A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid :

Sleep refused to come. He lay in his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling beams as moonlight filtered through the small window, casting strange patterns across the worn wood. Three days had passed since his uncle had dragged him and Rannek away from the clearing, three days of stern warnings and watchful eyes. Doran had spoken to his mother at length, their voices low but intense, and afterward she had made him promise not to venture near the eastern forest again.

As he lay awake, he remembered fragments of conversation he had overheard between his uncle and mother. Something about "ancient warnings" and "dangerous beings" that lurked in the forest's depths. Yet, instead of deterring him, these whispers only fueled his curiosity further.

The creature, the slime, as his uncle had called it, hadn't been threatening. It had just watched them, moved toward them with what seemed like curiosity rather than aggression. That brief connection had changed him, leaving a persistent warmth in his chest whenever he thought of the pool and its inhabitant.

Morning came too slowly. When chores were finally complete, he slipped away to find Rannek. They met at their usual spot by the river, beneath the willow tree.

"We have to go back," he said without preamble, his voice low but urgent.

Rannek looked at him incredulously. "Are you mad? Your uncle would skin us alive, and that's if the slime doesn't get us first."

"It won't hurt us," he said as he was pacing along the riverbank. "If it wanted to, it could have done it when we first found it. But it didn't. It was just looking at us, like it was curious."

"Even if you're right, how would we get back there? They're watching us all the time now."

He had thought about this problem all night. "We go during the village council meeting," he said. "It's tonight. Everyone will be at the gathering hall, including my mother and uncle. We can cross downstream where the river narrows, circle back through the forest, and be at the clearing before anyone notices we're gone."

"And if we're caught?"

He hesitated. The consequences would be severe, punishment certainly, and worse, the disappointment in his mother's eyes, the betrayal of trust. But against that was the pull of the unknown, the need to see the strange creature again.

"We won't be," he said with more confidence than he felt. "We'll be quick. Just a look, that's all."

Rannek was silent for a long moment, weighing the risk against his own curiosity. Finally, he nodded. "Just a look," he agreed. "And we're back before the meeting ends."

The day crawled by. By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, he was nearly vibrating with anticipation.

He slipped away from home as his mother prepared to leave for the council meeting, mumbling something about visiting Rannek, a half-truth that tasted bitter on his tongue. The guilt of deception was a new feeling, uncomfortable and sharp, but not enough to turn him from his course.

Rannek was waiting at their meeting spot, a small lantern clutched in his hand. Together, they made their way downstream, crossing on stepping stones that barely broke the surface of the rushing water. On the eastern bank, they paused, looking back at the village one last time before plunging into the forest's embrace.

"Do you think it's still there?" Rannek whispered as they walked.

"Yes," Kaelid said simply, that same inexplicable certainty guiding him forward. "It's waiting."

The Slime:

Cold seeped into the slime's outermost edges, leaching warmth into the pool below. It withdrew, condensing, the time of frost not yet enveloped by the growing season's warmth. The wind's passage through leaves created ripples of displacement that the slime felt rather than heard, a complex pattern of pressure and release that carried information about the world beyond its immediate surroundings.

And now, new movements approached. Familiar movements.

The slime shifted, extending part of itself toward the edge of the clearing where the rigid ones would emerge. It could hide, could sink back into the pool and wait for them to leave. That would be the cautious choice, the safe choice. The memories of the larger rigid ones with their heat-sticks and their destructive intent suggested caution.

Two of them.

The smaller one (less mass, erratic thermal bloom, like a sparrow trapped in sap) led, its steps lighter but uneven, left foot dragging, disrupting the leaf-litter's rhythm. The larger one trailed, radiating low, steady heat (a boulder soaking in sunlight).

Decision made, the slime flowed fully out of the pool, its form coalescing into a simple rounded shape that would be visible in the clearing's dim light. Not to communicate or mimic, but simply to be observed, to continue the interaction that had begun with their first encounter.

In this moment of anticipation, the slime sensed something more profound than mere curiosity. There was a connection forming, a bridge between two fundamentally different forms of existence.

Kaelid:

The clearing opened before them suddenly, the dense forest giving way to open space with a transition so abrupt it felt like stepping from one world into another. He froze at the edge, Rannek bumping into him from behind, both boys staring at the scene before them.

The pool glowed just as it had before, its surface mirror-smooth, reflecting the darkening sky above. Sunset painted the clearing in amber and gold, casting long shadows from the surrounding trees that stretched like fingers across the ground.

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But it wasn't the pool or the peculiar atmosphere that held their attention. It was the figure waiting beside it.

The slime had changed. No longer the amorphous blob that had risen from the depths, it now sat, if sitting was the right word, in a roughly rounded shape that caught the pool's light and seemed to pulse with a gentle inner glow. Its surface rippled continuously, colors shifting beneath its translucent exterior, blues and greens and occasional flashes of something brighter, something that reminded him of lightning seen from a distance.

"It's waiting for us," he whispered, a thrill of excitement mixed with fear coursing through him. He moved slowly into the clearing, Rannek hanging back near the trees.

"Hello," he called softly when he was halfway across the clearing. "We came back."

The slime's form pulsed once, a ripple passing through its entire body like a wave breaking against the shore. Then, slowly, it began to move, not directly toward them, but in a curious pattern across the ground, leaving a faint, glistening trail behind it like a snail's silvery path.

"It's showing us something," he said, crouching to get a better view. The patterns reminded him of the diagrams in his mother's astronomy book, depicting celestial bodies in their orbits.

Acting on pure instinct, he mimicked the slime's pulsing motion with his hands. To his delight, the slime's pulsing changed, matching his rhythm instead of the other way around. It was responding to him, communicating in the most basic way possible, through movement, through mimicry.

"It's copying me!" he exclaimed, turning to Rannek with a joyful grin. "Look!" He sped up the rhythm of his hands, and the slime matched him perfectly. He slowed down, and it slowed too, maintaining the connection between them.

They continued this strange, wordless conversation, a dance between species that transcended language. Rannek, his fear replaced by curiosity, joined in. He swept his arms as if they were wings; the slime rippled, forming a rough approximation of wings before flowing back to its original shape. The boys laughed, realizing this wasn't a fearsome monster but something playful and curious, eager to communicate.

"Let me try," Rannek said, stepping forward to stand beside him. He raised his arms and made a sweeping motion, like a bird in flight, his movements more confident now that the slime had shown no aggression.

The slime paused, its surface stilling momentarily as if considering this new input. Then, to their astonishment, it stretched upward and outward, forming a rough approximation of wings before flowing back into its rounded shape. The imitation wasn't perfect, but it was recognizable, intentional.

"I wonder what else it can do," he mused, reaching for a stick that lay on the ground nearby. "Let's see if it can play fight with us."

Rannek grinned, picking up another stick. The tension had drained from his body, replaced by the familiar excitement of play. "Like Kairnleid and his mighty sword?" he asked, referencing their favorite hero from the village stories.

They began to spar lightly, sticks clacking together in the familiar rhythm of their play battles. The slime watched, its form pulsing with what might have been interest or confusion at this new behavior.

Then, as he swung his stick in a wide arc that passed near the slime, something remarkable happened. The slime flowed sideways, avoiding the stick with a quick, fluid motion that seemed almost playful. It didn't retreat in fear or advance in aggression, it simply moved out of the way, as if understanding the rules of their game without being told.

"Did you see that?" His eyes were wide with excitement. "It dodged me!"

Rannek nodded, equally amazed. "Do it again. See if it was just coincidence."

He swung again, more deliberately this time, aiming near but not at the slime. Again, it flowed aside, avoiding the stick with a motion that seemed too precise to be random. There was intelligence in the movement, purpose, an understanding of the interaction that went beyond simple stimulus and response.

"It's playing with us," Delight was bubbling up inside him like a spring. "It understands the game!"

What followed was unlike any play fight they had ever experienced. The slime became a third participant in their mock battle, flowing around and between them, avoiding their sticks with movements that grew increasingly complex and unpredictable. Sometimes it would flatten itself almost to the thinness of a leaf, letting their sticks pass harmlessly overhead. Other times it would split briefly into two distinct forms before rejoining, confusing their aim and making them laugh with surprise.

At one point, the slime extended a small tendril of itself and lightly tapped him on the leg as he swung past, then quickly flowed away before he could react. The touch was cool and strange, but not unpleasant, like dipping a finger into a cold mountain stream.

"It tagged me!" he laughed, flopping dramatically to the ground "dead" from the mortal wound, before jumping up to try and tap it back. But it was too quick, zig-zagging across the clearing in a pattern that seemed almost teasing, almost challenging.

Rannek joined the chase, both boys now trying to gently tap the slime with their sticks while it evaded them with movements that seemed increasingly deliberate, increasingly playful. The game evolved into a strange mixture of tag and swordplay, with no rules, winners, or losers, just the pure joy of play across the boundaries of their profoundly different forms of life.

He found himself moving differently as the game progressed, his body adapting to the slime's fluid style, his movements becoming more flowing, more continuous. He noticed Rannek doing the same, the older boy's usually direct, forceful style softening into something more responsive, more aware of the space around him.

They were learning from the slime, just as it seemed to be learning from them. Not through words or formal instruction, but through the most basic form of communication, shared movement, shared experience, the give and take of physical interaction.

Time lost all meaning as they continued their game, the clearing filled with the sounds of laughter and the soft, barely audible swish of the slime's movement across the ground. The sky darkened above them, stars appearing one by one, but none of them noticed, not the boys lost in the wonder of their discovery, not the slime engaged in this new and fascinating interaction.

It was Rannek who finally remembered the passage of time, glancing up at the night sky with a sudden expression of alarm. "Kaelid," he said urgently, "the council meeting. It must be nearly over by now. We have to get back!"

Reality crashed back with jarring force. Looking up and seeing how dark it had grown he realized they had spent far longer in the clearing than they had intended.

"We have to go," he said, turning to the slime with genuine regret. "But we'll come back. Soon."

The slime's form pulsed once before flowing back toward the pool. Had it understood? Was it disappointed? Or was it simply returning to its usual state now that they were leaving?

As they hurried back through the forest, retracing their steps with far less caution than their approach, his mind was filled with images of their strange playmate, mimicking them, engaging with them, seeming to enjoy their company.

"That was amazing," Rannek said as they neared the river crossing. "It's not dangerous at all. It's fun."

"We'll go back tomorrow," he decided, unable to contain his grin despite the risk of punishment that still loomed if they were caught.

"Do you think it gets lonely out there? All by itself in that clearing?" Rannek asked as they crossed the stream.

The question caught him by surprise. He hadn't thought of the slime as capable of loneliness, of emotional states that mirrored human ones. But there had been something in the way it had engaged with them, something eager, something that suggested it valued their interaction as much as they had.

"Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why it played with us. Because it wanted company."

They crossed the river, the lights of the village visible through the trees. People were returning from the council meeting, their lanterns glowing in the darkness, smoke rising from chimneys into the night air.

At the commons, breathless and grinning, he looked back toward the forest, toward the glowing pool and its remarkable resident. He knew this was just the beginning; the strange, fluid being had more to show them, more to teach them. He couldn't wait to discover what those things might be.