Chapter 1: The Bowl
⁂
Sounds of steaming liquid filled the room.
Not one man sitting in the room desired to speak.
Not as the repression of communication,
But a celebration of silence.
Words had their place, and it was not yet time for them.
Steam fell as a blue mist.
Gravity pulling it down to awaiting flesh.
Occasional droplets collided together,
Combining into tears.
Crying streams crashed down on the boy's bare virgin skin.
A bell sounded.
Then again.
And yet again, this time in the company of four others.
Brother Caloner stood and stretched. “Do you think he’ll wake up today?”
Father Tim spared a glance before returning to his prayers.
“You know, it just occurred to me that we don’t have anything he can wear besides a wrapped sheet or towel.” Brother Yu did always have insight into the practical.
“You know, that’s where he gets it,” sighed Tim in indignation. Yu's lack of piety was something he tolerated, but he didn't want to see it spread.
Yu ignored Tim and began to reexamine the child stretched before him. “Everything about him is strange. I suppose his wardrobe might as well reflect that.”
“I could head down to the village t—”
“Oh no you don’t. Brother Kang is the town runner, and you’re not to leave the Abby after your incident in The Sukkot Woods.”
“Incident? We saved a dying boy, left for dead on the side of the road.”
“So it was providence then? And the means just happened to require me sending Brother Yu after you?”
“If you’re done with the school house routine, I think I’ve found something,” interjected Yu without looking up.
Caloner rejoiced at an excuse to evade further scolding and hurried to his mentor’s side. Father Tim groaned as he rose off his knees. He gazed out the window and briefly considered the state of his morning.
“I’ve been meditating on the results from your attempts at mind magic. You said your call echoed back to you right? You are certain it did not pass on to nothingness?”
Father Tim frowned briefly and turned to the boy. “Indeed it’s not as though there was nothing there. During the war I came across several grunts whose flesh we managed to save but who had no mind. It was like calling out in the desert, there was only emptiness. Last night, however, was different.”
“Like mind fencing.”
“Right…well perhaps, though not like anyone I have ever faced. And who has heard of anyone under 30 mind fencing? Let alone a child. No…no, this wasn’t like facing off against the saber of another’s will. This was running headlong into a wall. A very solid wall I might add.”
“If it still hurts then just let us apply healing. I swear, you can manage to regrow your limbs without even a whimper, but a little headache and you tantrum like a toddler.”
Tim had experienced far too much to give in to Yu’s goading. “You mentioned you found something?”
“Mmm. Look at how élan water is repelled from the brands. Brother Caloner if you would channel the stream for us.”
“Now look at the matching coxal markings. See how the élan just beads up and rolls off the markings? That is certainly not common, but I’ve seen it before in Druj blood brands. Caloner bring the stream more medial.”
“Ah! Hhhow hhhorrible.”
“Can the commentary Caloner. Tim have you seen anything like that?”
Élan water was considered a holy manifestation. It trickled out from the remains of honored elders. Common understanding viewed élan water as the continued service of saints, who cared for the living even through death. Monks crafted channels throughout their catacombs to collect the water into a central pool. From there it was bottled, canned, or otherwise transported for wide variety of purposes.
Most communities of holy practitioners bartered élan water as their main source of income. It has basic healing properties. Placed in a wound it would be absorbed by the flesh and could prevent infection for days. Depending on the type of injury, élan could more than triple the recovery rate. Farmers would dilute it in rain trenches then use it as liquid fertilizer on crops. Many noble children were given one glass of élan water a week to drink. Whether or not it actually helps the brats with anything is still a matter of debate.
Tim reached up and began directly manipulating the descending mist. “Μεθοδικότητα.” Swirls in the vapor jerked, then flew into a single line. To an untrained eye it would appear as a straight blue stream of liquid trained at the end of the priest’s index finger. Under careful observation, one would note that it was not a continuous stream, but individual droplets arranged impossibly close together.
“Let’s try that again. Caloner why don’t you take a step back?”
Tim held his finger over the inguinal brand that refused to heal. With an intention the élan water slowly began to drip on the boy’s scarred flesh. As each bead of water touched tissue, it immediately darkened and flew away from boy with more force than it fell.
“That’s probably enough, don’t you think Tim?”
“You’re right. Waste not. As much as it pains me to say it, I fear Caloner is right. I can’t imagine anything good that could cause that effect. Do you think we should try an injection?”
“No. If this is the response to vapor treatment, fathom what would happen with an injection. Best case scenario the needle flies back through the bladder and stabs you in the hand. I don’t even think we should continue vapor treatment.”
Yu pioneered the vapor treatment 30 years ago. When patients had global traumatic injuries, Yu discovered that individuals bathed in a vapor of élan water had better outcomes than those who had it injected into the major wounds.
The real trick had been in perfecting the production of the vapor. Yu’s current method was to collect élan in Audodatus’s Bowl, itself an artifact, place the bowl about a meter over the head at an angle, and then gently heat the bowl with Healing Flames.
“Our final therapies keep being repelled by this kid at the last step. Or rather, by something on him. I think we need to try and move beyond the body. Can you still Groan in Spirit?”
“You can’t be serious. I’ve not done that since the war, and then only with assistance from Sister Ellena.”
“Well she’s still alive. How fast do you think you can get her here from the other coast?”
“Not only is that journey perilous, but she was too old to make it 50 years ago.”
“So you have another spiritual talent hiding on this side of the woods? Because if we are going to reach this boy we are going to have to shake his soul.”
“Fine. Caloner you are on direct support. I need you to lay your hands on my back and pour your medhā directly into me. Continue until I tell you to stop or you pass out. Brother Yu, you are going to have to manage the situation. Yank my mind out if things start to go awry.”
Father Tim knelt down along the head of the cot,
Palpating the boy’s skull with both hands.
Brother Caloner approached Tim’s back.
His hands trembled with fear.
“Pull it together son. Ol’Tim’s not better than me in much, but he’s the best spiritualist on this half of the continent. So what if his mental and spiritual reserves are much larger than yours? Now go ahead and lay your hands on him.”
Tim was muttering and counting something under his breath, “…Gazac, administration, fundraising, fasting, abstinence…you know, just quickly off the top of my head, I can think of 20 areas where I am your better.”
“And spirit magic is the only one that matters.”
“Is that why you haven’t payed off your Gazac bets? Kill the fire on the bowl, we're ready to start.”
Tim pressed his hands on either side of the boy's head. A low rumbling groan began in his throat, but then slipped further back to the priest’s torso. It was as if the sound wasn’t coming from any one point of his body, but rather his whole chest let loose a sorrowful wail.
Meanwhile, Caloner had his hands on Father Tim’s shoulders. Sweat and light would radiate from his face to his hands as he chanted, “συμπεριλαμβάνω,” on each deep exhalation. Panting separated each chant as the process progressed. At this point the groaning didn’t really even seem to be coming from Tim at all. Rather the entire space around him would vibrate in one accord.
Wave upon wave of sound and spiritual energy crashed against the child’s brain. The kid’s hair floated in the air, rippling with each burst of energy. The pores of his skin emitted a faint gray glow.
“kay-GONG!”
A sound like a bag of cement colliding with a giant brass bell filled the room.
“KAY-GONG!”
It rung again, this time with more fury. Without even a whimper, Caloner keeled over on his side. His robes were drenched in sweat as blood trickled out of his nose.
“KAY-G-“
In the middle of the third ring the whole room turned gray. The sound of shattering glass grew from a whisper in the background. Tim glanced at the clock tower out the window. ‘Was time slowed or stopped,’ he mused again.
“Can you hear me child?”
Pitch black eyes opened over the boy’s closed eyelids, and a crackling void spiraled out of his closed lips.
“Hmmm. You certainly keep things fresh kid. Whoever you are, can you hear me?” A ghostly outline came out from Fr. Tim’s body. His spectral form, or spectralem, paced around the cot with his hand stroking its ghostly beard. As he leaned over to examine the void spaces on the boy’s face, a crackling hiss erupted out from the spiraling void as intense flames spewed forth.
The bright yellow flames seemed particularly out of place in the otherwise monochromatic space. A blue shield of luminescent gas materialized in front of Tim. As the blaze and shield collided, the shield proved stronger and parted the heat to either side.
“Impressive Soul Fire, but it will take far more than that to repel me.” The words issued from Tim’s spectralem were carried in visible golden sound waves.
“How about this, how many of you are there?” As he continued the waves grew more golden and illustrious.
“How can you still resist? αποκαλύπτω!” White lights beamed down from the spectralem’s hands. The light bore through the darkness causing the boy’s body to shudder.
“αποκαλύπτω!” The rays redoubled down on the boy. Suddenly the sound of metal scraping metal grated through the room. “αποκαλύπτω!” Tim’s actual chest heaved for respite. Dark metallic chains began to rip through the boy's flesh.
Surprised, Father Tim noted it wasn’t really the boy’s flesh. Rather he managed a spectralem directly around his unconscious body. The spectralem was clearly being damaged by the chains as they emerged. The chain itself was also peculiar. It was made from alternating triangular and circular links. Further, it wrapped around the boy in bazar spiraling formations.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“A gentler touch then.” Tim’s spectalem began to glow blue, and he reached for the chains over the boy’s pelvis. The brand mark on the boy’s body seemed to be the location that the chains crossed over the most. Gentile pulling on the chains excised a lock from the child.
Horror immediately crossed Tim’s face. It wasn’t something “alive,” it was far worse. He had expected some portion of a soul, perhaps even a complete one, to have possessed the child. Possibly even some soul and spell wards imbued directly into his flesh. The lock was far worse.
“Anima vasa,” squeaked Tim. His voice no longer rode golden waves of power. Anima vasa were soul machines. Some were simple, others complex, but they were universally dreadful. It required not only the death of innocents, but rended a soul from the body and shattered its will so that it can be bound to a material object. The number of souls required for any given result varied. To make an item persist solely in the spiritual world, to convert all the physical matter to spiritual energy and matter, certainly required a great deal of soul power.
Tim calmed himself, and began to mediate.
‘I suppose I’ve never tried to pick a soul lock, but maybe it’s similar to picking the real thing? … Too bad I don’t know how to pick a real lock ether.’
Tim let loose a self-deprecating chuckle and held lock in his spectral hands.
“Let’s see if you can’t be drilled.” A bright green light spiraled off his index and middle fingers and began to spin rapidly. Screeches filled the room. Arcs of light and darkness spun around each other. Every corner of the room echoed with wailing. The meeting of a ‘soul drill,’ Tim wasn’t quite sure if that was what he was going to call this new technique, and a 'soul lock' was not pretty. It was dreadful.
Every muscle in Tim’s body wanted to stop. To disengage and run away. Still he persisted. In a final chorus of crying children, the lock cracked open. Tim immediately stopped drilling. The cries died down to a low pleading. He gingerly removed the lock from the chains, and unwrapped the child’s body.
In the end it must have been at least 20m of chain. ‘What can I do with all this? It weighs at least 100kg.’ Tim scanned the room thinking, then fixed on Audodatus’s Bowl. It was one of the few objects in the Abby made of both physical and spiritual material—that, of course, being the purview of living beings.
Tim slung the length of the chain over his spectralem’s shoulder, and trudged over to the bowl. He carefully loaded the chain in the bowl while trying to compress its size. Exhausted, having barely finished the task, he fell back into his material body.
“Damn. I was about to yank you.”
“Remind me to get some locks—“ Tim wanted to continue, but simply lacked the energy. He slumped over Caloner, unable to even keep his eyes open.
“Ha! You two make quite the happy couple,” teased Brother Yu.
He knew Tim hadn’t lost consciousness, but was rather in a temporary state of exhaustion that boarded paralysis. Fr. Tim somehow managed a quarter of a simile, then Audodatus’s Bowl began to fall from the shelf towards Yu. When the bowl was just above Yu's head, the boy sprung up and grabbed it.
“My boy that’s quite some speed you have.”
“Who are you, and where’s my dad?”
“I’m Brother Yu, and you?”
“What about my dad?”
"I don't know you,
Nor him."
"Dad..."
The boy began to weep, and Yu moved to comfort him. As Yu’s hands touched the boy, the child jumped and drew back.
“There, there, you’ve been through a lot. Why don’t I start?” Yu stopped reaching for the boy, and instead took the bowl the child was clutching.
“You’re in the Bydian Abby of Ilići. When we—“
“Wh-wha-what’s a’ ab’h bee?” The boy asked between sobs.
Yu’s heart broke a little. Clearly this child was more sheltered and ignorant than he thought. His innocence made the anima vasa seem all the more sinister. He had hoped that the boy was only a child in appearance, that perhaps he had the mind of a sinister warlock, body thief, or some other criminal that would justify such treatment.
‘No,’ Yu thought, ‘even a murdering rapist doesn’t deserve this.’ Yu didn’t subscribe to system of justice where an eye would be taken for eye. In his experience, an eye for an eye leaves many resentful one-eyed cripples. Expanding the art of healing brought Yu joy, but his greatest sense of duty came from his position, the Bydian office of “Barer of the Peace.” This office left him with broad powers of negation and judication in countries that accepted the Church’s Law.
“An abby is place were religious people live together and work. In our case, we run a regional hospital, and we are all monks or priests in the Order of Saint Byde.”
“Who is St. Byde?” The boy’s curiosity was briefly taking over his grief.
“Ho, ho! Aren’t you the little inquisitor? Why don’t we talk about that a little later? As I was saying, we found you alone, just outside The Sukkot Woods, along the Royal Highway. You were in pretty bad shape then, so we healed you and brought you to the Abby to finish treatment.”
“Ahhh I just wa’ want to go home…sniff..sniff…ahhh”
Yu reached out to the child again, but stopped himself. He instead looked down at Fr. Tim. Tim had been watching the exchange silently in his exhaustion. When their eye’s met, Tim looked at Yu with an annoyed and expectant expression.
“Eh… Fine.” Yu extended a hand down to Tim’s head and grunted. Green and white lights swirled down Yu’s arm and enveloped Father Tim. At this sight the boy began to tremble violently.
“γαλήνη,” Tim chanted. At once the child became still. The crying ceased, and a quarter of a smile crept onto his face.
“I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Agreed,” nodded Tim, “but at the moment I think mind magic is more humane. This is my field of expertise remember? I didn’t stand over you when you reattached his foot.” Tim got up from the floor and squatted down to be eye level with the boy. At this, Brother Yu just grunted and turned to attend Caloner.
Br. Caloner was in a poor state. He had actually passed out, and his collision with the stone floor could hardly be called gentle. Yu rolled him to a supine position, leaving one hand on Caloner’s shoulder and extending the other to his knee. Soon a gentile emerald light surrounded Yu and Caloner.
“My name is Father Tim Castos, but you can call me Fr. Tim. Can you tell me your name?”
The boy tilted his head slightly to the side as if considering a profound question. “This one’s cage brothers called him Cree.”
Sorrow crossed Tim’s and Yu’s face yet again. ‘What does he mean by “cage brothers,” they both thought.’ “How about your dad? What did he call you?”
A tear managed to cross the child’s tranquil face. “Champ, little bear, bud, my boy… him.”
“Him? When he called you `him,` what else was he saying?”
“No, no, no you can’t take him,” recited the boy in a deadpan voice.
“Would you like me to call you Cree? If that bothers you, we can come back to your name, dear.”
“Cree is a proud name. Was earned from living past the numbers. Proud of Cree, only a little sad in rememberings.”
“Well Cree, it’s good to meet you. You will be completely safe here. Further we won’t make you stay, but we hope that you be with us until we can find a safe place for you to go. Do you understand? That you are free?”
Terror broke through the child’s face. “Never free. The chains will bind us always. Never escape. Never—“
“γαλήνη!” shouted Tim. Power coursed through the sound as it flew across the room. Even Yu shuttered slightly as the waves of magic and sound passed him.
“Do you feel better Cree?”
“Yes, better,” replied Cree in a sleepy voice.
“I don’t know if I removed all the chains from you, but I removed all the ones I could find. If you stay with us, we will continue to help you. If there are more chains, we will find them. Freedom is available to you now.” Cree didn’t respond, but continued to stand in a daze.
“Are you hungry?” Cree nodded slowly. Tim looked back to Caloner who was sitting quietly at this point.
“Well?” Tim was getting impatient, then an idea dawned on him. “Say I’m a cute little pony.”
“I’m a cute little poney,” recited Cree and Caloner at the same time. At this Yu couldn’t help but start laughing. Yu held his hand up and it shined a brilliant red.
*SMACK* As Yu slapped Caloner, red streaks reverberated across his skull.
“Ow! That really hurt.”
“Your fault you needed it. Go get the boy some milled oats and honeyed milk.” Tim was hesitant to allow Cree dairy products at this point, but decided that his mental state was more important. Yu could always apply more healing as need.
“We’ll bring you some nice food in just a bit. For now, why don’t you lie down while we talk a little more?” Cree complied, and even allowed Yu and Tim to help him under the covers. It was the first time he permitted physical contact since awaking.
“Now, what about your dad? Can you tell me his name?”
“Family called him dad and father. I don’t know much about names.”
“What did other big people call him? Maybe your mom?”
“Moms always called him father, dear, and daddy arounds us. I don’t know what they called him when we weren’t there. The big people called him ᒥᐢᑕᐦᐃ ᒪᐢᑲ”
“Yu did you catch that?”
“Bearly. ‘Mist-ahy-mask-wa’ is my best guess. Never heard a name like that.”
“Do you know where you are from? Does the place where you lived with your dad have a name?”
“The big village! I like it there. It’s the best place in the world. Moms and milk everywhere.”
“Did the milk come from animals or from your mom?”
“You’re silly. All the moms give milk.”
“How about the area around the village? Was it in a big open field, the mountains, near water, or in the forest?”
“I didn’t get to go past where the three streams join, but it was good water. The trees surround everywhere, kept us safe till the Black Wings.”
“Who were the Black Wings?” With decades of experience, Tim hadn’t expected to be left with so many more questions than he started.
“They are takers for the masters. They take from the trees, and deliver to the sands.”
“Yu, are you coming up as empty as I am? I can’t think of any region where forest runs into dessert.”
“Maybe it’s the beach? Mangroves?” Yu was at a loss as well. “I think I’ve heard of a tribe that had communal child rearing that went as far as communal nursing, but I’m not certain. I’d have to do some digging.”
“Was there water near the sands? Did the sands go into water?”
“Water! I’m so thirsty. The sands take all the water, even from your hides. Water is the reward for good behavior. If I’m good, can I have water with my food?”
At this moment Caloner walked in with the meal. “Here we are. Sweetened cracked oats, boiled extra soft, and sweet milk.”
Cree’s eye’s went wide. “You’re not taking it from me? That’s mine?”
“All yours. Eat slowly then get some rest.” Cree complied with Tim’s orders, but the moment milk crossed his lips he began to cry. He kept eating at a slow mechanical pace, tears falling all the while.
“Good, good. Now get some sleep. Κοιμώμαι.”
⁂