, two left of my own. I brace for the inevitable introductions.
Kay launches into what I can only describe as a spiel of a welcome speech for me. I would be flattered if I weren’t sizing up each of my dinner companions.
“Hi everyone, nice to see you! It’s been a while, eh? So, I’d like to introduce you to a new friend of mine, and an old friend of Aaron. This is Astro” – he pauses for effect, and I give a meek wave – “and he’s been staying with us for a few weeks now. I’ll let the rest of you make your introductions.”
Everyone begins talking casually with each other again, which I take as my cue to begin introducing myself. I turn to the man on my left. Ginger, rugged hair with a beard, somewhat like Kay’s, dark eyes that let you infer nothing from them, and simple, warrior clothing. His face bore the scars of at least one battle, and his hands were decorated with calluses, such that might be left by the careful grip of a sword. This man was a fighter.
True to his vocation, he waits for me to make the first move. I offer him a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm.
“Astro. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.
“I’m Secret. It’s nice to meet you too. You can probably tell I do a lot of fighting,” he replies, and I nod sagely. “What was it that gave it away? I’ll bet it was the axe on the floor.”
I kick myself for not noticing such an important detail, but then turn it around, responding “No, it was your hands. They’re covered in calluses.”
He stares at me as if I’m mad, but then begins to grin. “You’re not at all what you seem, are you? You should meet Cossack, I’m sure you two would get along great.”
“Cossack?” I enquire.
Before I know it, the man across and to my right jumps into the conversation. “What do you want? I’m Cossack, by the way.” It is for the first time that I survey him, and suddenly it hits me. I’ve seen Cossack before. When I got off the ship at the port, he was there. I decide this would make good conversation ground.
“Yes, well Secret just told me he thought we’d get along” – at this, Secret turns to talk to someone else – “and I think we may have met before. Did you recently come from Arcadia?”
His purple and white clad form relaxes slightly in recognition. “I remember you! Astro, was it? Well, yes, I came from Arcadia recently, but I didn’t live there. I’m a banker by trade, so I often have to make trips that take me abroad.”
This leads to a brief conversation about our backgrounds, and slowly, I am introduced to everyone else at the table. There’s Brit, a thin, young and impeccably dressed man with a brilliant handlebar mustache. He tells me that he is a detective, and a good one at that. I don’t doubt him when he proves himself to be the only one who’s figured out that I can use magic, merely by observing my left eyebrow. His partner, Gracey, is even more intriguing, electing not even to talk much. I make a note of his unkempt brown hair and goatee. Small is next, the final member of the party, true to his name but no less deadly, describing himself as an assassin. He would have fooled me, until I notice the trick literally up his sleeve; a concealed blade, only betrayed when he goes to check his watch.
It’s almost as if Kay and Aaron are part of a band of mercenaries. I elect to speak to him about it later.
As the night progresses, the party get more and more weary. As we reach the early hours of the morning, Kay gets up, presumably to find himself another drink, and I follow him. The crowd is great, and I don’t remember the last time I’ve had such a good night. Kay turns from the bar, and while the uproar continues from our companions, I confront him, speaking up.
“Kay, everyone I’ve met tonight is either trained to kill or trained to manipulate people. This isn’t some cult, is it?”
His jade eyes widen slightly, before he gives me a smile.
“A lot of us just come from the same place, or have met the others through lines of work. It’s no coincidence, but it’s certainly not a cult.” He chuckles, before continuing. “These skills do have their uses nevertheless. We haven’t caught up in a long time, in fact Aaron has only met most of the guys once before.” With that, he sways slightly, clearly very drunk.
I decide to take his drink off his hands and down it before he can complain. I don’t mind taking one for the team. I sit him back down, and stand up, intending to get another.
Before I reach the bar, a knife against my thigh coerces me. I turn to look, and there is a raider with a balaclava behind me. He gestures in the direction of the door, and I walk briskly, reserving my use of magic for when I really need it. Meanwhile, Kay and the others just continue laughing away and I leave, somewhat helpless.
The raider, his uncaring eyes only visible, drops the knife. Surprising. The moonlight does not give any of his features away, still masked by his balaclava and buff. Before I know what to do, he speaks.
“I don’t know who you are, but getting involved in that crowd is one of the worst mistakes you could possibly make. Stay away from them, and you won’t get hurt. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee I won’t have your head on the top of a pike before too long.”
I briefly consider my options. Anyone who makes death threats of me is not really to be associated with, after all. The choice is easily made, and with little concentration, I turn away as his balaclava bursts into flames, and his arms stop responding to him.
Not bothering to look behind me, I turn back inside, neglecting to appreciate the hushed voices behind me in my drunken state.
I return to the table, and stay for a while longer.
Day 38: The Magic Progresses.
Ghostly fixes his gaze upon me as I attempt, for the final time today, to master levitation. Over the past month, that’s only one application of magic among the many others I’ve learnt to master. I close my eyes and relax my body, finding balance, and then concentrate, willing myself to rise up.
It goes as planned, and I feel no ground below me within five seconds. This is how it went before though, and things could yet still end badly. I direct myself in various directions at a slow speed, once again getting used to strafing in the air. I can’t ignore the drain on my energy though needed to overcome gravity constantly. Before long, I’ve gotten the hang of it, and accelerate, hoping to reach a high enough speed for this to actually be useful.
The wind blasts my face and attacks my eardrums as I make myself aerodynamic and jet forward. The feeling gets the better of me, and I open my eyes to survey the beautiful world below me. Only too late do I realise my mistake, as I hurtle towards the ground.
My descent is slowed not by my own ability, but that of Ghostly, who reduces my speed enough that when I land on the grounds of the palace, I suffer no more than some scraped knees.
What a stupid mistake. You’d think I’d know that concentration is the key at this point.
Ghostly walks out from behind me, and despite my failure, he has a contented look on his face.
“You did well, Astro. Even if you could have killed yourself. I won’t be around to save you forever.”
I hang my head in shame as he lectures me about keeping concentration, something I’ve heard before, but no doubt I need to learn once more. He is cut short by a derisive snarl from my left.
Worthmaster appears from within the palace, his pathetic form held cockily in the light of my failure. Over the past months, I’ve tried my best to avoid him, given his clear resentment of me. It seems that today, though, he is here to speak to Ghostly, as he ignores me completely. Behind him strides Carsey, a broad shouldered man with a deceptively kind face and large hands, the kind you would expect from an assassin who chokes his victims to death. He’s Ghostly’s other administrator, whom I haven’t conversed with. However, it’s pretty clear he and Worth are cohorts, so it’s more than likely that he too is not amused by my existence either.
His harsh husky voice is inaudible for me, as he speaks too quietly for me to eavesdrop. My attempts to play the role of a spy to him are completely foiled, as the conversation soon ends, but I note the expression of disappointment on his face as Ghostly ties up the loose end.
It’s enough to make me grin slightly, but apparently this does not escape him, and he strides over to me, scrunched up mouth apparently suiting the ‘paper ball’ look even more than usual today.
“Astro! What do you think you are doing?!” comes his stressed out shriek. He narrows those eyes, almost animalistic in their lack of empathy, and grips me by my shirt collar.
“Not dying from falling, sir.”
He is not pleased with my reply. He leans in, the smell of garlic on his breath, and I am disgusted. His next words are for me alone. “Maybe you should be dying from falling then. I’ll see to it if you give me any of that kind of cheek again.”
From anyone less powerful, I wouldn’t take that kind of treatment, but I know that attacking Worth would land me in huge trouble. I don’t break eye contact, staring him down until he lets go. He expects a response, and he’s not going to get it.
He loosens his grip and stormed off, his frustration clearly not satisfied by my antics. Carsey trails behind him, looking slightly deflated at my defiance. I would be very happy to stand up to both of them, but even with the strength I’ve gotten over the past month, I can’t quite face them yet.
Ghostly lays a hand on my shoulder, and beckons for me to come inside for sword fighting practice.
There’s lots of work to do, after all.
Day 52: The Flight
I was relaxing in the small room I had began to call home, Aaron and Secret reclining across from me talking quietly, I absorbed in one of Ghostly’s magical journals entitled ‘Mysteries of the Arcane Arts.’ As I began to delve into the final chapter and read about manipulation of pure energy, I hear the sound of the lock behind me being turned. I brace myself, having been overly paranoid since my confrontation with Worthmaster, but it turns out to be only Kay, goggles over his eyes and blowtorch in one hand.
“Astro, Aaron, Secret! I’ve finished it!”
A massive smile fills my face, and I look to Aaron to see a mirror image of my own. Meanwhile, Secret looks confused. Kay must have neglected to inform him about the airship. He raises his objection with Kay, questioning, “All right, you haven’t been involved in another fight again, have you?”
Kay assuages his concern immediately, his excitement getting the better of him. “No, no! I’ve been building an airship, and it’s finished!”
Secret’s eyes widen in shock, the full enormity of Kay’s actions reaching him. Other than that, he doesn’t betray himself, and I stand up, attempting to break the silence.
“Well come on, we should go!”
I rouse Secret and Aaron, and we leave soon after, hearts pounding in anticipation at what we’ll be met with. Kay leads the way, and although I’ve been there before, I let him have his fun. It has been near enough a month and a half of his life spent solidly in the tower, with nothing to show, so now I can only begin to imagine his delight at the situation.
Before long, we stand at the base of the tower. Enrik gives us a nod as we go in, and we begin to ascend the levels. To my surprise, much of the tower is empty. Fewer and fewer projects exist as we climb; the previous hive of activity now merely a ghost of its past self. Before I can contemplate why they’ve all left, Secret speaks up.
“So you really built an airship, Kay?”
Kay turns round and replies happily. “Yep! It’s definitely up there as some of my best work too.”
Secret nods, and I swear I hear Aaron mutter to him sarcastically, “Didn’t know he had it in him…”
Kay chuckles at the stage whisper. Electing to not respond. We’re almost there now, so it should be-
I lose my train of thought when we reach the landing of the solarium.
A behemoth sits before us, glinting proudly in the sunlight. The finished production is beautiful. The gleaming, deceptive oak finish of the airship bears no indication of the reinforced hull armour, or the artillery hidden in the stern. The metal and wooden turbines sit protected, clearly using some energy from steam, and some from an energy source I don’t understand. The balloon holds the whole thing slightly above the floor, but this doesn’t detract from the streamlined feel. It looks like it would easily take ten people, with posts for archers included.
He did…an amazing job.
Aaron and Secret are equally slack jawed, whilst Kay stands there proudly, enjoying the attention. Again, I decide to break the silence, partly out of curiosity and partly because we’ll never move again if I don’t.
“So, Kay, can we give it a test run?”
He grins. That was never in doubt.
“I thought you’d never ask! Come on!”
We board using the gangplank, the interior of the airship equally impressive, with many supplies and stock available, already stored. I take Kay aside as he goes to the wheel.
“Kay, you’d better know how to fly this. If you don’t, we all die, and I don’t really have the time for a respawn operation right now.”
He looks untroubled by my stern warning.
“Astro, it will be fine. I’ve flown one of these before, trust me. Go open the bay doors, would you?”
I dash down the gangplank, quickly flicking the lever before returning as the engines spool up. The sound is amazing, like nothing I have ever heard before.
I grab a seat next to Aaron and Secret on the main deck, and we stare out at the sun. The picturesque view is on its own enough to make me break out into a smile, but I’m broken out of the moment by the jolt of the ship.
We actually…moved. We’re flying!
Just slowly at first, tentatively, we begin to cruise around the Capital. Before long, we’re heading at high speeds, the wind buffeting our faces, Kay completely absorbed by the experience. Secret and Aaron are still lost in wonder themselves. Trying to get through to them does nothing. I settle for enjoying the moment, taking up one of the archery posts for a better view. The slits between the reinforced wood provide a grand perspective over the side. The ground below us moves too fast. Buildings smaller than pebbles are below us. The activity of everyone else seems so futile, when it could really just be our simple interactions and us.
A perfect world. That’s what that would be. Looking out at the landscape blurred below us, it reminds me of how lucky I’ve been to get here. Maybe it really is all about perspective.
Damn. When did I become so introspective?
I look up at Kay, at the helm of the machine. This isn’t the Kay I know anymore. The man is a child again; free to enjoy himself unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. He pilots with skill, and ease, as if he remembers, and I realise that I made the right choice.
In the distance, there is a faint boom, one that I easily could have missed if I wasn’t thinking. Smoke rises from below as I turn my head, and I look to Kay. He heard it too, clearly, as he has his head cocked to one side.
He turns the airship around suddenly, slamming everyone below into the rails. I dash up to the helm, to see a firm expression on his face.
“Kay, what was that?”
Aaron interrupts from below.
“If we’re going to be on an airship, can’t you at least pilot it properly, Kay?” The jest in his voice is nervous, but he may have gone too far this time. Kay ignores him though, and responds to me.
“I don’t know, but anything that makes that kind of sound can’t be good,” he replies.
He lowers the elevation of the airship drastically, bringing us not far from being just above the rooftops. I wince from the change of pressure to my ears. We scan the city, looking for the source of the commotion. Before long, I locate it, and my heart sinks like a stone.
Kay’s place…my home…lies in ruins. I give a heavy shudder, and point this out to Kay. His look, now grave, turns to rage. He brings the airship into a hover, and our eyes meet.
“Go in, and check it. If you can, find out who was responsible.”
I drop down the ladder at the now retracted gangplank, and enter the smouldering ruin that I had bothered to call home. The explosive had clearly been set up in the living room, given that the rest of the house, despite being unsuitable for us to live in, isn’t damaged too badly in comparison. I search the bedrooms, finally coming to my own, and I’m met with the ash that was my few, meager possessions that I actually bothered to leave at home causing a single tear to well in my eyes.
I guess, if I had wanted to escape my past, here was a convenient excuse to forget it all.
But there’s something that seems to have survived. Maybe my pipe? Upon closer inspection, the charred object is nothing other than a knife. The owner is at first unknown to me, but then I make the connections.
After all, you don’t forget a blade you’ve been threatened with.
This is the blade belonging to the raider, from the night where I met Cossack, Secret and the rest. Maybe Kay will know who he’s working for – I haven’t dwelled on the issue, due to the hangover I experienced the next morning.
I return to the airship, Aaron, Secret and Kay waiting on the deck. People try to follow me up the ladder, but I retract it too. The airship clearly caused a lot of strife among the inhabitants. Maybe they thought it was Worthmaster, actually helping them for a change?
Kay returns to the helm and brings us higher into the sky, before bringing us to a stop.
“What did you find, Astro?”
His voice is calm, but his anger is betrayed in his eyes. This is yet another side of him I’ve never seen.
I hand him the knife, and recount what I know about the raider. His expression becomes grim and justified as he examines the implement.
“This was the work of Shadow. And there’s only one possible employer he could possibly have now.”
Aaron and Secret both exchange nervous glances, and then nod.
Kay brings the airship down for the final time that day, and gestures at Aaron, Secret and I.
“You should go. All three of you. There’s something I must do.”
Aaron moves to stop him.
“Kay, are you sure? This is a bad idea.”
His expression gives nothing away.
“This has to be done.”
We exit the airship, dropping down from the ladder to see it moving off. Kay dropped us in the residential district, and it seems we stirred up many of the residents. I ignore their stares, and turn to Aaron.
“Where is Kay going?”
Aaron grimaces and sighs.
“He’s gone to find Worthmaster.”
I fix my eyes on the speck in the sky, and hope that Kay bloody well knows what he’s doing.
Over the next month after these events, Aaron and I relocated. Kay did not come back. Things were relatively quiet.
On Day 95 of my adventure into ZineCraft, Kay Mandy was arrested on suspicion of conspiracy and revolution. I did not see him again for a long while.
Currently writing: Chapter 8. Oh my goodness, an update. I'm sorry for the delay, guys.
This story is great Joe. I can't recommend it enough! He has gotten all the characters down perfectly, and still given the story his own unique twist. Joe has been a huge help to the development of FAAR and I can't thank him enough for doing this prequel series!
4/20 - IGN
"Like Skyrim but with words and not actually a game so I dunno why da fuk we're here bye"
But yeah seriously, this story is great.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Only four chapters in and I'm hooked! Characters are greatly executed, the prose is spot-on, the world is vivid and the story is exciting. My only minor caveats are that there is a little bit of slang which was unfamiliar to me, plus some of the physical desciptions of the environment are a bit vague. However, your impeccable word choice does make up for this, as it is easily among the best I've seen among Minefics. Looking forward to reading more!
Thank you for the kind words! I will probably rework the slang for later on - originally this project was set to be complete before now but I had to take a hiatus from it due to some unforeseen circumstances at the time. However, I'm glad that I waited on it as I feel my writing style has improved greatly since then (as I said in the OP.) Description is something I need to work on - for this type of writing I think there's a fine line between enough description and going over the top, so I've been erring on the side of caution thus far. I will take this into account as I rework the next three chapters.
On a side note, the current status of the next three chapters is that they were actually written some time ago, but I'm going to change them up until I'm happy with them as I feel like they could be improved greatly. I really felt I needed to get some of this out though - Kmandy has been going on about it for long enough!
That being said, I am about to start my exam period (within a month from now) as of writing this post, so progress will slow down in May and June. Then, I'll have more time for a bit to focus on getting more chapters out (as I'll have little else to do for a bit.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
OP updated! Chapter 5 has been reworked, and released! I'm very happy with this part, as far as things go. Let me know what you think!
I've also just realised that the forums have butchered my formatting for the chapters, which is actually quite a large part of the way I write. I'll be fixing that as soon as possible.
Just on a side note, the progress will be slow after today, due to exams coming up for me. Before July 5th, I plan to have released both Chapters 6 and 7 Chapter 7, as I will have a lot of time in the 2 weeks between the end of my exams and when I go on a 3 week 'holiday.' Once I return from that at the end of July, you can expect progress on parts to be much faster.
I updated this because I was incredibly productive today and rewrote Chapter 6 from scratch. Uploading that soon.
OP updated! Chapter 6 is found in this post because I exceeded the character limit in the OP! Once again, I have got a new part, because I was far more productive today than I had expected. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and wrote Chapter 7.
Look forward to that.
Chapter 6: Unwelcome Cataclysm
Ever since we read about Kay’s arrest, the party has been rather somber. There was obvious media hype surrounding it of course, but the whole thing stunk of the conspiracy of Worthmaster and Carsey. It is obvious to us that they had taken Kay specifically, had maybe even killed him already. There’s nothing to be done, though. I go to see Ghostly every day, and I have to pretend that everything is fine.
My lessons have progressed intensely over the last month. I am not the small, one-trick mage I was when I began. The most important thing about my ability is the amount of understanding I have for the world around me. You can manipulate anything if you understand what influences it.
Ghostly himself has become more withdrawn within the past week. I can tell that to some extent he is weaker than he was. Just a tiny reduction in his power, but I’ve noticed it. He neglects to mention it though, so I just pretend that things are as normal.
On this particular day, Aaron, Secret, Small, Gracey, Brit and I decided it would be best to meet up to discuss our circumstances. They arrive separately at the new lodgings Aaron and I found for ourselves. Nothing that special, but it’s a bed, and a base of operations. I greet each of the men as they come in, their glum and hard expressions a wall of steel that I cannot penetrate. Before long, they are all seated before me, waiting expectantly. No one speaks. Everyone understands the consequences of Kay’s arrest.
I open the meeting, addressing the mixed bag of distressed faces at the table.
“Gentlemen. A month ago, Kay left, filled with rage. We should have stopped him, but we-”
Cossack interrupts, his omnipresent frown intensifying.
“You could have stopped him?! You know what he’s like, once he becomes fixated on an idea he’ll defend it until the cows come home. You could have convinced him to stop, and yet you didn’t. I am utterly disappointed-“
Aaron breaks up his spiel, jumping to my aid. He does not turn to look or make eye contact, staring into his lap.
“Cossack, there was nothing we could do to save him. Like you said, he was set on his ideal. We didn’t know for sure what was going on until it was too late to change his mind. Calm down, and be rational.”
Cossack looks as if he’d like to argue the point further, but he settles down, and lifts a hand, ready for me to continue.
“Well…yes. Kay left, gone, without contacting any one of us. We don’t know what he did in the month before he got captured, but we can assume he tried to recruit people to his cause and then was found out. Since there has been no public disruption, his plans were foiled before he could put them into action.
However, something doesn’t add up. They targeted our place of residence, but they knew we were out, because the operative, who Kay was able to identify as ‘Shadow’ – maybe one of you can fill me in on his identity – dropped his knife. This can mean only one thing. They set this whole thing up. I strongly suspect, and Aaron and Secret are in agreement with me here, that it was set up by Carsey and Worthmaster.”
Aaron and Secret nod, but beyond that they are stoic.
“They must have been watching Kay for a while, to do this. I got the feeling that the goose incident was really only an excuse to keep an eye on him after I got assaulted by Shadow-“
This draws a few gasps, and an angry glare from Aaron as he finally looks up.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were assaulted by Shadow, Astro?”
I grimace, his question hitting home.
“At the time, I thought nothing of it and was drunk. He pursued me out of the bar where we met up. After Kay left, he took the knife that I found in the ruins, upon my request, and I felt too bad to mention it again.”
It’s true. If it had emerged that I had set Kay on the path he took, I’m sure I would have been kicked out, and a huge rift created between the rest and I.
Brit dusts off his suit, and his analytical stare meets my eyes. Luckily, his next question is also a skillful change of subject.
“We can’t blame you for that, Astro. Kay was going to look for someone to blame anyway. Carsey and Worthmaster would have used any excuse to capture him, of that I am sure. How can we be sure of what comes next? They targeted Kay. Any one of us could be the next one they take out. We have to have a strategy, or else we too will end up at their mercy.”
Brit really is sharp. He managed to echo my exact thought process and at the same time diffuse the situation. I make a mental note to buy him a drink at the next opportunity.
I turn to address him.
“That is correct, Brit. Worthmaster in particular has expressed particular distaste in my own activities. If it is anyone, it is probably me who is next on his list. No one here is safe, regardless.”
I think back to my clashes with him at Ghostly’s palace. Any chance that his next target is not me is practically non-existent, not that I’ll admit that to everyone else. Maybe they’d desert me. Or even worse, maybe they’d try to protect me.
Everyone is silent. I have the moment, and their attention, for now.
“So gentlemen, that is why I have gathered you here. We must find a solution to this problem. We are being hunted. We must also endeavour to find Kay if possible. However, it is entirely possible that he is beyond our efforts now. I open up the floor to discussion, in the hope that we can find some light at the end of our tunnel.”
I sit down, and wait for someone else to speak. Before too long, Secret speaks up, one hand on the spruce grip of his war axe.
“For as long as live in ZineCraft, there’s nothing that we’ll be able to do to escape this. Worthmaster and Carsey have a huge monopoly, with Ghostly only acting as a figurehead to their operations. He protects them, and they handle the day-to-day affairs. How could we possibly stand up to them? And how could you stand up to Ghostly, Astro?”
“Just as Ghostly tries to protect them, he would also try to protect me. As much as they are a threat to me, Ghostly would be unlikely to let them do too much harm if he’s aware of it,” I reply.
Small, displaying his quick assassin’s wit, responds to Secret too.
“Secret, if there’s one thing we can do to deal with the situation, we can disappear. You know what that’s like, don’t you? It’s not too hard to live undetected within Zinecraft, as long as you only confide in the right people.”
Secret nods, but Brit takes issue.
“We can’t live like that forever. It’s not viable, and it’s not fair.”
I examine the issues with each of their arguments. We need to find a way to lie low, but we can’t do that forever. There is only one possibility, and one that we should have considered from the beginning. I realize that Secret, Brit and Small have been arguing whilst I was thinking. I snap out of my reverie, loud and justified in my response.
“Then we leave.”
Everyone looks up, no longer arguing, shock rendering them all silent. Aaron is the first to speak.
“Astro, are you serious? Leaving would require a stealthy and careful operation. We can’t pull that off. We’ve all been living here for a while, too. We don’t want to leave! How can you say that?! You’re the one with the best deal here. You’re the last person I’d expect to have suggested this.”
There are emphatic nods to Aaron’s cause, but I won’t give up that easily. If we stay, everyone before me will be hunted.
“Aaron, please calm down. We cannot stay here. We’ve established that every one of us is in danger. But you are right in that it would require a strategic plan to get us out without arousing suspicion. So I want you to go and check something, now. Go to the tower, and check. Tell Enrik I sent you.”
Aaron looks disgruntled, but stands up nevertheless. He turns to leave, but as he exits, he flashes me a glare.
“You had better not be wrong, Astro.”
Only Secret understands what I’ve done. The rest are baffled and unfounded discussion erupts. I hasten to explain the situation, asking for quiet.
“As you all know, Kay took the airship and made himself scarce after the house was destroyed. Airships aren’t exactly common here in ZineCraft, so we would know if it had been used again since. I studied the controls on the helm while talking to Kay, and it’s not too complex. If he did indeed leave the airship behind, our only option may be to use it to escape. It’s not stealthy, and it’s not subtle, but once we’re in the air, even an administrator would find it hard to channel enough energy to bring us down.”
Gracey, his goatee dancing below his chin as he talks, points out the flaw in the plan.
“But where does that leave Kay? Surely we can’t leave him behind?”
I turn to him with a sigh.
“It may be our only option, Gracey. For all we know, Kay could be dead right now.”
Uttering those words aloud made the possibility seem more real. It would upset me very much if Kay were dead, even though I’ve barely known the man for two months. Everyone else is equally dismayed, and several small conversations speculating Kay’s fate begin to break out. I thought we had overcome that phase, but maybe none of them had been able to accept it was one potential outcome.
The clamour grows loud, and I shout for quiet after several minutes of angry debate. Once again, I have their attention.
“I don’t think it’s quite that bad, but we’d be fools to rule out the possibility,” remarked Secret.
Thank goodness that they see reason.
“We don’t have to think about it for now. It will only be an issue if we discover the airship has been returned.”
The words have barely left my mouth when Aaron bursts through the door, a newspaper clutched in his right hand. He must have sprinted back. My stomach tightens in anticipation of his news.
“Guys, I have two pieces of information for you.”
He pauses, clearly out of breath.
“Sit down, Aaron, and tell us what happened.”
“The airship is still there. Kay must have left it before he disappeared. You were right, Astro.”
I sigh inwardly. As overjoyed as I am to know that our mode of transport is available to us after all, I actually have to convince everyone to use it.
“What is the paper, Aaron?” asks Secret.
“That’s the second piece of news. Look at the cover.”
Aaron hands the paper to Secret and I get up to look over his shoulder.
The cursive scripted headline of ‘TheZineCraft’ newspaper is not what I was expecting. I make to complain at Aaron for bringing such propaganda back with him, until I notice the picture. Kay’s face, jade analytical eyes defiant, stares up at us. I look to the article.
“REBEL LEADER AT LARGE ONCE MORE.” My heart races. Aaron motions to Secret to read the article to everyone at the table.
Secret begins, his voice hopeful.
“’Today, at 0903 hours, the dangerous rebellion leader Kay Mandy, amongst other prisoners, escaped from the ZineCraft’s Official True Court Penitentiary on the outskirts of the Craft. It is imperative that Mandy, or any of his known accomplices, be captured immediately so that he can be brought to justice. 29 days ago, he was convicted on suspicion of inciting rebellion and conspiracy, and if he is left unchecked, the damage he could do to this proud land of ZineCraft merely on his own exceeds that of any other great threat. We here at the TheZineCraft will bring you any more updates as they come.’
What a load of rubbish,” finishes Secret.
I survey the rest of the group. Small and Aaron are clearly worried by the article, whilst Gracey, Brit and Cossack are having a hushed discussion.
“Gracey, Brit, Cossack. You know what this means, right?” I attempt to break them out of their conversation. A further division is the last thing we need right now.
Brit voices their collective opinion.
“Kay is safe. If it was on the outskirts of the Craft, he has probably escaped for now. There is nothing more we can do for him.”
Small, Aaron and Secret take a moment to think on it, and then nod. Kay, you lucky sod, you’ve saved us all. I take control of the situation; this is the one chance I have to get us out.
“Gentlemen, this means we must escape post haste. We have the airship, and we can acquire the supplies. Does anyone object to leaving in one week? The article did say ‘known accomplices,’ which does worry me further. We must not celebrate yet, because it could still be any of us who are next.”
Everyone nods in agreement, solemn, yet now optimistic. We decide to meet here again tomorrow and discuss our preparations further, and where we will go. Brit promises to bring some maps for me to pore over, and with that, everyone but Aaron takes their leave.
Some time later, Aaron and I sit across from each other in the small, two-bedroomed flat. I finish off one of the steaks I had cooked for Aaron and I for dinner, and then lean back. It’s not that comfortable, but it’s cosy enough. The paper catches my eye, and I turn to page 3.
For a change, it is I who ends up slack jawed this time. I show the announcement to Aaron, and he too is speechless.
“IN ORDER TO SUPPLEMENT THE DWINDLING SUPPLY OF SOLDIERS IN THE ZINECRAFT ARMY DUE TO INCREASED INTERNATIONAL THREATS, IT IS NOW MANDATORY FOR ANY ABLE-BODIED MEN TO SIGN UP BEFORE THE END OF THIS WEEK.”
It is quick and to the point, but no less jarring. TheZineCraft is the newspaper effectively run by Worthmaster and Carsey. And this is how they’re going to weed us out.
What will they do?
Fake a war accident? Have us killed during training?
Can my magic even stand up to that?
Aaron looks over to me.
“What do we do, Astro?”
I have no answer for him yet, so we spend the rest of the evening in silence.
We were so close.
When Aaron goes to bed, I get up and venture into the night, only one preparation to make.
The next morning, everyone once again assembles at the flat. Brit has brought his maps, and we set about organising a route. We stray away from the badlands, but look to settle somewhere far from here. After much discussion, we settle on the domain of factions: KillerCraft. It is appropriately named, given the high death toll, but I would of course be lying if I said any of us couldn’t handle it. A mismatched pack of mercenaries is what we had turned into, with me at the helm.
As we fold up the maps, I gesture to Aaron with the newspaper, and he speaks up.
“Yesterday we read some rather difficult news. News that is going to make it very difficult for us to escape.”
He passes round the newspaper open at the page of our demise.
Everyone is crestfallen, but Aaron resumes, saying what must be said.
“It is entirely likely that every one of us is being tailed. If we make any attempt to go to the airship now, we’ll get cut off, and the airship will be removed. Currently, our only option is to go along with this ‘plan’, and hope that we aren’t killed. We can’t hope to flee, and we can’t hope to overpower them. Whilst Astro could maybe handle one Administrator,” he nods approvingly in my direction, “to hope to take out two and then survive Ghostly’s wrath would indeed be a folly.”
He moves to the preparation I made last night, I having informed him before the rest arrived.
“I know very much that this is playing into the hands of the enemy. So Astro has organised something for us, something that will help us survive. Last night, Astro went and negotiated with Ghostly. He’s managed to negotiate the whole of tomorrow for combat training within the palace. Worthmaster and Carsey are away right now, surveying the damage to the prison, so we won’t be in danger.
This is an ideal situation for us. As long as we stay sharp, and focused, and make use of this, we can all make it out of this alive.”
“And if we don’t?” Secret quips sarcastically.
Aaron grins, responding, “If we don’t, then I guess we’ll get to go out in a blaze of glory.”
The discussion halts there, and eventually, everyone leaves.
The next day comes as suddenly as the previous one. Our crew lies assembled at the doors to Ghostly’s palace, roused at the crack of dawn. They all look tired, but that doesn’t fool me into believing these men aren’t confident.
I look to open the door, until I realise there isn’t actually a handle. Indeed, nothing to actually open the door exists. Every time I’ve come here, the doors have already been open, or Ghostly has let me in. How embarrassing.
I turn away from the doors and back to my comrades, to hear Ghostly’s amplified voice, emanating from inside the palace. Trust him to want to put on a show.
“Welcome, gentlemen! I have been informed you are in need of combat training! You will now enter…the dungeon…I mean, the palace. Be prepared for danger, but know that no real harm can befall you within these walls. Make haste, and come forth!”
With this, the doors swing open, but they do not reveal the palace, not as I know it. The entire place looks destroyed and dilapidated, with many more passageways than I am used to. I’m puzzled momentarily, before I connect the dots and discover what’s going on.
Ghostly is using imagery. I really should have noticed that sooner, given that it’s something I can do now too.
Secret stocks his bow; war axe clenched in his other hand. Aaron draws his diamond sword. Small raises his dagger and iron sword. Gracey similarly raises a knife as if he remembers it all too well, and Brit draws a pistol from his overalls. Cossack provides no surprises though, content merely with his iron sword. Nevertheless, a force to be reckoned with.
Mercenaries indeed.
I raise my diamond sword, Illumine, and concentrate my magic, augmenting my reflexes.
Time to fight, and time to win.
I lead our small force through the doors, and am rewarded by the first illusion. The others won’t realise it, but I would be foolish to miss it. Aptly designed to look like an actual soldier, the illusion runs out from the shadows, longsword raised towards my neck. In response, I manipulate the imagery around me, making the ground rise up slightly so it trips, and falls. Two seconds later, I ‘illuminate’ his head.
The rest just look on, quite shocked, but I rouse them and we head down one of the passageways. As we head down a rickety staircase, one lunges at me from his concealed hiding place in the wall. Before I can react, Small lifts his dagger and delivers a fatal back stab to the illusion, knocking it to the ground.
I give him a grin and the thumbs up, and we reach the bottom of the banister, entering a large, spacious room with destroyed furniture everywhere.
How much of his energy is Ghostly expending to create this, anyway?
As if they were part of the walls, which was conceivable given the nature of our battlefield, more illusions begin to materialise. They surround us, intending to make the first move, before a stray arrow from Secret floors one.
They rush us, and we reciprocate. Brit kills two instantly with his pistol, Small stabs fiercely with his dagger, but Gracey is the one who surprises me the most. He darts in and out of the illusions, slitting throats and leaving deep wounds before appearing behind another.
When they get too close, Secret pulls out his war axe and goes berserk, causing three more to go down. I use magic to set the five that have zeroed in on myself alight, and use Illumine to finish the job, with quick, efficient stabs, like Ghostly trained me to do so, magically enhanced strength making short work of them. Aaron finishes off the final one of mine before I can get to it, coming from his own crowd.
The ruthless, lethal efficiency of my group shocks me to the core.
For a time, we continue on, destroying illusions without too much effort, and few wounds. The closest we come to defeated is when Cossack scrapes his sword arm against a spike, a deep gash forming. I heal the wound for him, if only to stop it from developing into a more serious problem. He nods in thanks.
Two hours of intense fighting later, we are all exhausted. Secret is by far the most adept, with his war axe and bow combo destroying all within his range. I place fairly high myself, though I owe that to my magically augmented reflexes.
We enter the final chamber, a dull gloom illuminated only by a faint chandelier in the roof. Unlike the other chambers, there are no side paths or extra routes. The floor is slightly submerged with water, and the unanimated bodies of illusions line the walls. There are various gnarled spikes and traps on the ground too, disguised somewhat by the water level, which will make crossing it treacherous.
In the centre lies, assumedly, what we’ve been looking for the past few hours. An obsidian table, with a book hovering menacingly above it. Decorated with diamond, and surrounded by bookshelves, I identify it as an enchantment table. These are rare, and can only be made by those who wield a form of magic. Thaumic tables are the most common, with Administrator tables much more sparse.
However, the table that lies before us is the most rare of them all. Infused with pure magic, this was made by Ghostly himself.
We move forward, a close-knit group now. We know how to spread out to accommodate each other’s fighting styles, and how to move in when one of us is even partially injured. As a cluster, each step is taken tentatively.
Suddenly, we are met with the greatest light show I’ve ever seen.
A beautiful, glowing light forms at the back of the chamber, creating intricate patterns and odd shapes, until the beams come together, and a silhouette appears within them.
Ghostly stands clad in mage battle armour. He looks up, and addresses us directly.
“You have done well to make it to the final chamber. Know that if you defeat me, you will have won, and your reward will be great. But if you lose, I will be most disappointed in you. Especially you, Astro.”
He raises his left hand in the universal gesture; attack.
The bodies of the illusions become animated, rising up from their positions in the walls until the horde’s ranks fill my eyesight for every direction, aside from my view to Ghostly. I tense myself, drawing into my energy, prepared to use magic properly for the first time today. I begin to levitate, mastering my surroundings and concentrating. The hordes close in on the group below. But of course, this was really a test for me. They can take out the illusions, and I will know if I’ve truly gained expertise in the field of magic.
Ghostly lashes out with a beam of pure energy as the first wave of the imaginary warriors closes in on the party below. I dodge to the side of the energy and raise my reflexes and thought speed to the highest level, acting far faster than in real time. I counter by forming the particles in the air around me into a shield, and then cause a tremor below Ghostly’s feet, hoping to weaken his stance.
He doesn’t budge, completely impervious to my offensive. He responds with use of the four elements, first trying to set me aflame before resorting to the others. Each time, my shield of energy blocks his attack at an infinitely fast speed.
Whilst I’ve been successful in keeping him away from me so far, I can feel my strength beginning to wane slightly, and I know I’ll have to go on the offensive. I concentrate to attack with my mind, hoping to cut him off from his magic and incapacitate him. He fights back savagely, clawing at my subconscious and causing severe lacerations to appear on my arms.
I heal the wounds, preparing for another attack. Ghostly has his eyes closed and is focusing hard. I keep him at bay barely, trying to find a solution. Below, the force of illusions begins to take its toll on our group, Cossack with a deep gash in his leg, Aaron with blood on his face, and Brit struggling to combat three of them that got within his melee range.
But there’s a way.
I move back into real time, dragging Ghostly with me and expending a lot of energy in the process. I shout down to Aaron urgently.
“Aaron, you need to attack Ghostly! We have to break his concentration for long enough that we can take him out!”
Aaron nods, tired and failing, but begins to carve a path through the illusions, Secret moving into his place to protect the injured Cossack.
I block various telekinetic attacks from Ghostly, and counter with the same, channeling pure energy into whatever form I need the most. I rip apart Brit’s sparring companions for him, and he displays a grin before getting back on his feet and aiming his pistol to the next one he sees.
I counter every attack, getting weaker and weaker in this battle of attrition, manipulating every style of magic I know to try and finish off Ghostly. I teleport to one location, expecting him to not anticipate an attack from that direction, but he just does the same to me. We spar, both with our minds and with swords, teleporting objects, manipulating illusions, and wreaking havoc.
A crack appears in the sky as collateral damage from our efforts, and it’s clear that one of us will go down soon.
Just as I’m sure it’s about to be me, Aaron appears from behind Ghostly and stabs him in the abdomen with his sword.
He snaps out of his concentration and delivers a blow to the back of Aaron’s head, knocking him unconscious. Before he can realise his mistake though, I launch a mental attack, preventing him from controlling his own body.
Ghostly goes limp, falling on top of Aaron as the light leaves his eyes. And as it does, I see the rest of my group falling unconscious too.
I am the last to go, exhausted and wrecked from my efforts.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the atrium of the palace. The real atrium.
Aaron, Secret and the rest are already up, conversing casually with Ghostly on lavish recliners.
I get to my feet, quite wobbly, and join them.
Ghostly hears me coming.
“Astro, your group really is as you said. Very experienced, and very powerful. And you were convincing too, I never would have thought you would fit in so well. You have learnt more than I thought you would from our sparring sessions.”
I give Ghostly a grin, and sit down on a free recliner. Ghostly explains to us, though I already knew partly, about the illusions, and how we fought. He seems very impressed. For a while, we discuss tactics, and he suggests a few improvements to our group fighting style. Soon though, he stands to make a declaration.
“Gentlemen, you have done yourselves proud. The enchantment table you saw in the simulation is in the room to your left. You may enchant any weapon or tool you choose. Astro?”
The rest go, leaving Ghostly and I on our own. We sit down again.
“Congratulations, Astro,” he says, grinning. “You really have exceeded all my expectations from the start. And you even solved the final challenge, which I thought might trip you up. You learnt that you had to trust people to finish the job, because magic often renders a playing field a battle of attrition when it is available on both sides.
That, is a lesson I wish I had learnt far sooner than I did.”
He pauses, and I hang in suspense of what he says next.
“You’ve done it. I can teach you no more about magic, Astro, because you have mastered every discipline I know. I knew this day was coming, but it was only because you were so dedicated.”
From behind him, he pulls out an enchanted leather chestplate.
“This is for you. It may be leather, but the enchantments I imbued within it will make it last almost indefinitely against anything but an ancient magic attack. You don’t need to come back tomorrow Astro, for we will have nothing to do. But write me a letter or come and see me if you have trouble. I will always be willing to help you, for restoring my faith in the world around me.”
I am stunned, by his words, only managing a meek “Thank you.”
He stands again.
“Go join the friends you made here Astro. You can enchant the rest of your gear.”
I don the leather chestplate and move into the other room, sharing in the wonder of the others at being able to actually enchant things.
Before long, we are done. Our gear enchanted we turn to leave, utterly exhausted. As I exit for the last time through the door, Ghostly turns to me.
“Look after yourself Astro. Use your power for the right reasons.”
I smile at him.
“I will, Ghostly. Thank you for everything.”
He nods in farewell, and closes the door behind me. Today could not have gone better.
When we return home, the mood is ruined. Waiting for us are identical letters.
“Notice of conscription. Report to the ZineCraft barracks at 0800 hours tomorrow.”
A collective shudder runs through the group, as we dread events to come.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
Hello everyone, for those of you following this, the story is definitely not dead. I was very busy during my two weeks after exams, so much so that I did not manage to finish Chapter 7 at that time. As a result, I ended up writing most of Chapter 7 in my notebook ('on paper?! You fool!' XD) on the plane back from South America. Now, normally this would not be a problem, except that I forgot I had written it in there and gave my notebook to someone else who wished to use it when they went on holiday.
Chapter 7 is now on the other side of the world. I will be making every effort to retrieve it as soon as possible so that I can type it up and post it on the forums.
Don't lose hope!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
Dear goodness me, I can't believe it took as long as it did to get this running. ZineCraft chapters were supposed to wrap up in this part, but I've decided to split it into two parts because of the flow of the piece. Without further ado, here's Chapter 7: A Conflict's Impetus.
Chapter 7: A Conflict’s Impetus
I look up to the stars, their once magical allure now replaced by something quite different, both to myself and my companions.
It’s been a year and a half since we embarked on this foolish adventure of scrimmages and petty conflicts.
Around me sit Aaron, Secret, Brit, Gracey and Small, each of them with nothing to say. Most points of conversation have long been exhausted, leaving the air in our makeshift tent silent and depressing. The once bright and cheerful royal red and purple colours have long since faded.
We were conscripted to fight by Carsey and Worth. That much was obvious. When ZineCraft became threatened in this war, a conflict we’ve now dubbed as ‘The Great Onslaught,’ they were quick to force us into the havoc so that they would finally be rid of us. We had been a thorn in their side for too long, apparently.
At first, it wasn’t so bad either.
We had to survive the training program, which proved only a small obstacle for every member of our troupe. In fact, my friends excelled in almost every aspect of it, except for Small. His fighting style is better suited to using the element of surprise, rather than overwhelming opponents with sheer force.
Even so, I had few problems, and used magic to mask where my physical skill fell behind that of the others. As a result of our ‘excellence’ in being able to dispose of our opponents incredibly quickly, we were assigned status as an elite unit, which was a fancy way of stating that we were considered slightly better than most of the conscripts. With training complete, we moved out to join the main forces on the plains of Outer ZineCraft.
When we arrived, the camp was not much to see. The generals live in nothing short of luxury, with various imported delicacies available at their fingertips. Meanwhile, all the standard soldiers stagger around the camp on half rations, due to supposed ‘food shortages,’ their energy flagging immensely as they struggle to maintain the camp. Elite units don’t get much better treatment with three quarter rations and slightly larger tents between each unit.
It’s a war cliché.
The fighting has been the worst point of the experience. Ignoring the mental armour that at least I don when I have to fight, the acts themselves were merely weekly small scrimmages with the opposing forces. That was when Ghostly had stepped in, briefly, and had ordered Worth and Carsey to attempt diplomatic talks.
Unsurprisingly, they had been short lived.
Soon, their strong-armed-reliant negotiations became useless, with one threat too many causing Herobrine’s general to throw in the towel and break down negotiations.
After that, the scrimmages became sustained conflict as they tried to force us back. We still outnumbered them, and still stood our desperate ground at the time. Though we held, it did not take long to see that the conflict was going badly for us. The army was in awful shape, with casualties everywhere. Even Aaron and Gracey suffered flesh wounds, which I healed the best I could. I attribute my own blood all flowing within my body to this day merely to my own magical abilities.
Otherwise, Aaron, Gracey, and even myself could have been cold in the ground by this point, which isn’t a particularly pleasant or hopeful thought.
Our feeble battle of attrition went on like this for some time, until a few weeks ago, when an envoy returned from the capital city with news. Tired ears perked up eagerly at this. The few men in the force who were not yet defeated, both mentally and physically, were desperate for some reprieve from the fighting. It was not to be their lucky day.
The envoy opened his mouth as the officers came out of their tent for the first time in what had seemed like days, the campaign tactics beginning to take their toll even on them.
“Men, I come bearing bad news. As we are aware, the diplomatic talks broke down long ago, and we have been fighting Herobrine’s forces ever since. Recently, Ghostly once again had Worthmaster and Carsey attempt peace talks. It is with much regret that I tell you they have failed, and you will once again have to fight Herobrine’s forces.”
“We have been placed on the defensive, but I have no doubt that we can fight back,” the envoy begins, and I sit back and sigh as the rhetoric sets in.
A great empire, my foot.
When he is finished, he makes to mount his horse, grateful for the chance to leave the war camp before he himself is conscripted to fight. The rest of us are not so lucky. We adjourn to our war tent, knowing full well that tomorrow there will be conflict.
Aaron is the first to speak.
“It’s a death sentence. There’s no way we can keep going like this and get out of here alive. This is exactly what Worth and Carsey wanted, and we’ve played right into their hands. I knew we should have tried to escape before we were conscripted. It would’ve been so much easier to get away from all this, and now we’re going to die.”
The air surrounding his angry outburst is grim, and full of general disagreement from everyone in the tent. Nobody has the energy or patience to follow his outburst with a rational response or indeed any response, and we sit in gloomy silence.
It was tomorrow that would prove the greatest test to our abilities. I urge everyone to get to sleep and prepare for the following day, but I am certain that I am not the only one spending the night with my eyes open and adrenaline pumping through my body.
***
At the break of dawn, bugles sound around the war camp, snatching away the last opportunity I had of any sleep whatsoever. I don my secretly enchanted iron shell and sling my sword over my back. Everyone has retained their particularly foul mood, but that doesn’t stop us from leaving our tent as quickly as possible to avoid being accused of insubordination.
We arrive in our place next to the other elite units just in time for the briefing from the generals. One of them starts gesturing to the plan of the area, as the field marshall begins his hastily prepared plan for today’s assault.
“All right men. Today we will strike a blow for Zinecraft, and show the Herobrinian forces that they cannot attack us and expect to get away with it. We shall hit them fast and hard, before they expect us to and before they can muster the forces to retaliate.”
It’s easy to tell that they don’t believe in our success, but you have to give them credit for their optimism. If this is the elite unit briefing, then I dread to think how low morale must be for the regular soldiers.
“Now, the plan. Each unit will travel as a single cohort. You have been tasked with the retrieval of some specific...documents that will require you to get deep within their war camp. Don’t worry; it doesn’t matter what the documents are - just know that it will be heavily guarded in one of their operations tents. As you can see from the map drawn up by our scouts, there are four operations tents. However, because there are only three of your units, we have decided upon the most probable tents for us to find our documents.
Each unit has been assigned to a tent. We have produced a strategy that each will be able to use to get to their various tents, given the size of their camp and the need to avoid being overrun.
Unit one, you…”
I stop listening as he begins to brief the first elite unit on their suicide mission.
If any of us survive this, it will be a miracle. A short time later, he turns to our unit.
“Unit three, your tent is located in the NorthEast of the camp. To reach it, you should cross at the ford directly SouthWest, then ascend onto the outcrop and pass through the densely forested area. We’re aware of the fact that they won’t have many guards stationed in the forest, so you should be able to quickly dispatch of them and enter their camp from the rear. From there, crush any resistance you encounter and then search your operations tent for any documents you can find. Take everything, and then return back as quickly as possible. Don’t enter a confrontation with their officers. Just get in, and get out. We can’t afford to risk too many troops providing this distraction for you.”
So it’s not a suicide mission for us necessarily, but it is for all the normal units. May Notch help them.
“Get on horses, and get going!” the field marshall finishes, and we all leave the tent quickly. With no window for discussion, we mount our steeds and head for the indicated ford, whilst the other elite units disperse to other paths and the main force marches across a large ford in the river.
Just as we arrive at our ford, and dismount, we see flaming debris strike the first troops.
“It’s a bloodbath,” mutters Secret. The fact that even he is appalled is testimony to the severity of the conflict. Nobody hastens to add anything, and we focus on crossing the river. Leaving our horses behind, we are soon across with minimal difficulty.
That’s when an arrow flies next to my head and almost strikes Small in the lower jaw. Up on the outcrop, a number of the characteristic Thaumic tribesmen we’ve been fighting stand, several with bows, and one with the robes that indicate a Thaumaturge - the army’s magicians.
I grin to myself, relishing the opportunity to take out some of my pent-up rage on the enemy. As Secret draws his bow and I double take when I realise Small has already disappeared with his typical espionage routine, I raise my sword and lead the charge towards the outcrop. I quickly focus, an invisible shield of energy surrounds us and prevents any further arrows from landing on us as we make our approach. Several of their archers fall by Secret’s hand, and comparatively fewer by the more tentative bows of Cossack, Brit and Gracey. Meanwhile, I focus on isolating the energy of the Thaumaturge.
Only half concentrating on running and maintaining our shield, I use the rest of my mental power to launch magical attacks upon my Thaumic infidel. Though he manages to resist for a short time, Thaumic magic can’t stand up to my own, and I catch him off guard by rapidly condensing the water in his brain. He falls over dead, to the shock of his companions, allowing Secret to dispatch of several of them. They turn to run, only for two of them to be stabbed in the back by the knife of Small before he melts back into the shadows. As the stragglers attempt to escape, Aaron cuts them down with his longsword, bringing an end to the Thaumic guard on the outcrop.
I give a sigh of consternation, my magical slightly energy depleted from the brush with the Thaumaturge.
In addition to my repressed self-loathing for killing so many, I can’t help but feel pride at the competence of my friends. I take control and direct everyone into the forest, including Small who has regrouped with us.
It seems that that was not the only opposition we would face in our passage to the camp; not long after we enter the woods, Aaron motions for us all to get down.
With everyone against the floor and pretty disgruntled, he gestures to the treetops, where several Thaumic scouts and sentries have taken up positions. If we move much further, it’s likely that they’ll notice us and we’ll be sitting ducks for their barrage.
“Fellows, I think I have an idea, but I’m going to need you to buy me some time,” says Brit.
I nod, and take out two of the nearest scouts with a line of sight to us. Two more fall to Secret’s bow. Meanwhile, Brit pulls out two small stone-like objects that I can’t make out in the darkness of the forest.
Brit begins to whisper to me with his plan.
“Now Astro, you surely must have noticed that the trees in this forest are too saturated with water to set on fire, have you not? However, with these incendiary charges Small stole from the general’s supplies, wet or not, the trees are going up in flames. What I need you to do is to keep the rest of us from setting on fire whilst we run through the remainder of the forest. Can you do that?”
I give him a nod, intrigued at when he could’ve stolen the charges.
“Let’s go then. Everyone, when I say run, we run straight through the forest.”
He rubs the fuse on one of the charges against a nearby rock until it sparks, and then lobs it at a large redwood tree behind him.
“RUN!” shouts Brit, and we rise as one. We sprint through the woods, now pursued not by the fire-startled tribesmen but instead the quickly spreading flames.
It seems it was not enough to scare them all off, and so while I begin to draw water from in the air and in the trees to surround us as we run, preventing the fire from reaching us, Aaron and Gracey take the lead, quickly dispatching of any further Thaums we come across. Everything goes as planned until Cossack trips and injures his ankle, forcing us into a defensive position in the side of a clearing that connects directly to our location.
“We have to protect him until I can get him back onto his feet,” I cry. The tribesmen have not thinned in numbers, and I set about healing Cossack’s ankle whilst Brit rigs an explosive and Aaron and Secret barely keep them off us. I concentrate heavily on repairing the bones in his ankle, and before long, he is fine again.
However, the tribesmen are almost upon us, and we are to be swallowed unless I act fast. I shudder as I consider the implications of what I’m about to do, but I know there is no other choice.
“Brit, the explosive! Plant it now, and trust me!”
“Astro, you’re insane! It’ll kill us all!”
“Trust me, or we’ll die anyway!” I flash him a stern look and he hesitates, before planting the explosive on the ground and lighting the fuse.
With my flagging magical energy, I concentrate on one thought.
‘Away.’
With a flash of energy, the explosive goes off, but we are on the other side of the clearing, and unharmed.
I stagger and fall, on the verge of faint from my exertion. Gracey and Aaron each offer me an arm as they watch the remaining Thaums meet their fate in the fire.
Brit stares at me in disbelief, but I can only respond with a knowing smile.
“That was bloody brilliant,” he says matter-of-factly.
Secret takes charge in my stead.
“Let’s go, we’ve got documents to steal. Let’s hope that we can get back through this way for our return.”
Moving as fast as we can go with me in my weakened state, we head towards the camp. There’s no way we’re going to steal the documents like this. I take note of a small cave entrance to the side.
“Secret, I’m only going to slow everybody down like this. I’m going to go wait and recover in that cave. Send somebody back to me if you suspect things are going to go south in there.”
He gives me a nod.
“Come on lads, let’s go. Astro can look after himself.”
With less faith in his words than he has, I lug myself into the cave entrance and rest against the wall of the small stone cavern. I soon find myself bored but tired, and have to resist the urge to pass out, knowing that my friends may well need me soon. I take this opportunity to explore the cave.
Just when I think that I’ve wasted my time in an ineffective search of the surrounds, my hand brushes against a small stone lever. Blending in completely with the surroundings, it would’ve taken a greater man than I to notice it had it not literally been right in front of me. A small, pickaxe-hewn compartment opened to my left, and inside were some meagre belongings.
A travelling cloak, a few pictures, some documents, and an identity card. The identity card is what catches my attention, and I examine it closely. The name means little to me, but the face is one I’ve seen before.
The man who attempted to attack me at the pub, back in Altus. He must be a spy within Herobrine’s ranks. Despite everything, I fail to see how this fits into the puzzle. Clearly, our intel is outdated, because otherwise we would have been informed of the heavy guard within the forest. We weren’t expecting any resistance whatsoever, though we relished it.
I grab the identity card, and the pictures to go through at another time.
Just as I turn to go back to the entrance of the cave, Small staggers through it, blocking off the sunlight.
“Astro...they’re in trouble. We managed to approach the tent, but they’re pinned down. They’ve taken an officer captive, one of the black-shells, and are attempting to use him as leverage to escape with the documents. We need to go, now.”
Slightly better rested, I follow small into the camp. It’s carnage, with the corpses of tribesmen everywhere. However, for every step we take, we get closer to an inaudible din. I use my magic to magnify the volume of my voice, then prepare to take action. As I do so, Small disappears into the crowd surrounding the tent as if he was never with me.
“SILENCE!” I yell. The amplified nature of my voice makes all of the surrounding officers grimace, and I take my chance, running over the disorientated crowd and into the tent. The sight that meets my eyes is desperate.
Aaron and Secret are struggling to restrain a black-shell, and Gracey holds the documents in his hands. Small sits, contemplating his best avenue for escape. Cossack and Brit each man a flap, fighting off any tribesmen who wish to try their luck at entry.
I give Aaron a sly wink.
“Gentlemen, I didn’t know that you needed me this badly. I guess I’ll just sort it out, like I always do.”
They’re not amused by my out of place sarcasm, but Aaron is used to it, and smiles briefly before tightening his hold on the black-shell.
I once again prepare to amplify my voice, but this time with interference, so that my friends in the tent will hear almost nothing, and the tribesmen will hear it all too loud.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I must say that I’m impressed.”
Cossack snorts derisively at my tone.
“You’ve done well to surround us, but I’m afraid that merry time of misrule is over. You can let us go. Or you can die.”
I demonstrate my point by using magic to knock out several of the tribesmen near the front of the crowd. The rest of them, even the officers, step back slightly, whilst several arrows are loosed against me. They glance off me like nothing had happened.
At this display, a path began to form through the crowd as they dispersed frantically. The black-shells called for them to attack further, but they had been shocked dramatically by the show I had put on for them.
I shouted normally at my friends, for this would be our only chance. We had to run.
“Come on, we have to get out of here! Take the black-shell and the documents, and let’s move!”
Aaron knocks out the black-shell with the pommel of his sword and everyone else forms up around Secret and he.
A black-shell moves towards us to intercept as we rush back through the camp, but Small appears behind him and knocks him unconscious. None of his other brethren seem brave enough to challenge us, and so we successfully exit the camp.
I take command of the group, knowing that we may not survive if we don’t act fast.
“There’s no way we’re going to get the black-shell to come all the way back to our camp. We’re going to interrogate him here, and then we’re going to kill him. Quickly, to that cave entrance from earlier.”
Secret mans the entrance to the cave, whilst everyone rests. Small pulls out his cyanide pill, and gestures it at the visor of the officer’s armour.
“Now, if you don’t answer my questions, I will kill you.”
The black-shell doesn’t move. Small reiterates his point.
“I said, I will kill you.”
Despite the severity of the threat, there is no response. Secret interrupts, a slightly fazed look on his face.
“Another black-shell is incoming! We have to move, now. We can’t stand up to this for much longer.”
“Fine, I’ll just get this over with, shall I?” Small replies, agitated.
He rips off the helmet, surprising us all. The black-shell’s head droops forward; it’s clear he’s dead from his injuries, having only died a short time ago.
“For goodness sake, after all that,” sighs Aaron.
I know that the black-shell Secret spotted will continue to chase us if we run away. But I can’t let anything happen to my friends. We’ve already lost Kay, and I’ll be damned if we lose another.
“Everyone, I want you to run in the direction of the forest. Get yourself and the documents back safely. I guarantee you, that after today, we are leaving. We must flee, or else we will die. Today has been close enough.”
Aaron appears shocked, and Secret is not happy, but I give them a smile of reassurance.
“What are you doing, Astro?” asks Aaron, as the others leave the cave. The black-shell is within two hundred metres now.
“Just trust me, Aaron. I’m going to sort out this black-shell.”
Aaron runs in the direction of the others. I really hope that they make it.
I turn to the black-shell and grit my teeth. Here goes nothing. I charge him down taking him off guard as he draws his sword, for I wield no weapon. Instead, I make contact and grab on tight to the general’s armour, then focus.
It’s time to fly.
We lift off quickly, and the black-shell drops his weapon. Diverting the air around us, we climb higher as we streak through the sky at breakneck pace. He claws at my face, attempting to take my eyes out, before realising the futility of the situation. He in turn settles for trying to knee me in the groin, and holds on to me so as not to fall.
I take his moment of distraction to land a debilitating blow to the side of his helmet. His head lulls, and I increase the speed further. We now speed over the river itself, but I bring us low as I prepare for the kill. I’ve had enough of these skirmishes, and it’s time to end it.
I rip of the black-shell’s helmet as I slow us to a halt, and prepare to deliver a killing blow.
I was not expecting the sight before my eyes.
Auburn hair, and stark green eyes. I’m hit with realisation, stronger than any attack, and drop the man before me onto the waterfront. I remain in the air. We’re far from the frenzied slaughter now.
“I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead!” I scream accusingly.
He sits up weakly, still unsettled by our exodus from the battlefield.
“Would you care to finish the job, Astro?”
I’m overwhelmed by the guilt of having almost killed this man. He gets to his feet and draws his sword, but before he can attempt a jab, I interrupt him.
“You have a rat.”
I throw him Shadow’s identity card with disdain. Ghostly could have one less spy, and it would be fine by me. He scans the card with an eyebrow raised. Again, I interrupt him, looking for answers he won’t give me.
“You *******...I don’t understand what you’re doing. We are on opposite sides. But I’m not going to kill you.”
He says nothing, thinking through his response.
“There’s more to this than you know. Maybe one day, you will understand.”
Before I can continue with a line of inquiry, enemy bugles sound from nearby. It’s time to go.
“And on that day, we will meet again, Kay Mandy.”
I shoot upwards into the sky, not knowing how I feel anymore. I have just enough energy to make it back to our camp, before I collapse from fatigue.
I have time for one final thought.
Kay is still alive.
~End of Part 7~
To those who were waiting for an update, I have to extend my deepest apologies for this taking the time it did. It was very hard to overcome the writer's block I had when crafting this chapter, and I hope that it'll be worth the wait. If you come back to this, then I bestow upon you my sincere gratitude. I can't commit to something like an upload schedule, because that will just disappoint people when I fail to meet it, but just know that I am actively working on the project after having overcome my writer's block.
Also, chapter 1 has been redrafted, because I was deeply dissatisfied with it. Chapter 2 will also be redrafted to this end, so for the moment the continuity in these two will be slightly out.
Thank you for reading!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet, both literally and figuratively. Aaron took the place of the accomplice, a knife under my throat.
“Who are you, and what do you want? Why did you come here?”
It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the greatest threat my life had come under. However, with no wrong done, I knew it would be bad to have lied, so I told the truth.
“I meant no harm, I was walking in the woods, and I saw you face-down, so I went towards you in the hope of being able to help. Before I could, I was ambushed by those bandits.”
“********, you were the one who knocked me out last night!”
At that point, I was unsure about how clear his memory was given that he had been assaulted to the head. I decided a little diplomacy was the way to get myself out of this situation.
“I don’t think I’m capable of knocking you out, personally. I don’t mean you any trouble.”
The knife was removed from my throat slowly, and cautiously, and I felt his presence move away from directly behind me as his shadow retreated, as if signifying my fate was not to die that day.
“You can stand up. I believe you.”
I stood up, every moment tense, waiting for an attack that never came. With a turn to face him, I asked this most curious stranger his name.
“Aaron. Aaron Ecodew is my name. One of many.””
I got a bit confused.Isn't aaron astro's friend?Why would he aim a knife at him and why does he say his name again didn't they already know each other?
Ladies and gentlemen of the literature section, welcome! This is the thread for my prequel to A Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale, which is written by Kmandy. You can check that out here.
But what is this story, you may ask?
Well, it still works as a standalone story, but to get the full value out of it, I would recommend reading at least some of FAAR, as it directly follows several main (and supporting) characters from this universe in the lead up to its events. The story focuses on Astro, at the start a young magician, and tells the tale through his perspective. This includes the first origins of the entire gang in Zinecraft, to the eventual exodus to Vanillacraft (after a number of other chapters.)
The status of the story is still a work in progress. Last year, I wrote the first two chapters, then went on a hiatus from the project due to other commitments. As it is, writing currently may be slow due to exams that I have coming up. The next two chapters are currently complete (and I'm sure you can see the difference in my writing style between then and now, as well - I will be touching up the first two chapters a bit at a later date.)
Without further ado, I present to you The Tale of Gaia Before Gaia!
I've put together a teaser for the story - this is an event that occurs much later than in the initial chapters however - there are no direct spoilers but when I've written those chapters, it's very like that this will be incorporated into one of them.
The Parts
This one is just a teaser, and can be read quickly. Astro meets his match.
I hurry up the stone steps towards the center of the arena, the blood that I’ve had no choice but to spill drying on my hands. I grip my iron sword tightly, though its blade is not yet red with the innocent blood I’ve managed to spill.
Magic leaves few traces, except those on my soul itself.
At the final step, I’m exhausted. Two days in the arena would be enough to drive any man mad, and I fear that I am no exception. I am one of two who remain in this, the bloodiest of Vechs’ games, where only the slaves and those unlucky enough to have angered him end up.
In the center is what I’ve been hoping for. The portal that will take me out of this place, to freedom, once and for all. But of course, it could never be that simple. It’s unlit, the beacon signifying its location still transmitting. Before me stands the final obstacle. The final contestant in the games.
His hands are covered in blood, his brow with sweat. Dark, cold eyes stare me down. I keep a firm grasp on my sword, although it is likely to prove useless in the confrontation. He is heavily muscled and strongly built, unlike my own slight frame. This could get ugly if I don’t end it quickly. My leather tunic feels heavy as I lock eyes and prepare for war.
I make a pre-emptive first strike with magic, hoping to incapacitate him so I can end this mess. I strain from the raw concentration of blocking his electrical impulses, making him unable to move. At first, I think it works. He doesn’t move.
Burning pain pierces my arm, a huge wound you would need a mace to inflict materialising before my eyes. My knees buckle, and I desperately redirect energy to heal the wound, my vision going white.
And then, he speaks.
“Did you honestly think we would let you win, Astro? With the threat you pose to Lord Vechs? We sent you to the arena to die. We were hoping that someone else would finish the job for us, but that doesn’t seem likely. This is your final chance. Submit. Submit, or I shall end your pathetic time on this Earth. Submit.”
So that’s it…I was foolish to think that I could escape. After all this, I was only a pawn in a game too large for my own understanding. They sent a sorcerer in after me, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be able to defend myself from a magical attack at this point.
“How does it feel, Astro? How does it feel, all that pain and suffering you caused, to have it coursing out of your veins as we speak?”
The wound isn’t healing.
I’ve escaped before. I’ve been in more near-death experiences than many of my companions. If only they could see how truly destroyed I am now. Would their opinions change? Kay, and Aaron, would you spit and be on your way? For I cannot fight this as I am.
As I am…
I lock eyes with the sorcerer once more, desperately trying to stop his flow of energy that keeps my wound open. Blood loss will kill me in less than two minutes if I don’t do something. I prepare to give up hope and let the brute force of magic overrun me, if merely to take my killer with me. And as I do, I notice the slight aura behind the sorcerer, only visible to those who can use magic.
He’s weak. They’re supplying him with energy. If I can cut off the supply or tap into it myself, I can still win this. Maybe I care less about getting out and more about showing them that I will not submit to their ways at this point, but it’s as good a motivation as any.
I shut my eyes and focus, trying to sense the source of energy. It comes from above. The beacon beam. Of course. Pushing my limits, I force myself to ignore my injury and instead will the beacon to smash.
Within a split second, it’s gone, and I feel the pressure cease as the gash in my arm goes numb.
My opponent is dumbstruck, but he doesn’t have that expression for long. Without hesitation, and without mercy, he dashes towards me, eager to land the final blow before I can respond.
My energy exhausted, I turn to face him, for this will be the most fair fight I’ve ever had.
The ZineCraft Chapters
Chapter 1: A strange acquaintance with familiar qualities. (Title change incoming.)
The hull of the boat glides across the crystalline surface of the water, sending ripples out in every direction. Just beyond the misty horizon is my destination. Zinecraft. With every second I get closer, and anticipation grows. I’m just one of many to come to the thriving land, hoping to make their fortune as previous others have. I’ve received letters from my friend of many years, Aaron, who spoke of gold, diamonds, and untold riches in the fabled land. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Aaron in person. My livelihood as an intellectual has been made redundant in my homeland. Not even with magic can I support myself now.
So I did the only logical thing I could. I packed up what little material possessions I was to bring; my trusty iron sword, pickaxe, and a photo album given unto me by my mother. The precious memento is the one thing that links me to my heritage. I was, and am to this day, alone.
Coming closer, I begin to make out various features of the landscape. A thriving seaside town, complete with coastal defenses; a show of just how well off the people of Zinecraft are. However, something catches my eye: the prosperity lighthouse. A sign that all are welcome, and that there will be freedom and wellbeing for all, no matter who they may be.
I stride powerfully down the uneven gangplank towards my fate, and as I do so I note the caliber of my travelling companions. One seems very familiar to me, though I can’t quite place him. Purple and white clothes with a glum expression on his face. How uninspired.
My first thought upon setting foot on Zinecraft soil is that it’s evening, and I’m hungry as well as tired. My limbs are exhausted. Just because I was travelling did not necessarily make me a passenger, and indeed I had been taken on as a hired hand for the journey that brought me here. I explore the local area for a few minutes before finding the inn my contact in Arcadia had mentioned. The outside looked akin to a picture I saw before I left. Indeed, the not-so-grand windows and the drawn blinds only add to the menacing aura it emanates. Perfect. With a groan I drag my tired limbs through the entrance.
The inn itself is small and cosy. There are several warriors on the far side of the room, trying to settle who was in fact, “the bomb.” I sigh, but smile as I upset the drink the loudest is swigging from across the room without lifting a finger. I notice the drain in my already depleted strength, and for a second I worry that I may have gone one too far. However, the look on the face of the warrior is priceless. One suppressed snigger later as the warriors begin fighting, and I start conversing with the rotund innkeeper.
“Yes, I’d like to book a room for this evening.”
“I’m sorry, you haven’t reserved a room, sir.”
“But you have rooms spare?”
“Well technically yes, but-“
“I don’t care. I’ll only be one night, and I’m tired from a good day’s work.”
“Sir, it would be unorthodox for me to offer-“
I lower my voice conspiratorially, and get up off the barstool. It was uncomfortable anyway. I dwarf the smaller figure of the innkeeper, but not by too much. The look of intimidation on his face leaves little to be interpreted.
“I have just spent the last 3 days toiling on a ship that I believe was linked to your business, good sir. What I decided to ‘ignore’ was the collection of soon-to-be-slave prisoners kept in the hold. Say I was to spend the night out on the street instead. What if an authority were to come along, and ask me what I was doing? Would you be happy if I were to tell said authority what had happened to me? The choice is yours, good friend.”
His intimidated look at first becomes terrified, followed by anger.
“You can’t!” he simply retorts.
But he’s already lost the argument, and he knows it.
“Room key, please.”
It wasn’t a request. It was an order. He grimaces, but hands me the rusted key.
“Get out by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Cheers.”
I ascend the stairs with a sigh, the pommel of my sword rubbing against my thigh. I knew I’d need to look at that. The room is bland and uninteresting, with a sea view. Sitting on the bedside table is a newspaper, clearly just a local spreadsheet but still useful for catching up with what’s going on. The bed is warm and comfortable, and better than the hammock I’ve just spent 3 nights on. With a sigh, I settle down and hope for a better tomorrow before falling to sleep.
***
I awake in less of a calm state. Pointed straight at my throat is a bright blue sword, glistening in the morning light of the sun. The thug holding it is muscular, and his two eyebrows are so long that they’re like two lovers, desperately trying to reach each other, but not quite forming the depressing monobrow. An expression of malice litters his face, but he doesn’t give the best impression of himself as a mercenary, considering there are still stains from the inn’s “continental” breakfast on his white shirt. I would have laughed if it wasn’t for the innkeeper sitting on the stool in the corner, bow trained on my neck.
“Well, what can I do for you two gents?” I question, rhetorically of course.
“I’m afraid you know too much about our little operation,” replied the innkeeper.
The enthusiasm of his voice extinguishes any hope of some kind of compromise. The side of myself I had shown the previous evening is a side I aim to avoid.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid I don’t have any money to give you.” I neglect to mention the wallet stuffed full of notes hastily shoved into my pocket last night. It was a good move. I do legitimately want to know why he didn’t kill me in my sleep, however. It would have been so easy.
“So why am I not dead?”
“You’re weak. I can tell by the way you talk.”
Wrong answer.
“I think you’ve made a mistake then.”
As I say this, the hired hand in front of me cringes in pain, while the innkeeper’s bow catches fire.
“What…are you…?” he stammers in fright.
“Oh, me? I’m just weak.”
Whilst the innkeeper flails about in pain, I take advantage of his turmoil and jump out of the window before he can recover. What a moron. I walk down the street, regretting the actions that these extremes have pushed me to. But I have to keep going, as everyone does. In fact, maybe I will have ended at least one branch of the slave trade here today. Without an employer, the mercenary ships will probably just release the slaves.
That possibility is heartwarming.
I’m already tired from having used magic, so I trudge down the street to find somewhere that will serve me breakfast. It’s a lovely day, with not a cloud in the sky, and I can’t help smiling as I bring my hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s rays.
The promenade itself is very pretty. It reminds me of a bustling main street, sans the angry brawls people seem to get into everywhere else, and the litter. I hated the litter in my old home.
I find a café and sit down, ordering a glass of milk and cereal from the waitress who seems utterly baffled by my request, until I point out that the café does serve breakfast according to the menu. She jets off, and I take a look at the newspaper I found earlier.
The front headline reads in bold typeface “LONG TIME CRIMINAL FINALLY CAPTURED.”
I’m momentarily intrigued, before I realise that it’s just more of the True Court’s propaganda. I suppress a chuckle, drawing the eyes of a few other patrons of the café, but I don’t care. They had been lying about this for a long time; the ‘criminal’ in question used to be simply an urban legend. It had developed into more than that, and I’d heard the stories from my fellow travellers about the possibility of his presence within Zinecraft. It doesn’t really affect me, so long as my magical ability remains. Still, teleporting is more of a last resort; it leaves me bedridden for days to use my magic like that.
Flicking through the newspaper, I don’t see anything of note until a small headline on the third page. “Apprentice to Emperor Ghostly WANTED.” A quick skim of the ad reveals he wants an apprentice to instruct in the ways of magic. Well. I secretly thank the fourth wall, and scan the newspaper for anything else of value.
Nothing…except…what’s this?
“Today an aviator was arrested for petty theft of a goose near the capital city. It is reported that the goose is still missing, despite the aviator being captured. When the aviator was questioned on his motives, he simply said “This is a free country, and we are able to take these resources if they are not owned by anyone. Is this not true?”” The rest of the article appears to be government propaganda, but what I do notice is the picture.
The aviator arrested, yes. The man standing beside him, and shouting down the media, though? That would be Aaron. A low-level goose thievery team? I shake my head and let out a chuckle. I thought better of him. If he was going to steal something, he could’ve at least gone for gold or diamonds, rather than a goose.
That was Aaron all right though, and I catch myself smiling. So I know where I’m going now. First and foremost, find Aaron. I now know I should be able to find him near the capital city.
I look up from my paper as my cereal arrives. It’s surprisingly bland, but at least it’s not poisoned. After having eaten, I take my leave from the café and move on. Walking through the side streets of the settlement is interesting. Everywhere you look, you can see a street performer, a busker, or more worryingly, a beggar. One man, with dirt encrusted teeth and a lazy eye hobbles towards me with difficulty.
“Please…sir…” he rasps.
I hand him a note from my wallet. He needs it more than I do.
“May you have good fortune evermore,” I bless him, and continue walking on.
The man starts to follow me. Slightly wary of a trap, I turn with a raised eyebrow and assert my case.
“I don’t have anything more I can give you.”
“Please, take me with you. I’ve been here for longer than you’ve been alive. Even just take me to a hospital,” he pleads, and something in his eyes speaks to me more than his words ever could.
The ghettos in any place are not desirable to live in. This man seems like there is more to him than meets the eye. No one should end up in the filth and infection riddled area that the ghettos are. The decision is an easy one.
With a smile, I turn to the man.
“Okay, let’s go. Just be careful, there are criminals everywhere.”
We begin walking, but only a short while later, the old man begins to groan and complain.
“My back…really hurts.”
I stare into his eyes and I know I’m going to regret my actions. I take a look at the red welts on his back hesitantly. It’s bad. They’re infection riddled and he’ll probably die in a few days. Two emotions come to mind…mercy, and kindness.
I could kill the man, and end his suffering.
Or I could heal him. The latter option would definitely make it impossible for me to travel quickly, let alone use magic again for a while. Even so, I feel the need to atone for the damage I’ve caused to the coastal port, and maybe this would be an appropriate way to make amends.
“Hold still.”
He stops and doesn’t move, but I can tell he is scared.
“Just relax.”
I move my palm over his wounds gently, and direct energy from my body to treat his welts and destroy the infection.
“Agh-“
This…my strength is fading…was this advisable?
Just as I’m about to pass out, I feel myself losing no more energy.
I open my eyes to find him standing before me, marveling at his back. The welts are gone. There’s no more infection.
“There…you go,” I stammer, barely managing to force the words out. He doesn’t say anything. He just offers me an arm, and I take it. I hobble along the street, supported by the man I just saved.
I feel happy that my deed was able to help the man, but it also scared me. Improper use of magic can kill any sorcerer with ease. All you have to do is start and it can all be over. Magic itself is the manipulation of the world around you through mental power rather than physical exertion. Rather than swinging a sword or drawing a bow, you can incapacitate an opponent simply by making a small cut in the spinal cord, or damaging organs from the inside. Very few are blessed with the power of magic, and those who are end up being killed off by those around them, or by their own hands.
Fear is a powerful thing.
I stumble over a rock, but I’m not alone. The man offers me a hand, and I take it.
I’m not alone, at least for now.
***
Some time later, he and I are walking upon an overgrown path out of the city. It’s only a short time later that I notice I’ve gone too far ahead of him, and so I backtrack to find him resting against the cobbled stone wall.
“We need to get going, you know. There are people looking for me.”
“You never told me your name.”
Despite everything, I am still hesitant to reveal my name to this man, in the unlikely event that my history has followed me here. He takes my silence as a chance to switch to a different line of inquiry.
“How did you fix my back?”
I suppose I can’t lie about my blatant use of magic here.
“I used magic. I’ve been blessed with magic and I’m only an amateur. But I can do a few different things.”
I chuckle, as if to say “No big deal.”
His eyes light up, and there’s something there that I hadn’t seen before. Loyalty? Or maybe something more sinister?
The sunset is clearly near, and we’ve been walking for a while. I pose the question of accommodation.
“Do you know if there’s somewhere we can stay for the night?”
“We’re in luck. There’s a field we could use as a campsite to the East, if we continue for a little while.”
Thankful for his knowledge of the area, I give a sigh of relief.
“Brilliant. It won’t be comfortable, but at least we’re less likely to get attacked in such a remote location.”
The rest of our trek, it seems, will be through the woods.
As I walk through, I amuse myself trying to identify the trees present. That knowledge feels like it’s from a previous life. Regardless, it’s important to know your environment; if you’re ever in peril, knowing what can and cannot be relied on to help you will decide your survival in most cases.
Trudging through the thick grass, we make our way towards the campsite. It’s a simple clearing in the centre of the woods. The moon casts an illuminating glow over the clearing, and I briefly consider settling down here for good. It seems so peaceful. The promise of a peaceful life is indeed one I’d consider. But not for long.
We collect firewood, and set up a camp. The old man is surprisingly competent. Maybe you learn more than I’d have originally thought, just from living in the ghettos.
We lie under the stars, and I notice a lack of pressure in the pocket where I keep my wallet. I’m not going to get very far without it, so I decide to venture out and hope that it hasn’t gone far.
“Hey, I can’t find my wallet. I’m going to go look for it. I’ll be right back.”
He nods, and tries to find a comfortable position to sleep in, failing and ending up curling up like a kitten. The sight is oddly comical.
Venturing through the forest at night isn’t easy, even with magic to aid your sight, but without it, this is hell. How do they survive without magic?
Before too long, my stylish leather wallet presents itself to me not far from our makeshift camp. Aaron frequently mocked me for my bad fashion sense, but look who just managed to find their wallet?
I pause, an unknown sound coming to my attention. The sound of movement through the underbrush.
I am not alone here.
Without light, I stand no chance of fighting off an attacker, so I take off back to our fire as fast as I can push myself. I’m already exhausted from today’s events, but this is too much. My attacker is hot on my heels, and I can hear them getting closer every second.
Muscle fatigue begins to set in, and my vision begins to go hazy as I struggle to keep up my physical exertion just as I approach the campfire.
I step to the side and spin to get a good look at the assailant, but before I can think about retaliating, there’s a dagger to my throat, wielded by none other than my travelling companion.
Betrayal. It was to be expected and planned for, and yet I did not. I wonder what they promised him. Money, titles, or perhaps some other great ‘honour?’ To me, they’re mostly superfluous anyway.
The scourge of my pursuit quickly speaks up.
“Well, well, you thought that you could run away from us? That you could take down an empire by killing one man?”
“I might ask you some similar questions,” I quip back, utterly unimpressed by his routine.
My remark catches him off guard, and I quickly focus on incapacitating the old man. The dagger clatters to the floor, and I give the assailant a quick smile before punching him square in the face.
Sometimes, it’s more satisfying to do things the old fashioned way. Blood spurts from his nose, and he falls back, unconscious and close to death. I think about helping the old man, but he has made his choice.
I take a step back, and bolt for the trees so that I may find a safe place to wait out the night. Meanwhile, I have plenty to think about.
Why did I actually enjoy that?
My ‘fresh start’ is a disaster. Magic is risky, not just because you can kill yourself using it, but you can lose yourself using it. It’s a well-known fact that most sorcerers ended up using their magic for bad, instead of for good.
Tomorrow will be better.
~End of Part 1~
Chapter 2: The Road Ahead is Long.
It’s a new day. That doesn’t exactly mean it’s a good day. I rise, completely exhausted from the exertions of the previous day. I need food or I’m going to die. What a start that would be. Dead within two days on Zinecraft soil. At least I could be proof of the propaganda being wrong that way.
In the search for water, I find a small well, made of hewn stone and a wooden bucket, and pull up a substance comparable to liquid gold in my situation. I drink, and feel much better than before. I should really learn to control water better with my magic. Who knows when I’ll need to wash my enemies away with a tidal wave? I try to manipulate the water at the bottom of the well, and laugh as tiny ripples form. Tidal wave my foot.
I set off from my campsite at a steady pace, leaving the unconscious man and Locus’ corpse behind. I guess I can’t repress the questions raised by the actions of last night. Why did the man come for me? Why did he kill Locus? How did I manage to knock him out using pure mental instinct? These questions claw at my mind, refusing to leave me alone until I answer them.
I leave the forest, and end up back on the dirty track. The forest on one side, the meadow on the other, I set off, continuing my journey. As I walk, I start to solve my mental conundrums.
First things first…why am I being hunted down? I’ve barely been here a day and a half and I’ve already got the law of the land looking for me. I think, with a bit of luck, I could probably talk my way out of it and set the record straight, but I did just knock a man unconscious. So why…? Use of magic isn’t exactly strict, although in many places it is unheard of. Surely they wouldn’t believe the liar innkeeper?
But they’re afraid. Of course. Afraid of what I could do to them. I’m only a novice, with no endurance. I’m not a threat. And they have their own sorcerer besides, their leader, Ghostly. If I’m a threat, why not have him kill me? All these questions raised seem to be the unwelcome offspring of only one of the questions I have to answer. I guess my brain will be their chew toy for a while yet.
Why Locus was killed continues to baffle me. His death was completely unnecessary. Perhaps he was questioned, and even tried to defend me? I feel terrible about Locus. I barely knew the man, and he potentially saved my life. What if that knife had ended up in my back instead? I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact that I have blood on my hands. I’m hoping it’ll be the last time it comes to that, but something tells me this won’t be the last time I’ll be responsible for the death of a friend.
How I managed to disrupt his consciousness with instinct alone worries me, more than baffles me. I’ve used magic on instinct before, and indeed it has even saved my life in the past. But it worries me that I can be such an uncontrolled and destructive force. Being honest with myself, I need to think of some way to control my magic. Some way that doesn’t involve those mysterious shackles they put on dark magicians. Those are the last things I need at the moment.
With my mind in a worse state than it was previously was, I survey my surroundings for the first time in a while. The seaside town is a long ways behind me know, having vanished over the horizon. The only thing in either direction is the road. A glint catches my eye, and the source comes into focus as I tilt my head. I pick up the fake jewelry and grimace. A well-placed prank. Touché, scoundrels.
Wait…they’re still here…
“Put your hands in the air.”
The voice is remarkably high. It reminds me of an entertainer that had provided about half the reason for my leaving my homeland. I can’t quite remember his name. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t, lest I end up finding his music later on.
I slowly move my hands to the air, still holding the faux gold.
“What can I do for you, young man?”
He steps into view, but there’s no taunting or jeering. I guess “young man” just served to make him angry. Well done Astro, well done.
“I’m not a ‘young man’, you infantile moron. I’ve got you on your knees and you’re going to give me your money.”
“I’m not on my knees, last time I checked I was standing up and was taller than you.”
“It was figurative.”
“I figure that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His momentary distraction towards my mind games is all I need to punch him in the face. He crumples to the ground. No one will care.
“Kids these days…” I sigh, and continue on.
Twilight has just fallen as the capital city comes into view.
The sign reads “Zinecraft Capital City.” Wow. Just wow. I thought it had a name! Ghostly, you have failed me as a leader…
Disregarding the lack of a name, I walk up to the gates. The guard hails me, shouting, “What’s your business in the Capital?”
His voice is gruff, but I can tell he’s tired and just wants a good nights sleep for a change.
“I come seeking a new beginning, and to look for the friend that invited me here.”
Apparently my explanation for my situation was not enough, as a sniper trains his bow on me from his position in one of the guard towers.
The guard gestures tiredly, doing his job but giving the impression he’d rather be anywhere than here at this moment.
“Do you have evidence?”
I pull out one of the letters Aaron had sent me; the only remaining letter. I toss it to the guard and he catches it lazily. After a quick skim read, I can see him visibly tense.
“Is that the bloke that was with the aviator who was charged with stealing the goose?”
I loathe admitting that I’m associated with such people in this scenario, but I guess I have no choice.
“Yes. That would be the man.”
He bursts out laughing and his colleague promptly takes over as he leaves the guard tower, presumably to find something to wipe his eyes with. The second guard speaks up.
“Well…I’m sure my colleague’s verification of your identity,” he says, trying not to laugh, “has told you what you wanted to hear. You’re allowed to enter.” The gates promptly open, and I shoot the guard a friendly wave. He calls me back for a second.
“We’ve now got the geese on lockdown, so don’t try anything funny.”
He sniggers as his colleague returns. I take the opportunity to make his trousers fall off into the road, without him realising the true culprit.
“I won’t, officer. You can count on me,” I say, calmly and confidently. It takes him a second to mentally process what just happened, but the gates have already closed by the time he thinks to shout after me. Aaron owes me for that.
The city itself is impressive. There are smaller establishments, though none look like the inhabitants are anything less than well off, surrounding the huge metropolis in the distance. The road heads directly to the center of the city. Interesting choice of design, but in the case of a siege, it can only cause the undoing of the city.
So I begin my leisurely stroll among the buildings. The stars above cast a pleasant aura around this place. There are a few names I recognise on various billboards; entertainers from my past. More worryingly, one of the billboards boasts the slogan “IMMIGRANTS OUT” in large letters, with art of a boat full of what I suspect are immigrants being sent out into the sea to burn, and people of Zinecraft cheering on the coastline.
Things like that make me sick, not at least because the hate crime is directed at me. What happened to Zinecraft, the land of the free, of riches, of a place where anyone is welcome?
At this time I’ve ended up in the middle of the city. All around me are scanty ads, propaganda, and shops. There is one thing left to comfort me, however, and upon sight of it I visibly relax. Free food. A noise from my stomach confirms my destiny, and I rush towards the fabled farm complex.
Aaron had told me of this. The food was supplied completely for free by the Administrator, Ghostly, and his two colleagues. I enter the room, and have to shield my eyes from the sight ahead. Rows, and rows, and rows of free melons. Normally I’d turn my nose up and go for steak, but being in the wilderness with no food does something to a man I won’t soon forget. I take the nearest watermelon, and split it into 8 equal slices with a quick burst of magic. Oh, it’s the little things most people miss out on. They’re definitely the most satisfying.
After having satisfied my hunger, I stand up cautiously. Around me are two guards, with spears pointed straight at my chest. Rather than tensing up and preparing to fight the two guards, I simply relax. The guards themselves don’t seem to be eager to stab me, besides.
“Hello, what can I do for you?” I query, but they don’t speak. Instead, the farm complex goes dark, and even with enhanced vision, I can barely make out what’s going on around me.
“Welcome.” The voice comes from the other side of the complex, and it exudes power like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The source, however, is unknown to me.
The complex illuminates, and I find myself standing before a man. No, not just a man. This is a sorcerer. I can feel his magic emanating from him: a star in dark space. His face is young, but I can tell of many years of experience written there, despite the deceptive youth. Blue eyes, brown, short hair, and a smile that would make even the most timid person stand at ease while talking to him. His frame is lean, but muscular.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am?” he ponders, not breaking eye contact with me. I find myself afraid to break eye contact, if only because of the guards, still close enough to me to raise their spears and cut me in half should I choose not to cooperate.
“Funnily enough, I guessed. Ghostly, yes? What businesses do you have with me? I am but a humble traveller.” I think that was pretty transparent, even for me.
“You know why I’ve found you, Astro. You have the ability to use magic. And you show an unusual aptitude with it. How interesting.” I don’t deny him, though if this had been anyone else, I would have raised my objection by now.
“I lack endurance or skill though, Ghostly. I can do no harm.”
“If I thought that you were here to destroy my kingdom, slay my people, or usurp my position, you would already be dead Astro. No, I’ve come for you because I am offering you an opportunity. There comes a time where one must pass on their studies of magic, for the greater good. Despite what you see, I have endured many years, fought many battles, and learned great things. But when I am gone, what a pity it would be to waste my experience. So I decided I should become a mentor. And of anyone to be suited of wielding magic at my level, how curious that it be someone to just arrive in this land. I’d almost say it was a prophecy, but everyone knows that’s just the excuse a mentor uses to convince a pupil to join him.”
I don’t need a prophecy. I know what I’m going to say already.
“So, with that in mind, would you like to be taken on as my student in the magical arts? Of wielding the energy flow of the world around us, of manipulating those who oppose us, and gaining mental strength beyond comprehension?”
If this weren’t Ghostly I was speaking to, I’d think he was trying to sell me drugs.
“I accept,” comes my reply. I do a good job of not letting him catch on to how excited I am inside. A smile emerges on my lips, only a poor representation of how excited I really am.
“Thank you, Ghostly.”
“That’ll be Sensei from now on, Astro.”
“Yes, Sensei.”
Despite his exertion of his authority, I’m still really excited for this. It’s what I have always dreamed of: being able to use magic so freely and easily, without concern for the fact that it might kill me in the process. To become good at this will certainly help me out in the future…
I’m pulled out of my reverie by Ghostly.
“Just kidding. This isn’t a martial arts film. You knocked out one of my soldiers earlier. And you set an inn on fire. Why is that?”
His voice is gentle, not angry, and I consider lying to him. However, his mental strength far surpasses mine, and if I lie he’ll probably pick up on it and I’ll be in a far worse situation than I am now. Maybe silence is the best option.
He surveys me for a time, after having called off his guards.
“You are indeed an interesting person, Astro. You are to come to this address tomorrow at daybreak.”
He brandishes a piece of paper with “Ghostly’s Palace, 1 Ghostly Way, Capital City, Zinecraft” written on it in my face. I take it, albeit concerned that he believes that I need such guidance to find his abode.
I of course, cannot wait, but first I must find my friends.
Chapter 3: The Best Part of Any Man.
What I had heard was lies.
I keep wandering through this area. Off the beaten track is how I prefer it, anyway. Nothing could be more interesting.
I know the house the moment I arrive on its street. The sign in bold letters: “INHABITANT UNDER HOUSE ARREST” leaves little to assume. As I walk towards the house, a guard stops me, clearly assigned to prevent Aaron’s friend from leaving.
“What’s your business ‘ere?” he mutters, alcohol on his breath and his voice thick with accent.
Zinecraft hasn’t really given me a great first impression. Or a second, third or fourth for that matter.
“I’m visiting a friend I haven’t seen in a long time.”
Before I can react, his spear is pressed up against my throat. Using magic would just lead to the end of my adventure here before it could even begin. Apparently he’s not as drunk as I judged.
“I’ve ‘eard that story many times.”
The spear is thrust close to my throat. One casual movement and that’s it. I have to play this properly. I’ve got enough enemies here already.
“Tell me the truth! Or I’m going to leave yer guts splattered against the floor.”
This guy is serious. I guess it was too much to hope for that the alcohol would intoxicate him.
“My friend lives in the house with the arrest sign. I just want to see him. If you need to verify my identity as a benevolent, you need only ask Ghostly.”
At the mention of the leader of Zinecraft, the guard backs off, muttering dirty remarks under his breath.
“Be on yer way then. If ya cause trouble, I’ll make sure ya pay for it.”
He spits in my direction, and there’s nothing I can do but accept it. I turn and knock on the spruce door of Aaron’s abode.
…
No answer.
I knock harder, and through the window in the door I see a figure silhouetted against the obscure backdrop. However, I could recognise that silhouette anywhere.
“Aaron! By Notch, it’s been a long time!” I exclaim as he opens the door wide. He embraces me briefly, before standing back.
His dark hair and bright eyes remain unchanged from the last time I saw him, but he is built more muscularly than I remember. It’s hard to keep in mind all the things people without magic have to do by hand. Deadpan as ever in the face of an emotional moment, he gives a small smile then surveys me.
“You look awful. What’s happened to you?”
“Immigration happened. I’ve been walking for a long while to get here.”
“I’m glad you finally made it. Come in!”
I enter into a small room, made even smaller by the fact that there are ornaments everywhere. Of course, the elephant in the room doesn’t really help matters; the goose thief is sitting at a table, nonchalantly chewing on some poor morsel. He has wild, auburn hair, as if he had neglected to groom it or is doing some kind of ‘Movember’ gone wrong, and a face that betrays an age maybe a year younger than myself. Upon his hair is perched a pair of worn aviator goggles. He looks up, jade eyes staring me down, as if analysing me.
“You’re the one who stole that goose. In the paper.”
He doesn’t look surprised. He’s probably had enough of it over the last few days, and I don’t blame him. His expression quickly turns to a grin, and his eyes light up.
“Well, ‘twas a brilliant goose, was it not? The name’s Kay. Pleasure to meet you, mister…?”
He speaks with a slight exotic accent. Irish, perhaps?
“You need only call me Astro. It’s what everyone else calls me.”
“Astro it is then. You’re Aaron’s friend? You don’t look like an undercover officer to me.”
His wit takes me off guard, and I realise that my initial impression of Kay from the paper was probably wrong. Trust the media to disrupt anything and everything.
“The goose wasn’t that important, Kay. I had a good laugh though.”
I grin back at him, and he smiles widely.
“And I bet none of Ghostly’s officers can do this.”
I snap my fingers, and glowstone appears in front of him. He stares, dumbstruck.
“How’d you get that past contraband?” comes the retort.
“You need not worry, I didn’t smuggle anything unless you call teleporting between the dimensions illegal.”
I’m sure the interdimensional police will catch up to me one day, though. I break the awkward silence and change the subject.
“So, how did a most accomplished and professional goose thief such as yourself meet Aaron? Last I checked he was going further than geese.”
“Ah…I was hoping you would ask. ‘Twas a dark and stormy night – that is, the night before we met. The following morning, I was strolling in the woods, after having sheltered in them from the storm. Aaron was face-down in the mud a little further along. He seemed unconscious.
As I started towards him, I heard a disturbance behind me. Turning, I noticed a bandit wearing a black bandana and an earing. It was all I could do to stop myself from hurling myself at him, but he was armed, and I was unable to stop him. He swaggered towards me, and signaled to an accomplice, apparently behind me. I dared not turn. He swore, and shouted, “Another tourist for the pile.” The accomplice brought his hand round my neck and held me in place while the bandit searched me.
Without warning, the grip around my neck slackened, and whilst the bandit searched my left trouser pocket, I kneed him in the face. He fell back, furious, and I delivered a right hook to his face, before stealing his crown jewels.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet, both literally and figuratively. Aaron took the place of the accomplice, a knife under my throat.
“Who are you, and what do you want? Why did you come here?”
It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the greatest threat my life had come under. However, with no wrong done, I knew it would be bad to have lied, so I told the truth.
“I meant no harm, I was walking in the woods, and I saw you face-down, so I went towards you in the hope of being able to help. Before I could, I was ambushed by those bandits.”
“********, you were the one who knocked me out last night!”
At that point, I was unsure about how clear his memory was given that he had been assaulted to the head. I decided a little diplomacy was the way to get myself out of this situation.
“I don’t think I’m capable of knocking you out, personally. I don’t mean you any trouble.”
The knife was removed from my throat slowly, and cautiously, and I felt his presence move away from directly behind me as his shadow retreated, as if signifying my fate was not to die that day.
“You can stand up. I believe you.”
I stood up, every moment tense, waiting for an attack that never came. With a turn to face him, I asked this most curious stranger his name.
“Aaron. Aaron Ecodew is my name. One of many.””
With that, his story ends, and he sits back with a smile on his face as he recalled the memory. I found myself smiling too at the display of what became camaraderie and friendship. It is rare, in these times of complete anarchy [that are obviously not to be matched by times of greater anarchy later on,] to see such friendship born out of anything, let alone a bandit attack. Yet, something still doesn’t add up.
I turn to Aaron.
“Ecodew? That’s not your name. What kind of bull have you been selling Kay?”
Aaron looks at me a little guiltily before replying. “Actually Astro, there’s a skill I’ve recently developed. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” He pauses for dramatic effect, a cheeky grin on his face at being able to hold this moment in suspense, before he practically shouts, in a ludicrous, magician-like voice, “The art of disguise!”
I stifle a chuckle at his extravagant reveal, and Kay shoots a grin at me from behind Aaron’s back. But back to business – these two and Ghostly are my only friends here, and I need to know what they’re up to.
“Well, regardless of what name Aaron told you, it is a most thrilling tale, Kay. So tell me, aside from your occasional goose theft, what do you two do at present?”
He visibly droops at this question, before replying.
“Well, Aaron does his own thing. That is to say, odd jobs that bring in money in the most legal way possible. I have to admit we’re short on cash. Recently we’ve had to stoop to doing jobs that stray closer and closer to the line, which is where the goose incident came from, although that was a largely hilarious incident all the same. We’ve gone one too far this time though.
I help Aaron with these jobs where I can, but my own passion is the myth and legend of this world. I’ve always been interested in Herobrine and the lore that surrounds him, though that’s not everything I’ve been looking at recently. I practically lived in a library as a child, so I was exposed to this stuff at an early age.”
I nod. In truth, myths, legends and lore are something I’ve been fascinated in for a while, considering my background. I can still remember excited researchers running into my office, merely a year ago, telling me about new Historical developments. Although it interested me, I kept to studying my branch of History. That was, of course, until I stopped getting financial backing, which prompted my journey to this land. I still don’t really like to think about the final days of my research and the disaster that ensued around it.
I realise I’ve zoned out, but Kay is just waiting for me to return from my reverie. When I finally come to my senses, the tables are turned, and he has a question for me.
“So Astro, whilst I know a bit about you from Aaron, I don’t know much beyond why you came here.”
I acknowledge what he means. I can assume we are friends now, given that he told me about his passion, especially in a community where anyone different is given flak – my experience with the innkeeper was enough to teach me that. I suppose it’s my turn to tell Kay a bit about myself.
“I’ll keep it brief Kay, as I’m sure you don’t want this to become the cliché adventure story. Aaron and I were born in the same land maybe a year before yourself.
I had a happy childhood for the most part. My parents did their best to look after me while they could, and I still have memories of performing tiny bits of magic while they were around. The ‘excitement’, shall we say, in my life didn’t kick off until I was old enough to realise it, though.
People didn’t exactly have easy access to education, culture, or indeed anything that makes life, as I know it, worth living at the moment, Kay. My parents and I were content just to go on with our lives, not realising what we were missing. That is until I set myself onto a completely different path.”
Aaron rolls his eyes at my dramatic phrasing of what one could imagine as the most hilarious, embarrassing and all around stupid event of my life.
“The leader of the Craft was giving an address. Everyone had turned out to see him speak, given that he had offered to feed everyone. Like I said, most people didn’t exactly have rich lives where I come from. He began speaking, and everything was fine until about half way through, where I had zoned out, being young.”
I pause, about to once again relive the most facepalm-worthy moment in my entire life.
“That was when he decided to inspire the people and shout “ – I ready my best Glaswegian accent in impression of his own – “ ‘Today is the day we light the fire of our economy!’ And what was so bad about that, you may ask Kay? Well, being completely incompetent with magic, somehow 8-year-old me decided the best thing to do would be to light a fire in his beard.”
Kay bursts out laughing, and even Aaron behind him can’t help but display a wry grin at my tragic action. I concede a nod of humiliation at having revealed the defining point of my life. Aaron, in his comic manner, decides that this is a good point to take over the story briefly.
“So Kay, Astro – I was stood not far behind him – decided to shout ‘Fire, fire!’ and before he knew it, he was being whisked away by armed officials.”
I decide it’s time to take control of the story before he begins to sing the satirical songs that were written as a result of my actions that day.
“That was one of many low points of the experience, Kay. The brief summary of what followed was that I got a job in menial labour, before they discovered that I had other talents; magic and decent intelligence. So they gave me a scholarship into education after ensuring that I wasn’t an assassin. I studied History, and liked it too, so I became an academic before…unfortunate circumstances meant that I was in trouble. So I decided to come here, as I could no longer see my parents, and had few friends.”
I look at Kay, gauging his response before he even begins it. His eyes don’t betray much, unless…I think there’s a hint of sympathy there.
His demeanour becomes much more serious as he makes eye contact.
“You poor sod, Astro, as funny as the beard burning was, it’s a shame that your academic career ended that way. You should have a drink.”
He goes over to a small, worn cabinet in the corner, pulls out a bottle and pours Aaron, himself and I a glass each of its wine. I swirl the purple elixir gently before taking a sip. The flavour is somewhat pleasant, and a refreshing change from the relative mud that I’ve been buying from inns while I’ve been travelling.
We all adjourn to a sofa in a somewhat larger room, which in itself is enough to make me feel far more comfortable about the situation.
Aaron speaks up from my left, his voice slightly muffled as he’s lying against the armrest.
“So Astro, you made it. What will you do now you’ve made it? ZineCraft certainly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
I give a chuckle and nod.
“Well, today I encountered GhostlyMike.”
Kay and Aaron both look up in astonishment.
Kay is the first to speak.
“How did you even find him, Astro? He’s illustrious enough as it is!”
I briefly recount the events of earlier today for their benefit. By the end, they’re both smiling again.
“Who’d have thought you’d manage to ever do anything real with your magic Astro? This is brilliant for you, and eventually for us too! Who knows what we’ll be able to do once you get good. We could be rich!” says Aaron, full of excitement.
This prospect hadn’t crossed my mind before. I remain silent though, not wanting to make any promises about my magical abilities. I don’t really know the full extent of them yet beyond that they make me tired the more I use them or the more effort I have to exert. Making promises about being able to transmute iron into gold, or some such idea, would just lead to disappointment later on if I couldn’t master that kind of magic.
In fact, I should probably shut this down now, before they start thinking I can steal the goose for them.
“Guys, I don’t know what my magic is going to become. So don’t expect anything amazing from me. I could end up learning how to transmute oak saplings into birch saplings, and that would still be a step up from my current level. I can do a lot, but it’s in a very limited field.”
They both look disappointed. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my statement, or maybe both, but it was better to be honest.
“There was another thing though. Aaron, did you discuss already with Kay?”
Aaron doesn’t have time before Kay cuts over him.
“Aaron told me about how you don’t have anywhere to stay Astro. I’d be glad to help you out as long as you help with the rent and, if you can, get the press off my back. I’m not even a proper thief, and they’ve got someone employed to watch me any time I have to leave the house, due to legal proceedings of course.”
It won’t be hard to scare the man off with some magic, after all.
“Then a deal is a deal, Kay.”
We shake hands, and briefly discuss sleeping arrangements. Despite the living rooms being tiny, the small house actually has 3 reasonably sized bedrooms. I’m directed up a flight of stairs and down a small hallway to the space that I can call my own, at least for now, a warm room with stone walls, a painting, a dark wooden floor, and a bed. However, the most striking feature is the skylight.
The stars, beautiful as ever, are clearly visible, with the full moon illuminating the room the way a torch never could.
I’m left to my own devices and I find myself staring at the ceiling, in bed. But for the first time in years, I feel like I have friends.
I close my eyes and fall asleep, dreams filled with hope.
Chapter 4: A Question of Mentality
I wake up with a start, and gaze out into the skies through the skylight. It’s still not quite dawn, and that suits me just fine, considering where I’m going today. I get up, get dressed, and descend the flight of stairs to the assortment of small living quarters.
There’s not much to eat, so I take three pieces of bread out of the pantry, and leave the rest for Aaron and Kay. I’ll make sure to restock on my way back, as the food situation looks quite dire. Neither of them is up yet, so I leave a note for them in the written book that’s on the counter. Signing the message, but leaving the book itself unsigned, I open the oaken door and step out into the back alley.
Taking a proper look, the ground is covered in dirt and mud, which immediately makes me wish I had something more substantial than my dye brown leather boots on my feet.
The fresh air is bracing, and helps wake me up properly. It would be a shame if Ghostly decided to have me killed for seeming too much like one of the undead.
No sooner have I thought about such an idea that I realise the guard from yesterday is still here, only he’s passed out and talking in his sleep.
I decide I should be on my way, and start heading down the alleyway. I pass derelict storefronts and homes full of poverty, following rough signposts to the central district where I might hope to get some proper directions to the palace.
Before long, the poverty disappears and I am instead met with gleaming towers and incredible architecture. Several buildings give off the subtle red gleam of redstone machinery as I pass by them, and I wonder whether I’ll ever be able to work with some myself.
Occasionally, I walk by another person, and I give a nod. There is rarely a response, other than their hand tightening on the often badly concealed sword in their overalls. I question why, of all places, I chose to come here, considering the hostile attitude of most people I’ve met so far.
There’s nothing that I can do about it though, so I might as well get on with it.
I reach the very centre of the city; a large plaza with a proud monument to the administrators of ZineCraft. The focal figure is Ghostly, the other two small and insignificant in comparison. Still, I read their names all the same.
“Worthmaster, and Carsey” I sound out in my head. It could be that I meet them today; so knowing their names will be a good start.
I look up to the sky, and notice that the moon is about to set. I’ve got to hurry if I’m going to avoid being late. With a start, I look around the square, trying to find a sign to the administrator’s palace. Ghostly was right. Finding it is harder than I thought.
Luckily, an iron sign catches my eye. It reads “Ghostly’s Palace – North. Commerce District – East.” I begin to head north, and make a mental note of the location of the Commerce District for later.
Before long, the towers begin to peter out and are replaced with plains, despite the towers further on in the distance. I reach the top of a hill, and am greeted by a view of the palace and its grounds.
The lawns and elaborate hedge mazes are remarkably well kept. There are no signs of debris or cobblestone grief here. Targets are set up in one area next to what looks like a barracks. There are still some arrows in one of the target, sticking out as the only sign that anyone actually lives here. Gently flowing streams run through the various gardens, creating a soft gurgling sound. The flower displays are impeccable as well, seemingly drawing a lot of interest due to the well-trodden paths in between them. Other, larger paths link the areas of the garden together, and between them, in the centre, lies the palace itself.
Its gargantuan presence towers over me like nothing else. Quartz spires pierce the heavens, culminating in bright turrets that doubled as archer posts. The windows are stained glass, depicting various scenes from the History of the Craft; something I was able to do some research on before I came. Ghostly and his administrators founding the land itself, and building its beginnings, the people they had brought with them beginning to build bases and infrastructure, and how Ghostly had fought back the forces of a rival Craft, running them into the ground in a bitter defeat. The quartz walls are adorned with gold and the crest of ZineCraft, a sword on a shield in the shadows.
I start to walk forward, wondering if I’m really allowed to just walk to the palace, or if I’ll be arrested and taken away, as if this was all a cruel joke.
By the time I’ve made it halfway there, the grand oaken doors begin to open, Ghostly standing in the opening. I quicken my pace, just as the sun begins to rise to my right. When I’m within one hundred metres, he calls out to me.
“Astro, you came. I wondered if you would flee, but I expected no less of you.”
“Greetings, Ghostly. It is a pleasure to be here.”
I keep my speech as formal as possible, nervous about slipping up. However, he soon smiles, and I begin to relax as he lists off the plan for today. As he talks, his features become increasingly more animated.
“So, first I have to know what you can do. Once I know what I’m working with, we can begin your training. But first, do you have somewhere to stay?”
I’m hesitant to explain about my staying with Kay due to his current reputation, but in the end I tell him where I spent the night.
“Interesting…I never knew the aviator was so well connected. Although I suppose with the ability to track down geese, tracking down people isn’t too hard either.”
He pauses and chuckles for a moment.
“You need not worry Astro. While my administrators are cracking down hard on any crime at all, I find such things mildly entertaining.
“So, to business. I need to see what you’re capable of Astro. Follow me.”
We enter the palace, heading straight down a flight of stairs into a stone room full of straw dummies, weights, swords, bows, and other equipment I’ve never seen before.
Ghostly turns round, his face placid, making direct eye contact with me. It takes all my willpower not to flinch.
“Set this training dummy on fire.” He gestures to a straw figure fairly close to me. I turn and concentrate, simply willing for it to burst into flames.
Within seconds, it complies, intense, bright flames burning it to smoldering cinders before my eyes.
“Good. Now, I want you to put it out.”
This was not something I was expecting. There are two ways I can think of doing this. I can either try to manipulate water to put it out manually, or I can simply try and stop the reaction with my mind. After a few seconds of thought, the latter seems like the most elegant option.
I concentrate hard, extending my mental presence to try and prevent the dummy from continuing to burn. The flames flicker for a moment and then burn normally, just as I feel my knees go weak. I shut my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, working to keep myself conscious in the battle against fatigue. I recover after two minutes, and slowly get back on my feet.
“That is the first lesson you must learn Astro. To really master magic, you have to understand it, rather than just hoping it will work on a whim. If you do not understand the potential consequences of a spell, it can kill you from using your energy rapidly. Alternatively, it can overrun you and shut down all reasoning. Many magicians have ended that way, causing untold havoc to those around them as they struggle to recover and then taking their own lives after they realise what they’ve done.”
I nod, humiliated. I’ve already failed the first test. That doesn’t mean that I’m out yet, though.
“So Ghostly, what will you have me do now?”
For the next few hours, Ghostly continues to ask me to demonstrate various feats of magic. Some of it I find easy, like levitating objects, healing minor wounds, and teleporting things between dimensions, like I showed Kay yesterday.
The other side of the coin is that most magic is incredibly complicated and requires serious concentration and strength. Actually causing serious mental damage to someone, manipulating large objects or fluids, and transmuting materials is something I won’t be able to do consciously for a while. I decide not to tell Ghostly about the incident with the law enforcement man. It was a savage and brutal attack, and something I don’t feel proud of admitting at the moment.
However, soon the magical tests are over and we are sitting at the top of one of the quartz shard towers that made my first impression of the palace, observing the rest of the city as the markets become busy and the machinery begins to work in overdrive to produce enough resources to meet the Craft’s huge industrial demand.
I study Ghostly’s face. It’s impossible to read. His dark eyes tell of a man who has experienced much, yet neglects to tell anyone. Before long, the silence is broken, and he once again makes that jarring eye contact.
“You were surprisingly good earlier. The only other untrained sorcerer I’ve ever come across couldn’t even manipulate fire. I think, given time, you will become an excellent sorcerer. But that brings me on to the next part of the briefing, per se.
You’ve noticed since you’ve started using your magic properly that it’s caused you extreme physical exhaustion, right?”
I give a sage nod, inwardly wondering where he’s going with this.
“There are two ways to reduce this fatigue. One way is to store excess energy in your gear. However, this is dangerous, and not something you will be able to accomplish for a long while.
The other way is far simpler. All you have to do is become physically more durable. This means training. You don’t have to be strong, or a good swordsman, to wield magic but you need to have reserves of energy to supply yourself. Otherwise, you risk exerting yourself far more quickly. The more you do that, the more your magical endurance will increase, and the safer you will be when using magic.
Equally important is your strength of mind. When you fight with your mind, it too has stamina. This takes energy from your body but it also requires determination and devotion, and above all mastery of the mind itself. If you can do that, you can control your magic precisely without any chance of it failing you. So far, you’ve been lucky, but I fear that in future your magic will leave you vulnerable to serious danger or worse, just when you need it most.”
I sit, thinking simply for a moment and digesting the information. Magic is either complete devotion to the art, or to ignore it almost entirely, it seems. I feel like putting the effort in will eventually pay off though, so I nod again.
“I’m willing to devote myself to this, Ghostly. Magicians are few and far between, and I love being able to do what magic I can, even now. It would be incredible to be able to perform magic with as little fatigue as possible.”
He smiles again, apparently pleased with my answer.
“That is indeed good. I have decided on how I shall train you. In the mornings, we will work on mastery of the mind and magic itself. In the afternoon, we shall work on physical endurance. And I will attempt to teach you to fight, both with magic and without, at that point too.”
I think this will work.
Three hours later, I’m made to eat my own words as I round the final corner of palace gardens for the seventh time. Physical endurance meant physical training, and here we are. Ghostly told me the best way to improve fitness is to do physical training without use of magic to augment stamina. As a result, I’m exhausted.
I come to a stop outside the front of the palace doors, legs on fire and nausea threatening to encompass my vision. A vivid smell is coming from within the palace. This is…? It must be steak.
The smell distracts me from the ominous figure in the doorway, so when I look up, I am surprised to see a small man narrow his eyes and prepare to yell at me.
I speak up before the situation escalates.
“Woah! I have permission to be here from Ghostly!”
He pauses, hesitant, and I finally get the chance to survey him properly. My impression of small was not wrong. He has jet-black hair, small eyes, and a scrunched up mouth. I think to myself “Why do all the annoying characters fit the stereotype…?”
“Like hell you do. I’ve never seen you before. You have five seconds to leave, before I-“
“Stop, Worth!” I recognize the voice of Ghostly; in this case my saviour, coming from within the palace. He steps out beside the small man he identified as Worth.
“Worth, this is Astro. He’s talented in the magical arts, and I will be training him to become a magician in the future. He is not to be bothered whilst he is on these grounds.”
Worth doesn’t look convinced. He turns to Ghostly. “Magical arts? I really hope that you’re talking about real magic this time and not what you meant the last time you tried to bring someone in here under that guise.”
What…
“That’s all many years in the past, Worth. Anyway, Astro, this is Worthmaster. He is a fellow administrator of ZineCraft.”
“I recognise him,” I respond. I offer my hand to the administrator, and he takes it with a measure of reluctance. His grip is extremely strong, not firm like Ghostly’s, and if Ghostly weren’t here, I think I’d be lucky to ever get my hand back.
“Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, Astro, you are to return here tomorrow at the same time you arrived today. We will begin your training then.” Ghostly hands me some steak, enough easily to feed ten people for a week.
“And this is for you. I’ll see you here at daybreak tomorrow.”
Ghostly and Worthmaster retreat, leaving me on my own outside the palace. It’s still early afternoon, so I exit as fast as I can, given my physical fatigue, and trudge back to the city centre. I still have plenty of money after all, and I feel like I should help out Kay and Aaron a bit more. There’s plenty of time left in today.
After a while exploring the industrial district, I come across what I was looking for. A mining corporation. It will be easy to buy some raw materials here.
Soon I’m face to face with a man who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
He’s not very enthusiastic, clearly.
“I would like to buy ten of your raw diamonds.”
He adds up the costs for me, and presents the diamonds, slightly awestruck that anyone could actually afford that many. Luckily, it’s only enough to clean out half of my savings.
“Thank you.”
I walk off, the diamonds stowed safely in my inventory.
I turn for home, hoping to see Kay and Aaron this evening before I turn in.
The trip back is mostly uneventful, aside from the occasional merchant trying to get me to buy their noob dirt at extortionate prices. When I arrive though, something catches my eye.
I enter the small living room, and spread out on the table is a blueprint. It looks incredibly complex, with many moving parts and complicated mechanisms requiring special tools. I study it closer, and realise that the sum of the parts is an airship. A proud mast, powerful redstone engines, and a brilliant oak finish were the completed product. But why did Kay have a set of blueprints for an airship?
My question is answered when Kay walks into the room from behind me. Before I can ask, he starts to speak.
“This, Astro, is one of my dreams. When I was young I learnt how to construct an airship, and this knowledge has always stayed with me, though I’ve never been able to use it yet. Sometimes I just get the blueprints out, and imagine what I could build if I had the money and the time.”
I turn to look at him, and in his eyes I see a child like excitement. I feel my wallet like its burning in my pocket, and I know what I’m going to do.
“Kay…you’re really sure you can build this thing?” I make eye contact with him, to show I’m serious about the situation.
He hesitates briefly before responding.
“I’m sure, Astro. I spent enough time reading books about it when…I was a child.”
I pull out the wallet, still stuffed full of notes. I hold it up so that Kay can see it.
“In that case, we’re going to make this happen, Kay. I’ve got the money; I’ll rent a warehouse and acquire the materials. You don’t need to worry about the costs. I’ve got them covered completely. This seems like something you have to do, and for us, the airship would be an insane boon to our income. We could use it to acquire materials, and sell them, rather than having to suffer extortionate prices.”
Kay is speechless, mouth open as he processes what I just said. I’m sure I want to do this. Besides the obvious benefits of being able to improve our income, Kay’s childlike wonder at the situation is something that I’ve rarely seen before. The goggles he wears make much more sense to me now. Maybe he rode in airships when he was young, and he yearns to feel the winds of adventure on his face once more.
Kay lays a hand on my shoulder, and grins.
“Let’s make this happen Astro. Cheers.”
Chapter 5: When Life is a Backdrop.
Over the next 2 months, I grew to learn many things about magic, meet many new people, and have many rewarding experiences. In between these events, life was as it should be: Normal. For this section, to save the reader unintended monotony, I have merely selected days from my log where events of significance happened. None of them are deserving of a chapter on their own in this tale.
- Astro
Day 9: It’s about what you can see, not what you do see.
The day has arrived quickly; it’s time to find a warehouse and construction site for Kay. He’s finally been allowed to leave his house, after the ZineCraft court has determined that it was not him, but his paymasters that were responsible for the unfortunate fate of the goose. As a result, the aviator, once desperate, now inspired, strides confidently on my left as we enter through the gate that marks the beginning of the huge industrial sector in the Capital.
I turn to Kay, puzzled by the huge assortment of buildings that stretch as far as the eye can see. I have no idea what we’re actually looking for, given that you probably need a certain type of construction area to build an airship. He notices my look of confusion, and explains.
“We’re looking for a tall tower; we only really need the top floor – or two – to build the airship. It has to be in a place where if we build it, it can easily take off and land. Equally, building it at the air pressure will affect the integrity of the airship itself. Build it down here, and any areas that we have to seal off or keep closed will have a different pressure to the air outside, which’ll destroy the entire thing in time. Other than that, somewhere that has good access to our building materials would be useful, but not essential.”
He finishes, leaving me with a lot to take into consideration. I knew that construction of this wouldn’t be easy, but that’s a particularly specific list of requirements. Still, I agreed to it, and I’ve never really seen Kay so excited before.
As a result, we spend the next few hours just exploring the industrial sector, which Kay knows about as well as myself. That is to say, badly, but we still manage after a considerable amount of time to locate a site that fits his requirements within the labyrinth of arches, quarries, mines, run-down storefronts and industrial skyscrapers.
Kay surveys the entire building; a strong yet mismatched wooden-stone building with various assorted braziers keeping the place lit up. It is late afternoon now, but I would guess that at night it’s a real help to those that use it. This time, it is him that turns in my direction.
“I think we’ll need to have a look at this one.”
I nod, and we approach the entrance, which is only a set of simple, polished wooden doors. The lack of security doesn’t inspire any great sense of hope in me about the building. As we approach the main desk in the foyer, I note two main things about the building. The first is that there are two very burly looking security guards eyeing us carefully, as if waiting for me to reach for the scabbard that is badly hidden beneath my travelling cloak. I stifle a chuckle at the futility of their gesture, though inwardly I thank my lucky stars they didn’t notice it. The second is the strange looking pulley system on the right of the foyer. I note its unusual existence and then look forward once again.
The man behind his desk looks to be quite old, sporting a greying beard and dark hair that is just beginning to lose its colour. He stands up and removes his reading glasses to greet us, shaking both Kay’s hand and my own. His grip is somewhat overpowering, though I decide this is not a good time to mention that. The painful moment is soon over, as he addresses us.
“Welcome gentlemen…to the tower. I am Enrik, and I own this place. The finest construction site for all small wares in the industrial sector.”
I sincerely doubt his words, but smile and listen as he continues.
“We’ve been in business for a long time, and welcome any project as long as the price is right.”
“And what is ‘the right price?’” I interject, before he can continue. That statement could mean trouble if I let him establish it.
“Merely a price that we both agree on,” Enrik replies, a calm smile on his face as if he’s heard that question before. Clearly, this man is not the average crook looking to rip people off in any way he can. Rare indeed.
Kay takes this moment to speak, wanting to get down to business.
“If we could, we would like to see the construction levels on the top floors. What we are building requires use of these levels. We can discuss more once we have seen what we’re working with.”
Our host nods, and beckons to a set of stairs that looks like they may fall over at any moment. I am, unfortunately, the first person to have to set foot on them, but instead of crumbling at my feet, they hold firm, contrary to their appearance. My first thought is that magic must be holding the place together, but I turn to Enrik and he merely smiles.
‘Steel rebar. The place is not as it first seems.’
Kay beckons for us to continue, and we begin to make our way up the stairs. As we climb, the deafening roars of many different projects fill our ears. Each level presents a new sight for us to bear witness to; everything you can imagine produced by small family businesses in the Craft is on show. Kay is equally impressed, and we exchange various small talk about the contraptions until we reach the penultimate floor.
Enrik stops us at the staircase to the last floor as we look to survey the contraption that stands before us. An elaborate machine adorns the construction site, occasionally emitting a puff of steam or a short whirring noise amongst the din of a dozen engineers moving around it with wrenches or other such equipment. They are, however, easily dwarfed by the enormity of the machine, as is the rest of the floor; it takes me over twenty seconds to notice the wooden joists on the ceiling.
Enrik hails one of the engineers, and the confident mastermind walks over.
“Why is this still here? Worthmaster told me it wouldn’t take more than a fortnight to get the generator built and out of the tower,” Enrik questions.
The engineer responds coolly, not giving him an inch. “Worthmaster said that we could continue building here as long as we needed to so we could finish the project.”
Enrik is not amused. “I lose money for every day you spend here. Valuable patrons, such as these two men” – he gestures to Kay and I – “would also like to use these facilities. Tell Worthmaster that he owes me payment for this. He may be an administrator, but that doesn’t mean he can break the rules he’s supposed to be enforcing.”
Kay doesn’t seem perturbed, a cool façade upon his face, but I am slack jawed. In Arcadia, no one would have dared speak to a moderator, even indirectly, in that fashion.
The engineer doesn’t even bother to respond though, and moves off, going back to his work. Enrik addresses us.
“They’ve been bleeding me dry with their construction; expecting that they’ll get anything and everything for free.”
Kay responds with a sage nod, and we proceed up the staircase. After all the buildup of the previous floors, I find myself hoping that this place meets our requirements. My ache in my knees is a testament to just how much of a pain it’s been to get up here.
We ascend to the top, and are greeted by a sight that causes a huge smile to break out on Kay’s face. A beautiful solarium by day, and a perfect observatory by night, the top floor is revealed to be a huge construction bay with many tools, different platforms in a logical arrangement, and spruce floors. We stand briefly and observe the now setting sun through the huge glass dome, before Kay and I make eye contact.
We tell Enrik, who stands vigil at the stairwell, that we want to see if the building has any other features. The place would be perfect, except that we need to get the materials up here, and we need a way to move the airship out when it’s finished. We share this with Enrik, and he grins yet again.
He moves to the right and activates a lever. At first, its purpose was unknown, but it is revealed to us as the glass retreats upon itself, forming a perfect opening for an airship. Full of surprises, and part of me isn’t too sure that I like that.
What about the parts, though?
As if reading my thoughts, Enrik chimes in.
“I suspect you’re wondering about getting your materials up here. Not to worry about that.” He gestures to an item elevator, a strange mechanism using pulleys and pressure.
I take Kay aside to discuss. Before I can start though, he says what we’re both thinking.
“It’s perfect. We can begin construction immediately.”
With no more discussion to be had, we turn back to Enrik and inform him of our decision. He looks overjoyed, if only because he’s desperate. Despite the lavish nature of the construction site, we agree on a fairly reasonable price, and say that we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with our materials. He bows at the door of the foyer, and bids us farewell.
We head home, making excited plans for the airship.
Day 17: The League of Acquaintances.
Last night, Kay and Aaron asked if I’d like to go with them to meet some of their friends. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt that the friends weren’t drunks, or fools, and that’s what finds me here tonight; walking in the centre of our trio to a pub.
It’s a nicer sector of the Capital, with many varnished wooden storefronts around. No doubt there’d be hundreds, if not thousands of workers here during the day. The paths are of good quality, each tread barely making a sound. I love the ambiance of this city, perhaps even more than that of Arcadia.
The sun is merely a rim over the horizon at this point, its setting form illuminating the streets with a subtle glow. I stop surveying the surroundings and turn to Kay and Aaron. I don’t fully understand it, but both of my companions have a new sense of purpose. Since I arrived, Aaron has been able to stop working into the nights because I’ve helped out, and Kay’s been preoccupied with the airship. I’ve been able to renew my friendship with Aaron, and whilst I haven’t spoken to Kay as much, he seems genuinely happy to have my company.
My thoughts are interrupted by Aaron’s tap on my shoulder. We’ve arrived at a pub – more of a restaurant – that matches every other storefront. Varnished exterior, bay windows, and an arched doorway.
“Shall we go in then?” asks Kay rhetorically, his hand gesturing towards the pub.
The pub is full of commotion, even fairly late as it is now. There are many tables adorned with cutlery, and reserved signs. Maybe the description of a pub was somewhat hasty for this place. Aaron glances around the interior, and finds what he was looking for. A crowd I don’t know send him a wave from their table, and he returns it, motioning to Kay. Kay notices the group too, and starts over. I cut in front of Aaron to let him bring up the rear and follow Kay, hoping to get a seat where I don’t have to make contact with too many of them.
As Kay sits down and shows me to a chair right beside him, and also conveniently right in the center of the table, I sigh inwardly.
No such luck.
I sit down, and Aaron takes his seat, two left of my own. I brace for the inevitable introductions.
Kay launches into what I can only describe as a spiel of a welcome speech for me. I would be flattered if I weren’t sizing up each of my dinner companions.
“Hi everyone, nice to see you! It’s been a while, eh? So, I’d like to introduce you to a new friend of mine, and an old friend of Aaron. This is Astro” – he pauses for effect, and I give a meek wave – “and he’s been staying with us for a few weeks now. I’ll let the rest of you make your introductions.”
Everyone begins talking casually with each other again, which I take as my cue to begin introducing myself. I turn to the man on my left. Ginger, rugged hair with a beard, somewhat like Kay’s, dark eyes that let you infer nothing from them, and simple, warrior clothing. His face bore the scars of at least one battle, and his hands were decorated with calluses, such that might be left by the careful grip of a sword. This man was a fighter.
True to his vocation, he waits for me to make the first move. I offer him a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm.
“Astro. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.
“I’m Secret. It’s nice to meet you too. You can probably tell I do a lot of fighting,” he replies, and I nod sagely. “What was it that gave it away? I’ll bet it was the axe on the floor.”
I kick myself for not noticing such an important detail, but then turn it around, responding “No, it was your hands. They’re covered in calluses.”
He stares at me as if I’m mad, but then begins to grin. “You’re not at all what you seem, are you? You should meet Cossack, I’m sure you two would get along great.”
“Cossack?” I enquire.
Before I know it, the man across and to my right jumps into the conversation. “What do you want? I’m Cossack, by the way.” It is for the first time that I survey him, and suddenly it hits me. I’ve seen Cossack before. When I got off the ship at the port, he was there. I decide this would make good conversation ground.
“Yes, well Secret just told me he thought we’d get along” – at this, Secret turns to talk to someone else – “and I think we may have met before. Did you recently come from Arcadia?”
His purple and white clad form relaxes slightly in recognition. “I remember you! Astro, was it? Well, yes, I came from Arcadia recently, but I didn’t live there. I’m a banker by trade, so I often have to make trips that take me abroad.”
This leads to a brief conversation about our backgrounds, and slowly, I am introduced to everyone else at the table. There’s Brit, a thin, young and impeccably dressed man with a brilliant handlebar mustache. He tells me that he is a detective, and a good one at that. I don’t doubt him when he proves himself to be the only one who’s figured out that I can use magic, merely by observing my left eyebrow. His partner, Gracey, is even more intriguing, electing not even to talk much. I make a note of his unkempt brown hair and goatee. Small is next, the final member of the party, true to his name but no less deadly, describing himself as an assassin. He would have fooled me, until I notice the trick literally up his sleeve; a concealed blade, only betrayed when he goes to check his watch.
It’s almost as if Kay and Aaron are part of a band of mercenaries. I elect to speak to him about it later.
As the night progresses, the party get more and more weary. As we reach the early hours of the morning, Kay gets up, presumably to find himself another drink, and I follow him. The crowd is great, and I don’t remember the last time I’ve had such a good night. Kay turns from the bar, and while the uproar continues from our companions, I confront him, speaking up.
“Kay, everyone I’ve met tonight is either trained to kill or trained to manipulate people. This isn’t some cult, is it?”
His jade eyes widen slightly, before he gives me a smile.
“A lot of us just come from the same place, or have met the others through lines of work. It’s no coincidence, but it’s certainly not a cult.” He chuckles, before continuing. “These skills do have their uses nevertheless. We haven’t caught up in a long time, in fact Aaron has only met most of the guys once before.” With that, he sways slightly, clearly very drunk.
I decide to take his drink off his hands and down it before he can complain. I don’t mind taking one for the team. I sit him back down, and stand up, intending to get another.
Before I reach the bar, a knife against my thigh coerces me. I turn to look, and there is a raider with a balaclava behind me. He gestures in the direction of the door, and I walk briskly, reserving my use of magic for when I really need it. Meanwhile, Kay and the others just continue laughing away and I leave, somewhat helpless.
The raider, his uncaring eyes only visible, drops the knife. Surprising. The moonlight does not give any of his features away, still masked by his balaclava and buff. Before I know what to do, he speaks.
“I don’t know who you are, but getting involved in that crowd is one of the worst mistakes you could possibly make. Stay away from them, and you won’t get hurt. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee I won’t have your head on the top of a pike before too long.”
I briefly consider my options. Anyone who makes death threats of me is not really to be associated with, after all. The choice is easily made, and with little concentration, I turn away as his balaclava bursts into flames, and his arms stop responding to him.
Not bothering to look behind me, I turn back inside, neglecting to appreciate the hushed voices behind me in my drunken state.
I return to the table, and stay for a while longer.
Day 38: The Magic Progresses.
Ghostly fixes his gaze upon me as I attempt, for the final time today, to master levitation. Over the past month, that’s only one application of magic among the many others I’ve learnt to master. I close my eyes and relax my body, finding balance, and then concentrate, willing myself to rise up.
It goes as planned, and I feel no ground below me within five seconds. This is how it went before though, and things could yet still end badly. I direct myself in various directions at a slow speed, once again getting used to strafing in the air. I can’t ignore the drain on my energy though needed to overcome gravity constantly. Before long, I’ve gotten the hang of it, and accelerate, hoping to reach a high enough speed for this to actually be useful.
The wind blasts my face and attacks my eardrums as I make myself aerodynamic and jet forward. The feeling gets the better of me, and I open my eyes to survey the beautiful world below me. Only too late do I realise my mistake, as I hurtle towards the ground.
My descent is slowed not by my own ability, but that of Ghostly, who reduces my speed enough that when I land on the grounds of the palace, I suffer no more than some scraped knees.
What a stupid mistake. You’d think I’d know that concentration is the key at this point.
Ghostly walks out from behind me, and despite my failure, he has a contented look on his face.
“You did well, Astro. Even if you could have killed yourself. I won’t be around to save you forever.”
I hang my head in shame as he lectures me about keeping concentration, something I’ve heard before, but no doubt I need to learn once more. He is cut short by a derisive snarl from my left.
Worthmaster appears from within the palace, his pathetic form held cockily in the light of my failure. Over the past months, I’ve tried my best to avoid him, given his clear resentment of me. It seems that today, though, he is here to speak to Ghostly, as he ignores me completely. Behind him strides Carsey, a broad shouldered man with a deceptively kind face and large hands, the kind you would expect from an assassin who chokes his victims to death. He’s Ghostly’s other administrator, whom I haven’t conversed with. However, it’s pretty clear he and Worth are cohorts, so it’s more than likely that he too is not amused by my existence either.
His harsh husky voice is inaudible for me, as he speaks too quietly for me to eavesdrop. My attempts to play the role of a spy to him are completely foiled, as the conversation soon ends, but I note the expression of disappointment on his face as Ghostly ties up the loose end.
It’s enough to make me grin slightly, but apparently this does not escape him, and he strides over to me, scrunched up mouth apparently suiting the ‘paper ball’ look even more than usual today.
“Astro! What do you think you are doing?!” comes his stressed out shriek. He narrows those eyes, almost animalistic in their lack of empathy, and grips me by my shirt collar.
“Not dying from falling, sir.”
He is not pleased with my reply. He leans in, the smell of garlic on his breath, and I am disgusted. His next words are for me alone. “Maybe you should be dying from falling then. I’ll see to it if you give me any of that kind of cheek again.”
From anyone less powerful, I wouldn’t take that kind of treatment, but I know that attacking Worth would land me in huge trouble. I don’t break eye contact, staring him down until he lets go. He expects a response, and he’s not going to get it.
He loosens his grip and stormed off, his frustration clearly not satisfied by my antics. Carsey trails behind him, looking slightly deflated at my defiance. I would be very happy to stand up to both of them, but even with the strength I’ve gotten over the past month, I can’t quite face them yet.
Ghostly lays a hand on my shoulder, and beckons for me to come inside for sword fighting practice.
There’s lots of work to do, after all.
Day 52: The Flight
I was relaxing in the small room I had began to call home, Aaron and Secret reclining across from me talking quietly, I absorbed in one of Ghostly’s magical journals entitled ‘Mysteries of the Arcane Arts.’ As I began to delve into the final chapter and read about manipulation of pure energy, I hear the sound of the lock behind me being turned. I brace myself, having been overly paranoid since my confrontation with Worthmaster, but it turns out to be only Kay, goggles over his eyes and blowtorch in one hand.
“Astro, Aaron, Secret! I’ve finished it!”
A massive smile fills my face, and I look to Aaron to see a mirror image of my own. Meanwhile, Secret looks confused. Kay must have neglected to inform him about the airship. He raises his objection with Kay, questioning, “All right, you haven’t been involved in another fight again, have you?”
Kay assuages his concern immediately, his excitement getting the better of him. “No, no! I’ve been building an airship, and it’s finished!”
Secret’s eyes widen in shock, the full enormity of Kay’s actions reaching him. Other than that, he doesn’t betray himself, and I stand up, attempting to break the silence.
“Well come on, we should go!”
I rouse Secret and Aaron, and we leave soon after, hearts pounding in anticipation at what we’ll be met with. Kay leads the way, and although I’ve been there before, I let him have his fun. It has been near enough a month and a half of his life spent solidly in the tower, with nothing to show, so now I can only begin to imagine his delight at the situation.
Before long, we stand at the base of the tower. Enrik gives us a nod as we go in, and we begin to ascend the levels. To my surprise, much of the tower is empty. Fewer and fewer projects exist as we climb; the previous hive of activity now merely a ghost of its past self. Before I can contemplate why they’ve all left, Secret speaks up.
“So you really built an airship, Kay?”
Kay turns round and replies happily. “Yep! It’s definitely up there as some of my best work too.”
Secret nods, and I swear I hear Aaron mutter to him sarcastically, “Didn’t know he had it in him…”
Kay chuckles at the stage whisper. Electing to not respond. We’re almost there now, so it should be-
I lose my train of thought when we reach the landing of the solarium.
A behemoth sits before us, glinting proudly in the sunlight. The finished production is beautiful. The gleaming, deceptive oak finish of the airship bears no indication of the reinforced hull armour, or the artillery hidden in the stern. The metal and wooden turbines sit protected, clearly using some energy from steam, and some from an energy source I don’t understand. The balloon holds the whole thing slightly above the floor, but this doesn’t detract from the streamlined feel. It looks like it would easily take ten people, with posts for archers included.
He did…an amazing job.
Aaron and Secret are equally slack jawed, whilst Kay stands there proudly, enjoying the attention. Again, I decide to break the silence, partly out of curiosity and partly because we’ll never move again if I don’t.
“So, Kay, can we give it a test run?”
He grins. That was never in doubt.
“I thought you’d never ask! Come on!”
We board using the gangplank, the interior of the airship equally impressive, with many supplies and stock available, already stored. I take Kay aside as he goes to the wheel.
“Kay, you’d better know how to fly this. If you don’t, we all die, and I don’t really have the time for a respawn operation right now.”
He looks untroubled by my stern warning.
“Astro, it will be fine. I’ve flown one of these before, trust me. Go open the bay doors, would you?”
I dash down the gangplank, quickly flicking the lever before returning as the engines spool up. The sound is amazing, like nothing I have ever heard before.
I grab a seat next to Aaron and Secret on the main deck, and we stare out at the sun. The picturesque view is on its own enough to make me break out into a smile, but I’m broken out of the moment by the jolt of the ship.
We actually…moved. We’re flying!
Just slowly at first, tentatively, we begin to cruise around the Capital. Before long, we’re heading at high speeds, the wind buffeting our faces, Kay completely absorbed by the experience. Secret and Aaron are still lost in wonder themselves. Trying to get through to them does nothing. I settle for enjoying the moment, taking up one of the archery posts for a better view. The slits between the reinforced wood provide a grand perspective over the side. The ground below us moves too fast. Buildings smaller than pebbles are below us. The activity of everyone else seems so futile, when it could really just be our simple interactions and us.
A perfect world. That’s what that would be. Looking out at the landscape blurred below us, it reminds me of how lucky I’ve been to get here. Maybe it really is all about perspective.
Damn. When did I become so introspective?
I look up at Kay, at the helm of the machine. This isn’t the Kay I know anymore. The man is a child again; free to enjoy himself unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. He pilots with skill, and ease, as if he remembers, and I realise that I made the right choice.
In the distance, there is a faint boom, one that I easily could have missed if I wasn’t thinking. Smoke rises from below as I turn my head, and I look to Kay. He heard it too, clearly, as he has his head cocked to one side.
He turns the airship around suddenly, slamming everyone below into the rails. I dash up to the helm, to see a firm expression on his face.
“Kay, what was that?”
Aaron interrupts from below.
“If we’re going to be on an airship, can’t you at least pilot it properly, Kay?” The jest in his voice is nervous, but he may have gone too far this time. Kay ignores him though, and responds to me.
“I don’t know, but anything that makes that kind of sound can’t be good,” he replies.
He lowers the elevation of the airship drastically, bringing us not far from being just above the rooftops. I wince from the change of pressure to my ears. We scan the city, looking for the source of the commotion. Before long, I locate it, and my heart sinks like a stone.
Kay’s place…my home…lies in ruins. I give a heavy shudder, and point this out to Kay. His look, now grave, turns to rage. He brings the airship into a hover, and our eyes meet.
“Go in, and check it. If you can, find out who was responsible.”
I drop down the ladder at the now retracted gangplank, and enter the smouldering ruin that I had bothered to call home. The explosive had clearly been set up in the living room, given that the rest of the house, despite being unsuitable for us to live in, isn’t damaged too badly in comparison. I search the bedrooms, finally coming to my own, and I’m met with the ash that was my few, meager possessions that I actually bothered to leave at home causing a single tear to well in my eyes.
I guess, if I had wanted to escape my past, here was a convenient excuse to forget it all.
But there’s something that seems to have survived. Maybe my pipe? Upon closer inspection, the charred object is nothing other than a knife. The owner is at first unknown to me, but then I make the connections.
After all, you don’t forget a blade you’ve been threatened with.
This is the blade belonging to the raider, from the night where I met Cossack, Secret and the rest. Maybe Kay will know who he’s working for – I haven’t dwelled on the issue, due to the hangover I experienced the next morning.
I return to the airship, Aaron, Secret and Kay waiting on the deck. People try to follow me up the ladder, but I retract it too. The airship clearly caused a lot of strife among the inhabitants. Maybe they thought it was Worthmaster, actually helping them for a change?
Kay returns to the helm and brings us higher into the sky, before bringing us to a stop.
“What did you find, Astro?”
His voice is calm, but his anger is betrayed in his eyes. This is yet another side of him I’ve never seen.
I hand him the knife, and recount what I know about the raider. His expression becomes grim and justified as he examines the implement.
“This was the work of Shadow. And there’s only one possible employer he could possibly have now.”
Aaron and Secret both exchange nervous glances, and then nod.
Kay brings the airship down for the final time that day, and gestures at Aaron, Secret and I.
“You should go. All three of you. There’s something I must do.”
Aaron moves to stop him.
“Kay, are you sure? This is a bad idea.”
His expression gives nothing away.
“This has to be done.”
We exit the airship, dropping down from the ladder to see it moving off. Kay dropped us in the residential district, and it seems we stirred up many of the residents. I ignore their stares, and turn to Aaron.
“Where is Kay going?”
Aaron grimaces and sighs.
“He’s gone to find Worthmaster.”
I fix my eyes on the speck in the sky, and hope that Kay bloody well knows what he’s doing.
Over the next month after these events, Aaron and I relocated. Kay did not come back. Things were relatively quiet.
On Day 95 of my adventure into ZineCraft, Kay Mandy was arrested on suspicion of conspiracy and revolution. I did not see him again for a long while.
Currently writing: Chapter 8. Oh my goodness, an update. I'm sorry for the delay, guys.
Next parts found here.
Feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome.
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
This story is great Joe. I can't recommend it enough! He has gotten all the characters down perfectly, and still given the story his own unique twist. Joe has been a huge help to the development of FAAR and I can't thank him enough for doing this prequel series!
4/20 - IGN
"Like Skyrim but with words and not actually a game so I dunno why da fuk we're here bye"
But yeah seriously, this story is great.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Only four chapters in and I'm hooked! Characters are greatly executed, the prose is spot-on, the world is vivid and the story is exciting. My only minor caveats are that there is a little bit of slang which was unfamiliar to me, plus some of the physical desciptions of the environment are a bit vague. However, your impeccable word choice does make up for this, as it is easily among the best I've seen among Minefics. Looking forward to reading more!
Edit: Double post. Darn you, forums!
Thank you for the kind words! I will probably rework the slang for later on - originally this project was set to be complete before now but I had to take a hiatus from it due to some unforeseen circumstances at the time. However, I'm glad that I waited on it as I feel my writing style has improved greatly since then (as I said in the OP.) Description is something I need to work on - for this type of writing I think there's a fine line between enough description and going over the top, so I've been erring on the side of caution thus far. I will take this into account as I rework the next three chapters.
On a side note, the current status of the next three chapters is that they were actually written some time ago, but I'm going to change them up until I'm happy with them as I feel like they could be improved greatly. I really felt I needed to get some of this out though - Kmandy has been going on about it for long enough!
That being said, I am about to start my exam period (within a month from now) as of writing this post, so progress will slow down in May and June. Then, I'll have more time for a bit to focus on getting more chapters out (as I'll have little else to do for a bit.)
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
OP updated! Chapter 5 has been reworked, and released! I'm very happy with this part, as far as things go. Let me know what you think!
I've also just realised that the forums have butchered my formatting for the chapters, which is actually quite a large part of the way I write. I'll be fixing that as soon as possible.
Just on a side note, the progress will be slow after today, due to exams coming up for me. Before July 5th, I plan to have released both
Chapters 6 and 7Chapter 7, as I will have a lot of time in the 2 weeks between the end of my exams and when I go on a 3 week 'holiday.' Once I return from that at the end of July, you can expect progress on parts to be much faster.I updated this because I was incredibly productive today and rewrote Chapter 6 from scratch. Uploading that soon.
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
OP updated! Chapter 6 is found in this post because I exceeded the character limit in the OP! Once again, I have got a new part, because I was far more productive today than I had expected. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and wrote Chapter 7.
Look forward to that.
Chapter 6: Unwelcome Cataclysm
Ever since we read about Kay’s arrest, the party has been rather somber. There was obvious media hype surrounding it of course, but the whole thing stunk of the conspiracy of Worthmaster and Carsey. It is obvious to us that they had taken Kay specifically, had maybe even killed him already. There’s nothing to be done, though. I go to see Ghostly every day, and I have to pretend that everything is fine.
My lessons have progressed intensely over the last month. I am not the small, one-trick mage I was when I began. The most important thing about my ability is the amount of understanding I have for the world around me. You can manipulate anything if you understand what influences it.
Ghostly himself has become more withdrawn within the past week. I can tell that to some extent he is weaker than he was. Just a tiny reduction in his power, but I’ve noticed it. He neglects to mention it though, so I just pretend that things are as normal.
On this particular day, Aaron, Secret, Small, Gracey, Brit and I decided it would be best to meet up to discuss our circumstances. They arrive separately at the new lodgings Aaron and I found for ourselves. Nothing that special, but it’s a bed, and a base of operations. I greet each of the men as they come in, their glum and hard expressions a wall of steel that I cannot penetrate. Before long, they are all seated before me, waiting expectantly. No one speaks. Everyone understands the consequences of Kay’s arrest.
I open the meeting, addressing the mixed bag of distressed faces at the table.
“Gentlemen. A month ago, Kay left, filled with rage. We should have stopped him, but we-”
Cossack interrupts, his omnipresent frown intensifying.
“You could have stopped him?! You know what he’s like, once he becomes fixated on an idea he’ll defend it until the cows come home. You could have convinced him to stop, and yet you didn’t. I am utterly disappointed-“
Aaron breaks up his spiel, jumping to my aid. He does not turn to look or make eye contact, staring into his lap.
“Cossack, there was nothing we could do to save him. Like you said, he was set on his ideal. We didn’t know for sure what was going on until it was too late to change his mind. Calm down, and be rational.”
Cossack looks as if he’d like to argue the point further, but he settles down, and lifts a hand, ready for me to continue.
“Well…yes. Kay left, gone, without contacting any one of us. We don’t know what he did in the month before he got captured, but we can assume he tried to recruit people to his cause and then was found out. Since there has been no public disruption, his plans were foiled before he could put them into action.
However, something doesn’t add up. They targeted our place of residence, but they knew we were out, because the operative, who Kay was able to identify as ‘Shadow’ – maybe one of you can fill me in on his identity – dropped his knife. This can mean only one thing. They set this whole thing up. I strongly suspect, and Aaron and Secret are in agreement with me here, that it was set up by Carsey and Worthmaster.”
Aaron and Secret nod, but beyond that they are stoic.
“They must have been watching Kay for a while, to do this. I got the feeling that the goose incident was really only an excuse to keep an eye on him after I got assaulted by Shadow-“
This draws a few gasps, and an angry glare from Aaron as he finally looks up.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were assaulted by Shadow, Astro?”
I grimace, his question hitting home.
“At the time, I thought nothing of it and was drunk. He pursued me out of the bar where we met up. After Kay left, he took the knife that I found in the ruins, upon my request, and I felt too bad to mention it again.”
It’s true. If it had emerged that I had set Kay on the path he took, I’m sure I would have been kicked out, and a huge rift created between the rest and I.
Brit dusts off his suit, and his analytical stare meets my eyes. Luckily, his next question is also a skillful change of subject.
“We can’t blame you for that, Astro. Kay was going to look for someone to blame anyway. Carsey and Worthmaster would have used any excuse to capture him, of that I am sure. How can we be sure of what comes next? They targeted Kay. Any one of us could be the next one they take out. We have to have a strategy, or else we too will end up at their mercy.”
Brit really is sharp. He managed to echo my exact thought process and at the same time diffuse the situation. I make a mental note to buy him a drink at the next opportunity.
I turn to address him.
“That is correct, Brit. Worthmaster in particular has expressed particular distaste in my own activities. If it is anyone, it is probably me who is next on his list. No one here is safe, regardless.”
I think back to my clashes with him at Ghostly’s palace. Any chance that his next target is not me is practically non-existent, not that I’ll admit that to everyone else. Maybe they’d desert me. Or even worse, maybe they’d try to protect me.
Everyone is silent. I have the moment, and their attention, for now.
“So gentlemen, that is why I have gathered you here. We must find a solution to this problem. We are being hunted. We must also endeavour to find Kay if possible. However, it is entirely possible that he is beyond our efforts now. I open up the floor to discussion, in the hope that we can find some light at the end of our tunnel.”
I sit down, and wait for someone else to speak. Before too long, Secret speaks up, one hand on the spruce grip of his war axe.
“For as long as live in ZineCraft, there’s nothing that we’ll be able to do to escape this. Worthmaster and Carsey have a huge monopoly, with Ghostly only acting as a figurehead to their operations. He protects them, and they handle the day-to-day affairs. How could we possibly stand up to them? And how could you stand up to Ghostly, Astro?”
“Just as Ghostly tries to protect them, he would also try to protect me. As much as they are a threat to me, Ghostly would be unlikely to let them do too much harm if he’s aware of it,” I reply.
Small, displaying his quick assassin’s wit, responds to Secret too.
“Secret, if there’s one thing we can do to deal with the situation, we can disappear. You know what that’s like, don’t you? It’s not too hard to live undetected within Zinecraft, as long as you only confide in the right people.”
Secret nods, but Brit takes issue.
“We can’t live like that forever. It’s not viable, and it’s not fair.”
I examine the issues with each of their arguments. We need to find a way to lie low, but we can’t do that forever. There is only one possibility, and one that we should have considered from the beginning. I realize that Secret, Brit and Small have been arguing whilst I was thinking. I snap out of my reverie, loud and justified in my response.
“Then we leave.”
Everyone looks up, no longer arguing, shock rendering them all silent. Aaron is the first to speak.
“Astro, are you serious? Leaving would require a stealthy and careful operation. We can’t pull that off. We’ve all been living here for a while, too. We don’t want to leave! How can you say that?! You’re the one with the best deal here. You’re the last person I’d expect to have suggested this.”
There are emphatic nods to Aaron’s cause, but I won’t give up that easily. If we stay, everyone before me will be hunted.
“Aaron, please calm down. We cannot stay here. We’ve established that every one of us is in danger. But you are right in that it would require a strategic plan to get us out without arousing suspicion. So I want you to go and check something, now. Go to the tower, and check. Tell Enrik I sent you.”
Aaron looks disgruntled, but stands up nevertheless. He turns to leave, but as he exits, he flashes me a glare.
“You had better not be wrong, Astro.”
Only Secret understands what I’ve done. The rest are baffled and unfounded discussion erupts. I hasten to explain the situation, asking for quiet.
“As you all know, Kay took the airship and made himself scarce after the house was destroyed. Airships aren’t exactly common here in ZineCraft, so we would know if it had been used again since. I studied the controls on the helm while talking to Kay, and it’s not too complex. If he did indeed leave the airship behind, our only option may be to use it to escape. It’s not stealthy, and it’s not subtle, but once we’re in the air, even an administrator would find it hard to channel enough energy to bring us down.”
Gracey, his goatee dancing below his chin as he talks, points out the flaw in the plan.
“But where does that leave Kay? Surely we can’t leave him behind?”
I turn to him with a sigh.
“It may be our only option, Gracey. For all we know, Kay could be dead right now.”
Uttering those words aloud made the possibility seem more real. It would upset me very much if Kay were dead, even though I’ve barely known the man for two months. Everyone else is equally dismayed, and several small conversations speculating Kay’s fate begin to break out. I thought we had overcome that phase, but maybe none of them had been able to accept it was one potential outcome.
The clamour grows loud, and I shout for quiet after several minutes of angry debate. Once again, I have their attention.
“I don’t think it’s quite that bad, but we’d be fools to rule out the possibility,” remarked Secret.
Thank goodness that they see reason.
“We don’t have to think about it for now. It will only be an issue if we discover the airship has been returned.”
The words have barely left my mouth when Aaron bursts through the door, a newspaper clutched in his right hand. He must have sprinted back. My stomach tightens in anticipation of his news.
“Guys, I have two pieces of information for you.”
He pauses, clearly out of breath.
“Sit down, Aaron, and tell us what happened.”
“The airship is still there. Kay must have left it before he disappeared. You were right, Astro.”
I sigh inwardly. As overjoyed as I am to know that our mode of transport is available to us after all, I actually have to convince everyone to use it.
“What is the paper, Aaron?” asks Secret.
“That’s the second piece of news. Look at the cover.”
Aaron hands the paper to Secret and I get up to look over his shoulder.
The cursive scripted headline of ‘TheZineCraft’ newspaper is not what I was expecting. I make to complain at Aaron for bringing such propaganda back with him, until I notice the picture. Kay’s face, jade analytical eyes defiant, stares up at us. I look to the article.
“REBEL LEADER AT LARGE ONCE MORE.” My heart races. Aaron motions to Secret to read the article to everyone at the table.
Secret begins, his voice hopeful.
“’Today, at 0903 hours, the dangerous rebellion leader Kay Mandy, amongst other prisoners, escaped from the ZineCraft’s Official True Court Penitentiary on the outskirts of the Craft. It is imperative that Mandy, or any of his known accomplices, be captured immediately so that he can be brought to justice. 29 days ago, he was convicted on suspicion of inciting rebellion and conspiracy, and if he is left unchecked, the damage he could do to this proud land of ZineCraft merely on his own exceeds that of any other great threat. We here at the TheZineCraft will bring you any more updates as they come.’
What a load of rubbish,” finishes Secret.
I survey the rest of the group. Small and Aaron are clearly worried by the article, whilst Gracey, Brit and Cossack are having a hushed discussion.
“Gracey, Brit, Cossack. You know what this means, right?” I attempt to break them out of their conversation. A further division is the last thing we need right now.
Brit voices their collective opinion.
“Kay is safe. If it was on the outskirts of the Craft, he has probably escaped for now. There is nothing more we can do for him.”
Small, Aaron and Secret take a moment to think on it, and then nod. Kay, you lucky sod, you’ve saved us all. I take control of the situation; this is the one chance I have to get us out.
“Gentlemen, this means we must escape post haste. We have the airship, and we can acquire the supplies. Does anyone object to leaving in one week? The article did say ‘known accomplices,’ which does worry me further. We must not celebrate yet, because it could still be any of us who are next.”
Everyone nods in agreement, solemn, yet now optimistic. We decide to meet here again tomorrow and discuss our preparations further, and where we will go. Brit promises to bring some maps for me to pore over, and with that, everyone but Aaron takes their leave.
Some time later, Aaron and I sit across from each other in the small, two-bedroomed flat. I finish off one of the steaks I had cooked for Aaron and I for dinner, and then lean back. It’s not that comfortable, but it’s cosy enough. The paper catches my eye, and I turn to page 3.
For a change, it is I who ends up slack jawed this time. I show the announcement to Aaron, and he too is speechless.
“IN ORDER TO SUPPLEMENT THE DWINDLING SUPPLY OF SOLDIERS IN THE ZINECRAFT ARMY DUE TO INCREASED INTERNATIONAL THREATS, IT IS NOW MANDATORY FOR ANY ABLE-BODIED MEN TO SIGN UP BEFORE THE END OF THIS WEEK.”
It is quick and to the point, but no less jarring. TheZineCraft is the newspaper effectively run by Worthmaster and Carsey. And this is how they’re going to weed us out.
What will they do?
Fake a war accident? Have us killed during training?
Can my magic even stand up to that?
Aaron looks over to me.
“What do we do, Astro?”
I have no answer for him yet, so we spend the rest of the evening in silence.
We were so close.
When Aaron goes to bed, I get up and venture into the night, only one preparation to make.
The next morning, everyone once again assembles at the flat. Brit has brought his maps, and we set about organising a route. We stray away from the badlands, but look to settle somewhere far from here. After much discussion, we settle on the domain of factions: KillerCraft. It is appropriately named, given the high death toll, but I would of course be lying if I said any of us couldn’t handle it. A mismatched pack of mercenaries is what we had turned into, with me at the helm.
As we fold up the maps, I gesture to Aaron with the newspaper, and he speaks up.
“Yesterday we read some rather difficult news. News that is going to make it very difficult for us to escape.”
He passes round the newspaper open at the page of our demise.
Everyone is crestfallen, but Aaron resumes, saying what must be said.
“It is entirely likely that every one of us is being tailed. If we make any attempt to go to the airship now, we’ll get cut off, and the airship will be removed. Currently, our only option is to go along with this ‘plan’, and hope that we aren’t killed. We can’t hope to flee, and we can’t hope to overpower them. Whilst Astro could maybe handle one Administrator,” he nods approvingly in my direction, “to hope to take out two and then survive Ghostly’s wrath would indeed be a folly.”
He moves to the preparation I made last night, I having informed him before the rest arrived.
“I know very much that this is playing into the hands of the enemy. So Astro has organised something for us, something that will help us survive. Last night, Astro went and negotiated with Ghostly. He’s managed to negotiate the whole of tomorrow for combat training within the palace. Worthmaster and Carsey are away right now, surveying the damage to the prison, so we won’t be in danger.
This is an ideal situation for us. As long as we stay sharp, and focused, and make use of this, we can all make it out of this alive.”
“And if we don’t?” Secret quips sarcastically.
Aaron grins, responding, “If we don’t, then I guess we’ll get to go out in a blaze of glory.”
The discussion halts there, and eventually, everyone leaves.
The next day comes as suddenly as the previous one. Our crew lies assembled at the doors to Ghostly’s palace, roused at the crack of dawn. They all look tired, but that doesn’t fool me into believing these men aren’t confident.
I look to open the door, until I realise there isn’t actually a handle. Indeed, nothing to actually open the door exists. Every time I’ve come here, the doors have already been open, or Ghostly has let me in. How embarrassing.
I turn away from the doors and back to my comrades, to hear Ghostly’s amplified voice, emanating from inside the palace. Trust him to want to put on a show.
“Welcome, gentlemen! I have been informed you are in need of combat training! You will now enter…the dungeon…I mean, the palace. Be prepared for danger, but know that no real harm can befall you within these walls. Make haste, and come forth!”
With this, the doors swing open, but they do not reveal the palace, not as I know it. The entire place looks destroyed and dilapidated, with many more passageways than I am used to. I’m puzzled momentarily, before I connect the dots and discover what’s going on.
Ghostly is using imagery. I really should have noticed that sooner, given that it’s something I can do now too.
Secret stocks his bow; war axe clenched in his other hand. Aaron draws his diamond sword. Small raises his dagger and iron sword. Gracey similarly raises a knife as if he remembers it all too well, and Brit draws a pistol from his overalls. Cossack provides no surprises though, content merely with his iron sword. Nevertheless, a force to be reckoned with.
Mercenaries indeed.
I raise my diamond sword, Illumine, and concentrate my magic, augmenting my reflexes.
Time to fight, and time to win.
I lead our small force through the doors, and am rewarded by the first illusion. The others won’t realise it, but I would be foolish to miss it. Aptly designed to look like an actual soldier, the illusion runs out from the shadows, longsword raised towards my neck. In response, I manipulate the imagery around me, making the ground rise up slightly so it trips, and falls. Two seconds later, I ‘illuminate’ his head.
The rest just look on, quite shocked, but I rouse them and we head down one of the passageways. As we head down a rickety staircase, one lunges at me from his concealed hiding place in the wall. Before I can react, Small lifts his dagger and delivers a fatal back stab to the illusion, knocking it to the ground.
I give him a grin and the thumbs up, and we reach the bottom of the banister, entering a large, spacious room with destroyed furniture everywhere.
How much of his energy is Ghostly expending to create this, anyway?
As if they were part of the walls, which was conceivable given the nature of our battlefield, more illusions begin to materialise. They surround us, intending to make the first move, before a stray arrow from Secret floors one.
They rush us, and we reciprocate. Brit kills two instantly with his pistol, Small stabs fiercely with his dagger, but Gracey is the one who surprises me the most. He darts in and out of the illusions, slitting throats and leaving deep wounds before appearing behind another.
When they get too close, Secret pulls out his war axe and goes berserk, causing three more to go down. I use magic to set the five that have zeroed in on myself alight, and use Illumine to finish the job, with quick, efficient stabs, like Ghostly trained me to do so, magically enhanced strength making short work of them. Aaron finishes off the final one of mine before I can get to it, coming from his own crowd.
The ruthless, lethal efficiency of my group shocks me to the core.
For a time, we continue on, destroying illusions without too much effort, and few wounds. The closest we come to defeated is when Cossack scrapes his sword arm against a spike, a deep gash forming. I heal the wound for him, if only to stop it from developing into a more serious problem. He nods in thanks.
Two hours of intense fighting later, we are all exhausted. Secret is by far the most adept, with his war axe and bow combo destroying all within his range. I place fairly high myself, though I owe that to my magically augmented reflexes.
We enter the final chamber, a dull gloom illuminated only by a faint chandelier in the roof. Unlike the other chambers, there are no side paths or extra routes. The floor is slightly submerged with water, and the unanimated bodies of illusions line the walls. There are various gnarled spikes and traps on the ground too, disguised somewhat by the water level, which will make crossing it treacherous.
In the centre lies, assumedly, what we’ve been looking for the past few hours. An obsidian table, with a book hovering menacingly above it. Decorated with diamond, and surrounded by bookshelves, I identify it as an enchantment table. These are rare, and can only be made by those who wield a form of magic. Thaumic tables are the most common, with Administrator tables much more sparse.
However, the table that lies before us is the most rare of them all. Infused with pure magic, this was made by Ghostly himself.
We move forward, a close-knit group now. We know how to spread out to accommodate each other’s fighting styles, and how to move in when one of us is even partially injured. As a cluster, each step is taken tentatively.
Suddenly, we are met with the greatest light show I’ve ever seen.
A beautiful, glowing light forms at the back of the chamber, creating intricate patterns and odd shapes, until the beams come together, and a silhouette appears within them.
Ghostly stands clad in mage battle armour. He looks up, and addresses us directly.
“You have done well to make it to the final chamber. Know that if you defeat me, you will have won, and your reward will be great. But if you lose, I will be most disappointed in you. Especially you, Astro.”
He raises his left hand in the universal gesture; attack.
The bodies of the illusions become animated, rising up from their positions in the walls until the horde’s ranks fill my eyesight for every direction, aside from my view to Ghostly. I tense myself, drawing into my energy, prepared to use magic properly for the first time today. I begin to levitate, mastering my surroundings and concentrating. The hordes close in on the group below. But of course, this was really a test for me. They can take out the illusions, and I will know if I’ve truly gained expertise in the field of magic.
Ghostly lashes out with a beam of pure energy as the first wave of the imaginary warriors closes in on the party below. I dodge to the side of the energy and raise my reflexes and thought speed to the highest level, acting far faster than in real time. I counter by forming the particles in the air around me into a shield, and then cause a tremor below Ghostly’s feet, hoping to weaken his stance.
He doesn’t budge, completely impervious to my offensive. He responds with use of the four elements, first trying to set me aflame before resorting to the others. Each time, my shield of energy blocks his attack at an infinitely fast speed.
Whilst I’ve been successful in keeping him away from me so far, I can feel my strength beginning to wane slightly, and I know I’ll have to go on the offensive. I concentrate to attack with my mind, hoping to cut him off from his magic and incapacitate him. He fights back savagely, clawing at my subconscious and causing severe lacerations to appear on my arms.
I heal the wounds, preparing for another attack. Ghostly has his eyes closed and is focusing hard. I keep him at bay barely, trying to find a solution. Below, the force of illusions begins to take its toll on our group, Cossack with a deep gash in his leg, Aaron with blood on his face, and Brit struggling to combat three of them that got within his melee range.
But there’s a way.
I move back into real time, dragging Ghostly with me and expending a lot of energy in the process. I shout down to Aaron urgently.
“Aaron, you need to attack Ghostly! We have to break his concentration for long enough that we can take him out!”
Aaron nods, tired and failing, but begins to carve a path through the illusions, Secret moving into his place to protect the injured Cossack.
I block various telekinetic attacks from Ghostly, and counter with the same, channeling pure energy into whatever form I need the most. I rip apart Brit’s sparring companions for him, and he displays a grin before getting back on his feet and aiming his pistol to the next one he sees.
I counter every attack, getting weaker and weaker in this battle of attrition, manipulating every style of magic I know to try and finish off Ghostly. I teleport to one location, expecting him to not anticipate an attack from that direction, but he just does the same to me. We spar, both with our minds and with swords, teleporting objects, manipulating illusions, and wreaking havoc.
A crack appears in the sky as collateral damage from our efforts, and it’s clear that one of us will go down soon.
Just as I’m sure it’s about to be me, Aaron appears from behind Ghostly and stabs him in the abdomen with his sword.
He snaps out of his concentration and delivers a blow to the back of Aaron’s head, knocking him unconscious. Before he can realise his mistake though, I launch a mental attack, preventing him from controlling his own body.
Ghostly goes limp, falling on top of Aaron as the light leaves his eyes. And as it does, I see the rest of my group falling unconscious too.
I am the last to go, exhausted and wrecked from my efforts.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the atrium of the palace. The real atrium.
Aaron, Secret and the rest are already up, conversing casually with Ghostly on lavish recliners.
I get to my feet, quite wobbly, and join them.
Ghostly hears me coming.
“Astro, your group really is as you said. Very experienced, and very powerful. And you were convincing too, I never would have thought you would fit in so well. You have learnt more than I thought you would from our sparring sessions.”
I give Ghostly a grin, and sit down on a free recliner. Ghostly explains to us, though I already knew partly, about the illusions, and how we fought. He seems very impressed. For a while, we discuss tactics, and he suggests a few improvements to our group fighting style. Soon though, he stands to make a declaration.
“Gentlemen, you have done yourselves proud. The enchantment table you saw in the simulation is in the room to your left. You may enchant any weapon or tool you choose. Astro?”
The rest go, leaving Ghostly and I on our own. We sit down again.
“Congratulations, Astro,” he says, grinning. “You really have exceeded all my expectations from the start. And you even solved the final challenge, which I thought might trip you up. You learnt that you had to trust people to finish the job, because magic often renders a playing field a battle of attrition when it is available on both sides.
That, is a lesson I wish I had learnt far sooner than I did.”
He pauses, and I hang in suspense of what he says next.
“You’ve done it. I can teach you no more about magic, Astro, because you have mastered every discipline I know. I knew this day was coming, but it was only because you were so dedicated.”
From behind him, he pulls out an enchanted leather chestplate.
“This is for you. It may be leather, but the enchantments I imbued within it will make it last almost indefinitely against anything but an ancient magic attack. You don’t need to come back tomorrow Astro, for we will have nothing to do. But write me a letter or come and see me if you have trouble. I will always be willing to help you, for restoring my faith in the world around me.”
I am stunned, by his words, only managing a meek “Thank you.”
He stands again.
“Go join the friends you made here Astro. You can enchant the rest of your gear.”
I don the leather chestplate and move into the other room, sharing in the wonder of the others at being able to actually enchant things.
Before long, we are done. Our gear enchanted we turn to leave, utterly exhausted. As I exit for the last time through the door, Ghostly turns to me.
“Look after yourself Astro. Use your power for the right reasons.”
I smile at him.
“I will, Ghostly. Thank you for everything.”
He nods in farewell, and closes the door behind me. Today could not have gone better.
When we return home, the mood is ruined. Waiting for us are identical letters.
“Notice of conscription. Report to the ZineCraft barracks at 0800 hours tomorrow.”
A collective shudder runs through the group, as we dread events to come.
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
Hello everyone, for those of you following this, the story is definitely not dead. I was very busy during my two weeks after exams, so much so that I did not manage to finish Chapter 7 at that time. As a result, I ended up writing most of Chapter 7 in my notebook ('on paper?! You fool!' XD) on the plane back from South America. Now, normally this would not be a problem, except that I forgot I had written it in there and gave my notebook to someone else who wished to use it when they went on holiday.
Chapter 7 is now on the other side of the world. I will be making every effort to retrieve it as soon as possible so that I can type it up and post it on the forums.
Don't lose hope!
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
Dear goodness me, I can't believe it took as long as it did to get this running. ZineCraft chapters were supposed to wrap up in this part, but I've decided to split it into two parts because of the flow of the piece. Without further ado, here's Chapter 7: A Conflict's Impetus.
Chapter 7: A Conflict’s Impetus
I look up to the stars, their once magical allure now replaced by something quite different, both to myself and my companions.
It’s been a year and a half since we embarked on this foolish adventure of scrimmages and petty conflicts.
Around me sit Aaron, Secret, Brit, Gracey and Small, each of them with nothing to say. Most points of conversation have long been exhausted, leaving the air in our makeshift tent silent and depressing. The once bright and cheerful royal red and purple colours have long since faded.
We were conscripted to fight by Carsey and Worth. That much was obvious. When ZineCraft became threatened in this war, a conflict we’ve now dubbed as ‘The Great Onslaught,’ they were quick to force us into the havoc so that they would finally be rid of us. We had been a thorn in their side for too long, apparently.
At first, it wasn’t so bad either.
We had to survive the training program, which proved only a small obstacle for every member of our troupe. In fact, my friends excelled in almost every aspect of it, except for Small. His fighting style is better suited to using the element of surprise, rather than overwhelming opponents with sheer force.
Even so, I had few problems, and used magic to mask where my physical skill fell behind that of the others. As a result of our ‘excellence’ in being able to dispose of our opponents incredibly quickly, we were assigned status as an elite unit, which was a fancy way of stating that we were considered slightly better than most of the conscripts. With training complete, we moved out to join the main forces on the plains of Outer ZineCraft.
When we arrived, the camp was not much to see. The generals live in nothing short of luxury, with various imported delicacies available at their fingertips. Meanwhile, all the standard soldiers stagger around the camp on half rations, due to supposed ‘food shortages,’ their energy flagging immensely as they struggle to maintain the camp. Elite units don’t get much better treatment with three quarter rations and slightly larger tents between each unit.
It’s a war cliché.
The fighting has been the worst point of the experience. Ignoring the mental armour that at least I don when I have to fight, the acts themselves were merely weekly small scrimmages with the opposing forces. That was when Ghostly had stepped in, briefly, and had ordered Worth and Carsey to attempt diplomatic talks.
Unsurprisingly, they had been short lived.
Soon, their strong-armed-reliant negotiations became useless, with one threat too many causing Herobrine’s general to throw in the towel and break down negotiations.
After that, the scrimmages became sustained conflict as they tried to force us back. We still outnumbered them, and still stood our desperate ground at the time. Though we held, it did not take long to see that the conflict was going badly for us. The army was in awful shape, with casualties everywhere. Even Aaron and Gracey suffered flesh wounds, which I healed the best I could. I attribute my own blood all flowing within my body to this day merely to my own magical abilities.
Otherwise, Aaron, Gracey, and even myself could have been cold in the ground by this point, which isn’t a particularly pleasant or hopeful thought.
Our feeble battle of attrition went on like this for some time, until a few weeks ago, when an envoy returned from the capital city with news. Tired ears perked up eagerly at this. The few men in the force who were not yet defeated, both mentally and physically, were desperate for some reprieve from the fighting. It was not to be their lucky day.
The envoy opened his mouth as the officers came out of their tent for the first time in what had seemed like days, the campaign tactics beginning to take their toll even on them.
“Men, I come bearing bad news. As we are aware, the diplomatic talks broke down long ago, and we have been fighting Herobrine’s forces ever since. Recently, Ghostly once again had Worthmaster and Carsey attempt peace talks. It is with much regret that I tell you they have failed, and you will once again have to fight Herobrine’s forces.”
“We have been placed on the defensive, but I have no doubt that we can fight back,” the envoy begins, and I sit back and sigh as the rhetoric sets in.
A great empire, my foot.
When he is finished, he makes to mount his horse, grateful for the chance to leave the war camp before he himself is conscripted to fight. The rest of us are not so lucky. We adjourn to our war tent, knowing full well that tomorrow there will be conflict.
Aaron is the first to speak.
“It’s a death sentence. There’s no way we can keep going like this and get out of here alive. This is exactly what Worth and Carsey wanted, and we’ve played right into their hands. I knew we should have tried to escape before we were conscripted. It would’ve been so much easier to get away from all this, and now we’re going to die.”
The air surrounding his angry outburst is grim, and full of general disagreement from everyone in the tent. Nobody has the energy or patience to follow his outburst with a rational response or indeed any response, and we sit in gloomy silence.
It was tomorrow that would prove the greatest test to our abilities. I urge everyone to get to sleep and prepare for the following day, but I am certain that I am not the only one spending the night with my eyes open and adrenaline pumping through my body.
***
At the break of dawn, bugles sound around the war camp, snatching away the last opportunity I had of any sleep whatsoever. I don my secretly enchanted iron shell and sling my sword over my back. Everyone has retained their particularly foul mood, but that doesn’t stop us from leaving our tent as quickly as possible to avoid being accused of insubordination.
We arrive in our place next to the other elite units just in time for the briefing from the generals. One of them starts gesturing to the plan of the area, as the field marshall begins his hastily prepared plan for today’s assault.
“All right men. Today we will strike a blow for Zinecraft, and show the Herobrinian forces that they cannot attack us and expect to get away with it. We shall hit them fast and hard, before they expect us to and before they can muster the forces to retaliate.”
It’s easy to tell that they don’t believe in our success, but you have to give them credit for their optimism. If this is the elite unit briefing, then I dread to think how low morale must be for the regular soldiers.
“Now, the plan. Each unit will travel as a single cohort. You have been tasked with the retrieval of some specific...documents that will require you to get deep within their war camp. Don’t worry; it doesn’t matter what the documents are - just know that it will be heavily guarded in one of their operations tents. As you can see from the map drawn up by our scouts, there are four operations tents. However, because there are only three of your units, we have decided upon the most probable tents for us to find our documents.
Each unit has been assigned to a tent. We have produced a strategy that each will be able to use to get to their various tents, given the size of their camp and the need to avoid being overrun.
Unit one, you…”
I stop listening as he begins to brief the first elite unit on their suicide mission.
If any of us survive this, it will be a miracle. A short time later, he turns to our unit.
“Unit three, your tent is located in the NorthEast of the camp. To reach it, you should cross at the ford directly SouthWest, then ascend onto the outcrop and pass through the densely forested area. We’re aware of the fact that they won’t have many guards stationed in the forest, so you should be able to quickly dispatch of them and enter their camp from the rear. From there, crush any resistance you encounter and then search your operations tent for any documents you can find. Take everything, and then return back as quickly as possible. Don’t enter a confrontation with their officers. Just get in, and get out. We can’t afford to risk too many troops providing this distraction for you.”
So it’s not a suicide mission for us necessarily, but it is for all the normal units. May Notch help them.
“Get on horses, and get going!” the field marshall finishes, and we all leave the tent quickly. With no window for discussion, we mount our steeds and head for the indicated ford, whilst the other elite units disperse to other paths and the main force marches across a large ford in the river.
Just as we arrive at our ford, and dismount, we see flaming debris strike the first troops.
“It’s a bloodbath,” mutters Secret. The fact that even he is appalled is testimony to the severity of the conflict. Nobody hastens to add anything, and we focus on crossing the river. Leaving our horses behind, we are soon across with minimal difficulty.
That’s when an arrow flies next to my head and almost strikes Small in the lower jaw. Up on the outcrop, a number of the characteristic Thaumic tribesmen we’ve been fighting stand, several with bows, and one with the robes that indicate a Thaumaturge - the army’s magicians.
I grin to myself, relishing the opportunity to take out some of my pent-up rage on the enemy. As Secret draws his bow and I double take when I realise Small has already disappeared with his typical espionage routine, I raise my sword and lead the charge towards the outcrop. I quickly focus, an invisible shield of energy surrounds us and prevents any further arrows from landing on us as we make our approach. Several of their archers fall by Secret’s hand, and comparatively fewer by the more tentative bows of Cossack, Brit and Gracey. Meanwhile, I focus on isolating the energy of the Thaumaturge.
Only half concentrating on running and maintaining our shield, I use the rest of my mental power to launch magical attacks upon my Thaumic infidel. Though he manages to resist for a short time, Thaumic magic can’t stand up to my own, and I catch him off guard by rapidly condensing the water in his brain. He falls over dead, to the shock of his companions, allowing Secret to dispatch of several of them. They turn to run, only for two of them to be stabbed in the back by the knife of Small before he melts back into the shadows. As the stragglers attempt to escape, Aaron cuts them down with his longsword, bringing an end to the Thaumic guard on the outcrop.
I give a sigh of consternation, my magical slightly energy depleted from the brush with the Thaumaturge.
In addition to my repressed self-loathing for killing so many, I can’t help but feel pride at the competence of my friends. I take control and direct everyone into the forest, including Small who has regrouped with us.
It seems that that was not the only opposition we would face in our passage to the camp; not long after we enter the woods, Aaron motions for us all to get down.
With everyone against the floor and pretty disgruntled, he gestures to the treetops, where several Thaumic scouts and sentries have taken up positions. If we move much further, it’s likely that they’ll notice us and we’ll be sitting ducks for their barrage.
“Fellows, I think I have an idea, but I’m going to need you to buy me some time,” says Brit.
I nod, and take out two of the nearest scouts with a line of sight to us. Two more fall to Secret’s bow. Meanwhile, Brit pulls out two small stone-like objects that I can’t make out in the darkness of the forest.
Brit begins to whisper to me with his plan.
“Now Astro, you surely must have noticed that the trees in this forest are too saturated with water to set on fire, have you not? However, with these incendiary charges Small stole from the general’s supplies, wet or not, the trees are going up in flames. What I need you to do is to keep the rest of us from setting on fire whilst we run through the remainder of the forest. Can you do that?”
I give him a nod, intrigued at when he could’ve stolen the charges.
“Let’s go then. Everyone, when I say run, we run straight through the forest.”
He rubs the fuse on one of the charges against a nearby rock until it sparks, and then lobs it at a large redwood tree behind him.
“RUN!” shouts Brit, and we rise as one. We sprint through the woods, now pursued not by the fire-startled tribesmen but instead the quickly spreading flames.
It seems it was not enough to scare them all off, and so while I begin to draw water from in the air and in the trees to surround us as we run, preventing the fire from reaching us, Aaron and Gracey take the lead, quickly dispatching of any further Thaums we come across. Everything goes as planned until Cossack trips and injures his ankle, forcing us into a defensive position in the side of a clearing that connects directly to our location.
“We have to protect him until I can get him back onto his feet,” I cry. The tribesmen have not thinned in numbers, and I set about healing Cossack’s ankle whilst Brit rigs an explosive and Aaron and Secret barely keep them off us. I concentrate heavily on repairing the bones in his ankle, and before long, he is fine again.
However, the tribesmen are almost upon us, and we are to be swallowed unless I act fast. I shudder as I consider the implications of what I’m about to do, but I know there is no other choice.
“Brit, the explosive! Plant it now, and trust me!”
“Astro, you’re insane! It’ll kill us all!”
“Trust me, or we’ll die anyway!” I flash him a stern look and he hesitates, before planting the explosive on the ground and lighting the fuse.
With my flagging magical energy, I concentrate on one thought.
‘Away.’
With a flash of energy, the explosive goes off, but we are on the other side of the clearing, and unharmed.
I stagger and fall, on the verge of faint from my exertion. Gracey and Aaron each offer me an arm as they watch the remaining Thaums meet their fate in the fire.
Brit stares at me in disbelief, but I can only respond with a knowing smile.
“That was bloody brilliant,” he says matter-of-factly.
Secret takes charge in my stead.
“Let’s go, we’ve got documents to steal. Let’s hope that we can get back through this way for our return.”
Moving as fast as we can go with me in my weakened state, we head towards the camp. There’s no way we’re going to steal the documents like this. I take note of a small cave entrance to the side.
“Secret, I’m only going to slow everybody down like this. I’m going to go wait and recover in that cave. Send somebody back to me if you suspect things are going to go south in there.”
He gives me a nod.
“Come on lads, let’s go. Astro can look after himself.”
With less faith in his words than he has, I lug myself into the cave entrance and rest against the wall of the small stone cavern. I soon find myself bored but tired, and have to resist the urge to pass out, knowing that my friends may well need me soon. I take this opportunity to explore the cave.
Just when I think that I’ve wasted my time in an ineffective search of the surrounds, my hand brushes against a small stone lever. Blending in completely with the surroundings, it would’ve taken a greater man than I to notice it had it not literally been right in front of me. A small, pickaxe-hewn compartment opened to my left, and inside were some meagre belongings.
A travelling cloak, a few pictures, some documents, and an identity card. The identity card is what catches my attention, and I examine it closely. The name means little to me, but the face is one I’ve seen before.
The man who attempted to attack me at the pub, back in Altus. He must be a spy within Herobrine’s ranks. Despite everything, I fail to see how this fits into the puzzle. Clearly, our intel is outdated, because otherwise we would have been informed of the heavy guard within the forest. We weren’t expecting any resistance whatsoever, though we relished it.
I grab the identity card, and the pictures to go through at another time.
Just as I turn to go back to the entrance of the cave, Small staggers through it, blocking off the sunlight.
“Astro...they’re in trouble. We managed to approach the tent, but they’re pinned down. They’ve taken an officer captive, one of the black-shells, and are attempting to use him as leverage to escape with the documents. We need to go, now.”
Slightly better rested, I follow small into the camp. It’s carnage, with the corpses of tribesmen everywhere. However, for every step we take, we get closer to an inaudible din. I use my magic to magnify the volume of my voice, then prepare to take action. As I do so, Small disappears into the crowd surrounding the tent as if he was never with me.
“SILENCE!” I yell. The amplified nature of my voice makes all of the surrounding officers grimace, and I take my chance, running over the disorientated crowd and into the tent. The sight that meets my eyes is desperate.
Aaron and Secret are struggling to restrain a black-shell, and Gracey holds the documents in his hands. Small sits, contemplating his best avenue for escape. Cossack and Brit each man a flap, fighting off any tribesmen who wish to try their luck at entry.
I give Aaron a sly wink.
“Gentlemen, I didn’t know that you needed me this badly. I guess I’ll just sort it out, like I always do.”
They’re not amused by my out of place sarcasm, but Aaron is used to it, and smiles briefly before tightening his hold on the black-shell.
I once again prepare to amplify my voice, but this time with interference, so that my friends in the tent will hear almost nothing, and the tribesmen will hear it all too loud.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I must say that I’m impressed.”
Cossack snorts derisively at my tone.
“You’ve done well to surround us, but I’m afraid that merry time of misrule is over. You can let us go. Or you can die.”
I demonstrate my point by using magic to knock out several of the tribesmen near the front of the crowd. The rest of them, even the officers, step back slightly, whilst several arrows are loosed against me. They glance off me like nothing had happened.
At this display, a path began to form through the crowd as they dispersed frantically. The black-shells called for them to attack further, but they had been shocked dramatically by the show I had put on for them.
I shouted normally at my friends, for this would be our only chance. We had to run.
“Come on, we have to get out of here! Take the black-shell and the documents, and let’s move!”
Aaron knocks out the black-shell with the pommel of his sword and everyone else forms up around Secret and he.
A black-shell moves towards us to intercept as we rush back through the camp, but Small appears behind him and knocks him unconscious. None of his other brethren seem brave enough to challenge us, and so we successfully exit the camp.
I take command of the group, knowing that we may not survive if we don’t act fast.
“There’s no way we’re going to get the black-shell to come all the way back to our camp. We’re going to interrogate him here, and then we’re going to kill him. Quickly, to that cave entrance from earlier.”
Secret mans the entrance to the cave, whilst everyone rests. Small pulls out his cyanide pill, and gestures it at the visor of the officer’s armour.
“Now, if you don’t answer my questions, I will kill you.”
The black-shell doesn’t move. Small reiterates his point.
“I said, I will kill you.”
Despite the severity of the threat, there is no response. Secret interrupts, a slightly fazed look on his face.
“Another black-shell is incoming! We have to move, now. We can’t stand up to this for much longer.”
“Fine, I’ll just get this over with, shall I?” Small replies, agitated.
He rips off the helmet, surprising us all. The black-shell’s head droops forward; it’s clear he’s dead from his injuries, having only died a short time ago.
“For goodness sake, after all that,” sighs Aaron.
I know that the black-shell Secret spotted will continue to chase us if we run away. But I can’t let anything happen to my friends. We’ve already lost Kay, and I’ll be damned if we lose another.
“Everyone, I want you to run in the direction of the forest. Get yourself and the documents back safely. I guarantee you, that after today, we are leaving. We must flee, or else we will die. Today has been close enough.”
Aaron appears shocked, and Secret is not happy, but I give them a smile of reassurance.
“What are you doing, Astro?” asks Aaron, as the others leave the cave. The black-shell is within two hundred metres now.
“Just trust me, Aaron. I’m going to sort out this black-shell.”
Aaron runs in the direction of the others. I really hope that they make it.
I turn to the black-shell and grit my teeth. Here goes nothing. I charge him down taking him off guard as he draws his sword, for I wield no weapon. Instead, I make contact and grab on tight to the general’s armour, then focus.
It’s time to fly.
We lift off quickly, and the black-shell drops his weapon. Diverting the air around us, we climb higher as we streak through the sky at breakneck pace. He claws at my face, attempting to take my eyes out, before realising the futility of the situation. He in turn settles for trying to knee me in the groin, and holds on to me so as not to fall.
I take his moment of distraction to land a debilitating blow to the side of his helmet. His head lulls, and I increase the speed further. We now speed over the river itself, but I bring us low as I prepare for the kill. I’ve had enough of these skirmishes, and it’s time to end it.
I rip of the black-shell’s helmet as I slow us to a halt, and prepare to deliver a killing blow.
I was not expecting the sight before my eyes.
Auburn hair, and stark green eyes. I’m hit with realisation, stronger than any attack, and drop the man before me onto the waterfront. I remain in the air. We’re far from the frenzied slaughter now.
“I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead!” I scream accusingly.
He sits up weakly, still unsettled by our exodus from the battlefield.
“Would you care to finish the job, Astro?”
I’m overwhelmed by the guilt of having almost killed this man. He gets to his feet and draws his sword, but before he can attempt a jab, I interrupt him.
“You have a rat.”
I throw him Shadow’s identity card with disdain. Ghostly could have one less spy, and it would be fine by me. He scans the card with an eyebrow raised. Again, I interrupt him, looking for answers he won’t give me.
“You *******...I don’t understand what you’re doing. We are on opposite sides. But I’m not going to kill you.”
He says nothing, thinking through his response.
“There’s more to this than you know. Maybe one day, you will understand.”
Before I can continue with a line of inquiry, enemy bugles sound from nearby. It’s time to go.
“And on that day, we will meet again, Kay Mandy.”
I shoot upwards into the sky, not knowing how I feel anymore. I have just enough energy to make it back to our camp, before I collapse from fatigue.
I have time for one final thought.
Kay is still alive.
~End of Part 7~
To those who were waiting for an update, I have to extend my deepest apologies for this taking the time it did. It was very hard to overcome the writer's block I had when crafting this chapter, and I hope that it'll be worth the wait. If you come back to this, then I bestow upon you my sincere gratitude. I can't commit to something like an upload schedule, because that will just disappoint people when I fail to meet it, but just know that I am actively working on the project after having overcome my writer's block.
Also, chapter 1 has been redrafted, because I was deeply dissatisfied with it. Chapter 2 will also be redrafted to this end, so for the moment the continuity in these two will be slightly out.
Thank you for reading!
It doesn't matter how good you are, it matters how bad everyone else is.
I'm a new reader and at chapter 3 at this part:
I wasn’t out of the woods yet, both literally and figuratively. Aaron took the place of the accomplice, a knife under my throat.
“Who are you, and what do you want? Why did you come here?”
It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the greatest threat my life had come under. However, with no wrong done, I knew it would be bad to have lied, so I told the truth.
“I meant no harm, I was walking in the woods, and I saw you face-down, so I went towards you in the hope of being able to help. Before I could, I was ambushed by those bandits.”
“********, you were the one who knocked me out last night!”
At that point, I was unsure about how clear his memory was given that he had been assaulted to the head. I decided a little diplomacy was the way to get myself out of this situation.
“I don’t think I’m capable of knocking you out, personally. I don’t mean you any trouble.”
The knife was removed from my throat slowly, and cautiously, and I felt his presence move away from directly behind me as his shadow retreated, as if signifying my fate was not to die that day.
“You can stand up. I believe you.”
I stood up, every moment tense, waiting for an attack that never came. With a turn to face him, I asked this most curious stranger his name.
“Aaron. Aaron Ecodew is my name. One of many.””
I got a bit confused.Isn't aaron astro's friend?Why would he aim a knife at him and why does he say his name again didn't they already know each other?
I scored 73% on the Minecraft Trivia Quiz. How much do you know about Minecraft?
<a href="http://10fastfingers.com/typing-test/english"><img src="http://img.10fastfingers.com/badge/typing-test_1_CD.png" alt="Typing Test" /></a><p>Visit the <a href="http://10fastfingers.com/typing-test/english">Typing Test</a> and try!</p>
Sorry, I think you misread, that was a flashback to how Kay and Aaron met.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!