《Taeko》


 1 - The Wall

    1 - The Wall


    Warun tripped. A drop from his post atop the towering Taeko Wall offered on one side a feathered fall and on the other a piercing death. Wael Taeko was the sole remaining stronghold of magic in the south. Those born west of its wall supported the cultivation and preservation of magic. Those born to the east kept their distance alongside their distaste for all things magic.


    Recovering his footing and pulling himself up by a rampart, Warun reclaimed his calm from that moment of terror, itself caused from a moment of distraction. He, along with many others, guarded this wall from all visitors. He, along with all the others, guarded this wall from no one. Wael Taeko had not seen a visitor in over three hundred eclipts. At all times, two Taekans patrolled along the top of this wall, which stretched from the mountains to their north, across a narrow gap of land, and far enough into the ocean to dissuade passage by ship.


    A call from down the walk sharpened Warun¡¯s attention. His patrol partner, Dolo, usually spirited and jesterly, rushed toward Warun upon a torrent of panic.


    ¡°Visitor!¡± he called with tornadic breath.


    Warun flashed his eyes toward the east. A fractured obsidian sea swelled as far as he could see. Marbled black, white, and blue, the Ezard Scohr had conjured this ocean of glass nearly a thousand eclipts prior to abate invaders and demarcate their land of magic from those who rejected it. In the age since, only five had attempted to approach the wall. Of those five, only one ever returned to their city, Inder Vesh. They were the first to wander into the obsidian sea, and they left with a warning to steer their people away.


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    ¡°Visitor!¡± Dolo called again.


    With Warun in his sights, Dolo rolled a palm-sized marble forward. It accelerated like a predating beast, sparkling with the reflection of the patroller¡¯s fear. When it reached Warun, it leapt into the air, pouncing toward Warun. Rather than devour him, however, it froze as though suspended in time. Warun looked into it. It directed his vision toward a human, clad in a flowing black-and-white disguise, cantering like a creature made of wind through the glass labyrinth.


    ¡°Did you notify the Ezard?¡± Warun asked as Dolo collapsed beside him.


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Signal her now.¡± Warun¡¯s frustration over the failure of protocol was dampened by the fascinating flow of this person¡¯s approach.


    Dolo retreated to the nearest tower. His warning would be late, but it would reduce the intruder¡¯s edge. Warun traced the arrow of light tethering the marble to its target. Still a fair distance out, Warun calculated its trajectory. It took a full day to cross the wall¡¯s width, though this person¡ªor creature¡ªcould accomplish that ten times over.


    A beam of red light pierced Warun¡¯s left shoulder. He shrieked and keeled over. It was his own fault the Ezard¡¯s gaze had struck him. He had become distracted in thought, and Dolo had acted faster than anticipated. That, or the invader¡¯s speed had bent Warun¡¯s perception of time. The red beam connected with the marble, which turned black. Warun was no longer privy to the intruder¡¯s location. This irked him more than he expected. With his connection to the invader severed, Warun slumped away. There was nothing more for him to do besides wait for the Ezard¡¯s response or the bells of the guard to sound.


    He glanced out into the obsidian sea, hopeful to find another glint, another invader to mark for the city¡¯s protection. He ran toward the next tower to his south, hoping to find a spare marble there. After a few steps, however, the air turned to white. Warun crammed his eyes shut and pressed both hands over his face to drown out the intense glow. Then the ringing began, but when he moved his hands to cover his ears, the light pierced his eyelids. Then the ground beneath his feet began to crumble. Warun lurched toward the tower. It also cracked under the weight of light and sound. The massive blocks of stone that fell with him threatened to crush him at their end. The obsidian blades below offered a quick and painless severance.

 2 - Obsidian Maw

    2 - Obsidian Maw


    Warun¡¯s fall slowed. A dusty beam of light coated him in softness, and he settled beneath an arch of rubble as the wall continued to crumble. The Ezard¡¯s light, which had redirected to intercept Warun¡¯s descent, left then, returning to its search for the instigator of the collapse. Warun curled his short legs snug against his stout torso. He coughed. Even surrounded by jagged talus, it was calmer here than atop the wall. There, gusts of wind threatened to banish him from the city throughout each post. Down at ground level, shielded by a newly-formed cave, Warun felt at ease.


    It had come so quickly and so simply. Even the Ezards, humans able to harness magic, could not protect their fortification. Warun considered that the invader, though human in form, was more like wind than a living creature. It was like magic disguised in a human cloak. The greatest question, though, was why it desired to destroy the wall.


    Warun stretched out of his small shelter, squinting to keep the hanging dust out of his eyes. He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a pair of goggles. Useful to keep eyes clear on windy days atop the wall, they had become essential to his vision among this wreckage. He tucked the goggles into his shirt then bowed his face into the small gap of clean air against his skin. As he fumbled with the goggles, he found a smattering of bruises. It reminded him of a map of the Vesh archipelago, a string of deep blue islands extending from waist to neck.


    He withdrew his turtled head as he tied the goggle strap around the back of his neck. Though his visibility remained narrow, his eyes no longer stung. After a few steps, he realized he had no way to orient himself. Which direction was the wall? Had the invader produced a way through? What was it like on the other side? For all Warun knew, the city was as much a wasteland as his present surroundings.


    A distant, familiar call rolled in, like the horn blown at the Ocean End tower. There was always a guard posted in this farthest south tower, surrounded by the harsh ocean waves and half a day¡¯s walk from the Land End tower on the coast. Another similar guard post at the Mountain End tower, the highest of them all, also utilized a warning horn, but its pitch was higher and less drowned by the frequent ocean storms. All Taekans knew the sounds of these horns. Each blared five times in echoing succession during the Grand Eclipt. It was all the time afforded to witness the two moons peek over the western horizon before resubmerging until the next calendar¡¯s passage.


    This call, however, though just as deep and desperate, was not the Ocean End horn. It was Dolo¡¯s deep howl. He wailed like one of the wharfwolves, brooders of the salt flats abutting Taeko¡¯s western reach. Many western Taekans were like these beasts. As children, the persistent night howls from across the Taeko River soothed them to sleep. To a eastern Taekan, though, the sound was an eerie threat of their western bound. No Taekans ventured west into the desert, nor did they enter the jaws of the obsidian ocean to the east. Taeko was a strong fortification, but its society was as closed off as a pearl inside its calcified shell.


    ¡°Warun!¡± The howl rang clearer.


    Warun called back in his higher-pitched, westerly voice, ¡°Dolo!¡±


    Dolo, a full bust taller than Warun, thundered through the haze. He wore the same fashion of goggles. Whereas Warun presented more sharp and agile behind his, Dolo¡¯s eyes magnified to appear like crackled glass marbles. Regardless of this fault, the giant of a man instilled unease, even to those who knew his gentle demeanor. Warun envied Dolo¡¯s kindness. It was the sort of decency any Taekan would appreciate. Most guards, though, eclipt after eclipt spent protecting an old belt of rock from little more than stray tumbleweeds, were bitter and tired. Warun included himself among them. Dolo was a fresh recruit to the guard and valued the respectable pay, which he passed mostly to his family in West Taeko. It also offered him a dignity he had not experienced before accepting the post.


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    ¡°Thought you might be dead,¡± Dolo said.


    ¡°I should be,¡± Warun replied. ¡°Ezard Scohr softened my fall. She also nibbed my shoulder.¡±


    Warun pulled his collar down, revealing a welt on either side of his shoulder, painted with blue, green, and red bruising.


    ¡°Probably my fault,¡± Dolo said. ¡°Tossed you the marble when I should have just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They don¡¯t train you for a moment like this.¡±


    ¡°They do, though,¡± Dolo defended against himself.


    ¡°Not properly though.¡±


    ¡°How do you train properly for something like this?¡±


    Warun looked up toward where he guessed the wall or its new gap might have been. ¡°You don¡¯t. You just hope that whatever forewarning your drudges are able to supply is good enough.¡±


    ¡°Was ours good enough?¡± Dolo asked.


    Warun shrugged. From outside the wall and inside the unsettled dust, they could tell nothing about the state of the city.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Dolo asked.


    Warun froze and cocked his head. His ears were weak, pommeled since childhood by the blacksmith hammers. His whole family¡ªmother, father, brother, and sister¡ªrefined and structured metals from the north mines into tools and infrastructure. Taeko was always in a state of renovation, always ensuring its efficiency to extract and utilize magic. Though they weren¡¯t Ezards, his family¡¯s wares, made from the magic-soaked ores of the mines, bore whatever magical properties the Ezards were able to draw out.


    Then he heard it. At first, it came like the chirping of a baby bird. Then it melded into the yips and yawns of a pack of wharfwolves. Then the ground shook. Bits of it fractured, sending curved buttons of obsidian straight up and over their heads. The wind creature had been a mere harbinger. Something much larger was on its way.


    Before Warun could contemplate the stampede to come, Dolo had ripped him off the ground. Dolo carried him like a battering ram away from the cracking floor as entire frozen waves of glass cleaved apart, moments later shattering like shrapnel bombs. Warun felt each thud against his back as shards struck the stone barrier Dolo had dragged him behind. He looked up at the rough-haired giant and, though trembling, conveyed his thanks with the standard Taekan expression of one raised and one lowered eyebrow. It signaled that Warun¡¯s appreciation, though great, still paled against Dolo¡¯s selflessness.


    The fracturing intensified as the thunder rolled in. Curiosity welled up in Warun¡¯s chest, and his neck drifted toward the edge of the stone protecting them. His cheek crossed the threshold. A chip sheared past, tormenting his ear with its shrill scream. His head whipped back, hinged at the shoulder by Dolo¡¯s grip. He blinked repeatedly and touched his cheek, as though waking from a dream. It turned to nightmare when he saw Dolo¡¯s angered face¡ªa face that questioned his sanity.


    Thunder cracked above. Still hooked at the shoulder, Dolo pulled Warun further in as a broken slab smothered their footprints. Warun recoiled from Dolo. His shoulder and pride hurt from the guard¡¯s forceful hand. Warun cursed his own lapse in awareness. This level of vacancy, of ill-preparedness, was shameful, and Warun had fallen willingly into its maw. Such absenteeism would push him onto the streets with an amputated arm from a slip up in his family¡¯s forge. Dolo¡¯s brutish kindness reminded him of that. Warun offered Dolo a final disgruntled look before accepting their asymmetric strengths and offering another stepped expression on his brow.


    The roars of whatever storm raged behind them began to pass. The splay of glass shards slowed, and the tension in the sullen air washed away with the fading thunder. Light returned in angled shafts through the dusty air. Warun emerged from behind the stone shield. Each step chinked as he swept through a layer of broken glass. Dolo followed. A vast valley of light in front of them signaled the gap in the wall. They marched toward it, anxious of what laid across its threshold.

 3 - Thunder

    3 - Thunder


    They cut through the edge of the dust plume into utter destruction. The crumbled remains of the wall guard living quarters greeted them. Normally clinging to the inside of the wall like an insect hive, they had become a rockfall. Warun¡¯s home, though small, hung high above the tallest buildings and offered an enviable view of the city¡ªat least it used to. The thought that his home and his few belongings were crushed in this pile retched his hollow gut.


    The screams and cries of Taekans echoed off the rubble. The streets had widened, though they were tougher to navigate with magic sputtering out of broken blocks and sheared metalworking. A shattered lantern combusted into a disk of bright blue flame. It danced, innocently at first. Then, like a masterful swordsman, it sliced at unpredictable angles into whatever buildings remained standing. It weakened quickly, fizzling to a puff of smoke, but not before converting five stone houses to rubble.


    Warun had understood the city to be stronger than this. Its homes, taverns, forges, and the like were all fortified with magic. It must have been a more foul magic that invaded these streets.


    ¡°We have to do something,¡± Dolo said.


    ¡°Maybe we can head them off. Redirect them.¡±


    ¡°You think something this powerful can be controlled?¡±


    ¡°Not controlled,¡± Warun said. ¡°Steered. Most of the group will be blind. They follow the tail of what¡¯s ahead of them. That is their only guidance.¡±


    Dolo nodded. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    ¡°To where?¡±


    ¡°The tunnels.¡±


    Warun did not know which tunnels Dolo referred to, but he did know time was every bit their enemy as the storm that ravaged the city. He nudged Dolo who returned a quick nod and bolted over a metal beam humming with adolescent lightning.


    There were tunnels and trick-rooms and secret chambers all over Taeko. It was part of the magical charm. As a child, Warun once stumbled upon a room behind a compost pile out the back of a tavern. It led to an indoor garden, light streaming in through cracks in the stone flooring above. An array of mirrors funneled the light to a magic marble that then diffracted it throughout the room. The walls glittered like the water at the wharf on a sunny day. He tasted the berries growing in half-barrel planters scattered throughout the space. One made his skin wrinkle and face itch under a scraggly new beard. Another offered him such lightness that he could jump and touch the high ceiling. The last filled him with such unfounded dread, he scrambled out of that place and never returned.


    Dolo led them north, away from the path of destruction. Though worried they were headed away from their destination, Warrun trusted Dolo. He had not trusted him like this before. The actions outside the tower wall changed that. Usually, Dolo was a foolish, lumbering guard. He whistled and joked in their passings on the wall, and Warun regarded him as more a curiosity of West Taeko than a proper colleague. Here, though, he trusted the brute to lead them forward.


    Dolo cut right. The wall was only a few moments¡¯ pace away. They were past the influence of the wind creature¡¯s demolition, so the wall stood strong here. Dolo halted before a gallery of thick, flowering vines crawling up the wall. He slipped between them, disappearing behind the green blanket. Warun followed, and, after struggling against the tight, creeping weave, came to face a metal grate in the stone. Dolo pushed against the grate, and it swung inward. He stepped inside, immediately vanishing into pitch darkness.


    Warun took a deep breath and thrust through the round opening. Two steps into the lightless hole, he dropped. His mind ripped back to his fall from the top of the tower. The terror of certain impalement on the icy black waves compounded with the uncertainty of anything around him. It was only black. He assumed he was falling, but the sensation wrestled with his perception. Wind pressed from every direction. A westerly howl hung like a sphere all around him.


    Then it all stopped, and Warun opened his eyes, which he had not realized were shut. He felt as light as he had after eating that berry in the secret basement garden. Flat on his back, a sudden urge to sleep overcame him.


    Dolo swarmed Warun¡¯s vision with knotty hands. Warun recognized the cinder burns, the sooted fingertips, and the hammer¡¯s grip around his shoulders. These were the hands of a fellow smith. Dolo lifted Warun to his feet and nodded to follow.


    They ran through a tunnel, lit by magic lanterns and slicked with an oil that seeped in from above. It dripped on their heads. Warun felt it lather in his bristly hair. It ran smooth in Dolo¡¯s ragged wolf hide.


    Warun followed Dolo left at an intersection, struggling to maintain footing on the slick floor. He noticed the difference in his stiff, sleek-soled boots from the pliant, felt-bottomed shoes of his guide. Westerners clothing was made for this oily mess.


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    The patter of thunder, distant and dampened, rolled into their ears. Their testament was ahead. Warun felt a sudden urge to slip away, find a tea shop, and drink a stark brew by the hearth. He was not meant for this. He had joined his post on the wall to get away from the roughness in his family¡¯s forge. He was not a smith, and he was not a guard. He was the impression of both, but at heart he only wanted comfort. Intuition pushed him ahead. The alternative was defeat.


    They turned right. The lights dimmed, and shadows crept over Warun¡¯s skin like tar. The dripping oil had formed a layer of ick, and Warun feared a single spark could ignite him.


    Then the tunnel fell quiet, and Warun was alone. He latched onto a sconce to stop his forward slide on the oily floor. The thunder pounded heavy above. Where, though, had Dolo gone?


    Then, again gripped by the shoulders, he flew up and into a pleasant, well-lit home. Wooden floorboards and magicworked furniture brought the tea shop comfort Warun longed for.


    Dolo interrupted with a slap to Warun¡¯s face. ¡°Wake up!¡±


    Warun jolted up. It wasn¡¯t a tea shop, but they were out of the tunnel. And the stampede was louder than ever.


    ¡°How do we divert them?¡± Dolo asked.


    Dazed, Warun said, ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I hadn¡¯t thought about how.¡±


    The wall next to them erupted. Stone and mortar splayed over them. The grunts and squeals of rabid animals drowned the air. Something slammed Warun at the knees, sending him wheeling through the alley. He heard Dolo¡¯s calls, but the perpetual pounding muddled his bearings. Dolo could have been carried away to the wharf or leaning against his back, and Warun would not know the difference.


    Standing, Warun rubbed the fresh dusting off his goggles. He looked left and found a broken metal beam like those his family made. It shimmered against the drab dustiness of the air. This was what Taeko held against the world surrounding it. Nowhere he knew of leveraged magic the way they did.


    Warun knew the magic imbued into this beam. It drained water was collected from the humidity or during rain then redirected to a basin and used for whatever purpose the building required. It was common, likely one of thousands battered in the streets. Warun ran to it. He felt its cold, damp surface. It was saturated with water. He recalled his father¡¯s training and of the capabilities of this magic metalwork. He needed a hammer.


    Another stampeding crash into a neighboring building forced Warun under cover. Once the air cleared, he looked up toward the mid-day sun. The surrounding buildings, twice impacted by strays from the stampede, were on the verge of collapse. A glint through the settling dust caught Warun¡¯s eye¡ªa cooking pan. It was not a hammer, but it would work.


    He slid toward it, spraying rocks and shattered tiles. Under threat of the building¡¯s collapse, he worked fast. He returned to the water beam in an instant. He took in a long breath and coughed out dust and hesitation. He held the pan to the beam. Striking it in just the right way, causing a very particular resonance in the beam, he could, by his father¡¯s teachings, conjure a storm. It would be small, but combining its strength with other storms summoned at other beams, it could work to drive down the dust. And if he could find a grounding beam, he could control lightning strikes. It was risky¡ªand stupid, but the alternative was the continued destruction of the city.


    He wound his arm back and focused on the words his father taught him. Swing hard and fast. Pull back before even making contact. Strike the beam for only a blink and follow through.


    With an outward breath, he swung. The pan arced like a bird snatching its prey and retreating toward the sun. The air danced. A single note, deep as the horn and piercing as the bell, cascaded from the beam. A moment later, thunder cracked¡ªreal thunder.


    Warun was in disbelief. He stared at the humming pan, ratcheting it down before the static from the storm could coalesce into it. The storm was small and would diminish soon without added momentum.


    ¡°Warun!¡±


    Warun turned to find Dolo cowering beneath a tent of broken walls. He stepped out into the drizzle and gripped Warun around the back.


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯re a damn Ezard!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Warun assured. ¡°Just a well-trained smith.¡±


    ¡°Huh, they don¡¯t teach us stuff like that on the west side.¡±


    ¡°We need to find more water beams,¡± Warun said.


    ¡°On it.¡± Dolo dashed off.


    The stampede quieted. It had progressed deeper in the city. With the air clear of dust, Warun recognized the local architecture. They were still in what was considered East Taeko, but the density of ground drainages suggested they were closer to the coast.


    ¡°Found one!¡± Dolo yelled.


    The two of them darted between rubble piles, ringing in the storm with each resonant strike. Though unsure where the stampede had progressed, they could at least calm the dust clouds and fire smoke. People emerged from their broken homes. Children danced in the rain. It brought a smile to Warun¡¯s face, though he knew chaos continued deeper in the city.


    ¡°This is fun,¡± Dolo said. ¡°Much more exciting than guarding the wall.¡±


    Warun paused for breath but offered Dolo a smile. ¡°I hope the Ezard can¡ª¡±


    A bullet of wind cut between Warun and Dolo. It knocked them to their knees and forced a gasp for air, much of which had been carried away. Citizens murmured and retreated back into their crumbling homes or the safety of neighbors¡¯ basements.


    ¡°Was that the thing that took down the wall?¡± Dolo asked.


    Warun nodded. ¡°It¡¯s headed to the wharf.¡±


    ¡°Should we follow?¡±


    The air warmed and the sound of melodic thunder approached them from behind. They turned to see the great Ezard Scohr. She rushed forward, reflecting rain with a formless umbrella and lighting her wake with a trail of flame. Like a boulder charging down the mountainside, she barrelled past them and toward the wind creature.


    Warun said, ¡°Yes, let¡¯s follow.¡±