CG Stewart 🖋️ 🫜

@nightoffallengods.com

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Official account of the author CG Stewart [He/They] Currently #Querying my Fantasy Novel The Night of Fallen Gods Nightoffallengods.com Human Creators only, no AI

35 - Henet Henet had been up since dawn, pacing around their apartment. Tala had gone to break into the Church of the Faithful last night, and still not returned. They hadn't exactly arranged to meet back up after, but Henet would have thought if she had found anything she would tell them first. That she hadn't yet meant either she had found something and immediately brought it to higher authorities, or that she instead had been found out and was currently being held somewhere by the Faithful. Or worse. They could have gone out and looked for her, but didn't want to miss her coming back. There were magical means by which they could track her, but even the simplest was a massive invasion of their friend's privacy, and highly illegal. Still, if they were in trouble, it might be worth it. They fretted back and forth, picking up various crystals and enchanted tools and carrying them for a time before putting them back haphazardly. Eventually their apartment began to look like it was slowly being ransacked. Then someone began pounding thunderously on their door. They looked around wildly. It was just shy of the eleventh bell by the timepiece on their mantle. Was that Tala finally back? Or someone looking for her? The banging continued unabated. Anxiety mounting, they jerked open the door, stepping back sharply and yelling, "Tala?" Tala pushed past them and into their room. "Where is your scrying gear?" Thank all the Nine she was safe. "Why didn't you come back last night? What happened?" "I don't know!" Her tail was puffed up as big as Henet had ever seen it, her ears flat enough to her skull to make her look human. "Which is why you need to find your scrying gear." She began tossing open cabinets and wrenching drawers out from their chests.
It was after their second rereading of Benac's memoir that Henet finally reached for the large metal and hide tubes that Thel had brought them. They rarely used the dining table in their apartment. It was just large enough to unroll the drawings across once they'd cleared it of the clutter that always managed to accumulate there. They began with some of the smaller tubes, mostly plans for various kinds of building that had to be replicated many times. Benac's account had mentioned this. In order to complete the city in any kind of reasonable time frame, the decision had been made to build as much of it exactly the same as the rest as they could. In a rare fit of cooperativeness, the Faithful had apparently agreed to allow that for every building in the city save for the Churches and Cathedrals. Something to do with a mandate from either their God or their leaders that only Holy places be allowed any sort of decoration or artistry. The medium sized tubes contained the plans for these stand alone places. Each one was built along the same layout, but there the similarities ended. They skimmed over the material lists for each and found dizzying lists of resources from all across the Alliance. Precious metals, gems, stone, all used differently in each construction. Most of the drawings were simply structural, but the occasional one would have sketches of the interior or exterior of the building they were for. If these sketches were anything to go by, and the artisans among the Faithful half as talented as they were ambitious, none of these buildings wouldn't have been out of place in the Eighth Ring.
Mary spoke for Reka with all the gravitas of one of her father's heralds, though with a significantly more smug air about her. "This is Roderika, daughter of Rodgier, Sovereign Lord of the Tower City. She's been traveling with us to the Holy City." She even went so far as to lift half her skirt in a curtsy while holding out the other hand like she was presenting Reka on a silver tray. Hannah took in a great gasp of air, eyes growing larger and more excited with each word. "REALLY?! You're a real Princess?!" Damnit. Reka knew by her vibrating excitement she'd never be able to get Hannah to call her by her name, much less to the point to call her "Reka". "I suppose I am," She said tartly. Hannah zipped back to Reka's side and immediately began firing off questions faster than she could hear them, much less answer them. Mary stood behind the girl watching and giggling Silently into her sleeve until Reka shot her a look that only caused her to turn around. Not that she couldn't see Mary's shoulders shaking. She was trying in vain to calm Hannah down when Father Abraham's voice boomed across the churchyard. "Sister Hannah, your assistance!" "Oh, coming Father Abraham!" Hannah hiked up her skirt and began to run off before turning back to look at them both. "Please promise you'll tell me stories about the City on the way? Please?" "Okay," Reka started, but Hannah pelted off as soon as she heard the confirmation, "as long as you don't call me Princess." She finished to the space Hannah had left behind. She turned to see Mary almost doubled over holding in her giggles. "Well I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself." It took Mary a moment to collect herself. "Oh, she doesn't mean any harm." She said as she dried the corner of one eye on her sleeve.
"You're late." Her father's voice rang out as soon as she crossed the threshold. There was no heat in his words, just a rueful amusement. "But, as our guests have yet to arrive, that seems to be in fashion at the moment." She walked around to the other side of her father's chair, desperately fighting against the embarrassed heat rising in her cheeks. "Apologies Father. Practice ran late and when ! realized the time, it was either be late and smell like a muster yard, or bathe and be later." Rodgier, Second of His Name, Dragon's Chosen, Sovereign Justicier, Lord of the Tower City, did not look like the kind of man to hold so many lofty titles. He looked more like someone you'd find pulling a pint behind a bar. Tall, lean, and broad shouldered, he had wavy auburn hair down to just above his shoulders and a thick beard speckled with grey around his square jaw. His eyes were deep emerald green with the seeds of laughter hidden behind flecks of gold. He sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair, having rested his cheek on his fist if the red streaks peeking up over his beard were anything to go by. "And instead you split the difference, bathing and then tearing through the halls to only be slightly more on time." Her father half chuckled out as he stood and opened his arms towards her. "But, results are results. I forgive you." Roderika laughed and rushed over to her father's embrace. Most women with twenty summers behind them might be reluctant to be hugged like a child by their father, but she welcomed it.
They both had a good chuckle and Mary at least put on a tight smile. After a moment she leaned forward and pointed to the fire, "What was that for?" There was a pot at the edge of the fire. "Oh," Reka felt a gentle heat rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire, "I was going to make us tea, but I got a little distracted." Mary stood and looked more closely at the pot. "There isn't any water..." She felt the heat spread to the top of her ears. "There was when I put it there." Mary picked up a piece of leather Reka had left out to grab the handle by and lifted the pot for closer inspection. "There's... there's char in the bottom? Princess, did you burn your water?" Arlo let out a thunderous laugh that must have been heard back in the Tower City and Reka looked away from them both. "I said I got distracted, okay?" Arlo continued laughing to the point that she was surprised he was managing to stay in his seat. She peeked at Mary and even she was holding back a smile and shaking slightly. "I'll fetch the kettle and some more water." "Please forget it. You should relax. Gods, you haven't been able to sit since we made camp." "No, no, it's fine." Mary took a deep breath to steady herself. " really enjoy a cup of tea in the evening, I'd be glad to make it." Mary wandered off in search of the kettle while Arlo descended into wheezing giggles. Reka was about to get up and kick him when Mary returned with a sloshing kettle and three tin mugs. She placed everything on the ground near the fire and asked Reka, "Where's the tea?" She reached down and handed Mary a small tin. She opened it with a delicate sniff of the contents, then breathed in deeper after a small look of surprise. "Oh this smells amazing. Where did you get it?"
Tala huffed out a breath, looking her in the eyes, serious again. "For the record, I still don't think you should go. I know it's important for your dad, and probably the whole Alliance, but I didn't like the Faithful before today and | like them even less now. I don't like how you got dragged into this." Roderika heaved a sigh of her own. "I know. And trust me I'm not looking forward to spending weeks on the road with Jonah of all people." She paused, searching for the right words to say. "But my dad has been working at this since before I was born. If playing diplomat helps him, then I have to go." Tala closed her eyes. "I love you, but this is the worst time for you to develop a sense of responsibility." Not knowing what else to say, she kissed Tala. Gentle and slow, making sure they both felt it in a way they could remember for a long time. When they stopped, she reached into the front of her dress and drew up a fine silver chain. On the end was a crystal pendant, silver smoke swirling inside it. "Maybe you can't go with me, but if anything happens to me you'll know. When you do, I know you'll follow as fast as you can." Tala reached down the front of her blouse and drew out an identical pendant. They both held them forward and when both touched a soft white glow emanated from where they met. "Of course I will Reka. I'd like to see the Nine together try to stop me." She touched her forehead to Tala's for a moment before attempting to get up. As soon as she tried, her partner seized a fistful of dress and hauled her back down. "I didn't say you should stop." Tala purred, her cheeks red and her eyes averted. Well, Roderika had wanted out of the dress anyway.
The sudden appearance of Father Jonah snatched her attention back to her immediate surroundings. "Princess," she still could not help but flinch internally at both the title and the tone Jonah said it in, "the priest here says that there is another field to the other side of the pastures where your men can pitch their tents for the night. Sister Mary, if you will attend me." "Actually Father," Reka turned to face him and came back to herself, "I will be needing Sister Mary's assistance this afternoon. She will be accompanying me into town." Jonah looked much less amiable than the last time this conversation had played out. He folded his hands inside his sleeves, something she was beginning to recognize as a sign of displeasure. Good, let the man stew. "You will return before fifth bell, Sister Mary must be present at evening prayer." "After which she will return with me," she said, keeping her face as straight as she could. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Jonah turned on his heel and went back into the church without further comment. Reka let herself smile in triumph as she turned back to Mary, then stopped short at the concerned look on the young woman's face. "Mary?" Mary only shook her head before getting back in the carriage. Reka looked over to Arlo, who had watched the whole thing from the drivers bench. He only shrugged, and turned back towards the road. She went back inside and found Mary looking out a window at the passing church, her eyes distant and face blank. Reka sat across from her. "I'm sorry, did you want to stay? Am I taking you from something important?" "Lord no..." Mary murmured, almost to herself, before raising a hand to cover her mouth. She shook herself and turned to Reka. "I mean, no, nothing as important as serving you Prin... Reka." "Are you sure?" She wasn't sure if Mary seemed panicked or relieved.
Map of The Alliance of the Nine from The Night of Fallen Gods
She made it to the back wall of the Church without incident. There were several doors back here, but according to the plans she'd seen, the double doors closest to her were the ones she wanted. Not seeing anyone back here, she put a little more speed behind her steps and came to the doors. She reached for the one on the right, and the leftmost one began to swing forward. Heart leaping into her throat, she launched herself left, following the swing of the door and flattening herself to the wall behind it. As the door continued outward, she stopped breathing and sent another desperate prayer to Ela. The Goddess of the Hunt must have heard her, because the man who exited the basement did so alone and without looking around. He was as tall or taller than Arlo, with close cropped hair and a muscular frame. He stepped away from the door and let it swing closed, turning towards the edge of the building and walking away. Tala tracked him with her eyes, not daring to move her head, and as he rounded the corner she saw his face in the light drifting back from the front courtyard. It was Dominic's bodyguard, his hatchet face set in a look of deep concentration. Her heart fully stopped as he disappeared around the corner, and only resumed beating when she heard the muffled sounds of gravel crunching underfoot grow further and further away. She started breathing again slowly, holding a tight leash on her urge to gulp down air. She should have been caught right there. She'd never have been able to avoid the man if he had seen her, and then she would have been captured or worse. All the grisly possibilities ran through her mind and she debated cutting her losses and getting out now, but that grim sense of time running out came back. She needed to see what they were storing down there. She peeled herself from the stone wall and ducked into the basement as fast as she dared. Once inside, it became clear to her why the man hadn't seen her; the entire basement was lit torches on the w…
Her heart started fluttering in her chest and the realization came that she was excited to go. She bounced up to Arlo at the bottom of the little steps up into the carriage. He stood at loose attention, leaning on the long handled great axe he'd decided to bring. Along with his two handed greatsword nearly as long as Reka was tall across his back. And a short sword at his hip. And a number of knives that seemed to increase every time she looked. "Everything ready, Captain? He winced at the title as much as her needling tone. "Aye, everyone's mounted and ready when you are. Jonah's gone ahead to the church, but he left that girl in the carriage to wait for you. Who's she?" "Sister Mary." Her mind's eye switched out picturesque country roads and campfire lit nights for sky blue eyes and delicate porcelain features. "Jonah decided since Tala wasn't coming along he'd provide me a handmaiden courtesy of the Church. And she's only a year younger than you." Arlo's eyes went wide and fixed on the door. "Yeah, that surprised me too. Can you get ready to leave but hold for just a few minutes? I want to talk to her first." "Sure thing." Arlo reached up and opened the carriage door with a little flourish. "Princess." She stuck her tongue out at him and hopped up into the interior of the carriage. There was just enough room inside for her to stand, and the cabin a good fifteen feet long and half again as wide. Cushioned benches and backboards ran the length of either side, with curtained windows every few feet. Most of her belongings were stored on deep shelves up near the ceiling, the rest likely too bulky and stored in one of the supply wagons instead. At the back Mary knelt in the aisle between the benches with her head bowed and eyes closed. She passed a string of beads through her fingers, the soft rattling echoing gently around the cabin. Roderika paused and watched her lips shape whispered breath into faint yet fervent prayer. She stepped forward as Mary finished and slow…
Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings
Now however, if the bell tolling in the courtyard blurring past was any indication, she was about an hour behind the meeting's start and just in time for her own funeral. Not helping things was the damned dress she'd also been told was very important she wear. It was overly modest by her tastes: flat, dark, grey with a lack of meaningful embroidery, a high neck tickling at her chin, and a not particularly form fitting cut that she couldn't help but fill out anyway. And unlike any of the dozen already crowding her closets, the blasted skirt was barely cut for walking in much less running. She had it hiked up in both hands and was praying to some forgotten God of Laundresses that the wrinkles wouldn't be too obvious.
12 - Tala Tala, against her usual habits, was up before the sun. She'd been having trouble sleeping since Reka left. Years of having another body next to her in bed meant it was difficult to get to sleep with that body gone. Normally they would decide on a whim whose room to sleep in every night. Now she had taken to sleeping in Reka's room to get any real rest. Rodgier didn't seem to mind, and if anything he welcomed having her around. It also made it easier for her to keep an eye on him. So for now it was late to bed and early to rise.
The golden gates opened, and they began their ascent. When she passed the last of them, her Guard began falling in behind her, along with the first row of their escort. She kept her eyes forward, trying to lift the skirt of her dress as little as possible as she climbed the steps. She knew looking back would not ease the itching in her shoulders. When they came to the top, Jonah and the armored man opened the twenty foot tall doors with a push and a groan of metal. Immediately, the metallic smell grew more pronounced. She stopped and traded a look with Arlo. He seemed just as on edge as she was, his eyes darting around between glances at her and his hands gripping his axe haft so tight the wood groaned. They entered a cavernous hall long enough the other end was cloaked in shadow. Immediately apparent was the opulence of this place. Massive paintings lined marble walls, and uncountable candles burned silently in silver and gold candelabras. Tables of fine woods, polished to gleam in the candlelight, held gilded and illuminated books. Statues were tucked into alcoves on either side of the hall, draped in enough gold and jewels to make a dwarf blush. Hooded priests lined their way, holding swaying golden censures burning with musky incense and praying as they passed. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, Sanctificetur nomen tuum. They continued past more displays of ridiculous wealth, Reka wondering the whole time why the people of this city tolerated such squalor below while all this was here. The very seams of the marble cladding the walls were grouted with gold. Just one of these paintings or tapestries was worth enough to feed a family for a year. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie. Finally they came to another set of doors, which this time a pair of hooded priests opened for them. A flood of sunlight blinded them for a moment, the glare parting to reveal a nearly incomprehensible space.
She did not move except for the continued twitching of her tail and an annoyed ear flick in their direction. This window had a perfect view of the courtyard where Reka's new Honor Guard were mustering. Amid the flurry of activity, the taller of the Faithful's priests approached Reka and her father with another figure in tow. "Ah, catching the last glimpses of the sun before night falls then." They bent down further over her shoulder. "I wonder what the priest wants, he was supposed to wait down at their church." "Nothing good." Tala muttered darkly. "The more I sit with it, the more this entire idea makes my hair stand on end. Did you hear what Jonah said when he was leaving the Guard Selection?" Henet's hearing was not nearly as good as Tala's, but miles better than a human's. "That won't do," they said in a mocking imitation of the priest's condescending voice, "that won't do at all... Seemed rather ominous if you ask me. Tala's nod was the barest dipping of her chin, her eyes locked on the scene below. "I've been poking around in the lower Rings while Reka's been busy. Do you know how many men that Bishop brought with him?" "It never occurred to me to wonder." They moved from over her shoulder to lean against the opposite window frame. Jonah's companion was bowing and scraping in Reka's direction and even from here they could see how uncomfortable their friend was. She had never been one for any kind of deference, shown or received. "Thousands," Tala hissed. "I don't care what they say about rebuilding their church, you don't bring that many men somewhere unannounced. They're up to something, I know it."
She wheeled around to return to the tent, eyes downcast, and nearly barreled into Reka. She was running a damp towel across her neck and face and had changed back into tight black trousers cinched with a dark leather belt with a flowing, partially open green shirt. She stepped back as Mary came to a halt in front of her, emerald eyes going wide. "Mary! The water back in the tent is getting cold, you should go wash up." "Ah, not to worry!" Integris said behind her as Tala emerged in her loose black pants and shirt, still dragging a towel across her face. There was a pause, and she heard a faint thud from inside the tent. "Fresh, hot water for you. We will wait for you to freshen up before supper." She nodded absently, still frozen in place with her eyes locked on the green and gold fields of Reka's. A thousand questions crowded in her throat the same way they had since the tunnels below Megiddo. She tried to voice even just one but they all blended together past the point that words would form. Reka seemed unable to speak either, but Mary thought she saw something behind her eyes. Some kind of expectation she couldn't identify. A hand appeared on Reka's shoulder and Tala's face came around her from the other side. Mary watched as Tala's gaze flicked between her and Reka, and that finally spurred her into motion. She didn't want to see what might be behind Tala's eyes. If there was suspicion there, or if the care slipped from them... she had no idea why, but knew that would hurt as much as Reka's lack of trust in her. It took every ounce of control she could muster not to run for the tent. Once inside however, her legs finally gave out. She felt the tears gathering in her eyes and blinked them away as hard as she could. When that didn't work she scrubbed at her face with her hands. She had to draw in long, ragged breaths before they began to stop. Once she was as near to calm as she could get herself, she began stripping out of her clothing and took one of the towels …
Thankfully small hamlets like these set their roots down deep, staying put for generation after generation. House Gods were common here, and the villages had a few Local Gods between them. The reports said that these deities had kept their charges safe, if not the crops and a few unoccupied buildings. And by the time they had stripped the land bare, help arrived just in time to make things worse. The first wave of aid arrived on wyvern back like the Captain, with a few Dragons in tow to haul supplies and gear. Apparently at the sight of this, the people had all lost what little must have been left of their minds. Most simply fell to the ground wailing, others ran in whatever direction they happened to be facing. Some God or another must have taken pity on them and miraculously kept anyone from dying in a stampede or crush. And then came the additional panic over the Elves and Wyldkin, which were apparently as terrifying to these people as Dragons the size of buildings. Rounding them all up had taken weeks and more than a few bruises and broken bones on both sides. But eventually everyone was corralled, tents and pavilions set up, and clothes finally put on. Now only Humans were allowed within a mile of the disaster zone out of an abundance of not wanting the screaming to start again.
She hopped up into a high seat and the man behind the bar draped his rag over one beefy shoulder before walking down to her. "Begging your pardon, young lady," he frowned, his deep voice full of sympathy, "I'd normally never turn away custom, but this may not be the best place for you right now. My cousin runs another tavern a few streets deeper in the Ring, and I'd be glad to give you directions." Tala had heard much the same at every tavern on this street she'd visited for the last week. She looked as innocent as she could and asked, "Why would that be good sir? You surely have no problem with my being here?" "Of course not." The man said, apologetically. "Unfortunately, my current customers very well might." The emphasis he put on the word customers said that the barkeep wanted to call them something much less polite. "I'm afraid I still don't understand, sir?" She knew very well what he meant. The tavern she'd been to yesterday had insisted past the point of politeness she eat in the kitchen. Another had brought her food in a small box and said it was safer taking it with her. The man made a pained face. "These.. these Redeemers," he made to spit at the name but stopped short, likely because of a look from the older woman by the stairs, "the men from the Church across the way, there's too many of them to stay in their own rooms, so they say. So I've got a whole host of them in the rooms upstairs. They've run off all my other custom, and I'd have thrown the lot of them out if I hadn't seen Sovereign Rodgier damn near beg the Hospitalier's Guild to not do it with my own eyes. I have no idea what such a good man sees in such a," he bit back whatever he was about to say and instead said, "what he sees us gaining with these folks about." "They haven't caused trouble before?" She asked, feigning surprise.
1 - Roderika Roderika, First Daughter of the Tower City, was running late. Rounding a corner, she nearly bowled over a serving woman and called back a half strangled, "Sorry! Sorry!"over her shoulder while continuing on her mad dash. As the opulent halls of the Sovereign's Palace streaked by in a blur of polished stone and ornate tapestries, she kept asking herself why she'd agreed to attend this audience in the first place. There was no place for her in the bureaucracy of The Tower City or the Alliance of the Nine beyond being her father's daughter, and she had no interest in making one. She knew little enough about the matters at hand, only that it had been decades in the making. But when her father had told her how much her presence would help smooth tensions, it'd been easy to say "yes". Now however, if the bell tolling in the courtyard blurring past was any indication, she was about an hour behind the meeting's start and just in time for her own funeral.
She laughed out a muffled sob into his chest before stepping back and wiping her eyes. That summoned tears of his own and they laughed together for a moment, not really sure of what else to do. As they settled back down he looked over Roderika's shoulder to see the sun beginning to brighten the horizon and something unexpected. Father Jonah approaching with a smaller figure in tow. His daughter noticed his attention and turned around herself. They both stood by and waited for the priest to work his way across the yard. A young girl, Gods scarcely more than a child, followed in Jonah's shadow wearing the head to toe garb of the female Faithful. Her dress was the same black as the priest's robes, with silver trim along the floor length hem and sleeves that fell over half her hands. She wore a black headdress with a silver trimmed cutout that only allowed the front of her face to be visible. Her delicate features were downcast; small button nose above bow shaped lips, shockingly blue eyes beneath fair haired brows, and porcelain white skin without even the hint of a blemish. She was like a beautiful doll crafted by the finest artisan. Jonah gave the barest of bows to Rodgier and his daughter when he approached and the girl curtsied far deeper than was necessary. "My apologies if I am interrupting Justicier Rodgier, Princess," he said, eyes beaming with a strange excitement, "but after our conversation the other day, I have taken the liberty of finding you a suitable handmaiden for this journey. This is Sister Mary, she is of an age with the Princess and I am sure will serve her well." "Well met Father, Sister." Of an age with Roderika? His daughter was well into her twentieth year. This... waif of a girl had to be fourteen? Fifteen at most. He couldn't help but ask, "How old are you, child?" She had a sweet, crystalline voice. High pitched, but soft enough to not be grating. "Our Lord has blessed me with eighteen summers, your Highness." That rocked him back a bit. If …
A Luna moth
A green darner dragonfly
A copy of The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook, third book in the Dungeon Crawler Carl series, stacked on top of the two previous books.
The Veneziad by Blue from Overly Sarcastic Productions - front cover and kickstarter backer bookmark and pin.
When Mary came back with a half full bucket of cold water, Reka had one berry left. She looked up, mouth still full of luxurious fruit, and stood. "Mawwy," she choked out before swallowing, "Mary, thanks for getting the water. Here let me help." "Not at all, Princess," Mary's thin arms strained to haul the bucket to the center of the cabin. She placed it down with a sloshing thud and pulled a pair of towels from over her shoulder. "Here, for you to wash with." "Thank you Mary." Reka put a soft emphasis on the Sister's name, hoping to remind her of their arrangement to drop the titles. "First though, you had questions I promised I'd answer." She crossed her legs and sat in front of the bucket of water. "Come, sit with me." Mary hesitated a moment before kneeling on the other side of the bucket. Reka took a few steadying breaths and closed her eyes. Years ago, when she was still a child and had only just begun her martial arts training, her swordmaster had recommended she also be instructed in magic. Though he wasn't magically inclined himself, he had told her father that she showed signs of talent. Word was sent to the Universities of the Eighth Ring for an instructor, and a few weeks later Henet arrived in the Sovereign's Palace, newly graduated and not quite ready to return to Star's Rest. They'd found Reka, and later Arlo, to both be able to use magic and began their instruction. A fond smile pulled at her cheeks as she began one of the first exercises Henet taught her. She quieted her mind, not exactly ceasing her other thoughts so much as setting them aside. She did the same with her sore muscles and full stomach, focusing only on the world around her. The subtle texture of her clothes against her skin. The tiny gusts of air from Mary's breaths across from her. The warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. Steadily she pushed her senses further and further away from herself until she felt her mind open completely, like a flower opening itself to the rising…
A hardcover copy of Matt Dinniman’s Carl’s Doomsday Scenario, part of the Dungeon Crawler Carl Series.
But busy as he was, one man kept making his way onto Rodgier's daily schedule. Bishop Dominic. The man, being conservative, was an absolute nightmare. Jonah had been strange certainly, and the priests before him could politely be described as standoffish, but they'd been people that could be worked with or around. Dominic was neither. He was entitled, impetuous, and seemingly completely without empathy. He arrived at the palace at any time of day and forced his way past anyone foolish enough to attempt to stop him, liberally throwing Rodgier's name or his status about. He sent servants and functionaries scrambling after things he no longer wanted by the time they returned with them. He would camp out in a waiting room for hours at a time, completely heedless of if it had been booked by, set aside for, or occupied by anyone else. The worst part of it was the meetings. Rodgier had so many demands on his time he couldn't take many meetings, so all of his communications except for the highest level between envoys of the other cities were done by letter. They could be long letters, and usually were, but they had to be something he could read through and understand the full point of so that he could do his job. But Dominic had apparently never heard of writing, much less letters. Any meeting with him had to last at least one glass of wine from Rodgier's cellars, though often more. Getting to the point of anything with the man was like pulling teeth. Everything needed a winding explanation hardly related to the matter at hand half the time. And the Nine forbid Rodgier ever not meet with him on any given day. He would not make an undue ruckus, but would instead berate him relentlessly when he did see him again. It was infuriating.
The ground leveled out and after about a hundred feet of creek the trees parted around a small clearing. In the middle a pond surrounded by tall cattails and lilies gave off a hint of steam in the afternoon light. As they approached, she saw that the creek didn't continue past this point. Not a pond then, a spring. She dropped her bags. "Yes! I knew it!" The water was as clear and still as glass, save where it flowed down into the next pool. She knelt down and opened her aura again. Schools of water spirits swam through the spring, all of them with even thicker threads of heat. She dipped her hand in and felt water as hot as a fresh drawn bath. Then, she felt another consciousness brush her own. "Oh!" She cried out. Mary dropped her own bags and looked down at her in exasperated confusion. "You wanted to show me a pond? We passed a bunch of ponds on the way here?" "No, it's a hot spring," she said absentmindedly. The other consciousness felt like the spirits she usually interacted with, but bigger, deeper. It wasn't communicating with her, just brushing up against her mind. She lifted her hand from the water and it disappeared, reappearing when she placed her hand back. "And it's got a spirit in it." "I thought you said there were spirits everywhere?" Mary took a half step back and eyed the water. "There are, but this is different." Reka was trying to figure out how exactly. She'd only read about this sort of thing, or gotten half coherent explanations from Henet. "This is like... you remember the spirits from when we went for a ride a few days ago? The elk and the horse?" She looked over and Mary was nodding. "Well this is kind of like that, but more. Those were a bunch of spirits coming together temporarily. This one is a bunch of spirits who have been together for so long, they've gone back to being just one thing. It means this spring is really, really old." But then why was the rest of the forest filled with only young spirits? If this spring had been here so l…
14 - Reka The eighth day on the road brought the Pilgrimage to the town of Riverbridge. As the carriage came to a stop and she stepped down from the stairs to the cabin, Reka took a moment and opened herself to the world around her. It was quickly becoming her habit to do so whenever she had the chance. Away from The Tower City, she'd started to appreciate the difference in the spirits out here in the countryside. It wasn't that the City was devoid of spirits, far from it, but outside it they were so much more nuanced. The air spirits felt pushed along by the last breath of a great storm somewhere else. The water spirits of the wild streams and ponds they'd stop at still had the chill of mountain ice melt woven through them. The trees and bushes had the permanence of old growth, their spirits vibrant with life. At night she'd watch the fire spirits dance from log to log and in between the sparks rising into the air, each one the seed of a roaring wildfire that would turn their play into devastation. It was all so amazing to her. The first few days away from the city she'd done little else but sit with her aura open, drawing in one spirit at a time and bathing in the depth and complexity of it. When she could be drawn into conversation, it was all she wanted to talk about, despite feeling like whatever description she gave was woefully inadequate. How could she put into words the difference between the feeling of a water spirit that came from a sandy bottomed stream and another from a stone churned rapid? What were the right feelings to compare to how an earth spirit interpreted the shallow roots of grass against the deep roots of a tree? She was too busy losing herself in the different flavors of freedom each air spirit brought with it to attempt conveying them to anyone else. If nothing else, the novelty of each of these new feelings had already made this entire trip worth leaving the Tower City.
The hardcover edition of Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman.
"Good morning ladies. What exciting things are we getting up to today?" She turned towards the voice. Henet, her erstwhile magic tutor turned friend and confidant, ducked beneath the pavilion's canopy. Like all elves they stood well over six feet tall, nearly topping seven. Their slight frame and long limbs were lost in the folds and layers of their purple and blue silk robes. Shaggy white hair fell to their shoulders haphazardly, almost hiding the upswept pointed tips of their long ears. Their face was vulpine and androgynous enough that, despite having known them most of her life, Roderika still wasn't sure if they were male or female. Which was entirely by Henet's design. With enough time and effort any elf could be either sex as they pleased. To hear them tell it most eventually settled on one or the other, but they enjoyed keeping everyone guessing. Their most striking feature though were their eyes. From a distance they looked like black holes in their face, but up close she could see wisps of midnight blue and deep purple swirling through them. Instead of irises and pupils Henet's eyes had small scattered white points throughout them like stars in a clear night's sky.
They began to take a number of switchbacking roads, steadily climbing higher up the cliffs. The sun was most of the way towards the horizon when they came to a massive circular plaza lined with row after row of armored men and priests. They stood before a high wall of black stone and a pair of golden gates, stylized with winged children blowing on trumpets. On the other side was a complex that rivaled anything in the Tower City. It was taller than the Sovereign's Palace, possibly as large as the entire Ninth Ring. It was made of the same black stone as the walls surrounding it and the city itself, only cut into gargantuan blocks at the base, more of those flying columns ringing each level. The front consisted of two bell towers easily over two hundred feet high and a hundred wide at the base, with a massive stained glass window made up of panels the size of buildings depicting an emaciated man, his hands and feet nailed to the boards of a cross. Statues of men she assumed were leaders of the church lined the stairs that cascaded down from the massive metal doors to the plaza. The carriage came to a stop before the gates, and Reka's honor guard rode around to line her path to them. Their escort also lined the way, two more rows of men behind hers. Rough dressed stable hands came forward, grabbing reins and allowing riders to dismount, then led horses away when their riders feet were on the ground. Reka heard Arlo and Jonah get down from the drivers bench, and could see them take up positions on either side of the carriage door. She and Mary stood, the latter bending down to take up the sword case at their feet in her arms. Reka wished she hadn't agreed to the thing. She reached up into the storage above their seats and retrieved her sword. She laid the blade inside, scabbard, harness, and all. As soon as she clicked shut the latches, her hand itched to take it back up again, damn the Church's supposed standards. Mary turned to exit, but she stopped her with a hand on…
A calico cat wrapped in a white peanuts blanket
~~~ They were stopped for the night and she was preparing dinner when He found her. She was fighting to hold back thoughts of bright green eyes, pale skin, and the taste of strawberries when suddenly He was behind her, his gaze pressing down on her back. "Pride," He hissed. "Do not deny your sin. I saw you when the Princess," venom dripped from every letter of the title, "praised you. And the abetting of Gluttony with the fruit. Allowing a heathen man to touch you. I expect better of you. God demands better of you." Much like this morning and yet entirely different, she was frozen in place, unable to turn around. She stopped cutting the vegetables she was preparing for fear that her trembling hands might cause her to cut herself. "For your transgressions you will fast in penance." Fasting was His favorite punishment. Not a week went by that he did not find a reason to deny her meals. "Abstain from all but water until the sun sets again, or His wrath will be far greater than His disappointment." She felt him move closer, looming over her further. He had no fear of the knife in her hand, knew she didn't have the will to use it. She felt his hand caress the side of her head and even through her veil her skin attempted to crawl away from his touch. "But I forgive you. I see you for how you really are. You will soon be free from the sin these heretics spread with their very presence. I know that when the time comes, you will be perfect." He left, footsteps fading into the night. She stood there, silently praying she was in her cell in the Choir Abby. Back to where her vows would be taken seriously. Where He wouldn't be able to reach her. It was a some time before her hands calmed enough to resume cutting.
19 - Melic The God of Libations did not usually manifest inside of a library. Melic looked around, wondering exactly what he was doing here. With the Festival of All Gods so near, there were any number of boisterous parties he could have been drawn to. Given his purview over negotiations and contracts, it was infinitely more likely that he'd come into being in a private dining room or boardroom of people having just clinked glasses over a deal. But from what he could tell he was in one of Thel's university libraries. An empty one at that. He set off in the direction that felt most right to him. Clearly something or someone under his divine purview had drawn him here. He'd just have to find out on his own. He wandered between the shelves, trying to get a better idea of what he could be here for. From the titles he was passing, this collection seemed to be focused on history. Not one of his favorite subjects. Eventually he came to an alcove tucked into a wall between two towering bookshelves. There were, unsurprisingly, several stacks of books strewn about the floor in front of the couch at the back of the depression. Sprawled haplessly over the cushions was an androgynous Elf in deep purple robes, and as Melic looked at them, more details about them came to the surface of his mind. "Good evening, Henet." Henet looked up with hooded eyes over top of the book they were reading. The title on the spine read "The Great Arrival: A Collection of Accounts". "I don't need any further assistance, thank you." They produced a flask from their sleeve and made to drink from it, but going by the scowl they gave it, it was empty.
One of the things she and Reka had marveled at early in their friendship were the difference in family dynamics, mostly Tala's. Wyldkin families were called Clans, each composed of any number of men with any number of women. Women, if inclined, bore children every few years by whatever man they chose, most giving birth to twins, and occasionally triplets. All children were raised by the entire Clan, with the woman who gave birth to you being your First Mother, and the other women in the Clan your Second Mothers. Most Wyldkin children didn't know which of the Clan's men were their First Father, like Tala, so any adult male in the Clan was respected equally. Any children born of your Second Mothers were your brothers and sisters, no matter whose blood flowed in their veins. Tala was the rarity in her family for being Keira's only child. She had also been born a little later than the rest of her siblings, her mother having her two years later than her Second Mothers had their children. No one intentionally marked her out for it, and her entire family still loved her deeply, but there was still something of a gap between her and the others that never entirely went away. Keira's lessons weren't a fantastic help either, as the other children didn't quite know how to handle Tala being as reserved and observant as she naturally was and her mother raised her to be. Still, they tried their best and Tala loved them all for it. But she hadn't really felt special until meeting Reka. Her partner had such a vibrant sense of curiosity about her, she'd crashed straight through every wall Tala tried to put up. Later she learned that Rodgier and Keira had hoped Tala would be a calming influence on Reka, a voice of reason for her, but that had failed spectacularly. As children Reka had dragged her from one escapade to the next, always blowing past her objections with sheer enthusiasm. Tala was able to keep things from going too far, but only just.
"Okay Mary, look!" Reka shouted as she spurred Apple into a gallop. Mary looked up and clutched tighter to her with a gasp. As they raced through the grass more sprites ran or glided alongside them. Some of the wind spirits collided together and changed from songbirds to a giant eagle that cried out and flew in front of them. Earth spirits, one the shape of an elk with massive antlers and another the shape of the biggest horse Reka had ever seen emerged in sprays of dirt and ran on either side of them. She felt something on the edge of her awareness and opened her mind as far as it would go. Regal sunbeams came into view with rains of heat spirits falling off of them in sparkling showers. Uncountable wind spirits in the distance blurred together into blue and green lines in the sky tracing out the flow of the wind. Every color grew sharper to the point she could tell where one shade blended into the next. She felt every step Apple took shake not only her and Mary but the ground, every vibration mirrored and dispersed around her. She had never felt more connected to the world around her. She had never seen the world so alive. They rode along in awed silence, with only Apple's hoof beats and the sound of swaying grass accompanying the beauty in every direction. She felt Mary's aura overtake her own. Something deep within her welled up and Reka was bathed in the light of pure awe. Everything took on a new sharpness, a brighter hue, it all felt like so much more. She looked through the world through Mary's eyes for a moment, and knew they were both crying freely from the majesty of everything they could see.
At the moment though Henet's eyes were squinting out into the muster yard, watching the goings on there with open curiosity. Next to them on invisible threads of magic floated a divan couch that they set down to Roderika's left before draping themselves over it. "Arlo certainly seems to be having fun." Roderika Ignored their inquiry for now. "Henet, where did that couch come from?" "Oh, somewhere." They replied while turning one hand in a vague gesture before reaching into one of their sleeves and produced a flask. After unscrewing the cap and taking a deep pull they added, "Don't worry, I'll put it back. Not out to make more work for the staff." "I seem to remember," Tala said from her other side in an offhanded tone, "seeing one very similar in the reading hall not far from Ambassador Conlin's apartment. And that she has a fondness for spending this time each morning enjoying her current book in her favorite reading chair." Henet's smile lit up their face, "You don't say?" They gave a meaningful look across the yard. In the distance Roderika could see an elvishly tall figure in daisy yellow robes framed in an arched window several stories up the side of the Sovereign's Palace. She wondered to herself what Ambassador Conlin had done to draw Henet's attention. They were fond of mostly harmless pranks and minor annoyances against anyone and everyone for reasons largely kept to themself. As she watched the figure turned and left the window. "She's going to get you back, you know." She said, hoping that she wouldn't be caught in whatever revenge the Ambassador was simmering in her mind. "I look forward to the attempt." Henet said with exaggerated defiance. "So, what are you up to out here? Does it have anything to do with why Arlo is currently beating those men senseless?"
It seeped into the space between real and unreal where the Gods took their meetings. It found the place full of mortal trappings. The mists of reality shaping themselves into heavy curtains like what hung in their halls, billowing on a nonexistent breeze. Floors made to look like pieces of dark and shining cut stone. A great circular table surrounded by nine chairs, each one reflecting its intended occupant. An elaborate crystal chandelier hung over the table, full of crystals glowing with unnecessary light. Such things made little sense to it, but what else could be expected of the fools that bound themselves with names and forms.
The previous night he'd walked the outer perimeter of the campsite and determined that if you circled it twice you would have gone near enough to a mile. So now he started at a slow walk, into a jog, and finally a run, up to speed by the end of his first circuit. He maintained that run for the second circuit, then slowed to a brisk jog, letting his long legs devour the distance. Halfway through his third lap, he caught sight of another figure out in the mist ahead and sped up. Reka was out running as well, in similar loose trousers, her new boots, but thankfully for her and everyone else's modesty, her training robe from sword lessons. Arlo felt a smile split his face as he caught up to and surpassed her. "On your left!" He shouted as he went by. Reka laughed but didn't bother to speed up. She had long legs for a woman her height and could put on speed when she needed to, but they both knew she had no hope of keeping up with him on a distance run. Arlo however did up his speed, catching her more quickly the second time with another, "On your left!" On the fifth lap the other men of Reka's honor guard had joined them. They were all grouped up in a slow moving knot and chatting amicably amongst themselves. He checked over his shoulder and saw Reka wasn't too far behind him, so he sped up to the men's other side before skidding to a halt in a spray of morning dew and turning to face them. "Did I pick a bunch of laze-a-bouts and idlers to protect our Princess?" he boomed, making sure to lean on to the word Princess enough that Reka would hear it. "I've got three laps on her and five you laggards!" "On your left!" Came Reka's call as she streaked by faster than should have been possible for someone of her build. Arlo laughed and turned back around to speed after her while the guardsmen all began cursing and finally putting their legs to proper work.
And now Tala is 'acting strangely'. By the Nine will this day ever be over? He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Bett coughed politely behind him. "Begging your pardon, Lord Sovereign," the young guard said sheepishly, "but Lady Tala, she didn't seem right this morning." Rodgier slowed his pace so that the two guards walked beside him. "You saw her then?" He asked them both. Bett nodded, and Mella spoke. "She seemed real adamant that she see you, Sir. You were still in the Temple of Law, so we offered to take her to Captain Aman." "Then she just started screaming," Bett cut in, "fell to the ground and screamed something terrible until her breath ran out. She took out a necklace from under her shirt and then ran off without another word!" Rodgier stopped. None of this sounded like Tala. "Did anyone follow her?" Mella nodded. "I chased after her a bit, yelled my head off for her to slow down, but she just kept going. Ran like there was an angry dragon behind her. Would have needed one of the Wyldkin guards to keep up with her, and none of them were around. I lost her before she got into the gardens." Rodgier resumed walking, forcing himself into as fast of a limping walk as he could. As much as he ached for his bed, he needed to find Tala now. Solonathrax had mentioned when he looked in on Roderika something about splitting her grace between the two. Was this related? He would check his home first, then Henet's. The Nine only knew where Keira was tonight, but if need be he'd send for her to help locate her daughter.
She continued out of the gardens and around the Sovereigns Palace until she came to a set of stairs leading down into the base of the Ninth Ring. At the bottom they opened into a wide hallway that ran the perimeter of the Ring at a gentle downward slope, lit by glowing crystals set into tiled walls. A few people passed her in the opposite direction, bureaucrats and secretaries headed to work in the Palace. She stuck to the empty right side of the hall and kept going until it opened up into a cavernous space. The Lifts were one of the Tower City's many great wonders. Built into the foundations between each Ring, they connected parts of the City that would take most of a day to reach otherwise. Each station was laid out in the same way; lifts that took passengers up or down only a single Ring were closest to the entrances, and each platform closer to the center would go to more levels of the city. Each was split into multiple circular enclosures with seats for passengers, that ran along tracks built into the massive steel support beams holding up the City. Directly in the center of each station were the lines that traversed the whole height of the City, along with the gargantuan cargo lifts that moved thousands of wagons of goods a day. Especially in lower rings where the stations were almost entire cities unto themselves, the spaces between the pillars were filled with carts and stalls hawking refreshments, food, or any manner of wares. The Ninth Ring station was the smallest so Tala only had a brisk walk to the lift she needed. She wove her way through the growing crowd of people headed up to the Sovereign's Palace to the platforms just before the cargo lifts. She jogged through the closing doors of the lowermost car and was able to get the seat in the far left corner she liked. From here she could watch the rest of the space without anyone she could not see watching her. She wasn't particularly worried about being followed, but it was a habit instilled in her since…
14 - Reka The eighth day on the road brought the Pilgrimage to the town of Riverbridge. As the carriage came to a stop and she stepped down from the stairs to the cabin, Reka took a moment and opened herself to the world around her. It was quickly becoming her habit to do so whenever she had the chance. Away from The Tower City, she'd started to appreciate the difference in the spirits out here in the countryside. It wasn't that the City was devoid of spirits, far from it, but outside it they were so much more nuanced. The air spirits felt pushed along by the last breath of a great storm somewhere else. The water spirits of the wild streams and ponds they'd stop at still had the chill of mountain ice melt woven through them. The trees and bushes had the permanence of old growth, their spirits vibrant with life. At night she'd watch the fire spirits dance from log to log and in between the sparks rising into the air, each one the seed of a roaring wildfire that would turn their play into devastation. It was all so amazing to her. The first few days away from the city she'd done little else but sit with her aura open, drawing in one spirit at a time and bathing in the depth and complexity of it. When she could be drawn into conversation, it was all she wanted to talk about, despite feeling like whatever description she gave was woefully inadequate. How could she put into words the difference between the feeling of a water spirit that came from a sandy bottomed stream and another from a stone churned rapid? What were the right feelings to compare to how an earth spirit interpreted the shallow roots of grass against the deep roots of a tree? She was too busy losing herself in the different flavors of freedom each air spirit brought with it to attempt conveying them to anyone else. If nothing else, the novelty of each of these new feelings had already made this entire trip worth leaving the Tower City.