Second Earth Phase of cycle 3078 AF (cycle and a half after the previous chapter)
Chapter 7: Growth and Experiments
“Firegrass! Blighted Firegrass.” Came an oath.
“Firegrass.” Came a chorus of confirmations from the other men present.
I just stood back studying everything and wondered how I could safely experiment on the firegrass when everyone agreed that it had to be destroyed as fast as possible wherever it appeared.
A large flash of blue fire signaled the death of the top layer of firegrass, but everyone kept fairly far back to let the heat die down before they began digging up the firebulb that grew the firegrass.
Firegrass, as its name would suggest is grass that can use fire. Specifically, the grass was some sort of underground plant that let some animals graze on it while it tied their feet down and then roasted them with its fire.
Normally, an 8 and a half cycle old girl would not be allowed to accompany a group who had set out to fight something like firegrass, but Healer Kal’rek, who had visited during the Lord’s party a cycle and a half ago, had insisted that I get exposed to injuries and the local menders. That turned into both a blessing and a curse as the menders were the local villagers who treated the injured when a Healer was not around. This meant that I both gained practical knowledge and that I had to listen to their horribly inaccurate ideas of how the human body worked.
The Healer himself had stayed at the town through the Water phase of the yearly cycle (winter) and had patiently answered almost all of my questions about the magic of this world. It was so odd to have differences in some of the things that I took for granted in rules of magic. For example, in my old world a person’s magic could be felt developing, but it would not manifest itself as a ‘talent’ like it would in this world. This made a huge difference in my daily life as I could eat more, work less, and occasionally tell others what was unhealthy. I say occasionally because despite my good record for predicting the genders of future children, there was almost no one was willing to believe a child’s ‘talent’ when it came to some of their favorite vices, like smoking. However, most people were willing to follow my advice when sick– provided the menders did not contradict it.
Besides the way someone’s talent could manifest itself, there was only one other noticeable difference in the magic systems I had experienced. Here, the mages believed that they could only cultivate energy for one hour a day. I had to witness the Healer’s cultivation for myself before I realized that, while the people here used the same system, they went into a deeper state of cultivation than I did. As a result, they could do three hours of my cultivation in one hour, but they would need to spend the rest of the day absorbing the energy they cultivated, while I would just absorb at the same rate that I collected the energy. Since most people had to concentrate completely on energy cultivation, to the point where they had to stand still, this meant that the world I was in actually let their mages use their time more efficiently, at the cost of some of the strength they could have gained from energy cultivation.
Outside of the magical system, although I never told him as much, Kal’rek also taught me that I would never be a true 'Healer.' The reason was simple, all Healers were priests and I had killed more priests and religious warriors in my past life than I had found people worthy of respect in both my lives combined. The title of Healer was like the title of knight. According to Kal’rek, the title was earned through service and could not be passed down to the next generation. Both were also titles that everyone was supposed to recognize as important and know that they were protected by the King’s Law.
In particular, the title of Healer mandated ten cycles of religious dedication to any of the churches, which only sometimes included your actually training as a Healer. Nonreligious Healers and Healer who left their church were either grouped with the menders or joined the Medic's guild as a way to distinguish themselves from the common menders.
Currently, I was lucky enough to be spending time with mender and alchemist Loco who was educating me on some of the different potions that you could make in our area. There was another mender, who I just called Slaver, that Nathan said I was obligated to spend time with. Unfortunately, that fool thought that I was her apprentice and even tried to make me do all of her prep work. I refused and ended up teaching my child-self how to hunt after Slaver refused to feed me. Loco, in comparison, was both sane and fun. Especially since he had a habit of spending days on end searching deep in the wilderness for herbs and potion ingredients.
Unfortunately for some of the local patients, Loco and I got along like a house on fire. We loved experimenting with new potions and sometimes the patients became the experiments. Anton would be appalled, but that was the nature of alchemy, trial and error. Naturally, very few experimenting alchemists stayed alive for long without other people to test on. Although my child-self was partly horrified at our experiments, I could at least guess what the potions did and therefor try to prevent permanent damage. In a few rare cases I had to take direct action with my magic, but I just passed it off as my talent interacting with whatever potion I gave the individual. Of course Loco likely knew I was lying, but he did not have any magic so I could help him know what potions to test. Although unofficial, as a benefit of helping him test different potions, Loco would keep his mouth shut when it came to his suspicions about my magic. All in all, I quite liked him.
As the group finally dug up the firebulb I just watched on the side with Loco, ready to mend what I could and bandage what I could not. Menders dealt with all small injuries, basic diseases, broken bones, burns, and the occasional pitchfork accident. A few chops of an ax later however and everyone was satisfied that they could go home.
“Do you think we will be lucky enough to avoid injuries on the way back to the village too?” I asked, looking over at Loco. He was a wiry man, around 28 cycles old, who stood around 160cm tall with no hair – eyebrows or otherwise – on his face and 7 bright white teeth that actually glowed when he smiled.
[Author’s Note: I decided to formally avoid changing the time or distance measurements too much for convenience sake – no promise on weight as of yet]
“Perhaps, but why ask when you already knew the answer?” Loco, answered absently, he himself was too busy examining a piece of bark from a nearby tree to care much.
“I am just making small talk, I am bored and I still have not figured out how to make the magical device I told you about.” I replied simply.
“You have plenty of cycles to think of something.” Loco dismissed, continuing his study of the bark.
I sighed internally as the fact was that I had less time than any other human could know. I estimated 7 cycles or so before puberty and the devices I needed to make would take at least 3 cycles to gather information before that. As it was right now, I only had a few wild rabbits to experiment on.
Originally I was only going to eat the rabbit who came up to me one day, but my child-self thought it was “cute” – of all things. I argued and debated with her for days until I realized that it was pointless and decided to experiment with genetic modification on them instead. The problem was, although I figured out the magic to modify the rabbits’ genetic information easily enough there were side effects and mutations that I was forced to combat as I refined the alterations I was making.
Since Kal’rek had answered my questions about magic in this world I had to switch my exploration of knowledge to biological manipulation and experimentation. Nathan could be a surprisingly useful source of information on politics – for a small-time landlord he took great interest in the wider world – however, I needed to learn biologically based magic on my own.
A little girl with a talent that could tell a pregnant woman what gender the baby was, is different from a little girl who was making animals grow extra limbs or even one who is somehow curing dangerous diseases without any formal training. Both of those possibilities would draw attention, the churches, and possibly Soul Mage Hunters – those few specialist hunters good enough to hunt down the mages who sacrificed other mages for power.
In the meantime, wild bunnies were nice stop-gaps, however I needed more complex organisms to test out my genetic modifications. I was already starting to implement some changes in my own body, but I already had to deconstruct my modifications multiple times to avoid fatal mutations. Even Anton’s lessons on the different parts of the human genome were of limited use, namely because even he could not completely identify all parts of even a non-magical person. Anton even admitted, in his lessons, that magic, if it existed in DNA at all, was a complete mystery to him.
Currently, I barely managed an improvement in my protein uptake and red blood cell efficiency. The one time I tried to mess with my bone structure I interfered with my Haversian canals, which allowed the passage of blood through bone. I was not about to start messing around with my bone structure again, much less my heart or brain, without much more experimentation.
Unfortunately even doing something as simple as removing the gene that produces thrombospondin was made harder when my pets/experiments were eaten.
It was enough to drive anyone crazy, but I decided to create a magical device to record genetic information and the results of my modifications. Ideally this device would be able to transmit the information collected to me periodically, however I would settle for just a recording device that I could track down and recover. In theory, this would give me much more information about what modifications improved the body’s functions and what destroyed them.
I also had to find good test subjects for such changes, however I actually had a good idea about where to look for that so I did not worry too much.
I naturally dropped to the back of the group as we started back to the village. Since we had started before dawn we should be able to get back there just after dusk.
I had picked up a couple new hobbies in recent cycles, one I of which I could actually practice publicly. At the back of the group I quietly started singing, practicing as both my child-self and my older-self as we took turns hitting the high notes. While others might think that I was just a little girl who wanted to sing there was actually a fairly important purpose that hid beneath my new, genuine, enjoyment of singing. Specifically, I was practicing non-mana bodily control.
It was not just singing either. I also deliberately chose my steps, putting my feet exactly where they should be in my mental construction. Footwork could make the difference in any fight, but especially one that took place over rough terrain. Privately, I also took up the practice of moving one muscle at a time, to practice and memorize what exactly my body was capable of.
All of this had two grand purposes in my mind. First, things like singing made me actively practice controlling my inner body. This was to try and minimize incidents like the lord’s party that I was not invited to a second time, where I had lost control and cried without the Guilt[i/] actually being involved. It was humiliating at the time and still made me burn in shame when I remembered it. Just because my body was that of a little girl, it did not mean that I actually had to act like one. Using mana would be easy enough, but I wanted to be the master of my own body and controlling such basic things as my voice was a good start. (I could also create what I thought were convincing tears on demand now, but somehow Florence and my Mother were able to see right through them)
The second grand purpose of this was more even practical. I wanted to know more about the very core of martial fighting techniques. Specifically I wanted to develop a calculation based technique which took into account all muscles and how to optimize their strength for maximum impact. Both fortunately and unfortunately this proved to encompass every formal way of fighting that I had faced in my previous life. (Although Leo previously gave me perfect recall for my previous life, I was still working on it for my new body.) Indeed I had found that every formal martial attack I had learned had been created to use the body efficiently. In the end, I was just mixing techniques and teaching my body to react based on my current situation, whatever that situation may be.
So I sang quietly, following the group without letting my feet make any noise for a period before making sure that it sounded like I was stomping. Of course I was also deliberately traveling behind them for one final reason. Bone.
Both Human and animal bone conducted mana splendidly, though I had no idea why. One of the reasons that humans could use magic better than animals or plants was that our bodies naturally conducted magic better than other creatures. It was also the main reason why all mages shrouded themselves in wards or wore magic armor into battle. Despite the fact that any iron arrows or swords would go through such protections relatively unhindered, magic would go through the human body completely unstopped.
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In the last fight of my previous life, Regus, graveborn that he was, had damaged my organs fairly badly because he managed to graze my stomach with his mana implosion technique. While some animals had magic resistance they gave up their ability to freely use mana as the cost, while humans were the opposite, with all of our magical ability and no resistance. According to legend, there were ancient creatures called dragons which had both, but no one knew if they were myth or real.
Regardless, in the few hours it took to get back to the village I managed to sing my throat sore, gather the charred of a dead sheep that was killed by the firegrass we removed the day before, and finally perfect my bone manipulation spell. Although I had it functioning just fine previously, I finally managed to make the bones that I had collected and hid in my bag into an almost pure liquid with my magic. After managing that I used my mana to make the bone flow under my robe before solidifying it to create a very sturdy armor of sorts.
As the dark descended I even got to practice modifying my eyes to improve my night vision a little. It looked like I could go to sleep and call it a very productive day.
Just as we were getting back to the village however I felt something that set me on edge. Something that I had not felt for very long time.
Telling Loco that I would be taking a walk – which was fairly pointless, as he was still thinking about tree bark – I went over to the inn.
Like in my previous life, Inns were for travelers and taverns were for the locals. No one would mix the two up unless they were trying to start a fight or were merchants, who were a special exception to the rule.
I felt the perversion that was bloodlust from outside. In my previous life I had to deal with bloodlust far too often, especially as it was the sign of an unhinged bandit who could not be trusted. It showed the person for who they truly were, someone who could and would enjoy torturing small children to death before violating them and feeding them to their own parents.
I hated creatures like that, fools with bloodlust leaking out of them were only good for distractions. Bloodlust was also special because it could only leak out with magic. If you had no magic, or kept your emotions under control, no one would notice, it was a purely magical phenomenon.
I weighed my options outside the inn.
-I could ignore them (Which might kill someone else, but that would be their choice, not mine)
-Stalk and kill them after they left the village (The [i]Guilt made that seem like an unappealing choice)
-Maybe warn someone (Although, I would have to be careful how I did, given that I was still a kid)
-Get more information (Always a good choice, but how...)
-Lure them (Not my favorite choice, but Bloodlust+little girl usually equals the back alley)
In the end, I choice a combination of 2 of my options. The owner of the inn was a relatively observant man who had been a mercenary back in the day. Although he refused to tell me any of his war stories until I could handle his non-stop smoking.
I walked into the inn and looked around. The Bloodlust was emanating from the corner where a small group of 4 individuals sat, smoking and talking energetically about something. Even with my excellent hearing though I could barely hear them arguing about when to leave as someone had put up a simple ward to dampen noise. The ward was very basic and left me wondering if sone of the group was an apprentice mage or something. A more experienced one would have used something more effective if they wanted to keep a conversation secret.
Quietly ignoring them, along with the smell of that stoning smoke they were creating, I walked over to the owner and smiled as best I could. The elderly man had been standing on the opposite side of the room, idly relaxing with his accursed traxico pipe. Of course, the owner knew my dislike of all non-wood based smoke and raised an eyebrow at my presence, while still letting some more stoning smoke escape his pipe.
“May I talk to you outside?” I asked politely, trying not to breathe in.
The old man took another long drag on his pipe and then snorted smoke as he smiled. “You really need to get used to it, Bella, everyone smokes.”
Still trying not to breathe, I went outside and took a breath of relatively clean air while I waited for the owner.
Eventually he wondered out and looked at me, still smoking, without saying a word. So I began the conversation. “What do you know about the strangers leaking bloodlust?”
The old man froze, his stare intensifying and reminding me of many comrades from my previous life. “Do you even know what word means little girl?”
“It means that your guests want to kill people and play with their corpses.” I responded, making sure that I sounded slightly nervous. “I can tell that they are suppressing it a bit, but I could feel their perverseness from the street.”
The old man continued to stare at me before breaking eye contact and sighing. “They just came in from the west, from the Atlratian border. They have a dagger that they found in some ruins that they were bragging about. It is sealed in a box, but I will ask them to add another seal later, two of them are adventurers who have obviously never found a cursed item before.”
That would explain it, stoning self-righteous mercenaries. “To add a seal would require a mage” I pointed out, fishing for more details.
“Hah!” The owner smiled. “They have two, a master and his student.” I mentally took that news with a laugh, if that was their idea of ‘sealed’ then they were talentless fools. That, or the master was lazy enough to let his apprentice take care of the sealing spell. Then I noticed that the old man’s smile had gotten wider, “You might be interested to know that one of them happens to be named Xiphos.”
My jaw almost dropped despite myself, were the Nalks actively trying to mess with my life or did fate just deal me an odd life? I leaned my head back and looked at the stars that had started coming out of the night sky. Stone me, I thought grimly, big brother Xiphos is back to visit and he brought a fool.
* * *
On the western part of the forgotten 5th continent:
The drums beat. Always the drums beat. No important matter could be announced without drums, no moves conducted in the field, and no family announced without drums.
The Thunder Runners were owed drums.
The Lightning Hammers were owed drums.
The Soul Cleavers were owed drums.
The Blood Blades were owed drums.
The Snow Walkers were owed drums.
The Ice Wolves were owed drums.
Even lacking as they were, his clan of Steel Claws were owed drums.
They had lost their lands, their animals, and even their gold, but by the gods they were owed the drums.
There were the remnants of dozens of clans and countries in the room, all announced to the drums.
Jagged Claw hated the drums. They had woken him as a child when the Soul War began and never seemed to stop. Somewhere the Soul Mages would be attacking, somewhere the drums would beat. Always the drums, the never ending drums, they were always beating, always announcing.
Jagged would give almost anything to live without the drums. To wake up without worrying that the Soul Mages had broken through the pass, or dug a new tunnel through the mountains, or walked their undead legions across the ocean floor to attack one of the ports. Just a day without drums would heal a part of his soul.
The oldest blood-son of Chief Claw, Jagged had bled in 7 major battles and 4 campaigns under his amalgamated clan of the claw. Drawn from the broken clans, the beaten countries, and even the relatives of the yellow-blooded Soul Mages. Jagged had only seen 21 full cycles, but 15 of those cycles had been war. The Soul War that had broken so many and fused together the will of the whole world, was all he knew.
Now they were all gathered, the representatives of the few million people still alive. They were losing the war though and they all knew it, so this council had been called with an air of desperation to it. What would the priests of Boiling Waters tell them that would reverse the situation? Surly no one was going to try and summon demons again.
The Head-Priest himself entered to the drums and Jagged prayed that there were no drums in the next life. For all that they were broken, the Claws were the most powerful military force not under the Soul Mage’s control, whatever the priest planned to try Jagged would volunteer, and hope to find the quiet he longed for, in this or the next life.
When the drums fell silent the priest surveyed the room silently before speaking. “I was given a vision by the gods of what will happen to our home.” That statement alone gained no reply as everyone already knew what would happen to their home. “The gods themselves have decided to intervene in our plight.”
The room practically exploded in sounds as everyone started their own drums to demand the floor and started bellowing questions.
After a few minutes the noise had calmed down and the priest began speaking again. “They have sent me a vision of both their mighty force that will cleanse this place and that the after effects will not allow many of our people to survive.” No one spoke or beat their drums this time. Jagged silently noted that if the priest would stop talking it would even be peaceful for once. “In order to destroy the Soul Mages the gods have thrown a great mountain high into the air and when it lands, all else will be destroyed.” The murmurings started again, but the priest held his hands up for silence.
“They have informed me that the only way for us to survive we will have to build great ships that they will bless to cross the Boiling Waters. We must-”
The room exploded in sounds again, this time Jagged himself joined in, shouting that there was neither time, nor wood, to build such a fleet of ships that it would require to transport even one in ten of the people who lived there. Not to say anything of trying to cross the Boiling Waters that consumed the Great Lord Heh’s fireball to signal the end of the day.
This time, even after a full minute of the priest holding up his hands there was no quiet. Finally, the priest dropped his hands and said something to one of his aides, the man nodded and disappeared. A few moments later, the formal drums beat and the same aide led in a small precession that carried a large map on an animal skin that Jagged did not know.
The map was one familiar to all of the clan chiefs although they still hated the sight of it. It was a reminder of the world they once knew, so vast and free, that had been taken away from them by the mad Soul Mages. It showed all of the land that had been lost in the east to the Soul Mages and the crowded little peninsula that formed the remains of all of their people. There was one crucial difference, however, between the map that all of them knew and the map in front of them now. The map currently presented showed a large amount of ships to both the north and south of their little peninsula of safety.
There were several gasps and choking sounds that were suddenly filling an otherwise dead silence. Even Jagged found it hard to enjoy the silence in the face of such grim knowledge, assuming that it was correct of course.
Not daring to give such a question words, Jagged turned his attention back to the priest who now filled the silence. “The scouts have confirmed what the gods showed me in my vision. These thousands of large ships will be built in both our north and south for the purpose of attacking us. These ships are currently under construction to be used against us, but we will not give them the opportunity, while we build our own ships for our great journey we will also prepare to attack. When these fleets are close to completion we will attack from the sea and steal them for ourselves. Then we will sail just ahead of the great mountain’s decent across the Boiling Waters to the great land of plenty that the god have shown me. A land where the Soul Mages were beaten back and where they have grown soft from the peace.” The priest finished his little speech with a thanks to the various gods that showed him the vision before opening the floor up for discussion on how they were to accomplish such attacks.
Of course the chiefs immediately tried to take the moment to make their own speeches, however that only dissolved into chaos.
So the drums beat. So the drums always beat.