“By the grace of the seven, our world has taken shape. By the mercy of the seven, our people have been allowed to prosper. By the will of the seven, the world and its people forever march forward in their path. By their grace, by their mercy, and by their will, we shall give both our thanks and our faith to those above all. By our faith, we praise the Seven Primoridal's.”
~Prayer written inside the official prayer book of the Primordial Church. Established in the year 873 A.S.
Alistair was breathing heavily as he rested amongst the large curled roots of the odd yellowish mangrove tree. His body felt weak and off balance, but he was still successful in grasping the tree bark bowl that had been filled with water that Parsival held towards him.
“We must keep you hydrated Mr. Grant,” His friend encouraged, though the worry in his tone was still obvious, “I am certain we must be nearing civilization soon.”
So far it had been well over a week since they managed to escape the underground facility and its seemingly endless horde of fungal zombies. The tunnel Alistair had made his way through had been much longer than he expected, taking him many hours until he reached an exit. Parsival had later explained to him how the facility had actually been home to tens of thousands of researchers and other employees, so the numbers they witnessed were not too surprising.
Another lesson Alistair was able to learn from his companion was the difference in how time was measured on this world compared to earth. A week in this new world, which Parsival had named Primus, was only six days. This had resulted in an entire discussion of comparison where he also learned that for the people of Primus there were five weeks to a month, and fifteen months to a year. They still measured their days in increments of twenty four, but they called those glasses instead of hours.
The rest of their travels after their escape had been more eventful than what Alistair would have preferred as not all of it was pleasant. For starters the two were unfortunate enough to learn that recalling Parsival’s physical form back to Alistair from a long distance was not a pleasant experience. Not only had the momentum building surge of energy felt like being struck by a point blank flash bang combined with being struck by lightning, they discovered it had worsened his spirit damage. Speaking of which, that was also when Alistair remembered to mention to Parsival he had spirit damage, something the large knight was not pleased at just learning about.
Despite the mild scolding he had received from the knight, the worst of the news came in the realization the damage was progressively getting worse. Alistair had figured something like that was not the best situation to be in, but Parsival then explained how it was much worse than Alistair knew. Turns out if his condition reached a critical point, his very soul would essentially rip itself apart in its desperation to rid itself of a failing body. The result would be him becoming a feral, soulless husk that desired nothing more than to devour anything and everything with life around him like some sort of crazed soul vampire.
Thankfully, he seems to at least have some time before that happens as his condition worsened at roughly one percent per day. Parsival was at least confident they could reach some sort of city by then, but that was easier said than done as the topography of the land had changed drastically. That meant they had no idea where they were heading and had just picked a direction at random and were marching off through the blindingly colorful jungle, forest, swamp biome.
Supplies also proved to be a non issue as Parsival's personal power made hunting trivial, and Alistair’s survival knowledge covered the rest. Nights were spent in temporary shelters the large knight put together under Alistair's guidance and roasting whatever strange animal that was caught over a fire. Parsival was eager to learn as much as Alistair could teach him about surviving amongst the wilderness as he explained he had grown up in a time where such skills were unnecessary to an almost ridiculous degree.
He wasn’t the only one learning either as on their second day traveling he had discovered a hidden pocket within the jacket he wore, which contained an odd disc. It was a strange mixture of what looked like bronze and crystal about the width of his hand and half as thick as a hockey puck. It was intricate in design with an almost steampunk look to it, intricate lines and marking crossing nearly every single inch of it. The markings reminded him of a computer mother board, about a hundred times more detail and compressed down into a small disc.
Parsival had been more than ecstatic when he saw it and was practically vibrating with excitement as he leaned closer to get a better look.
“This is absolutely astounding Mr. Grant!” he exclaimed, joy and excitement practically flooding across their connection.
“As excited as you are I have no doubt,” Alistair responded, giving his friend a raised eyebrow, “But I have no idea what this thing is.”
“This is a memory core Mr. Grant” Parsival said, then after a long moment where Alistair simply stared at him with a raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat, somehow, and continued. “My people used them as a means of both storing and transferring information in the form of visual and audible recordings. With them, we could store decades worth of history and knowledge in even the more simple versions. Not only that but they had been designed with durability in mind to ensure they could stand the test of time, those same simple versions possessing the capability to last centuries and withstand entire palace’s collapsing on them.”
Alistair eyed the disc in his hand with a new sense of appreciation, his imagination already curious about what kind of secrets this one held.
“So it's safe to assume this thing is valuable as well as useful?” he asked his summoned companion.
“More than you could imagine Mr. Grant,” came the reply, “Especially if my assumption is correct and this was the personal memory core of section lead Rykker. If it is indeed, the information would be beyond invaluable to you Mr. Grant as it would more than likely contain all of the research he gathered on his expertise, Runic magic.”
At that declaration, Alistair's interest had only skyrocketed at the idea. The possibility of the small disc he held in his hand containing the secrets to him being able to use magic was so tantalizing that he would say the spirit damage was worth it.
“Well, don’t hold back on me now, how do we crack this thing open?” he asked, looking up at Parsival.
“As I mentioned already Mr. Grant, these were built with durability in mind. Even I would struggle to do any real damage to it, not that I would be willing” He answered, concern clear in his tone.
“It's a figure of speech” Alistair chuckled, shaking his head, “I meant how do we get access to the information?”
“I see,” Parsival answered with a hum. “Accessing them is a simple matter of touching it with a strand of your aether, but I suggest we find our next site of rest before delving into the secrets of who was arguably the empire’s leading expert on runes.” Parsival had said, trying to urge patience into Alistair, who mentally grumbled in response, but relented.
He had wanted to insist Parsival show him how to do it anyways, but he quelled his excitement and gave his friend a nod of acknowledgement. The part of him that had gained an interest in those fantasy stories his buddies insisted he try while recovering practically drooled at the thought of trying to use the disc now. However the more rational part of his mind that had been conditioned by years of military training and live combat preached caution as well as patience. After all, if there was one thing the army had taught him, it was how to wait.
They had found a suitable camp ground a little over an hour, or glass, later. It was nestled comfortably between a dense thicket of trees and a large boulder that jutted out at an angle just enough to provide cover from any possible rain. By then, the giddy part of Alistair's mind had been slowly gnawing its way at his patient side to the point he had found himself constantly glancing down at the disc, something Parsival took notice of.
Soon after, the two were sitting beside a small campfire and had conducted a sort of exchange. Alistair had taught Parsival one of the other ways he knew how to start a fire with no tools other than one's own hands. In return, Parsival took the time to instruct him on how to both feel for one's aether, and how to manipulate it. He had explained that since everyone in the empire was taught this skill at nearly the same age they learned to talk, just about everything they built and designed utilized the skill. So the two had sat there as Alistair was guided on the skills usage, something he soon realized he had done before on accident when he had first summoned Parsival. Now all he had to do was the same process, but instead of directing it to where his friend resided in his chest, it needed to go to the access point on the disc.
It had taken Alistair a moment to figure out what Parsival was talking about, but he found the spot his companion indicated and succeeded in infusing some of his aether into it. When he did, all the intricate lines and symbols lit up near instantly with a faint blue energy and the disc began to hum. Parsival had urged him to place it down on the stone he had set up to act as a small table and Alistair did just that. The glow coming off the disc grew in intensity until motes of light shot off in every direction, stopping when they reached roughly ten feet in every direction.
Within that space, color and shapes had taken form and soon Alistair was staring at a man dressed in the clothes that he himself now wore, leaning against a familiar looking desk. He looked human in appearance with sandy blonde hair flecked with gray, a long-braided beard that was similar in color and hung off his lower face. His eyes were a brilliant yellow however, reminding Alistair of a wolf’s eyes, yet his teeth were as straight and perfect as could be. He was a little taller than Alistair with a narrower frame that carried a sense of balance and agility he could only dream of possessing.
A foreboding feeling practically oozed off the man from the way he was slumped back against the desk and the dark expression on his face. After a short pause he started to speak, and even his tone sounded bleak.
“My name is Darius Rykker; the current Section lead of this facility whose name I am contractually not allowed to speak out loud to any sort of recording device as it technically does not exist.” He spoke, not really looking anywhere specific as he talked, but towards the general direction of the disc.
Something Alistair was able to pick up immediately was this Darius fellow was not speaking English, yet he could understand him perfectly as if he was. That was when Alistair remembered what happened to him in the pod, what felt like forever ago, how the language of the Primelorn’s had essentially been downloaded into his head. Even now he still had no idea how something like that was even possible or how it worked, but the benefits of it were immense.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“As much as it pains me to say, or even admit, my people are doomed.” Darius continued to speak, his mood visibly dropping more upon saying that. “We have become too proud of ourselves and our achievements. We as an empire have become too arrogant in our power, and that arrogance has led us to a war we have no hope of surviving.”
Darius stood up from where he leaned on the desk and started to pace back and forth, continuing to speak.
“With this knowledge in mind, I have taken it upon myself to help ensure that even if the empire falls along with most of her people, that all our knowledge and history shall not be lost to time.” He explained, some of his grim attitude shifting into one of determination. “While I am certain our fall is all but confirmed, my estimations determine we have several years before we feel the true consequences. I am determined to utilize every free moment I possess in those coming years to fill every scrap of space within this memory core. My people have learned far too much to just let it all be lost to time. I care not as to who this knowledge goes too, whether it is found ten years after our fall, or a thousand. My soul shall be content within the garden as long as this is not lost or destroyed.”
Darius looked angry at that last part, as if he was angry at his own people for bringing about this level of destruction, forcing him to take such measures just to keep the memory of their people alive in some way. He relaxed when he talked about his soul being at peace for as long as the core is used for when he rested in something called the garden. He stopped his pacing and turned back towards where the disc originated as if looking directly at it, his posture becoming more rigid and a blank expression coming across his face.
“I have separated my teachings within this memory core to four key topics. Runes, Rituals, Summons and History. You may select a topic at any time.” Darius explained, his voice more monotone.
Parsival had explained to him that it was a unique feature of some of the more advanced versions of the memory cores. It could create a sort of fake version of the person who made it to act as the guide, to assist in navigating the information stored inside. Alistair’s curiosity was nearly bursting, especially when Parsival gave him a brief rundown of each topic. According to him, Runes were the focus of magic and how just about everything magical was done. If someone wanted to use magic in any way, it was done through runes and he suspected that Darius would not only go over the immense variety of runes, but also how to use them.
Rituals were more of an advanced way to utilize runes, as they were complex diagrams that were the combination of dozens or even hundreds of runes all at once to create massive or extremely complex works of magic. He suspected the summons category involved the rituals as some methods of gaining access to unique creatures involved calling them from a different realm of existence through a ritual, that or just creating them from raw magic. He wasn’t sure how in-depth the history topic would be, but had no doubt that Darius would go over a lot of the empire’s history, both the good and bad side.
Every fiber of his being had wanted Alistair to jump straight into the rune category in hopes he could learn how to do magic, but the rational and disciplined side of him gave him a mental slap and turned towards history. He knew deep down he would get to the runes eventually, but he needed to start with the topic that would possibly answer many of his questions about the new world he was in. Even if the information was primarily about an ancient civilization, it was still more information about the world than he possessed. His old First Sergeant in the army would have smacked him into next week if he found out Alistair didn’t prioritize information gathering.
That choice had been a good one, as the massive lore dump he took a dive in kept him up throughout the majority of the night as he listened to the original owner of his clothes. As Parsival had said, the world's name was indeed Primus and was more special than Alistair could almost comprehend. According to everything the Primelorn’s had figured out, Primus was quite literally the first world to harbor life, as well as sentient life. It, and therefore they, were created by powerful cosmic beings they referred to as the Primordials. Beings that were essentially the seven fundamental forces of reality given both will and thought.
According to Darius, the first two that came into existence were called Sha and Sol, the two who were Death and Life. Sometimes they were also referred to as destruction and creation as Sha was described to be the end of all things, while Sol was the beginning of everything. The two to come after them were Chronos and Abysses, with Chronos being the very flow of time and Abysses the endless depths of space. The next two were named Obyn and Pangea with Obyn being everything natural from the forest to the mountains, essentially the world itself. Pangea was the power, the energy that fueled all life and creation from the stars in the sky to the crackling flame of a campfire and the molten core resting at the center of a world.
The final Primordial, and the one some believe to be the only one equal to Sha and Sol, was Aetherius. The being who was magic itself, the force that could allow the simplest of mortals to rise to the levels of power that one would consider godlike. Something that has been done, as according to Darius, actual gods have sprung up from the early mortals that lived on Primus, giving rise to an entire pantheon of gods.
That part of the topic had drawn his attention even more as it all but confirmed the possibility of someone becoming a god. Unfortunately, the subject took a dark turn as it was revealed it was some of those very gods that have put the empire in its current predicament. A handful of the gods had decided they were not happy with the power they had and fully believed they deserved more, so they turned to the only source they knew of that had more power, the Primordials. The handful of gods, now referred to as the dark gods, had attempted to assault the landmark known as the Throne of Obyn. A sacred place in the center of the continent where the Primordial liked to showcase a physical form and observe the world.
The attempt had gone poorly, and not for just the gods involved as the single massive continent that had stretched across the globe had been split into three separate land masses. The destruction had been immense, and according to Darius, had been the spark that had lit the flame of the empire's imminent collapse. Major trade networks were now disrupted, roads gone and aether veins cut off or simply no longer reachable. It was only locations such as the facility he had been residing in that felt very little of the impact due to how self-sufficient they had been designed to be, but they still felt it.
Alistair had finally gone to sleep early in the morning after an in-depth lesson on the many different factions that used to be scattered across the world before eventually being unified into one world spanning empire. He had dreamed of vast cosmic beings looking down upon small figures that were trying to stab them with a toothpick. His head was pounding by the time he woke up, but he was unsure if it was from the information dump, or the spirit damage getting worse. Despite that, he and Parsival had continued with their march through the weird swamp jungle in the hopes they would find a city or town soon.
The next night Alistair gave in to his internal demands and this time he picked the runes topic, wondering how soon he could use magic. If he was lucky, maybe Darius could teach him some runes that would let him heal his own spirit. Same as last time, Darius’s more monotone form blurred before it resolved into him leaning over his desk, tapping it in thought.
“Where to begin?” He said thoughtfully, before shaking his head and finally looking up, “I suppose it would be best for me to assume whoever is watching this has little to no knowledge of runes and explain from the very beginning.” He reached into his desk and pulled a familiar looking wand out of one of the drawers. It was the staff Alistair had been using, Quilectus, but in its smaller wand form.
“To put it bluntly, Runes are the physical manifestation and intent of magic, of Aether. By itself, Aether is simply another form of energy, but an energy that is infused within everything and I mean everything. From the stone at our feet to the air we breathe and the light we use to see, Aether is a part of everything.” Darius explained, the passion he held in the subject obvious in the way the man's eyes lit up speaking about them.
“Runes provide the physical form, and the intent needed in order for aether to do anything but just permeate everything. But with those runes, anything is possible, anything can be accomplished if one has the right runes and enough power to fuel it.” He paused in his explanation as if pondering his next words, “A common question I hear asked is if aether by itself is power, then why do we have to provide the energy for the runes to use? The answer is both simple and complicated. While it is true that aether by itself is energy and power, it is also without direction or form. The runes we use act as a filter of sorts, that both sift through and remove the affinities we don’t want, as well as provide the intent and direction for the aether to take so it knows how to act.”
With a quick flick of the wand in his hand, Darius drew out a glowing orange symbol in the air that resembled curved spikes overlapped with a diagonal slash crossing over them. “Take this rune for example,” He said while gesturing towards it, “This is a rune for a simple flame, a common enough rune but also not the simplest to master. Its entire purpose is to pull in surrounding aether, convert all pure aether into that which has a flame affinity, while filtering out what already has an affinity, then using that to create the actual flame.” He touched the rune with the tip of his wand, which had a moment where it glowed with an intense orange before bursting into a hovering ball of roiling flame roughly the size of a baseball.
Alistair had seen many things in his life that he considered amazing or just plain cool, from tanks obliterating a car to even the famous A-10 warthog completely shredding an enemy line that had pinned them down. Despite all that, the moment he watched that glowing symbol convert itself into a floating ball of fire, there was nothing else he wanted more than to do just that. There was also a strange feeling when Darius had drawn out the rune, a feeling deep inside his very being. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he could already hear the crackle of flame and feel the heat resonating off the rune before Darius finished it.
“As you can see, the rune of flame has transformed into an actual flame upon me infusing some aether into.” Darius spoke, setting the wand back down as he examined the hovering orb himself. “I had to supply the aether myself as it was that energy that provided the so-called spark to trigger the rest of the process. It is no different than one cooking a meal over a fire or even going for a run. It all takes an outside source of energy for the task to be accomplished, and magic is no different. The more complicated the rune, the more power it takes for it to accomplish its task.”
Darius waved his hand, and the ball of fire dissipated into whiffs of smoke that soon faded into the air. He picked up the wand again and began to draw out more runes into the air, these ones looking much simpler in overall design, and once again Alistair had that strange sense as if he could somehow both hear and feel what they were before Darius could explain them.
It was as if each rune held their own resonating note, a note that whispered to him a song of what they were and what they could do. He listened to them all with a level of intensity he normally reserved for the gun range. Darius went on to explain every rune he drew out as well as each of their basic functions.
Unlike his previous night of study session, Alistair maintained a semblance of discipline and had laid down at what he perceived to be an appropriate time to ensure he gained plenty of rest. He needed to keep up this level of discipline considering his body had been growing weaker with each day that passed, and if Alistair wanted to make sure they reached a town while he could still move on his own he needed to take care of himself.
Even with this self vow of selfcare, he still spent every free moment they could listening to the memory core, trying to learn as much as he could from the ancient man. A portion of his intense focus was born from his genuine interest he found in the topics, while the other was the years of training drilled into his very instincts from his time in the army. He could almost hear the voice of his old first sergeant hollering at him to take every advantage he could grab, all while dousing him with a water hose while he did sit-ups in the mud.
After a bit of time Alistair grew comfortable enough to attempt using an actual rune, and if it worked, he would be using honest to God magic. To his utter shock, it actually worked to a degree at least. The rune itself wasn't functional, but the fact he was able to create glowing lines floating in the air peaked his eagerness to keep trying. His eagerness took the form of him practicing every waking moment he could, determination combining with his discipline to create a non stop machine.
His goal was to recreate that first rune of flame that Darius had used as his example, but it proved more difficult than he expected. The trickle of aether he was letting out through the tip of the wand needed to be a level of precision you would think was impossible for anything but a machine. Every hint of a flaw or deviation with either the consistency or purity of the aether would result in a failure. It all had to be perfect, and Alistair couldn't help but mentally compare it to having to re-make bullets with nothing but his fingers.
He brought his mind back to the present as he accepted the makeshift bowl from Parsival and sipped at the water held within. With his thirst satisfied he carefully stood back up, using Quilectus in its cane form for the extra balance.
“With all the shit I've been through and survived, it’s going to take a lot more than some silly broken spirit to keep my ass down.” Alistair stated, while ignoring the wave of vertigo that threatened to topple him over. “Lets find that town, I need a drink.”
