Across the Tainted Earth – Episode 0
Valeria – Nine Years Before Incursion
Valeria gawked at the people. It was rare for her to leave her hometown of Verdant and explore the other settlements. Even Penomier, the closest village was foreign to her. People dressed in strange garb and spoke in accents different from her own. Little wooden dolls, painted in vibrant colors, hung from the eaves of various shopfronts; it was part of a tradition there. Light glinted off windows, reflecting shimmering patterns onto the cobblestones. Her copper skin shone in the sunlight.
Her eyes were wide as she tried to take everything in. After all, most of the others her age hadn’t left the village even once. Indeed, this was only her second time visiting another settlement. It was an honor to be taken on these excursions; supposedly, there were great things in her future. So Valeria kept her eyes open so as not to waste the opportunity. Her parents and the Magistrate expected her to learn a lot from her time away from Verdant.
A fair distance to her right, the human merchant with whom she was traveling, Hill Mackrin, was talking with two people. Such was the reason for their visit; trade deals with Penomier secured many invaluable goods. Valeria wasn’t privy to the conversation, only being able to surreptitiously look in Hill’s direction from the cart. After Hill finished his discussion, he would give Valeria some insight into his business dealings as well as show her around Penomier. Until then, she was to stay in the cart, stay safe. Still, Valeria couldn’t stop herself from sneaking glances at Hill and his conference.
One member of the group was a Sculos. Valeria hadn’t met that many before, but there were several in Verdant, sectioned away in their own quarter at the edge of town. They preferred that so steeped in tradition were they. Like other members of the Sculos ancestry, the woman’s most notable feature was the way light passed right through her body. She was mostly translucent, with only her outline standing out starkly. Sculos’ faces were perfectly smooth, with no facial features. Instead intricate carvings adorned her face, almost seeming to flow as the woman nodded her head. Valeria wondered if the carvings hurt.
Another of the group had a human form. At first, Valeria assumed that the man was a human like her. Then she noticed the vines snaking around his body. A flower was tilted upwards towards the sun, resting on the left side of his face. Its bright red reminded her of blood. A current of shock ran through her body as she realized he was one of the Tivour. Valeria had met few of the vine-touched corpses, and their encounters had always been unsettling. The Tivour glanced her way and smiled.
Valeria turned her head away. She was partially embarrassed at being caught, partially wary of the Tivour. When she looked back, the group had moved farther from her. Chagrined, she set her eyes elsewhere. She had to stay focused, after all.
But soon, her focus was once again drawn toward Hill and the others. Their voices steadily rose. What had been a discussion conducted in hushed tones was nearing a shouting match. Even so, she was unable to make anything out. It was just a flurry of noise.
But, she could make out Hill resting his hand on the knife he had strapped to his waist. Valeria tensed as she watched the argument grow violent. Fists were raised; stances were readied. And Valeria could only watch. Her fingers tightened on the rim of the cart as she wished to be able to do something.
She ducked down into the cart and hated herself for it. Hill took her on this trip because people believed in her. She could remember people telling her that she had potential, that she had ability. And she was hiding. She had only seen eleven winters. She had no weapons and only minor skills. Valeria knew that there was little she could do to help. She didn’t even have any Spirit stored up in the gemstones that adorned her arms. She wouldn’t know what to do with it if she had any.
Tentatively, Valeria looked out over the side of the cart. The scuffle had escalated into a brawl. She couldn’t even make out Hill amidst the commotion. She wasn’t going to be of help. But, if she had to remain where she was, the least that she could do was watch. She slowed her breathing and tried to calm herself. Valeria decided that the next time this happened she would have the power to do more. For the moment, she would bear witness.
Later, she told herself, she would act.
Malik – Seven Years Before Incursion
The city of Caespen Ru seemed to swallow Malik. Massive towers loomed over him, impassionate stone giants unconcerned by his presence. It was an oddly comforting picture. Caespen Ru was a city where he could fade into the cracks and hide amidst the rubble. Malik could go unnoticed. He hoped he would be free from their scorn and sympathy. His Sculos skin, like glass, was the soft, rolling red of agitation.
There was a commotion of people all about Malik. None looked at him; no one paid him any heed. Malik was awed by the grand sights and the sounds. Cracked stones from perhaps five hundred years past formed the base of the buildings; vendors announced an overwhelming variety of wares; intricate stone columns drew his eye; the throng of people was always chattering, always moving. And Malik couldn’t help but notice the rich robes and fine bracelets that adorned them. A single bracelet might be worth enough for him to eat for a week. What’s more, it would be more than enough to purchase himself some Spirit—even a drop of magic.
Traveling on his own, Malik had learned the value of Spirit. Many ignored it as it was so ubiquitous to be beneath most people’s notice. But Malik had been forced to recognize their importance due to his many times without it. There was much more one could manipulating the three essences; a curl of Vapor could keep you warm; a pinch of Dust could clean your wounds; a tuft of Smoke could drive away insects and vermin. Malik never had enough Spirit to do much. At the moment, Malik had only a small amount of spirit-dust, a few of the gemstones on his right wrist giving a meager glow, almost winking out. It was never enough.
Malik found himself clutching his right hand, where his expirus, a small smooth patch of skin on one’s palm where Spirit pooled, would have been if he had had it. But he didn’t—such was the source of all his tragedies. And Malik was fine. He was fine. Malik could take care of himself and didn’t need people’s charity, not that they offered it. He was in Caespen Ru, the eternal city where great men had once walked. Malik knew that there were opportunities to be grasped.
So he scuttled over to the side of the streets by the market vendors. He passed by the ones selling fresh vegetables. This far from Aersede, the produce would be expensive, a luxury unavailable to Malik. Instead, he made his way to a poorer section of the city. There he stopped at a clothing store with a sign that proclaimed in faded text ‘Gentlemen’s apparel- only the best.’ Malik was used to such places.
With the barest hint of swagger, Malik entered the store. He grabbed a pair of gloves displayed on the wall. The price was a bit much, but they would be needed if Malik was to thrive in the city of possibilities. He had no expirus, produced no Spirit, and so he was a ‘burden on society.’ It was a struggle to find odd jobs to garner the necessary money to live. With the glove, he could hide that. He’d have opportunities; the world now opened just a crack.
Malik paid at the counter, feeling as though his glass was cracking with every Ceren he spent. In the end, he was left with only half the money he’d had when he’d entered. A few ceramic coins clattered in his pocket. Malik itched to get out. It felt as though the shopkeeper was glaring at him.
Malik left the shop and tried to assuage his regret at spending the money by putting on the gloves. Delicately, he slipped them on, pulling them up to his elbow. He took his time. Malik turned his hands about, admiring the gloves. They were a pale gray with scarlet cuffs. Malik noticed that it would be hard to keep them clean. It would probably be best if he put the gloves away and saved them for when he needed them. But he kept them on, admiring how his cracked, transparent glass faded into soot gray gloves. His was the pale yellow of contentment.
Malik decided that the purchase had been worthwhile, even if his pocket was significantly lighter. He took a step forward. Then, a spike of fear jolted through him. His pocket was light, and there was no clinking as he walked. Instantly his hand was at his side, feeling his pocket. Malik paid no attention to how his grimy pants leg was getting his new gloves dirty. The rest of his money had vanished. His skin grayed slightly into an uneasy shade.
Quickly, Malik scanned the surrounding street. A few people were walking around, but not too many. And, across the street, Malik spied a little Sculos boy scurrying away, a worn drawstring purse clutched in his translucent hands. He gave chase. As Malik ran, he berated himself for being so lost in thought that he’d neglected his surroundings. He should’ve known better.
Malik chased the pickpocket down the street and down to an alley. He stopped there, staring at the alley ahead. It was a dead end. Malik knew the pickpocket wouldn’t have headed there unless it would be to his advantage. Entering the alley would likely be folly. But Malik needed his money back. So, he drew a knife out of his pocket. It was small, cheap, flimsy. But it was the only weapon he had and it had protected him on many occasions.
Malik stalked his way into the alley. He did his best to look tough, waggling the dagger and deepening his voice. “Just give me my money back, and we’ll forget about this.” Malik hoped he sounded intimidating.
He walked deeper into the alley, approaching the pickpocket. The Sculos looked small and frightened. A human might not be able to tell, but the faint gray tint to the person’s skin indicated unease. There was a pang of regret in Malik’s chest; the boy’s face was uncarved, just like Malik’s. The boy at the end of the alley had also fled far from their group, never receiving the coming-of-age ritual that was the Carving. Yet still, Malik stalked closer, doing his best to reveal no hesitation.
Malik heard something behind him. He turned swiftly. It was just in time for him to watch someone slam into him. He fought, thrusting wildly with his knife. But his attacker was joined by the pickpocket as well as a third person. Malik could feel spiderwebs of cracks beginning to run down his leg and across his chest. He wasn’t going to win; he definitely wasn’t going to get his money back. Soon he stopped fighting. It was partially so they would stop attacking him and partially because he was losing consciousness.
He came to in a deserted alley. He felt his leg with his gloved hand, finding something warm and wet. Shining blue blood stained his gloves, soaking them through. Malik expended the last of his Dust and drew the grime from the gash along his leg. He used all of it up. And the blood still ran down his leg in a trickle, pooling on the ground.
Abraxas – Five Years Before Incursion
The forest held secrets. Trees, some more than a millennia old, encircled the settlement of Verdant, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. Wildflowers bloomed across the ground, motes of color scattered across the earth. Rock cap moss blanketed the boulders, a lush velvet curtain that whispered secrets. There were answers if one cared to pay attention.
Abraxas made his way through the woods, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of plants. Occasionally, he would glance up and spot a deer grazing in the distance, but his attention was mainly on the underbrush. A cloth satchel hung from his left shoulder, filled with cuttings of various wild plants. He patted the satchel from time to time as if making sure it was still there.
He heard something. It was faint, and it took him a second before he was sure that there was a noise. He walked slowly toward the direction of the noise, not daring to make a sound, listening. Someone was calling for help. Abraxas broke into a run. Soon the cries were audible. He could make out a young girl calling out for someone to help her. Abraxas came into a clearing and looked down. There was a thin crevice like a knife wound. At the bottom, obscured by shadow, was Emily, one of the carpenter’s daughters. Her voice was worn ragged by shouting.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Abraxas called down. “I’m here.” He didn’t quite know what to do, only that he wanted Emily to be reassured.
“Are you hurt?”
“I think my leg is broken.”
That wasn’t good. And if she had a broken leg, she was likely to have other wounds. Abraxas realized that he’d been playing with the rope from his satchel, wrapping it around his fingers. He tried to relax himself.
“Does anyone else know you’re out here? Are others going to be looking for you?”
“I was sent out to gather firewood.” Emily paused, coughing. “That was a while ago. My dad, he should be looking for me by now. I hope. I want to get out of here.” The last two sentences were said in a soft tone such that Abraxas barely heard them.
Abraxas heard a faint noise from the forest behind him. He called out, signaling any would-be rescuers closer. And soon Valeria came into view. She looked tired, having taken off the moment Emily turned up missing. They talked for a moment, and Valeria decided that she’d run back to get the others while Abraxas would stay there and comfort Emily. As Valeria looked back, Abraxas noticed a regretful look on her face, as if she wished she could have done more.
Abraxas turned back toward the ravine. Emily was hurt and crying, sprawled on the ground amidst various detritus. Sticks and rocks lay scattered around her. On an impulse Abraxas would never quite be able to explain, he sat down and began to lower himself into the ravine. It was slow, arduous work. Abraxas had little experience in rock climbing. By the time he had made it to the bottom, he was covered in cuts and bruises. A small trickle of blood ebbed from his wrist. This was right above the array of gemstones that covered his forearm. Even though it was unlikely to have happened, he checked the gemstones for cracks, rubbing at them with his thumb. One of his aunts had her gemstones crack before, and they had been slow to heal, leaving her with limited magic for quite a while.
Abraxas gingerly made his way toward Emily. He focused his eyes ahead, not wanting to look up and realize how far down he was, the cavern walls towering over him. He reached Emily.
“Are- are you going to get us out?”
“No.” It was hard for him to say that. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to climb out. But I can try and look at you, keep you from hurting, ok?” He was rambling slightly.
“ok.” She said it in a meek voice such that Abraxas wanted to cry.
“It’s going to be alright. Just remember that.” He tried to say it in a calm and reassuring tone; such things weren’t his strong suit.
Abraxas knelt by her side. He removed something from his satchel, a piece of willow bark. Consuming the substance could go some way towards alleviating pain. He gave some to Emily, who seemed grateful for anything that might help. Once she started eating it, her shoulders relaxed and she started breathing more steadily. Abraxas smiled slightly.
After a moment he said, “You’re a dust scion right?” He’d noticed that during a conversation with her father sometime earlier. Emily nodded, providing confirmation.
“Alright, can I borrow a bit of dust from you, please? I just need a bit so that I can help protect you.”
Emily nodded again. Gingerly, she raised her right hand. Her expirus, the organ that produced Spirit, glowed a bright yellow. It shone in the center of her palm. She gripped the array of gemstones that covered his forearm. Slowly, her expirus dimmed while the gemstones on Abraxas’s left arm saturated into a light brown. Spirit passed from her to him, welling up in the gemstones on his forearm.
Abraxas removed his forearm, not wanting to take too much dust. “Thank you.”
He inspected the cuts, which were mostly along her arm. They weren’t deep, but there were a lot of them. Slowly, carefully, he extended his arms and used the Dust to draw out the dirt and grime that had made their way into the wounds. He then extended his arms, and the dust dispersed into the air in a flurry.
After using the dust to clean the wounds, he pulled out a few yarrow leaves from his satchel. He placed them on a flat rock and then dripped water on them from a canteen. Abraxas took another rock, which he rinsed and then purified with spirit-dust. Using the rock, he crushed the yarrow leaves, making a paste. Carefully, he applied the poultice to Emily’s major wounds. He didn’t have any bandages on him, so he tore off a strip of fabric from his shirt. Carefully, he wrapped the makeshift bandage around her arm, covering the poultice.
Abraxas then procured a long stick from the ground around him. He brought it next to Emily’s broken leg and tied it in place, tightly but not too tightly. It would provide a modicum of support. And, if he had done it right, it would prevent further injury.
He was done. Or rather, he had done all he could for the moment. Abraxas turned to Emily. “Does your leg feel any better?”
“A bit.”
Abraxas hoped it was enough. He sat in the ravine beside her, so she would know she wasn’t alone.
Crescent – Three Years Before Incursion
The tavern was filled with crimson light. The glow of the setting sun reflected off of the numerous bottles, causing elegant patterns to dance across the tavern wall. Crescent relaxed in her chair, leaning backward. Vines encircled her arms and neck, for she was one of the Tivour.
Nora, a human drinking buddy she’d picked up that evening, looked just a bit tipsy. Nora set down her half-empty drink, a fair portion of it sloshing over the side. Crescent noted the rings that adorned each finger. Each one glinted, their surface clean and unmarred. Additionally, the gloves common of stately ladies lay cast aside, stained with beer. Crescent could clearly see that the gemstones on each of Nora’s forearms were fully saturated with Spirit. Evidently, Nora had enough wealth to share.
“It’s been nice, Nora, I feel like we’ve grown quite close. You’re like a sister to me.” Beneath her skin and above it a network of vines puppeteered her lips and throat, allowing the corpse to say the words.
“Aw, you’re my bestest friend.” Nora took another swig from her glass. There was a pause.
“As your friend I want you to be honest with me. Tell me, is everything alright?” Crescent knew that Nora was pliable enough to be suckered in.
“I jus’ worry about my brother, y’know. I don’t want him to leave home.” The girl looked quite drunk. It was, Crescent hoped, the right time to move in.
“I’m sure he’ll be safe.” Crescent let those words hang in the air for a second before continuing.
“Nora, can I tell you a secret?” Crescent lowered her voice to a whisper, drawing Nora in close. She could tell that Nora was intrigued. Crescent smiled slightly, Nora was taking the bait. Nora smiled back.
“See this medallion?” Crescent proffered a necklace. It dangled on the end of a thin silver chain, sparkling in the amber light that pervaded the tavern. “It once belonged to a sailor. He was somewhat well-known among the other sailors at Vro Techroma. People would always say that he brought good luck to his crew. Storms ignored his ships, and the winds were always at their back. He never lost a fight. Sometimes people asked him what his secret was. He just winked and said that sometimes he was just lucky. Although, I noticed that this medallion always hung around his neck.”
Crescent placed the medallion on the tabletop, silver metal contrasting against the dark wooden table. She fiddled with it and smiled as Nora’s eyes tracked it. “Once, we ran afoul of some pirates. They’d been pursuing us for some time, and I supposed that they had to catch up eventually. When they did, he just looked up at the sky, staring straight into the sun. He whispered something to himself. And then he took this medallion from around his neck and handed it to me. It was my first time on a voyage, and I’d been shaking. When he gave it to me, he just told me that everything’d be alright.”
Crescent sighed and gazed out of a window, looking towards the setting sun. Azure petals rested on the table, having fallen from the flower atop her head. She thought she saw a few tears glistening in Nora’s eye. “He didn’t come back from that trip. I did. And from that time, it seemed as if his luck had rubbed off on me. I survived. My dealings went well. Arrows would miss me by a finger’s breadth.” She ran her finger along the silver chain. This part would be the most difficult. She’d have to introduce it in the right way.
“I’ve always felt just slightly guilty about having that necklace. And, well, I’ve come on financial hard times.” She twirled the medallion in her fingers. “I’m just looking to sell this thing, to pass it on and place it in new hands. For a while, I’ve been looking for someone to pass this off to.” Here she placed the medallion on the table and pushed it ever so slightly toward Nora. There was desire reflected in her eyes. Crescent could almost hear Nora’s brain working.”
“I could give this to my brother,” Nora said the words slowly with a bit of a slur. Nora had expressed the idea herself; that was good.
“That’s right.” Crescent intoned, like a parent to a child. “From what you told me, I’d feel better knowing I’d given you something to help him.”
Nora closed her fingers around the silver medallion but Crescent held fast to the chain. “I don’t have much. I just don’t want to let go of my most valued possession without some compensation.”
“Oh!” Nora sounded sharply apologetic. She laughed to herself, it coming out in waves, as she searched for her satchel. She fumbled with the clasp and then drew an uneven handful of marked Dinrow along with three Silver Dinrow. Any reservations Crescent might have had about scamming Nora vanished. Anyone who could carry this much money on hand probably deserved to have some of it go missing. “I hope this is enough.”
In Crescent’s opinion, it was a more than serviceable exchange for a story and a bit of hope. She made a show of being reluctant to part with the necklace, before sighing and bequeathing it to Nora. “Thanks.” Crescent refilled Nora’s drink before going. Crescents drink had remained untouched.
She left Nora with the bill.
So, this was the first episode of my new serial. I’d appreciate it if you left a comment. I’ll see you in the next episode (which you can read here) we’ll find out what the plot of this story actually is. ‘Till then, have fun!
Abraxas is looking like he might be my new babygirl.
Take me on a date first
Looks fun i’ll check it again later