Thank you to my beta reader, GlassThreads!
Chul
"This is most confounding," I muttered, squinting hard at the cards in my hand. "I see not the enjoyment in such a test of paper."
Nerium shrugged, his respectable shoulders rolling like a boulder as he eyed his own cards. "I'm hearing a lot of excuses from you, Arjuna. Only losers admit that they don't enjoy a card game."
I furrowed my brows, glaring furiously at the cards in my hand. Each was terribly small, a little rectangle of terrible confusion. "You claim victory so soon, Worthy Foe?" I declared, my fighting spirit fueled by the arrogant professions of this unwitting rival. "Victory is within my grasp, as it always shall be!"
We partook in a valiant battle of minds as the storm rumbled overhead, confined to our seats of moss and walls of stone. A dozen feet away, my brother meditated, the ambient mana flowing about him in a river most serene. The Woman of Water nestled nearby, resting through the hurricane of dust and debris.
I had spoken with Nerium Mapellia for many an hour, referencing the great stories of the past and our inspirations in our journeys for the peak of asuran form. All until now—where I had been invited to a game of great skill. I felt the great restlessness within as I glared at the bark-wood cards, struggling to consider a way forward.
My opponent had conjured these cards from the earth, engraving them with impossibly pristine illustrations. This was supposedly a game originating in one of the old hamadryad groves of the western marshes.
It was a test of the hunt as much as it was the mind. Cards may represent the great phoenixes of the sky, masters of the air! Or they may be the titans of the earth, commanders of everything that roamed across the ground. Still more might be the leviathans, great beasts of the Boundary Sea. And with such cards, we may make great armies that flocked to our banners, amplified by spells that granted great ability and skill.
Our legions—armies of the sky, sea, and land—stood arrayed against each other, battling for supremacy amidst the moss. But my troops were beleaguered and worn, battered from every side and surrounded by a creature that knew no mercy. My heart ached for their valiant stand, each card vigilant in the face of a terrible foe.
"I've played this game for a thousand years at least," my opponent boasted leisurely, smiling in a display of vain arrogance. The hanging fruit lights—glowing a dull orange from within—cast Nerium in shades of yellow. "I just taught you the rules. You may have bested me in an arm wrestle, Arjuna, but this?"
"Your taunts wash off me like fire off a magma mallard's majestic back," I countered, squinting further at my hand. "You have not yet taken my force!"
Despite my booming protests, however, sweat beaded along my skin, and my heart knew a mote of great despair. For no matter how I considered this conundrum, I was too small of mind to truly achieve a victory. Just as all had accused of me, I was slow of wit and understanding,: and my allies would suffer for my negligence. They would be crushed beneath the mace, torn apart by talon, shredded by the teeth of the sea. All because I had failed them in their plight.
I looked at my hand, refusing to give in to despair. One lingering phoenix card and spells that might augment my troops were all I had left, but when I was so terribly outmatched?
My eyes flicked imperceptibly behind my foe, however, as the stone shifted slightly in the darkness. Words wrote themselves in subtle weaves across the stones, tracing out for my eyes. The Worker of Wonders had vacated my scratchy garb, instead sifting through the stones as he withheld his mana signature, and now he wrote a message.
I gasped, scandalized by such a dishonorable suggestion. Who could ever consider something so terribly vile?!
"I shall not!" I boomed, abhorred by the suggestion. I thought I had known the Worker of Wonders, but I had forgotten that he was one to disavow honor and justice.
Nerium's moss-green eyebrows rose, and he turned to look at whatever I'd seen. When he looked, though, the words were already gone, but they lingered in my mind. "I'll list out his hand, oaf."
For me to cheat in this contest of honor and minds? What greater disrespect was there to one so worthy?
"If you're trying to distract me," my Worthy Foe said slowly, shaking his head as he flashed white teeth, "then you're only going to fail, Arjuna. Tactics like that won't work on a seasoned gambler. The way you're doing this isn't working. What you're taught isn't everything."
"Never did I suggest something so terrible!" I said, feeling affronted. "I shall only act as—"
I paused, my mind catching on to his words of wisdom. What you're taught isn't everything.
I needed to use the great ocean of my mind, did I not? To think was to win! But contemplation was a beast no asura had ever defeated through the might of their arm. Yet this was still a battle, was it not? And though my heart bled for my troops, I could not forsake them… But that great pain clouded my mind.
Battle was where I was most able to truly use the great resources of my brain. When my heart was pumping, my blood flowing like the greatest of tides across my arteries, was when I was most alive. Had I not known this in the clasp of my worthy foe's hands, each of us seeking victory in a match of muscle? I was afog with emotion now, untouched by the clarity of the fight.
I set my cards on the ground, grasped by the greatest of revelations. "I behold victory now," I whispered, standing suddenly, a smile pulling at my lips. "Prepare to face your doom, Worthy Foe! I shall levy a defeat upon you so certain that your descendants shall lament the events of today. Give me but the time a crow flies from the tree to the pier, and your children shall weep for the stories you tell them."
Nerium blinked in the face of my declaration. In his eyes, I saw ever-present schemes—those same schemes that had made me wary at the start.
"Bold words, Arjuna," he countered, leaning back lackadaisically on his hands—sure of his victory, my troops surrounded as they were. "But this isn't as simple as slamming a hammer into a forge."
I had no more words for those facing inevitable defeat. I stepped away from our small, cushioned area, settled into stance…
And began to flow. I thrust my hands out, my mighty fists parting the air. Then I flowed around, weaving away from sweeping talons. As my mother had always taught me, the sparring of one's own shadow brought improvement in every way.
Weave below, lash with the strike of the Rising Talon, I thought, my heartbeat beginning to thunder. Parry with a sweep of your brilliant wing, then push through!
I blurred about the small space, doing battle with my own shadow. But as the seconds pulled on, I envisioned it. A great tapestry of war stretched around me, painting the shadows a different color. The terrible screech of my dying troops flew about me, brushing my ears. The crash of the sea, howl of the wind? It flowed through me, made real through every exhale.
My heartfire flowed across my body, the piston thunder of my heart giving me clarity in the midst of a known battle. I could see them as the dark fell away: legions upon legions upon legions, surrounding us from all sides! What hope was there here, when every felled enemy brought another score to bear?
I suppressed a growl, clenching my fists. The song of a fight—the illusory heartbeats of a thousand resonating in my ears, the encirclement, the power of it all—I let my mind churn.
And finally, I skidded to a halt, sweat beading on my skin. I heaved slightly for breath, hardly tired in body, but the excitement was the greatest of substances as it coursed through my veins.
I marched back over to the place of contest, afterimages of the great contest flowing behind my eyes. I stared back down at the great board and stretch of cards, imagining a great and terrible battlefield. One that I had known for a moment or two.
I picked up my cards one more time, observing my hand. One last phoenix to play, alongside a few cards of strength.
"I shall lead my folk to victory," I declared, playing my one last phoenix to the floor—right in a gap beyond the encirclement that I had failed to notice before, but had gleamed like opportunity in the heat of combat. A moment later, I laid what strengthening spells I had left over my wayward soldier, wishing them luck in their battle.
Nerium's eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, and I knew that this man had failed to notice the crack of weakness in his surrounding gambit. A moment later, when my lone warrior punched through his flank of leviathans, he whistled in appreciation.
I grinned up at my opponent, crossing my arms as I laughed. "Behold, your encirclement has been shattered!" I declared, gesturing at the free route of escape. "Your play has faltered, your ruse defied."
Nerium leaned over the array of cards for a moment, squinting at the outcome. "A solid play," he admired. "But far from enough."
I blinked, the adrenaline settling slightly. What?
The hamadryad lowered a single card to the mat, layering it over one of his troops: a card of duplication that brought reinforcements to the sky if bordered by a card of the sea or land. I beheld in despair as, a moment later, the shattered encirclement was reforged, stronger than ever—except now my valiant champion was wedged in from all sides, with no true recourse.
My Worthy Foe let me stare at the board, absorbing my state of pity. "You'll be able to draw a new card next turn," he taunted malevolently, enjoying my conundrum. "But nothing will spare your troops their destruction. Will you surrender?"
I glared down at the board, noting the folly of my circumstance. But then I considered the alternative—surrender, living beneath the boot of those who had seen me conquered?
"Never," I said, crossing my arms. "My troops shall endeavor in glorious combat till the bitter end."
The hamadryad shrugged nonchalantly, then shifted another card. A moment later, the teeth of his trap chewed through every flank, casting phoenix from the sky, hauling leviathan from the sea, and sundering titan from the stone.
I had lost in terrible fashion, completely and utterly.
My heart plummeted, my earlier confidence turning to resignation. Was I but an oaf, filled with hot air and devoid of substance?
Think not of your failure, I thought, shaking my head. Perhaps you have lost, but has not your opponent known victory?
I smiled as I considered this. Indeed, I had lost, but was that not the measure of my opponent? Worthy Foe indeed.
"You are a hamadryad of great brilliance, Man of Bark," I said jovially, holding out a hand to shake. Nerium shook it willingly, his grip tight as iron. "I must know where I have erred!"
Nerium snorted, shaking his head. "I won't be telling you my secrets, Arjuna," he said dismissively. "It's not something that can be learned over—"
Something slammed into the stone roof high above, the rumble traveling all the way through the rock. The hamadryad cursed, leaping to his feet. He pressed his dark hands to the ceiling, before conjuring vines from the floor below. Thick, corded roots pressed up through the stone, reinforcing our makeshift hovel. All the while, Nerium's ring tattoos shone a vibrant green, drawing my eye in a mesmerizing way.
They looked old, rippling like concentric rings in a tree. Around and around they wove, interlacing his forearms and fingers like grapevines. Just looking at them made a strange sensation press against my temples, drawing a frown.
"Must have been a massive boulder from above," Nerium muttered, lowering his hands. The orange, glowing fruit swung back and forth like a gleeful child, up until the man slowed it with a touch. "Sometimes the earth isn't strengthened enough to withstand such strikes."
The hamadryad lowered his hands, the vibrant green, concentric rings on his skin dimming, but not before he noticed me staring. He raised a brow, waving his arms so that they left a green afterglow.
"Never seen Kadamba tattoos before?" he asked sharply, the lights finally giving out. "Most people have. Most people don't stare, either."
I blinked, tearing my eyes from the rings. Mother had told me stories of the great hamadryads. Where we of the wing rejected death, rising from the ashes as our lifeforces extinguished and endeavoring for eternal life, our brethren of the trees instead worked their entire lives toward the day they would die.
And when they finally breathed their last, the seed that they were would finally sprout, growing into one of the mighty Kadamba trees. That tree would branch out into the world, always connected to its brethren, a part of an eternal clan.
I had always thought it most strange! Why agree to remain in one place for eternity? We had wings for flight! I had asked my mother this, of course, and she had only given me an odd quirk of her head—not really looking at me, looking far past me.
"I have not," I replied honestly, most confused. Then I reeled, sensing one of those moments where error was most possible. "They are most beautiful! Like ripples in a great pond. I have never seen anything so graceful, woven together like the greatest of nests!"
I worried that I had said something wrong once more. Nerium plopped back to his seat, letting out a sigh. "Thanks, I guess," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "You are very odd, Arjuna. I've never met a titan like you, and I've met a lot of titans."
I stayed standing, uncertain what to feel. I could not reveal that I was not titan at all, but phoenix. "I am most odd, yes," I decided to say. Agreeing, but not saying more. I remembered my mother's age old words, saying that my strangeness was what made me beautiful. "But I have never met a hamadryad like you, either."
I knew not if I believed her.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," Nerium said dismissively. He leaned down, picking up the cards that had scattered slightly. Then he began to shuffle them, working through a rhythm. "I'm very strange, too. No city will accept a hamadryad who gambles. They say it's a terrible habit for those with lives as long as ours. They say I'm wasting my life or something of the sort."
The hamadryad paused, then looked up at me quizzically. "You've got that same look in your eye. Same as Ulysseiah over there, too. You're an outcast."
My fists clenched and my brow furrowed as I considered these words. The Brand of the Banished burned on my neck, a stamp of dismissal and utter loneliness. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.
Behind Nerium, words shifted into place over the stones, conjured by the Worker of Wonders. "Be careful what you say."
I know that I must, I thought, feeling adrift in a fog. But are his words not the greatest truth?
"I am a destroyer," I finally said, slumping as the sandstorm raged outside. "My greatest power is only in the ravaging of what was once beautiful. My hands are made for crushing and breaking, my fists for pulping bone."
For all that I cultivated my physique to transcend myself, I had seen fruit borne only of hurting others. My arms had swung the pickaxe within the terrible prison of the Indraths, splintering the shards of those who had once been. My mace had torn Burim apart, cracking the foundations of a city that had once been mighty.
Would not this hamadryad understand my plight? I stared at his muscles, great and powerful—a testament to his will and prowess. May he not know a different path?
The hamadryad's eyes flicked to where my brother still sat, meditating—breathing in and out slowly, unburdened by the storm raging outside. "You said that you destroyed your weapons in combat with the Yaksha, didn't you?" he inquired, his verdant eyes flickering. "Is that how he keeps you following him?"
I shook my head slowly. "I follow him out of the deepest respect," I countered, affronted. "It is of my own free will! We have many a grievance, this much is true. But the Lord Yaksha has been naught but just."
"Naught but just… Yet his eyes aren't like yours," Nerium replied, flicking through his cards. "Not like Ulysseiah's, either." Not like mine, he left unsaid. "I wonder if he can even understand. Does he insist that your ability to destroy is a bad thing?"
I wavered, my brow furrowed. No, my brother did not decry my ability. He had only lamented my actions, decrying them for how they had hurt the many dwarves of Darv and soldiers of Alacrya. To destroy alone? I could imagine no more terrible quality.
"Too many people belittle destroyers," the hamadryad mused on into the silence, flicking his cards in the air. He snorted derisively, swirling his cards about himself. "Most people tend to forget that there are things worth destroying. Don't let anyone deny your gifts. They are yours, gained through effort, friend."
Friend. This great man had called me friend—and when I looked into his eyes, I knew he had meant it. Eyes were a window to the soul, my mother always said. How he could not see the truth of Toren's virtue, I knew not, but I could see the earnesty in it.
"I am most honored to be named your friend, Worthy Foe," I said, a grin returning to my face. Had I ever had a friend before? Not since the passing of my peers deep in the Hearth, many centuries past. Mother would have…. would be proud. "I shall contemplate your words, and return with due time."
The hamadryad flicked a card at me, which I caught. I inspected it with quizzical eyes, noting the many lines of glowing text inscribed along it. "My workout routine," he said, inspecting part of his deck. "It's more of an endurance run, but—"
A rumble seeped up through the earth—not from above this time, but below. Mana signatures coiled about, rising slowly—predators seeking prey. The fruit lanterns wavered back and forth as Nerium and I stared downward, sensing the creatures worming through the stones as they trailed upward.
All at once, my heart was aflame once more, my titan vambraces shining. I had been told of these creatures! Many a beast would be grounded and panicked seeking shelter from the howling storm above, and many creatures with intelligence knew that it was a perfect time to strike. Prey was within the grip of many talons.
"Haha!" I laughed whole-heartedly, audible even over the storm. "I had nearly forgotten! Beyond the confines of our abode, many a beast hunkers from the storm."
I offered the man a hand, my mind already shifting toward battle. "Will you not join me in righteous conquest? We have no food yet, and we have not partaken in the fellowship of a meal in days. We may hunt together!"
Nerium tilted his head, listening for a bit. Then he shook it, his mossy hair waving. "You go ahead, Arjuna," he said, still shuffling through his cards. "I don't want to make that play. Those tunnel worms far below will ignore us and go for an easier hunt. They'll recognize we're too calm and too composed. Not the sorta fight they wanna pick."
I frowned, disappointed. "Very well then, friend," I said, stepping past the resting duo of my brother and the Woman of Water. "Await my return! We shall grill their husks for bountiful food."
I paused at Toren's side, considering for a moment. Should I wake him from his meditation? He would surely enjoy a brotherly hunt as well. And though I knew not the culinary arts, surely Mother taught him much that could assist. There was nothing he could not do.
No, I should not burden him with my flights of fancy, I thought after a moment, turning away. What could he gain from me? He knows much already. I would only be a bother.
I let out a breath, my chest tightening for a confounding reason. "Settle yourself, my roaring heart," I whispered, reaching the edge of the hovel. "You shall have time for contemplation later."
The howling of wind was growing louder and louder as I finally reached the vine curtain of our abode. I braced myself, my mana and heartfire already flowing in preparation for a fight, before I pushed the flap aside. The wind outside was terribly strong, but for some reason I could not understand, the dust and earth stayed mostly contained above our ravine. Peering my head out, I could perceive much despite the darkness.
The canyon was long and vast, hundreds of feet of space creating a shelter for an entire ecosystem. Already many mana beasts had fallen before hunters, the victors drawing their spoils away to a distant cave. The scent of blood tickled my nose, before it was ripped away by the wind.
Numerous mana beasts curled about the ravine, huddling against the walls like drowned rats. I noted a great, twin-headed condor, its wingspan easily a span of twenty feet. A carapaced creature with many segmented limbs, each flickering in and out, huddled at the bottom of the ravine, barely visible against the dark. A serpentine beast with two muscular arms near its forefront, used to dig and burrow at once. So many options.
The great bird would make a wonderful roast, I considered, working my jaw. Yet I would most enjoy putting that great serpent on the stick of a kebab.
"Hey, oaf," a voice said from my side, startling me from my inspection of prey. "You shouldn't go out alone. You might run into something you can't handle."
I looked down, then grinned as I noticed the Worker of Wonders' furry form settled on my shoulder. "Ah, you are most welcome on this hunt!" I declared, grateful that this titan had learned the error of his languishing ways. "Say, what looks most appetizing now?"
Wren's furred form snorted. "You're running, aren't you?" he said, cutting off my train of thought. "Running from what that hamadryad said."
The flow of my mana abruptly stuttered. Maybe some things are worth destroying.
"I know not what you imply," I said loudly, hoping my words would drown out the sound of my own thoughts. "I merely wish to test my newest abilities!"
This much was true! I had been gifted the art of strengthening my body with my lifeforce, and it would be a wonderful opportunity to grow stronger in them and learn their limits. I was not running from my thoughts. Not in the slightest! To run would make me a coward, and that I was not.
Wren let out a sigh, stamping his little feet back and forth as he clung to my shirt. "Look. Just because you can destroy, doesn't make it all that you are."
I ground my teeth, then forced myself to look into the mink's eyes. And I found that they were the same as mine, the soul of an outcast lingering there. I swallowed, wavering at the edge.
Sit and listen, little bird, my mother's voice echoed. You cannot escape all of your problems through your fists.
I let out a sigh, then sat, before swinging my feet out over the ledge. The storm howled overhead, drowning out all noise but those most close. "I see no way I can be anything but what I was made for, Worker of Wonders," I lamented, kicking my legs out, feeling the wind whip at my pants, pull at my chiton. "I mind not destroying. I just do not want to only destroy."
"I was born wrong," Wren muttered, so low I was almost certain I had misheard.
"What?" I said, turning to look down at the transformed titan. Born wrong? "I must have misheard! I would swear upon the greatest combatants in my clan that you had just said…"
I trailed off, seeing that look in the Worker of Wonders' eyes deepen. The look of the outcast, one banished not by brand, but by circumstance. He moved to the side of the ledge—and in a flash of yellow, a reedy, hunchback man sat there instead of his earlier form. Staring off into the distant chasms alongside me.
"You know what makes titans great, oaf?" he asked, wringing his hands.
"It is your marvelous works of craftsmanship!" I answered, glad to know an answer to a question for once. Too often was I left feeling wanting in the workings of the mind.
"Close enough, I suppose. Aurora should have worked more on your education, but whatever," Wren snorted. "It's that we grow in our mana-enhanced forms, and we almost never stop growing. It will slow, of course. But that growth lends us physical strength that no other race possesses."
I nodded slowly, visions of the olden days passing before my mind—when Mother would tell me stories beside our stream in the Sunswept Glades. She was most patient with me as I asked my questions, giving honest detail with every one—yet I sensed I would not find the same pace with this titan. He suffered no delays, and efficiency was his truest virtue.
"I know this," I replied, my voice a low rumble. "It was stories of the great Deinos smiths of old that gave me vision for what I could make of myself! I could craft myself into my own weapon, be my own champion."
Wren looked me over, noting the great wonder that was my physique. "I didn't get that privilege," he stated simply. "I don't grow like the others. Can't put on muscle like them. And those fools thought it meant I would never be able to create anything. But that didn't mean anything in the end."
I raised a hand to my sternum, my fingers tensing over my core. My defective, broken core, that held me back from anything worthwhile. My core, that burnt out whenever I tried to do anything more.
My core that made me lesser.
"I am most sorry for your suffering," I mumbled, remembering how I had scorned this valiant titan long ago for refusing to partake in daily exercise.
Wren looked at me as if I were strange. "Sorry? What do you mean, sorry?"
I blinked, looking at the titan askance. "Were they not cruel to you for your difference?" I queried, taken aback by how bewildered he seemed.
"Of course they were. But why would I ever care about the opinions of idiots?" the Worker of Wonders asked. "While my clan thought themselves superior, I went and revolutionized the entire concept of acclorite processing. They told me I couldn't create, but their words didn't mean silver panther shit in the end, did they? They were too lost in their idiocy to look past their prejudices."
Wren shook his head, then shoved a bony finger at me. "Look, kid. The point is that people are going to say you're only one thing or you're only another. But how can they ever know who you are? They aren't you. Tell them to shove it up theirs."
Nerium says I must be a destroyer because that is where my talents lie, I thought, kicking my legs. Mother did not wish this for me, did she?
I was nodding along, glad to be graced with such wisdom, but then I paused as I caught up with what was said. "I see the great wisdom you preach, Worker of Wonders," I said. "But where shall I tell them to shove it again? I know no city known as 'Thares.' "
The Worker of Wonder narrowed beady eyes at me, inspecting me like I was a strange specimen in a lab once more. "Are you certain you didn't hit your head as a child? I have devices that can scan for it."
I patted my head gingerly, smiling askance at the titan. "Never once! But all that I battled fell before me eventually, though many tried desperately to relieve me of my skull."
Wren let out a sigh that was lost in the wind. "You know what? I'm in the mood for fried fowl," he said, thin shoulders slumping. In a flicker of gold, he had transformed into a mink again, before situating himself on my shoulder once more. "That earth-shard condor would be the easiest prey. Can't take advantage of its flight with the storm raging overhead."
I stood, rolling my shoulders—which now felt light as a summer breeze. The words bestowed upon me by the great titan craftsman buoyed my once-dour mood, giving me hope for the future.
"It may not provide a great fight," I said jovially, stretching as I stared out at the great bird, "but it shall make a great meal!"
I stepped forward, ready to take my fight to the avian beast within the close confines of this ravine—but then something caught my attention.
High above, a burning light gleamed in the whirling dust storm. It grew brighter and brighter, banishing the darkness that blotted out the sun. Mana radiated from it, flickering and flaring but…
No, the light was not growing brighter. It was growing closer. Something was descending at a terrible speed, like a burning comet unable to stop. I called mana to my hands as the light descended, worried and eager to see whatever it was.
It has braved the storm! I thought for a moment, calculating what time it would take for this burning light to make impact. Surely, it must be powerful to dismiss the howl.
But then I sensed something else amiss—something wrong. The light, while it appeared to be getting brighter, was actually dimming—and rapidly. Had it been felled already? No… not quite. I recognized the moments for what they were.
"It is being hunted," I whispered, my eyes widening. "But what could—"
The burning light thrust from the storm, a mess of shredded, true-flame wings, cracked talons, and bloody plumage. A phoenix screeched in terrible, mortal pain, trailing gallons of blood behind them like a scarlet rain. Its eyes were dim and lit with terror.
Then she slammed like a comet into the side of the ravine, an explosive wave of fire rippling through the air.