《AJA THE ANIMIST》 Chapter I ¡®Greatness is the expected minimum¡¯ That was the Magus'' last word in the discussion. Well, the last that Aja committed to memory at least, as she found herself stuck on the expression. Greatness was an internalized actualization, wasn''t it? That was what her father and aunt always told her. Yet, when Faama Jato''s royal decree was given, he insisted that somewhere in the Kingdom of Tilibulo was an Animist ''destined for greatness,'' which the Magus from the Century Chapter then regarded as if it were a basic requirement. She understood the Magus'' apprehension, this was no small moment in either of their culture¡¯s histories. The Century Chapter was the premiere magic administration of the entire world for as long as anyone could remember ¡ª the term ¡®Century¡¯ remaining in the name because after its centennial, no one could think of a better title. Curious, Aja always thought, for an institution of the world''s supposed most intelligent. In all the generations of the Chapter, of all the magical fields they''d encompassed, all the prime Arcane arts like Conjuration, Evocation and Transmutation, never before had they studied her study, Animism. The Chapter ostensibly stood apart from any nation, preferring to ¡®advise¡¯ on their own terms, but they had a predisposition towards states they know and understand. The Reikmar Republic, on the harsh northern continent of Ekstam for instance, was their ideal: a large landmass of city-states all part of the larger state, each city governed by a single elected Consul, and a history of clinical, utilitarian thinking. The Kingdom of Tilibulo within the southern continent of Tyrege, however, had long stood as a gray area in their eyes. The Grand Mages would always approach the land like an equation in need of solving, rather than listening to the people who lived in it. Moreover, the Mages had little to offer them in terms of magic; Tilibulo''s magical needs were fulfilled by their Nyamakola, or Animists, with their intimate understanding of Nyama -- the spiritual force that flowed through their motherland. Animists would forge totems known as Tilik out of pieces of nature, and use them to release and direct the Nyama living within all things. The Chapter often mistook Tilik for some kind of cursed weapons, and while they could be used to deadly ends, they were not built to destroy. They could not shoot lightning or conjure energy from other dimensions like a Mage, but they allowed their wielder to move in rhythm with the natural world, keeping the bond between man and earth in an easy balance. In one sense, it was more refined than the supposed advanced spells of the Arcane. When Aja was a little girl, she would ask her father why the Century Chapter''s emissaries would always come and ask questions of him and the Faama. He always said they were just ''Smart people who need simple answers.'' Now at 19, she understood with a bit more nuance: Arcana was based firmly in literacy, recitation of words and intensive study. Animism, on the other hand, grew from the idea that all things that exist -- the rocks, trees, earth, water and animals -- have a distinct spiritual essence, Nyama, constantly flowing between them and weaving the world together. The Animist was one able to release Nyama from physical objects and perform wonders with it. The Grand Mages were so confounded by this ¡®discipline¡¯ ¡ª an improper term, Animists noted, as it¡¯s more of a philosophy ¡ª that they requested to see the first tomes where the practice was written. They were further confused when the elders informed them that Animism originated from a people that didn¡¯t even have a written language, much less one that relied on books to carry the words of their ancients. Rather, it blossomed in a masonic and artisanal culture, where what one makes is more valuable than what one reads or writes. Some in the Chapter dismissed them as superstitious, but they couldn¡¯t argue the results, as Tilibulo and its Animists flourished and thrived in equal measure to other nations of the world. Though skeptical as rooted intellectuals, the Century Chapter was nothing if not curious, so after considerable time ¡ª and a devastating war that Tilibulo helped them win ¡ª they approached as peers rather than judges, and asked if they¡¯d be willing to send an Animist to join the Century Chapter in a newly created position, as a means to expand the stage of the world''s knowledge. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. From the day that offer was extended, a fire lit in Aja¡¯s heart. She¡¯d learned Animism at a young age from her aunt Sabati, with her father Donso¡¯s reluctant support. As a military leader within Faama Jato¡¯s Royal Council, Donso was privy to the dangers of the world and tried to keep her insulated. Animism, he conceded, was a method of focusing one''s mind and nurturing one''s spirit, and a venerated role in all aspects of their society. As an Animist, she would certainly stay out of trouble. She did not, in fact, but that''s beside the point. Donso¡¯s patience ran thin when she came home bouncing with excitement at the Chapter''s invitation to their kingdom. Aja barraged him each day with composed testimony about why she was ready for this, why she was in the proper position as the daughter of a royal representative, a prodigious Animist, and how even her name, ¡®Ajaratu,¡¯ meant ¡®female pilgrim.'' She was, literally, born for this. Each morning, he would try to shut her down, but when he went to court, his sister Sabati would barrage him with identical points as to why Aja was the clear choice. Before long, Faama Jato overheard their bickering, and couldn''t help but agree. At that point, Donso had been told by so many people ¡®smarter than myself,¡¯ as he said, that he would consider it. Seeing how much this meant to Aja, he gave his blessing not long after. But if she was to go north, he would not let her go until she was prepared to deliver on the Faama''s promise of greatness. His attitude seemed to contrast what he''d first taught her what greatness meant. At which point her father noted, this was why she needed to learn. "Greatness means something else to men of their sort," he said gravely. That proclamation marked the start of a grueling seven months. Her father would wake her hours before first light and put her through rigorous calisthenics and running courses, the same he did in his days as a foot soldier. Then, when the sun just crested over the horizon, she''d go to her aunt for the rest of the morning to hone her Animism. As he''d say, "I will wake you, but your aunt will awaken you." "I am awake now!" she''d complain each morning, burying her head in her pillow. "So are the predators, Meerkat!" he''d bark, failing to hide his smile at putting his genius daughter through a piece of his world. "What predators am I expecting north?!" "The worst kind," he warned, "Young intellectuals." The mornings were hard, then her father''s combat and strength courses in the second half of the day tenderized what was left of her. Then, Sabati''s evening training usually consisted of having Aja run through a swarm of mosquitoes to retrieve an egg from a tree stump, balance it on a wooden spoon and bring it back to her across a stream of jumping fish. "Why must training be so painful??" She panted, this sort of intensity entirely new to her. "This is the way of the Century Chapter" Sabati answered. "The way of the north." "What kind of harmony can that hope to bring?" "This is not harmony," her father would drill. "There is reason the northerners call their passions ''disciplines.'' Their lives are an endless uphill climb. Unsatisfied with what is around them, only looking forward. They move swiftly, and the swiftest move like machines. They will slice out your knees and leave you behind if you allow it. Again!" Aja had been active and fit all her life, but this left her different. Now when she woke up, she''d reflexively tie her expansive curls into an aerodynamic top knot, even if she didn''t have training to do. Now her taut muscles throbbed restlessly if she didn''t work them. The early months of training had her worried her excitement wouldn''t survive the stress, but once she crawled through, she came back to her feet stronger than ever. The fire in her burned brighter than she thought possible. It was more than excitement now. Aja was hungry. Chapter II she had championed her own candidacy and the Faama then chose her, but she felt if the Magus reacted poorly, it might sully the enterprise. Brexton paced patiently around Aja. advises Queen Montressa, but it only serves reason and knowledge." Wait, she thought, did I even see him move?... Aha! she thought. Chapter III protect with destruction, you oaf." Chapter IV Autumn was different in N''Jarosyl. There weren''t many trees around to change color, there wasn''t as much fresh air to smell crisp mornings. No, N''Jarosyl was a port city, which made its autumn a harsh bridge between summer and winter. One day, the sun is bright and the days warm. The next, a cold wind blows in on the water. A chill runs up the city''s spine. Superstitious sailors claimed it was some kind of geas, some curse brought about by tortured sea spirits -- but Archivist Dima didn''t believe in ghost stories. Archivists might have been the lowest ranks within the Century Chapter, serving as aide de camps to a Magus or Arch Caster, but they were sharp enough to distinguish between folklore and empirical evidence. It was this inductive reasoning that allowed Dima to tremble with fear on the floor as he did -- the living ghost story lounging above him was, in fact, backed by empirical evidence. The tears on his cheeks had dried since his fingers were broken. His screams muffled into the gag in his mouth. He''d finally mustered the nerve to roll onto his side to look about the room. The two-story hostel wasn''t much when he and his coeds laid eyes on it that morning, but it was near the shore and had cheap wine in great supply. To a class of first year Archivists fresh off the semester, that''s about as enticing as it needed to be. But now, as the bitter night air wandered through the open windows and dried blood and cold corpses kept him company on the floor, Dima missed the hospitality of the slack-jawed bartender, now slumped over on the stairs with an open throat. "There''s nothing like autumn in N''Jarosyl," the ghost story mused by the window, overlooking the rest of the port district. His voice was scrambled, artificially distorted somehow. "The winds change. Summer gasping for its last breath." This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. He pushed off the window frame, his footsteps clinking on the softened wood floors as thin metal talons protruded from the plated tips of his boots. The evening wind flapped the long, dark red hood and tunic like a cloud of crimson smoke. He took careful, precise steps over each corpse ¡ª a handful of them the hostel staff, most of them Dima¡¯s fellow Archivists, still in their gold student uniforms. Dima looked at his dead classmates, quivering at the sight of the bloody bibs on their chests, cascading from under their open mouths, frozen in silent screams. "Crops like you that bask in the light, growing and sowing each year," he went on, locked onto Dima. Beneath the figure''s hood lay a smooth, featureless silver mask, save for a pair of metal flanges at the chin, almost resembling fangs or tusks. "...Ignorant of what you have coming for you. The price of your reckless seeding, I suppose," he knelt down to Dima''s level. The Archivist tried to scramble away, but his bound wrists and broken fingers shot pain up his arms. The figure''s gloved hand grabbed Dima''s chin and forced him to look into the cold, barren metal face. His fingers slipped over the gag and pried into Dima''s mouth. Dima gurgled in protest, even trying to bite the fingers, but the killer''s constitution proved too strong, and he secured his grip on Dima''s tongue. "You are all pretty, little flowers," he hissed, his other hand clenching into a fist just beneath Dima''s chin, "And I am your winter." A metallic click, a sharp pain under his chin and a warm river down his throat were the final sensations Dima felt as he gurgled, and eventually relaxed. The wrist-mounted spring blade tore through the student mage''s chin and plunged into the base of his tongue. With a few quick jostles, the tongue came loose, hanging slack in the killer¡¯s hand. Rising back up, the Tongue Cutter slipped the severed tongue onto a cord, with six others. He returned to his perch at the window, watching a fog cloud roll in on the water with a sigh of relaxation. Chapter V Cheat not a superior cheater.¡¯ Aja looked back at her own, and they bore a different message: ¡®A first impression does not divine one''s nature.¡¯ Chapter VI man, but¡­it¡¯s important that he not be able to read you." ¡®First Strikes of the Dracar Shogunate¡¯ ¡®Venom of the Serpien Holy State¡¯ ¡®Shadow of the Cobalus Dominion¡¯ ¡®The Tempest of Nations: A World at War¡¯ is just so simple." history. It ended as a story. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Chapter IX The sun and the ocean breeze were less welcoming the second time. With her focus clouded by this troubling business, Aja couldn¡¯t attune to the surrounding Nyama, leaving her shivering at the cold wind as she approached the dockyard behind Brexton and Leondros. The Magus and the Marshal hadn¡¯t spoken since the Queen¡¯s quarters and they clipped with great purpose through town, moving faster without a detachment of Bladewards, despite the Queen¡¯s offer. After backtracking all the way to the docks, Aja took a breath to steady herself. She was chosen for this, and she earned her spot here. This was the job now. As the trio traversed the old wood of the docks, she saw light bouncing off the bronze splint armor the Bladewards holding perimeter, keeping people away from one specific pier. It held half a dozen storage houses, ranging in size from a hut to a tugboat. The two officials ahead of her moved through the circle of guards, she followed. She caught a stray look or two, but they quickly adjusted back to formation as the trio stopped between two large storage houses. That was when she saw the body. Face-down, elegant red and white robes ruffled and sprawled, undone mane of red and silver hair sticky with dried brown blood. Brexton stopped first, Aja a few paces behind, while Leondros marched directly up. Eyeing Brexton¡¯s locked stature, then the body, Aja snapped out of it. Instinct kicked in. This was a dead thing, even dead things release Nyama. She took a cautious step to Brexton¡¯s side. Leondros finally looked back and saw the pair hesitating seven paces away. "You¡¯re no help if you¡¯re afraid," he grumbled. Aja put a hand on Brexton¡¯s shoulder. He took a shaky breath and met her eyes, not as a teacher to student, but fellow human being. She gave him the smallest nod and took a step ahead of him, laying a hand on her Tilik as her foot touched the dock. She felt her step ripple across the wood, into Arch Caster Callaghy¡¯s body, then to the storage houses and into the ocean. Their Nyama reverberated back to her, clearing her mind and filling her with sensations, then her mind deduced their meaning: Stale, coppery scent ¡ª This creature has been dead for 13 hours. Amount of blood ¡ª This creature died here, but was mortally wounded elsewhere. Minor scraping on the wood ¡ª This creature was dragged here conscious. Flecks of hemp fiber ¡ª This creature¡¯s wrists were bound with rope. As she joined Leondros by the body, she relayed this information aloud. The Marshal subtly looked at her, then grunted and nodded in reply. "I had suspicions of the like. You can confirm them?" "Nyama cannot lie, Marshal," she nodded, stepping around the body. "Only we do that." "Aye, breaks the heart," he exhaled, kneeling on his haunches and turning the body over ,surprisingly gentle. Aja¡¯s eyes flicked up to Brexton, who watched the Marshal intently. "Have care, Marshal," he warned from his distance. Leondros opened his mouth to snap back at Brexton, but his breath caught. His course remained gentle and steady. "Aye, Magus. His dignity is minded," he answered earnestly. It seems in the presence of the deceased, the Marshal dealt Brexton a bit more slack. He glanced up to Aja. "Girl ¡ª erm, Animist," he corrected. "What make you of this?" He motioned towards Callaghy¡¯s face, Aja stifled a gasp. She drew back half a step, hand covering her mouth. Time slowed as she looked over the ugly, twisted visage of the man who would¡¯ve been her mentor: Leondros laid him down by the arms, where she saw his broken, gnarled fingers with deep ligature marks around his wrists, but that proved the least disturbing aspect. His long red and white beard had been sliced in half at the throat, likely in one fell stroke as a means to gouge a red crevice across his Adam¡¯s apple, a bib of dried blood caked around his collar. Above that, his jaw was brutally dislocated, jutting at an unnatural angle. Numerous teeth were knocked from his mouth, the tissue and skin of under his chin a distended mass. Her thoughts failed and her stomach churned. However, Nyama was sickened by no sight. His ruined flesh simply told the truth: his throat was slashed, then his jaw pried open as the killer drove their fingers into his neck wound with one hand, surgically removed his tongue with the other, and then ripped it out through the throat. As the data fed into her mind, she heard Brexton moving closer, his worry for her overriding his grief. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Aja, are you¡ª" he asked as Aja raised a hand. The sight was grisly, but she would not let it shake her. She kicked herself for recoiling to begin with, but then again, this was something she¡¯d not seen before. Her eyes found Leondros, who studied her reaction intently. This wasn¡¯t just him asking for her input ¡ª he was testing her. She met his gaze evenly, if a bit indignant, and swallowed. "I do not know the signs of your Tongue Cutters," she said, kneeling beside him and laying a finger directly on the Arch Caster¡¯s fatal wound. "But this man¡¯s tongue was removed through this laceration in his windpipe, as well as a hand through his mouth, dislocating his jaw and distending the windpipe to reach the base.¡± "Too right," Leondros nodded, satisfied and, Aja sensed, impressed. She glanced back to Brexton, but saw his head snap another direction, suddenly fixed with alarm. "We¡¯re being watched," Brexton muttered. Aja¡¯s head perked up as she stood, scanning about. "Do not look, Aja," he chided. She lowered her head back to the body and began aimlessly pacing around it, reaching out to the surrounding Nyama. "Aye, it¡¯s a public spectacle," Leondros sighed, dusting his hands. "We¡¯re likely to cop a few wandering eyes." "No, we specifically are being observed," Brexton countered. "I cast a Perimeter spell when we arrived, centered around this dock. Anyone I did not visually identify and account for who breaches my perimeter would alert me." Suddenly attentive, Leondros¡¯ head lifted ever so slightly. "That so?" He asked quietly, positioned as though he were still examining the body, but now with greater peripheral vision. "Someone has breached it, directly to my southeast," Brexton reported, eminently controlled. "Your northwest, Marshal." Aja watched Leondros¡¯ head tilt nigh-imperceptibly. She knelt down as if to examine the body again, and discreetly knocked the bony end of her Tilik on the dock. Nyama bounded across the wood, then onto cobblestone as she felt the vibrations of heartbeats. She felt the Bladewards a few crows circling the carrion, and and one other living creature, crouched behind a small storage house. "I will alert the Bladewards," Brexton said. "They¡¯ll scare him off long before they could give proper chase," Leondros challenged quietly. "I¡¯ve got no sight on ¡®em. Magus, bring the Bladewards closer, then I¡¯ll circle around and¡ª" "I have him," Aja interjected, fingers curling around her Tilik as she willed a gust of wind up over the tides. It burst across the dock and under her hips, thrusting her upward. "Aja, Aja wait¡ª!" Brexton whisper-yelled while Leondros¡¯ brow furrowed as he watched her soar across the docks. Her soft sandals eased on the roof of the dock house, she darted to the edge and leapt over. She came down towards a tall, lanky figure in a long lavender coat, wide-brimmed hat obscuring their face. As she was mid-descent, the Voyeur bent back in surprise before sliding two small objects from their sleeve: red and white dice, like the ones she¡¯d seen the sailors gamble with. When the dice hit the ground, they sent a ripple of magic through the air and time seemed to slow -- but only for Aja. As the Voyeur sidestepped at normal speed, she drifted down at impossible slowness, like she was swimming through honey. Aja¡¯s brow furrowed, eyeing the dice, a one and a two. She looked back at the Voyeur, now far enough away that she saw a young male face beneath the brim of the hat: olive skin, sharp features, vibrant brown eyes that winked at her under long strands of black hair. Once the Voyeur had taken off running, he lashed an arm back and the dice whipped off the ground, back into his gloved hand, at which time Aja abruptly hit the ground at normal speed. She staggered for a moment, but then adapted ¡ª clearly the dice were a way he cast magic, and now his concentration was broken. She pushed herself into a run, waving at the Bladewards ahead of her and the Voyeur. "Stop him!" Aja cried, searching for an authoritative tone, "By order of the Queen!" The Bladewards gave chase, a few raised crossbows, but the Voyeur again tossed his dice at their feet. She couldn¡¯t see the number, but she watched a purple light burst from the game pieces, then the wood boards the Bladewards ran on violently and unnaturally shifted, throwing all of them off their feet. As before, he then raised his hand and the dice returned to his palm. Willing into her Tilik, Aja threw a branch of water over the dock, attempting to swat the Voyeur like an elephant¡¯s tail swats a fly, but the Voyeur slid beneath it, then recovered back into a run. Cursing to herself, Aja veered to the side of the dock and willed more water up and leapt into it, hurtling herself through the air. From her higher vantage point parallel to the Voyeur, she reached out to the water on his boots and froze it. The Voyeur slid off balance, but managed to slide forward until he could leap back onto dry ground, cracking the ice off, then threw a playing card behind him. The card flashed purple and erupted into a burst of fire, turning the water to steam. Aja gritted her teeth. This certainly wasn¡¯t in Brexton¡¯s lectures or books. Once the Voyeur crossed from the docks onto the cobblestone, Aja tensed and threw herself forward with the arm of water. It propelled her through the air as she spear-tackled him. The two rolled across the street, to gasps and alarms from the merchants and customers of the market district. From behind, Aja wrapped an arm around the Voyeur¡¯s neck and coiled her legs around his waist, then used her other arm to arrest their momentum. As they stopped, she felt his weight shift. No, not shift¡ªvanish. She turned the figure over, and it was now a blank-faced puppet man, still wearing the coat and hat! She looked up, and saw the real Voyeur darting into the stacked houses and shops of the market district. How did he do that...? Pushing aside her confusion, she threw the double away and kept up her pursuit. Chapter X "Proper student, that lass!" Leondros growled as he ran. "You¡¯ll not call her that," Brexton challenged as he kept pace, his robes making the run much more awkward. "She¡¯s neither a student nor a child!" "Aye, broke rank and threw herself across the sky, right professional!" The pair dashed by the recovering Bladewards, searching for Aja in the crowd. "She¡¯s run off on her own with a Tongue Cutter out there, fixed to get herself killed." "That¡¯s only the second most concerning thing," Brexton said, drawing his graphite diamond and casting a spell. "Behind what?" "She reminded me of you." With that, Brexton muttered a few arcane words and flew off his feet, soaring high above to gain a better view. Leondros growled and shoved through the crowd. Pushing through traders and shoppers, Aja struggled to keep eyes on the lavender coat. He¡¯d gained ground, she needed to close distance fast or he¡¯d slip away. As she watched him grow smaller and smaller, he skidded to a stop when the cobbles of the street began shifting, rearranging themselves beneath his feet and forming a barrier. She looked up to see Brexton hovering high above, arms extended and ending in two glowing runic circles, changing the landscape before the fleeing suspect. Aja smiled and pushed forward. The Voyeur drew another card and flicked it directly into the shifting stones. Aja watched them suddenly transform into pillars of flame at the card¡¯s touch, now arcing back up towards Brexton, who dashed aside as the fire licked at his robes. As the fire towers dissipated, the Voyeur darted into the smoke. Aja dove through the haze as well, but the figure had vanished. "There!" Brexton called from above, pointing towards the rows of homes in the rolling acres of ramshackle wood, clay and slate stacked atop one another ¡ª a favela, Brexton had called it in their studies. Following Brexton¡¯s finger, she barely spotted the Voyeur climbing up to a slate roof. Gripping her Tilik, she whipped an arm upwards. A lance of earth burst from the ground under her feet, throwing her up onto the rooftops. Barely landing on her feet, she locked onto the Voyeur and scrambled forward. Above, she saw Brexton struggling to maintain line of sight between the rows of homes, smokestacks and lines of drying clothes. The Voyeur turned around, briefly running backwards as he flicked yet another card upwards. Brexton sliced a hand at it, an arc of light searing it in half, but not before its magic was triggered: a series of self-propelled interlocking chains coiled around him, throwing his trajectory off as he tipped downwards. With a tip of his hat, the Voyeur slipped down between two homes and out of sight. Aja dove for the gap and slid down, but her stomach dropped -- the ground was much further than she anticipated. Skidding down a rough wall, pain lanced up her leg as she landed hard on steep tile, then rolled down further before her hip, shoulder and cheek slammed onto a roof, this one an unforgiving hard clay. She tasted copper and couldn¡¯t feel her leg for a moment, pushing herself up to a knee and catching her breath. She winced as she stood on her leg ¡ª not broken, but definitely strained to its limit. She looked across the platformed roofing ¡ª the Voyeur was gone. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. She balled her fist and struck the clay beneath her as Brexton landed. "Aja, are you alright?" "I am fine," she gritted, pushing herself up. "What was that?" Brexton tried to help her stand, but she moved his hand from her arm. "A Fortune Player, I suspect," he answered, "Handlers of chaos magic." "Too right," Leondros echoed from behind. They both turned to see him a story above, leaning casually on a balcony. "One with a proper head start, and reason to flee the city. Top marks, the pair of you." Brexton grimaced up at him. "And just where were you?!" Leondros shrugged, "Took the stairs, mate," he said dryly, eyes on the distant rolls of the favela. "So Animist, how d¡¯you find N¡¯Jarosyl¡¯s famous Hovel Valley?" Indignation took root in Aja¡¯s chest ¡ª she¡¯d looked like a fool, and that¡¯s exactly what this man intended to see her as. Her jaw locked as she grunted to her feet. She looked hard up at Leondros, but he still didn¡¯t meet her eye line, instead he stayed locked on the horizon. "Fret not, I know where he¡¯ll be." "Where?" Aja demanded. Finally, the Arcane Marshal glanced down at them. "Best leave that to the professionals." Aja surged forward, a lance of clay about to push her up from the rooftop to lunge at Leondros, only for the pain in her leg to shake her. The malformed clay pushed her off balance and she fell on her face. She growled through the pain, fists pushing her back up as Brexton went to help again. She glared back up to the balcony, only to see the Marshal walking away. Her face twisted in pain and humiliation as she hung her head. "Pay him no thought," Brexton halfheartedly comforted, "Not but a bitter relic, nostalgic for days when he could simply beat what he wanted to hear out of people." Aja blinked the dust and sweat from her eyes, refocusing her power and clearing her vision as she still looked down at the rooftop¡­and saw it. A small, perfectly carved wooden coin, painted stone gray and adorned with an orange paint on its face; a series of lines swirling to the center. "This may be for the best," Brexton went on, trying to put her arm around his shoulders, "I¡¯d rather lose a dubious lead than lose the city¡¯s new Animist, wouldn¡¯t you agree?" She scoffed involuntarily, incensed at Brexton¡¯s overbearing. She covered the scoff with a feigned stumble forward, catching herself with her left hand, right over where the coin had fallen. Tucking it away into her sleeve, she let Brexton help her to her feet. "Steady now, I¡¯d wager you¡¯re past due for a rest, and perhaps an apothecary to see about that leg." "It is nothing," she shook her head and put weight on the leg, ignoring the pain. "That¡¯ll be enough posturing, Animist," he insisted, "Back to the Queen¡¯s Manor. We¡¯ll see to the Marshal later." She cursed internally at his condescension. Well meaning, of course, but she could not do her job if this mage kept treating her like precious cargo. It was demeaning, but worse so ¡ª it was irresponsible. She¡¯d found a lead, a spectating eye to these events, who used a chaos magic to evade pursuit. To call this a ¡®dubious lead¡¯ as Brexton did bordered on recklessly dismissive. Pushing away from him, she willed the Nyama in her blood and tissue, to untangle the swelling growing in her right leg, reinforcing around her bruised bone and reducing the pain to near nothing, forcing the injury back to normal with great concentration. She stomped on the roof, refusing to let the the considerable pain it caused register on her face. "I. Am not. Delicate," she punctuated, before hurling herself off the ground once more, this time with a proper movement of Nyama and a proper lance of clay propelling her off the ground. Chapter IX The sun and the ocean breeze were less welcoming the second time. With her focus clouded by this troubling business, Aja couldn¡¯t attune to the surrounding Nyama, leaving her shivering at the cold wind as she approached the dockyard behind Brexton and Leondros. The Magus and the Marshal hadn¡¯t spoken since the Queen¡¯s quarters and they clipped with great purpose through town, moving faster without a detachment of Bladewards, despite the Queen¡¯s offer. After backtracking all the way to the docks, Aja took a breath to steady herself. She was chosen for this, and she earned her spot here. This was the job now. As the trio traversed the old wood of the docks, she saw light bouncing off the bronze splint armor the Bladewards holding perimeter, keeping people away from one specific pier. It held half a dozen storage houses, ranging in size from a hut to a tugboat. The two officials ahead of her moved through the circle of guards, she followed. She caught a stray look or two, but they quickly adjusted back to formation as the trio stopped between two large storage houses. That was when she saw the body. Face-down, elegant red and white robes ruffled and sprawled, undone mane of red and silver hair sticky with dried brown blood. Brexton stopped first, Aja a few paces behind, while Leondros marched directly up. Eyeing Brexton¡¯s locked stature, then the body, Aja snapped out of it. Instinct kicked in. This was a dead thing, even dead things release Nyama. She took a cautious step to Brexton¡¯s side. Leondros finally looked back and saw the pair hesitating seven paces away. "You¡¯re no help if you¡¯re afraid," he grumbled. Aja put a hand on Brexton¡¯s shoulder. He took a shaky breath and met her eyes, not as a teacher to student, but fellow human being. She gave him the smallest nod and took a step ahead of him, laying a hand on her Tilik as her foot touched the dock. She felt her step ripple across the wood, into Arch Caster Callaghy¡¯s body, then to the storage houses and into the ocean. Their Nyama reverberated back to her, clearing her mind and filling her with sensations, then her mind deduced their meaning: Stale, coppery scent ¡ª This creature has been dead for 13 hours. Amount of blood ¡ª This creature died here, but was mortally wounded elsewhere. Minor scraping on the wood ¡ª This creature was dragged here conscious. Flecks of hemp fiber ¡ª This creature¡¯s wrists were bound with rope. As she joined Leondros by the body, she relayed this information aloud. The Marshal subtly looked at her, then grunted and nodded in reply. "I had suspicions of the like. You can confirm them?" "Nyama cannot lie, Marshal," she nodded, stepping around the body. "Only we do that." "Aye, breaks the heart," he exhaled, kneeling on his haunches and turning the body over ,surprisingly gentle. Aja¡¯s eyes flicked up to Brexton, who watched the Marshal intently. "Have care, Marshal," he warned from his distance. Leondros opened his mouth to snap back at Brexton, but his breath caught. His course remained gentle and steady. "Aye, Magus. His dignity is minded," he answered earnestly. It seems in the presence of the deceased, the Marshal dealt Brexton a bit more slack. He glanced up to Aja. "Girl ¡ª erm, Animist," he corrected. "What make you of this?" He motioned towards Callaghy¡¯s face, Aja stifled a gasp. She drew back half a step, hand covering her mouth. Time slowed as she looked over the ugly, twisted visage of the man who would¡¯ve been her mentor: Leondros laid him down by the arms, where she saw his broken, gnarled fingers with deep ligature marks around his wrists, but that proved the least disturbing aspect. His long red and white beard had been sliced in half at the throat, likely in one fell stroke as a means to gouge a red crevice across his Adam¡¯s apple, a bib of dried blood caked around his collar. Above that, his jaw was brutally dislocated, jutting at an unnatural angle. Numerous teeth were knocked from his mouth, the tissue and skin of under his chin a distended mass. Her thoughts failed and her stomach churned. However, Nyama was sickened by no sight. His ruined flesh simply told the truth: his throat was slashed, then his jaw pried open as the killer drove their fingers into his neck wound with one hand, surgically removed his tongue with the other, and then ripped it out through the throat. As the data fed into her mind, she heard Brexton moving closer, his worry for her overriding his grief. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. "Aja, are you¡ª" he asked as Aja raised a hand. The sight was grisly, but she would not let it shake her. She kicked herself for recoiling to begin with, but then again, this was something she¡¯d not seen before. Her eyes found Leondros, who studied her reaction intently. This wasn¡¯t just him asking for her input ¡ª he was testing her. She met his gaze evenly, if a bit indignant, and swallowed. "I do not know the signs of your Tongue Cutters," she said, kneeling beside him and laying a finger directly on the Arch Caster¡¯s fatal wound. "But this man¡¯s tongue was removed through this laceration in his windpipe, as well as a hand through his mouth, dislocating his jaw and distending the windpipe to reach the base.¡± "Too right," Leondros nodded, satisfied and, Aja sensed, impressed. She glanced back to Brexton, but saw his head snap another direction, suddenly fixed with alarm. "We¡¯re being watched," Brexton muttered. Aja¡¯s head perked up as she stood, scanning about. "Do not look, Aja," he chided. She lowered her head back to the body and began aimlessly pacing around it, reaching out to the surrounding Nyama. "Aye, it¡¯s a public spectacle," Leondros sighed, dusting his hands. "We¡¯re likely to cop a few wandering eyes." "No, we specifically are being observed," Brexton countered. "I cast a Perimeter spell when we arrived, centered around this dock. Anyone I did not visually identify and account for who breaches my perimeter would alert me." Suddenly attentive, Leondros¡¯ head lifted ever so slightly. "That so?" He asked quietly, positioned as though he were still examining the body, but now with greater peripheral vision. "Someone has breached it, directly to my southeast," Brexton reported, eminently controlled. "Your northwest, Marshal." Aja watched Leondros¡¯ head tilt nigh-imperceptibly. She knelt down as if to examine the body again, and discreetly knocked the bony end of her Tilik on the dock. Nyama bounded across the wood, then onto cobblestone as she felt the vibrations of heartbeats. She felt the Bladewards a few crows circling the carrion, and and one other living creature, crouched behind a small storage house. "I will alert the Bladewards," Brexton said. "They¡¯ll scare him off long before they could give proper chase," Leondros challenged quietly. "I¡¯ve got no sight on ¡®em. Magus, bring the Bladewards closer, then I¡¯ll circle around and¡ª" "I have him," Aja interjected, fingers curling around her Tilik as she willed a gust of wind up over the tides. It burst across the dock and under her hips, thrusting her upward. "Aja, Aja wait¡ª!" Brexton whisper-yelled while Leondros¡¯ brow furrowed as he watched her soar across the docks. Her soft sandals eased on the roof of the dock house, she darted to the edge and leapt over. She came down towards a tall, lanky figure in a long lavender coat, wide-brimmed hat obscuring their face. As she was mid-descent, the Voyeur bent back in surprise before sliding two small objects from their sleeve: red and white dice, like the ones she¡¯d seen the sailors gamble with. When the dice hit the ground, they sent a ripple of magic through the air and time seemed to slow -- but only for Aja. As the Voyeur sidestepped at normal speed, she drifted down at impossible slowness, like she was swimming through honey. Aja¡¯s brow furrowed, eyeing the dice, a one and a two. She looked back at the Voyeur, now far enough away that she saw a young male face beneath the brim of the hat: olive skin, sharp features, vibrant brown eyes that winked at her under long strands of black hair. Once the Voyeur had taken off running, he lashed an arm back and the dice whipped off the ground, back into his gloved hand, at which time Aja abruptly hit the ground at normal speed. She staggered for a moment, but then adapted ¡ª clearly the dice were a way he cast magic, and now his concentration was broken. She pushed herself into a run, waving at the Bladewards ahead of her and the Voyeur. "Stop him!" Aja cried, searching for an authoritative tone, "By order of the Queen!" The Bladewards gave chase, a few raised crossbows, but the Voyeur again tossed his dice at their feet. She couldn¡¯t see the number, but she watched a purple light burst from the game pieces, then the wood boards the Bladewards ran on violently and unnaturally shifted, throwing all of them off their feet. As before, he then raised his hand and the dice returned to his palm. Willing into her Tilik, Aja threw a branch of water over the dock, attempting to swat the Voyeur like an elephant¡¯s tail swats a fly, but the Voyeur slid beneath it, then recovered back into a run. Cursing to herself, Aja veered to the side of the dock and willed more water up and leapt into it, hurtling herself through the air. From her higher vantage point parallel to the Voyeur, she reached out to the water on his boots and froze it. The Voyeur slid off balance, but managed to slide forward until he could leap back onto dry ground, cracking the ice off, then threw a playing card behind him. The card flashed purple and erupted into a burst of fire, turning the water to steam. Aja gritted her teeth. This certainly wasn¡¯t in Brexton¡¯s lectures or books. Once the Voyeur crossed from the docks onto the cobblestone, Aja tensed and threw herself forward with the arm of water. It propelled her through the air as she spear-tackled him. The two rolled across the street, to gasps and alarms from the merchants and customers of the market district. From behind, Aja wrapped an arm around the Voyeur¡¯s neck and coiled her legs around his waist, then used her other arm to arrest their momentum. As they stopped, she felt his weight shift. No, not shift¡ªvanish. She turned the figure over, and it was now a blank-faced puppet man, still wearing the coat and hat! She looked up, and saw the real Voyeur darting into the stacked houses and shops of the market district. How did he do that...? Pushing aside her confusion, she threw the double away and kept up her pursuit. Chapter X "Proper student, that lass!" Leondros growled as he ran. "You¡¯ll not call her that," Brexton challenged as he kept pace, his robes making the run much more awkward. "She¡¯s neither a student nor a child!" "Aye, broke rank and threw herself across the sky, right professional!" The pair dashed by the recovering Bladewards, searching for Aja in the crowd. "She¡¯s run off on her own with a Tongue Cutter out there, fixed to get herself killed." "That¡¯s only the second most concerning thing," Brexton said, drawing his graphite diamond and casting a spell. "Behind what?" "She reminded me of you." With that, Brexton muttered a few arcane words and flew off his feet, soaring high above to gain a better view. Leondros growled and shoved through the crowd. Pushing through traders and shoppers, Aja struggled to keep eyes on the lavender coat. He¡¯d gained ground, she needed to close distance fast or he¡¯d slip away. As she watched him grow smaller and smaller, he skidded to a stop when the cobbles of the street began shifting, rearranging themselves beneath his feet and forming a barrier. She looked up to see Brexton hovering high above, arms extended and ending in two glowing runic circles, changing the landscape before the fleeing suspect. Aja smiled and pushed forward. The Voyeur drew another card and flicked it directly into the shifting stones. Aja watched them suddenly transform into pillars of flame at the card¡¯s touch, now arcing back up towards Brexton, who dashed aside as the fire licked at his robes. As the fire towers dissipated, the Voyeur darted into the smoke. Aja dove through the haze as well, but the figure had vanished. "There!" Brexton called from above, pointing towards the rows of homes in the rolling acres of ramshackle wood, clay and slate stacked atop one another ¡ª a favela, Brexton had called it in their studies. Following Brexton¡¯s finger, she barely spotted the Voyeur climbing up to a slate roof. Gripping her Tilik, she whipped an arm upwards. A lance of earth burst from the ground under her feet, throwing her up onto the rooftops. Barely landing on her feet, she locked onto the Voyeur and scrambled forward. Above, she saw Brexton struggling to maintain line of sight between the rows of homes, smokestacks and lines of drying clothes. The Voyeur turned around, briefly running backwards as he flicked yet another card upwards. Brexton sliced a hand at it, an arc of light searing it in half, but not before its magic was triggered: a series of self-propelled interlocking chains coiled around him, throwing his trajectory off as he tipped downwards. With a tip of his hat, the Voyeur slipped down between two homes and out of sight. Aja dove for the gap and slid down, but her stomach dropped -- the ground was much further than she anticipated. Skidding down a rough wall, pain lanced up her leg as she landed hard on steep tile, then rolled down further before her hip, shoulder and cheek slammed onto a roof, this one an unforgiving hard clay. She tasted copper and couldn¡¯t feel her leg for a moment, pushing herself up to a knee and catching her breath. She winced as she stood on her leg ¡ª not broken, but definitely strained to its limit. She looked across the platformed roofing ¡ª the Voyeur was gone. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. She balled her fist and struck the clay beneath her as Brexton landed. "Aja, are you alright?" "I am fine," she gritted, pushing herself up. "What was that?" Brexton tried to help her stand, but she moved his hand from her arm. "A Fortune Player, I suspect," he answered, "Handlers of chaos magic." "Too right," Leondros echoed from behind. They both turned to see him a story above, leaning casually on a balcony. "One with a proper head start, and reason to flee the city. Top marks, the pair of you." Brexton grimaced up at him. "And just where were you?!" Leondros shrugged, "Took the stairs, mate," he said dryly, eyes on the distant rolls of the favela. "So Animist, how d¡¯you find N¡¯Jarosyl¡¯s famous Hovel Valley?" Indignation took root in Aja¡¯s chest ¡ª she¡¯d looked like a fool, and that¡¯s exactly what this man intended to see her as. Her jaw locked as she grunted to her feet. She looked hard up at Leondros, but he still didn¡¯t meet her eye line, instead he stayed locked on the horizon. "Fret not, I know where he¡¯ll be." "Where?" Aja demanded. Finally, the Arcane Marshal glanced down at them. "Best leave that to the professionals." Aja surged forward, a lance of clay about to push her up from the rooftop to lunge at Leondros, only for the pain in her leg to shake her. The malformed clay pushed her off balance and she fell on her face. She growled through the pain, fists pushing her back up as Brexton went to help again. She glared back up to the balcony, only to see the Marshal walking away. Her face twisted in pain and humiliation as she hung her head. "Pay him no thought," Brexton halfheartedly comforted, "Not but a bitter relic, nostalgic for days when he could simply beat what he wanted to hear out of people." Aja blinked the dust and sweat from her eyes, refocusing her power and clearing her vision as she still looked down at the rooftop¡­and saw it. A small, perfectly carved wooden coin, painted stone gray and adorned with an orange paint on its face; a series of lines swirling to the center. "This may be for the best," Brexton went on, trying to put her arm around his shoulders, "I¡¯d rather lose a dubious lead than lose the city¡¯s new Animist, wouldn¡¯t you agree?" She scoffed involuntarily, incensed at Brexton¡¯s overbearing. She covered the scoff with a feigned stumble forward, catching herself with her left hand, right over where the coin had fallen. Tucking it away into her sleeve, she let Brexton help her to her feet. "Steady now, I¡¯d wager you¡¯re past due for a rest, and perhaps an apothecary to see about that leg." "It is nothing," she shook her head and put weight on the leg, ignoring the pain. "That¡¯ll be enough posturing, Animist," he insisted, "Back to the Queen¡¯s Manor. We¡¯ll see to the Marshal later." She cursed internally at his condescension. Well meaning, of course, but she could not do her job if this mage kept treating her like precious cargo. It was demeaning, but worse so ¡ª it was irresponsible. She¡¯d found a lead, a spectating eye to these events, who used a chaos magic to evade pursuit. To call this a ¡®dubious lead¡¯ as Brexton did bordered on recklessly dismissive. Pushing away from him, she willed the Nyama in her blood and tissue, to untangle the swelling growing in her right leg, reinforcing around her bruised bone and reducing the pain to near nothing, forcing the injury back to normal with great concentration. She stomped on the roof, refusing to let the the considerable pain it caused register on her face. "I. Am not. Delicate," she punctuated, before hurling herself off the ground once more, this time with a proper movement of Nyama and a proper lance of clay propelling her off the ground.