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Wren Kain IV
I wrinkled my nose as I floated through the lesser sewers, the stench of excretion and bodily fluids scraping at my sinus cavities. My earthen chair edged around a particularly nasty buildup of dung and slime.
I’d initially been mildly impressed by the technology Agrona Vritra had managed to scrounge up for his lesser minions to use when I’d reached Alacrya. Mana panels that projected moving images, identification and functioning facilities for the majority of the populace, and more tools and items made ordinary living trivial for the common lesser.
But you can’t even properly regulate your own excrement, I thought with annoyance. The design of these tunnels is impractical. The layout is inefficient for fluid transfer and shifting of large mass.
I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the idiot who’d designed this atrocity of a waste management system so I could show them exactly why this was an atrocity.
I slowed in my trek through the grim darkness, focusing the barest bit. Then I turned to the brick walls directly beside me as I sensed my quarry. I narrowed my eyes as the earth mana conveyed the truth of the mechanism.
Primitive.
A miniature golem of earth pulled itself from the stones beneath me, before striding forward through the muck. It tapped specific bricks in the order I knew they needed, before the entire wall folded in on itself.
My golem dissolved back into motes of earth mana as my chair hovered through the gap. Not a bare second after I’d entered the underground room, the wall closed behind me automatically.
“Interesting construction,” I snorted, peering around the rooms. They appeared to have once been well-lived in, but hadn’t seen much use in the past months. I narrowed my eyes as I floated further in, inspecting the support columns and various abandoned hallways.
I suspected this place had originally been used as a place to store rainwater for the populace of lessers above, but as magic became more engrained and the need for relying on rainwater decreased, the petty mages had no use for this cistern any longer.
And thus, some bottom-dwellers probably found an excuse to use this place as their own.
Whatever. That wasn’t why I was here.
I pulled an item from my pocket, annoyed by the dust falling from the ceiling. Why couldn’t those architects use better earth magic? Then every shake and tumble wouldn’t coat me in debris!
With an annoyed click of my teeth, I snapped the goggles I’d prepared for this moment onto my face–and immediately, my vision lit up with a dozen different colors. Differing shades of red, blue, green, yellow, and darker specks all surged in their own unique patterns as the mana itself was revealed to me.
One of the Indrath Clan’s greatest techniques was Realmheart. As evidenced by the training of Arthur Leywin, users under the influence of the technique could see mana particles as they moved and drifted through the world. After taking notes and cataloging the boy’s ability, I’d created a device that allowed me something similar–without telling good old Kezzy, of course.
I wrinkled my nose as I scanned the damp room, tracking the different particles of mana as they moved. Not perfect, I internally acknowledged, noting the inefficiencies in my design. The goggles were more adept at picking out mana flow and movement rather than individual particles. Neither could it see aether. If I wanted this to become a true masterpiece, I’d use the ember of Sacred Fire that burned with me–but that would draw too much attention. But I’d like to see any prissy dragon try and make something like this. Eventually, even they can be surpassed through technology.
I forced those thoughts from my mind. I was searching for a very distinct trace–one I’d chased across a continent. And as my chair of conjured earth hovered deeper into the dank hovel, I thought I caught a glimpse…
My fingers tensed on the edges of my chair as I spotted it–a unique mix of fire-red and dark green sound. I couldn’t make out the distinct particles, but the way the two flowed together–
I sighed in annoyance, then conjured a small golem from the floors. The lifelike construction turned on its heels, then sprinted toward the edges of the room. I felt my brows furrow as I allowed my chair to turn.
My conjured golem returned in a blitz, a squirming rodent caught in its grip. The little rat fought and bit and tore at the hands of the stone automaton holding it, thrashing desperately. Yet the moment it was brought before me, it stilled, its little chest heaving with terror.
“Now, let’s see what you are, hmmm?” I said irritatedly, hovering closer. I raised a finger to my goggles, changing the frequency. My vision of all four elements cycled as I twisted a dial, slowly honing in on one in particular.
Finally, I selected the pure mana option. My golem hovered before me, holding the rat for me to see as its breathing became something beyond panicked. From how fast its heart was beating, I was sure it might have a heart attack any second now.
And sure enough, a current of pure mana flowed around the head of the little creature, indicating it was connected to someone.
“It’s rude to spy on someone, you know,” I muttered at the rat–to whoever was on the other end. “That’s universal, I’m sure, regardless of your inefficiencies as a species. You can’t be that primitive.”
I narrowed my eyes, observing the interplay of mana inside the rat. It appeared the accelerated heartbeat and fear response was entirely independent of the actual spell controlling it. Interesting… So the spell only acted on certain parts of the brain? Or perhaps the control was slipping?
“I’m gonna need you to drop the rat, hobo,” a cheery voice said from behind me. “Or else you’ll drop your hands, next.”
I noted several mana signatures surrounding me–lessers, by the sense of it. At the same time, the air around me warped strangely as mana agitated the air in a precise application of sound magic. I felt a buzz of mana trying to rattle the cornea in my eye, but with the paltry level of the effect, it did nothing.
My chair turned, allowing me to spot the intruders. Four in total–each reasonably powerful for lessers, if I used Arthur Leywin as the highest metric. The one on the far left was short and overweight for his species, with greasy gray hair and a mask that looked vaguely like a badger. I could sense he was the source of the disrupting sound magic in the air that still tried to attack my cornea.
I narrowed my eyes as I observed his girth, unaffected by his spell. I would have to collect more data points, but I was sure this one would probably die in a decade. Obesity was a scourge to the lessers’ health, wasn’t it? Maybe he would die in a year instead. They all seemed to keel over whenever you weren’t looking.
“Tell me, lesser,” I said, finding this train of thought interesting, “How long does it take for the fat ones to die on this continent? Obesity is a killer, isn’t it? Surely you have social programs to stop you from eating.”
While the middle one–the one who had spoken to me first–struggled not to break out into laughter for reasons I couldn’t comprehend, the fat one with the badger mask shifted backward nervously, taking on a combat stance. “Miss Rat, Myopic Decay isn’t working on this bugger,” he slurred gruffly. “His vision’s unaffected. Not seeing double or anything. Can’t tell if it's because of mana output or sheer resistance, but he can see us just fine.”
The one called Rat stopped snickering pretty quickly. She had dark hair tied back into a braid, and I could see her eyes narrow behind her rodent mask. The other two mages–a man with white hair and a woman with navy locks–gradually moved with practiced efficiency to flank me.
Rat’s mana flared as she settled into something more guarded, staring at me from behind her mask. “I told you once. Let go of the rat, hobo.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking at the rodent in my golem’s grip, then back to the woman called Rat. My brows furrowed in annoyance. The golem dropped the rat, allowing it to scurry back into the darkness with a chitter. “Dragons above, I didn’t realize how backward you lessers were,” I said, feeling genuinely shocked. Leywin’s continent wasn’t like this, was it? “Calling animals family and taking on their names isn’t healthy psychological behavior, regardless of race.”
Though maybe this was one of Agrona’s projects–forcing all the humans to adopt animals as family and take on their names. While I wouldn’t mind reading the results of such a study, it was more than morally bankrupt.
I squinted at Badger. “There aren’t any badgers down here, are there? Those bastards are hardly tame. I wonder how Agrona managed to make you think they’re anything like family.”
Badger laughed uproariously from the depths of his belly, while Rat sputtered incredulously. “No, we don’t treat animals like family!” she protested, stomping a foot. “It’s a moniker, you idiot! It’s thematic and everything! Can’t you see the masks? We’re the Menagerie!” she added, gesturing wildly to her face.
Yet even as she appeared outwardly annoyed by my comment, Rat didn’t offer any openings past her to the door. Clever girl, I supposed.
I snorted. Whatever.
I started to turn in my chair, already dismissing these fools. I’d heard that sometimes lessers on Dicathen dressed up as different mana beasts for holidays, but that was mostly done by children. I’d thought on cursory inspection that these were all adults, but perhaps there were larger differences in race between Alacrya and Dicathen after Agrona’s experimentation.
I was just about ready to go back to my search when a blood-red blade, easily four and a half feet long, appeared in front of my face, the edge poised to cut directly into me.
Basilisk blood, I thought with renewed interest as my eyes focused on the material in front of me. Hardened and refined in a way I don’t recognize. If I wanted to learn more, I’d have to do some tests–but to make a true blade solely of the substance?
“As amusing as it is watching the Rat stutter and stumble over herself–thank you for that, by the way–I’m afraid we can’t just let you snoop around the Cistern so easily, mage.”
The one holding a sword was a woman with long navy hair and scarlet eyes that seemed to glimmer behind her mask. Her mask itself was made of the same metallic substance all the others were, except this one bore painted whiskers and feline ears. A cat, I guessed.
“That’s an idiotic thing to say,” I said derisively, my eyes tracing the basilisk blood sword. It appeared to be manufactured under extremely high pressure–probably with gravity magic if the lingering traces of deviant earth mana I detected around it told me anything. “You’re clearly not afraid at all. So why say you are? You lessers are always so confusing.” I squinted my eyes, noticing something odd about this Cat’s mana signature.
I raised a single hand to my goggles, the action making everyone in the room tense and flare their mana. I ignored it as I pressed another button on my eyewear, increasing the focus of the device.
I narrowed my eyes as they traced all over Cat’s body, a hidden mana flow sputtering into existence as the heightened abilities of my goggles revealed the truth beneath. I traced that flow all toward a single point–the center of her chest. Probably an artifact of some sort.
“And your cloaking artifact is pathetic,” I said with a dismissive wave. “If the manufacturer really wanted to hide those horns on your head, they’d use a multi-modal interweave to make the mana flow nigh indistinguishable instead of the common stream technique. Tell them not to release awful products.”
The one I’d crafted specifically for this venture used techniques even more advanced–but I wasn’t revealing my secrets. But I wouldn’t tolerate anything that egregious.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Cat’s body went rigid as she stared at me, her grip on her large sword tightening. She shared a glance with a few people around the room, but I was already bored of the conversation. I twisted a dial on my glasses and tapped a button, changing the frequency and focus back to their original state as I hovered back toward where I’d spotted the interplay of sound and fire mana from before.
The sound of weapons being prepared echoed in the air as everyone around me settled into combat stances, each ready to fight me for whatever reason. I kept my eyes focused on the interplay of sound and fire, tracing it toward a door on the far end of the cistern.
“Just go away wherever,” I said as I began to hover toward the edge, my eyes focused on the room far away. “I’ll leave your nest when I’m done so you can go back to your roleplay, or whatever it is.”
“Why are you here?” a surprisingly even voice said from behind me. “Answer us now–or we’ll have no choice but to attack.”
I turned to observe Rat as she glared at me, stroking my chin in thought. Now that I thought about it, if all traces pointed back here and these characters were all ready to try and defend their little hovel…
“You idiots wouldn’t happen to have a bird among you, would you?” I asked, noting the different masks worn by these fools. “She would have fiery red hair, orange eyes, and would certainly be smarter than you cretins.”
I watched with growing irritation as confusion painted its way across most of the faces around me. Though all were ready to fight and fling their paltry spells, only furrowed brows and disguised questions met my own.
“You’ve got the wrong zoo, hobo,” Rat said slowly, “but you’re still going to tell us how you found this place.”
Except for one. The only one who hadn’t spoken so far–the man with the white hair and the mask with many eyes–stiffened ever-so-slightly. My gaze snapped to him immediately. “You,” I said sharply, pointing at the white-haired one. “Tell me what you know.”
The mana around me began to churn as the two women behind me began to charge their spells, sensing some sort of threat.
“Don’t,” white-hair said loudly to his animal compatriots. “Don’t attack him. You can’t fight what he is.”
I floated closer, feeling as if I’d finally found a lead. Finally! After so, so long. After centuries. “Tell me, lesser,” I demanded, tapping my fingers on the edges of my seat, “what do you know about Lady Dawn?”
Badger grumbled something, but the effect trying to target my cornea didn’t relent. “Boy, you better give me a good reason why we shouldn’t put daggers between this oaf’s eyes,” he said with a slight slur.
“Just trust me,” white-hair said with gritted teeth, seeming unsure as if to run or fight. But it appeared he alone knew the impossibility of both.
My eyes belatedly traced over the strange contraption attached to white-hair’s arm. And I felt my eyes widen.
It wasn’t attached to his arm–it was his arm. And from the mana-flow readings noted by my goggles, the brass-coated arm wasn’t held in place by mana at all. I resisted the urge to tremble, cursing the emotions of my body as I stared at the bronze arm. What I witnessed was certainly an impressive feat on its own–from my own cursory inspection I could detect half a dozen different gadgets expertly pushed into the craft. And if I were right, there were options for modular attachments and devices within as well.
But that wasn’t why I hesitated. My chair melted away underneath me as I finally settled down on my feet. I walked toward the boy, feeling a strange air of disbelief as I leaned forward, inspecting the craft.
“She made this for you,” I said quietly, looking at the mechanical arm. It was crafted with the utmost care, but there was only one thing that could suture it to his shoulder. Lifeforce. “Aurora did, didn’t she?”
White-hair’s eyes hardened behind his many-eyed mask. Unlike all the others, his bore no accentuating features beyond the many pupils spotted around. “She isn’t here,” he said in a short, clipped tone. “You should leave. Now.”
I tilted my head as I rubbed at my jaw. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? At least for your small brain. You appear to be the only one here who figured out what I am–which means you know it would be idiotic to lie to me.”
White-hair worked his jaw, and I could hear how fast his heart was thundering in his chest. “She isn’t here, asura,” he said. “She left this place a long time ago.”
As the word asura rumbled outward, the others of this little ‘Menagerie’ shied backward or cursed in disbelief. The one called Rat reeled backward, then started to speak. “No way this hobo is a–”
Badger punched her hard in the arm. “Shut up, Rat,” he said, his spell finally snapping as he realized it wouldn’t work. “I didn’t sign up for this, you crazy witch! An asura in a sewer! By Melzri’s tits!” he cursed.
I stared at White-hair for a moment longer.
Then I sighed, running a hand through my bedraggled hair. I pointed a finger at the man, wanting to get a few things straight. “Look, lesser. I’m not here to ruin your day or mess up your little nest or whatever. But you are going to tell me where Aurora went–because you clearly know.”
“I won’t lead you to them,” White-hair said sharply, his body shaking the barest bit as he resolved himself. “I won’t be the one to doom them. You’ll have to take me to the pits of Taegrin Caelum, asura.”
I peeled back my goggles, revealing my eyes to the boy in front of me. “Do I look like a basilisk to you?” I said with a snort. “Their methods are crude and wasteful. I’m offended that you’d even make the implication.” My eyes snapped to the side. “That room over there has the most traces of sound and fire mana–the interweave of plasma is her specialty. So I know she spent time here–probably a lot, considering the notable remnants even after time. And considering your pathetic lifespan as a lesser, we both know I’m the one who will win in a contest of waiting.”
I hadn’t questioned the lessers of Fiachra, thinking them inconsequential in my search. If Aurora were to be free, I found it more likely she’d hide herself amidst the depths, not making her presence known. Yet it appeared at least some had heard of her.
“And if you won’t tell me anything, then I can just ask above,” I said with a snort, turning around. “Someone probably knows about a phoenix who can shoot plasma beams.”
I observed the trio around me–and aha! I snapped my fingers, noting the flashes of recognition in most present. “There, see? Plasma. That’s the key. Nobody else could figure it out or get the combination right, even among the Asclepius. She said it was because of her music that she knew the right frequencies, but…”
“Wait,” White-hair said from behind me. “Wait, don’t go to the surface. Don’t talk about it so openly!”
I turned, raising a skeptical brow. “I’m an asura, brat. Do you really think you can tell me what not to do?”
I wouldn’t risk blatantly asking random people about a phoenix–that was a good way to catch Agrona Vritra’s attention. But these lessers didn’t know that.
“She’s attached to someone. As a shade. A spirit,” White-hair eventually said. “But she’s not here anymore. She left months ago,” he repeated stubbornly, unwilling to reveal anything.
I noted the reactions of both Cat and Rat. It appeared from their barely veiled surprise that they knew who White-hair was talking about, but not this specific information. Badger just seemed intoxicated.
I ground my teeth, sensing that I probably wouldn’t get much more out of this mage. He was too determined to protect his friend–but just this information changed my entire prerogative. The phoenixes were masters of reincarnating into their own bodies–had Aurora somehow failed? Or was this lesser lacking information?
No matter. I could just find another lesser–
My body tensed up, and I was suddenly wrenched from my thoughts as I stared straight upward. The stone offered no barrier to me as I sensed far beyond it… specks. Echoes. Ghosts.
Wraiths.
My sudden movement made all present shift nervously, their fear stinking the air. “Boy, what is your moniker?” I said sharply, my eyes still focused on the ceiling.
“I’m the Spider,” he said after a tense moment. He tensed, clearly expecting me to retaliate. To offer some sort of ultimatum.
I snorted. “A fitting name, I guess,” I said. “But you’re going to need more eyes.”
I reached up, taking my goggles off my face. They were colored a sleek black, the lenses within tested to withstand nearly anything I could throw at them. The mechanisms inside–though only a prototype–pushed the bounds of what was possible with mana.
I tossed the goggles to Spider. He caught them in confusion, before engaging his magic. A yellow sheen overtook the goggles as he used some sort of inspection spell.
“Holy fuck,” Spider cursed, his hands clenching around the goggles as his eyes blew wide.
“Keep those safe, Spider–and tell nobody of her. For her own sake. You were annoyingly correct to withhold information, even from me,” I said, turning on my heels and marching away. “And if you want those cloaking artifacts improved, obscure the mana flow better. It’s too centralized,” I directed to Rat and Cat. They both shared disturbed looks as I shoved them from my mind.
Then I looked at Badger. He swayed slightly, his jaw slack as he looked back at me. Intoxicated, probably. “And you,” I said pointedly, “eat less. You are overweight for your race.”
“You’re a prick,” Badger said, seeming to disbelieve he even said the words.
“No, I’m a titan,” I said in response. “Stop saying stupid things. You have the cranial capacity for observation. Or maybe you don’t if you use that vision disruption magic on yourself all the time.”
I strolled toward the edge of the wall, internally making plans as my senses alerted me. I’d been dodging Agrona’s hunters for the better part of a few weeks, leaving half a dozen false trails and obscuring my goals, before finally reaching Fiachra. Yet they’d somehow tracked me here. The rest of the Menagerie stood in tense, uncertain silence as I faced the brick wall.
“Spider,” I said, the words pulling themselves from my gut, “did you ever hear her sing?”
The masked man shifted uncomfortably. “No,” he eventually said. “No, I didn’t.”
I sighed. “That’s a shame,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “Keep up the good work on that arm, lesser. The modularity you implemented is genius.”
Then I stepped forward into the wall, allowing it to subsume me. The moment the earth closed around me, I surged like a fish in water, the stone itself twisting and molding to allow me passage. I went low, allowing the call of the stone to draw me deeper as I continued to move.
I’d been playing a delicate dance with Agrona’s half-blood warriors for the better part of a month. I didn’t know exactly how they could sense me–but every time they got close, I improved my cloaking device just a little bit more, and they lost me again. Thus I was free for a time, and the cycle repeated.
If Agrona weren’t such a wasteful loon with his resources, I thought as I surged through the earth southward, I wouldn’t mind working with him. But he doesn’t know how to run a society at all. Just those sewers are enough to prove his lunacy.
This time, though–this time felt different. As I moved, my senses told me I was still being followed, even miles out from the city of Fiachra. I swerved and shifted like a Darvish sandshark, but no matter what direction I took, the pursuit continued.
I grumbled in internal annoyance as I ducked a swath of granite. My only chance was if I could find time to improve my cloaking artifact again and slip the noose tightening around my throat. But to do that…
Fine. Play it your way, I thought with simmering anger. The only person I had ever danced with was Aurora Asclepius, but if they kept insisting, I’d grant them their petty waltz.
Let’s dance, lessurans, I thought, emerging from the earth at last.
I found myself in the depths of a forest, the boughs filled with silver leaves and glimmering mana. Clarwood, I was certain. But this deep beneath the canopy, the sunlight of the sky didn’t reach the ground.
“Are you done running, mouse?” a bittersweet voice said from afar. “I wouldn’t have expected such cowardice from the great Wren Kain IV.”
I stared coolly upward, noting the half-breed as she faced me. With long hair the color of black pitch and curdled blood eyes, she looked like something out of the old stories. When the Wraith smiled, elongated fangs glinted in the low light. “My name is Perhata, asura. Know this name to be the last you’ll ever hear.”
A mass of blood iron spikes, each twisting and writhing, surged toward me from the trees. Half a dozen golems of ornate earth leapt to meet the dark attack, each wielding weapons and ready to fight. They collided in a cacophonous explosion, black lightning erupting from the center of the iron spikes and using my summoned sentinels to conduct itself toward me.
I raised a single fist as the decay-aspected lightning approached me, the half-breed lessuran nowhere to be seen. “You should use your head, lessuran,” I said grumpily, before slamming my fist into the earth.
A shockwave rippled out as the earth mana trembled. Like the effects of a stone hitting a pond, the dirt around me shuddered in undulating waves as the power I’d imbued traveled outward, uprooting trees and obliterating anything in its path. The wave of power brushed aside the black-blue lightning, the earthquake churning the stones as it surged like a tidal wave.
In barely a moment, I was left in a clearing easily four hundred feet wide. Broken trees and decimated landscape greeted me as I turned my eyes to the sky. I snorted with derision as I noticed the flitting dark figures in the air above, all having escaped the radius of my attack. Twenty Wraiths total circled me like gnats, their intent and bloodlust honing in on me alone.
Cementing my resolve, I called on the earth mana all around me. The stone itself warped and shifted as a sailing ship conjured entirely of stone slowly rose into the sky with me at its helm. Tacks and sheets flew as a hundred conjured minions worked at their stations, manning cannons and preparing for battle. A few golems hefted massive cannonballs to their stations, ready to unleash hell upon our adversaries. With the touch of Sacred Fire coursing through my magic, everything became a bit more real. A bit more true. The very essence of the heat pushed them toward reality, inching ever-so-close to true life.
And far, far more dangerous.
I stood at the wheel of the massive ship, glaring upward at Perhata where she hovered as a vanguard. The half-vritra woman carried a long sword of black iron that seemed to drink in the light, the edge crackling with black lightning.
“My name is Wren Kain IV, thousandth and last wielder of the Sacred Fire,” I said sharply, my voice traveling into the air as the Wraiths prepared for battle and my summons readied their weapons, “and you should know that your petty clones won’t scratch a hem of my robes.”
Menagerie [https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/tx9yweit4jkjhl563ej62/Menagerie.png?rlkey=tfc9c3x0127nnk3qncvy1pmh4&st=5fmtpmgv&raw=1]