A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

The morning after their second encounter with the strange creature in the forest, Kaelid woke before dawn, his mind racing with excitement. Whatever this creature was, it wasn't the fearsome enemy his uncle had described from the eastern campaigns. It was playful, curious, seemingly as interested in them as they were in it.

He slipped out of bed and found Rannek already waiting outside his house, sitting on the low stone wall that bordered his mother's garden.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, dropping down beside his friend.

Rannek shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "I kept thinking about it, about the slime. I've never seen anything like it."

"Me neither," Kaelid lowered his voice. "And I want to go back. Today, if we can."

They quickly formulated a plan: they would tell their families they were going fishing, catch a few fish at the river bend, then slip away to the clearing. Rannek suggested bringing his mother's kaleidoscope, a beautiful object of polished brass and colored glass that his father had brought back from the capital.

"Perfect," Kaelid felt excitement building in his chest. "We'll bring that, and our sticks for play fighting, and see what happens."

The day crawled by until finally, in the early afternoon, they met at the river bend, fishing poles in hand, a small basket already containing three modest trout they had caught to support their story.

They crossed the river and moved through the forest with greater confidence. The clearing opened before them, the pool at its center glowing even in the full light of day. And there, waiting at its edge, was the slime, its form different from the day before, lower to the ground, spread wider, its surface catching the sunlight and refracting it in patterns.

"It's still here," Rannek whispered. "And it's... changed shape?"

Kaelid nodded. "It looks like it's sunning itself, like a cat stretching out in a warm spot."

As they stepped into the open space, the slime's form pulsed, a ripple passing through its entire body that somehow conveyed recognition. It flowed toward them, its movement so smooth it seemed to glide over the ground.

"Hello again," Kaelid stepped forward. "We came back, like we said we would."

"We brought something to show you," Rannek said, retrieving the kaleidoscope. He knelt, placing it on the ground, then carefully turned it so that sunlight streamed through its viewing end. Patterns of colored light spilled out onto the ground, shifting and changing as Rannek slowly rotated the tube.

The slime's reaction was remarkable. It flowed closer, stretching toward the patterns of light with fascination. It moved over and through the colored projections, its translucent body taking on the hues of the light, becoming a living extension of the kaleidoscope's patterns.

"It likes it!" Kaelid was delighted. "Look how it's changing colors!"

"It's like it's trying to become part of the pattern," Rannek observed, "to understand it by mimicking it."

After a while, the slime seemed to lose interest in the kaleidoscope, flowing back toward the center of the clearing. But instead of returning to the pool, it began to move in the same zigzag motion it had used during their game of tag the previous day.

"I think it wants to play again," Kaelid grinned as he reached for one of the sticks they had brought.

What followed was even more remarkable than their first game. The slime seemed to remember the rules they had established, flowing around and between them, avoiding their sticks with movements that were both playful and precise.

As they played, something extraordinary happened. The air around them vibrated slightly, creating a sound that wasn't quite a voice but wasn't just ambient noise.

"Did you hear that?" Kaelid lowered his stick and looked around in confusion.

Rannek nodded, his eyes wide. "It came from..." He turned slowly toward the slime, which had stopped moving and was now pulsing gently.

The vibration came again, stronger this time, and with it came something that sounded almost like words, distorted but recognizable.

"P-play... good."

They stared at each other in astonishment, then back at the slime.

"Did it just... speak?" Rannek whispered.

The slime pulsed again, and the vibration in the air formed more words. "This one... learns. You... teach."

Kaelid took a tentative step forward, his heart racing. "You can talk? You understand us?"

"Words... difficult. This one... remembers... sounds. Old... memories."

"It must have some way of storing knowledge," Rannek said, fascination replacing shock. "Of remembering things it's heard before."

"Or things others of its kind have heard," Kaelid recalled his uncle's stories. "If these creatures were encountered during the war, maybe they learned our language then."

The slime pulsed. "Core stone... holds... memories. Many cycles... many encounters."

"Core stone?" Kaelid looked more closely at the slime's translucent body. Now he could see something at its center, a small, crystalline structure that glowed with the same shifting light as the pool.

"That must be how it thinks, how it remembers," Rannek said. "Not with a brain like ours, but with that core stone."

The slime pulsed in agreement. "Different... but same. Think. Learn. Remember."

"This is amazing," Kaelid knelt closer. "We never thought you could talk to us."

"Talk... new. Hard. Need... practice."

Rannek's face lit up. "We could teach you! Bring books, show you words and what they mean."

The slime's surface rippled with what seemed like excitement. "Yes. Teach. This one... learns quickly."

"We'll come back tomorrow with a book, something simple, with pictures that show what the words mean."

"Tomorrow," the slime repeated, clearer than before. "This one... waits."

As they prepared to leave, Rannek paused. "We should give you a name. Something better than just 'the slime.'"

The slime pulsed curiously. "Name?"

"Yes, a word that means you, that we use when we talk about you or to you. Like I'm Kaelid, and he's Rannek."

After a moment, the air vibrated again. "This one... has no name. You... choose."

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After considering various possibilities, Kaelid suggested, "What about 'Blob'? It's simple, but it captures the way you change shape."

The slime pulsed, forming a single, clear word: "Blob." It repeated the name. "Blob. Yes. Good name."

"Blob it is, then," Rannek grinned. "Nice to officially meet you, Blob."

"Nice... meet... Rannek. Kaelid."

As they made their way back, Kaelid could barely contain his excitement. "Can you believe it? It can talk! It has memories!"

Rannek nodded, his expression mixed with wonder and concern. "But we have to be even more careful now. If the adults found out about Blob, especially that it can speak..."

"They might be afraid," Kaelid finished. "They might think it's dangerous, like the creatures from the eastern campaigns."

"Exactly. This has to stay our secret, more than ever."

The Slime:

The small rigid ones had departed again, their heat signatures fading as they moved back through the forest. The slime, Blob, it reminded itself, testing the new designation in its consciousness, settled by the pool's edge, processing the interaction.

Communication through air vibration was inefficient compared to the direct exchange of thought-patterns that its kind used among themselves. But it was the only method available with these rigid ones, whose minds were closed, contained within their solid forms.

The slime had not planned to attempt speech. The decision had formed spontaneously during their play, triggered by the growing complexity of concepts it wished to convey, concepts that could not be adequately expressed through movement alone. The core stone at its center had accessed ancient memory-patterns, fragments of sound-meanings preserved from previous encounters with rigid ones, encounters that stretched back through many cycles of existence.

These memories were incomplete, degraded by time and the limitations of transfer between generations. But they contained enough, basic sound-patterns and their associated meanings, rudimentary structures of the rigid ones' communication method. Sufficient to begin, at least.

The attempt had been more successful than anticipated. The rigid ones, Kaelid and Rannek, had understood. More importantly, they had offered to teach, to expand its knowledge of their communication method.

This was valuable. Communication would facilitate more complex exchanges, would allow for questions and explanations that movement alone could not convey. It would bridge the profound differences between their modes of existence.

The slime extended part of itself into the pool, absorbing energy, replenishing what had been expended. The pool's glow pulsed in response, as familiar as existence itself.

But now there was something new, a connection to beings unlike itself. The rigid ones moved inefficiently, yes, but they also moved in ways the slime could not, climbing vertical surfaces with their jointed limbs, manipulating objects with their strange, divided extremities, perceiving the world through specialized sensory organs rather than through their entire being.

Different, but not lesser. Just different.

And now, with the promise of improved communication, there was potential for greater understanding of these differences. The rigid ones would bring a "book," some kind of knowledge-storage device that contained "words" and "pictures." These would help it learn their communication method more effectively.

The slime rippled to itself, thinking.

It would wait. It would prepare. And when the rigid ones returned, it would continue the exchange that had begun so promisingly.

Rannek:

The next day dawned clear and bright, sunlight streaming through his window and waking him earlier than usual. Rannek lay in bed for a moment, then remembered: Blob, the clearing, the extraordinary discovery they had made.

It could talk. The strange, fluid creature from the forest could actually communicate with them through words. The realization sent a thrill of excitement through him, driving away the last vestiges of sleep.

His mother looked up in surprise when he entered the kitchen. "You're in a hurry this morning. What grand adventure awaits?"

He shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just meeting Kaelid. We're going fishing again."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's the third time this week. You've never been so interested in fishing before."

"The trout are running well right now," he said. "And it's good practice. Uncle Doran says a man should know how to feed himself from the land."

His mother's expression softened. "That's true enough. Just be careful by the river, and be back before sunset."

His first stop was his cousin's house, where he borrowed the book they had discussed, a simple children's story about a farmer's year, with clear illustrations for each month. With the book safely tucked into his shirt, he made his way to their meeting spot, finding Kaelid already waiting with fishing poles and a small basket.

"Did you get it?" Kaelid asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

Rannek nodded, patting his chest. "The farmer's year, just like we planned. And you?"

"Three fish already. Enough to make our story believable when we return."

They set off immediately, moving more quickly than before, their earlier caution giving way to eagerness. The clearing was as they had left it, but Blob was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is it?" Rannek felt disappointment creeping into his voice.

As if in response, the surface of the pool rippled, and Blob emerged, rising from the depths in a smooth, fluid motion. It flowed toward them, its form pulsing in greeting.

"Hello, Blob," Kaelid called. "We came back, like we promised."

The air vibrated, and Blob's voice formed words that were clearer than the day before. "Kaelid. Rannek. You... return. Good."

"We brought the book we talked about," Rannek said, pulling it from inside his shirt and kneeling to show it to Blob. The illustration showed a farmer in winter, bundled against the cold.

"This is a farmer," he pointed to the figure. "A person who grows food, plants that we eat."

"Farmer," Blob repeated, clearer than before. "Grows... food."

"And this is winter," Kaelid pointed to the snow, the bare trees, the gray sky. "It's the cold time of year, when plants don't grow and animals are harder to find."

"Winter. Cold time. No growth."

They continued through the book, explaining each illustration, defining new words, answering Blob's increasingly complex questions. Its progress was remarkable; by the middle of the book, its speech had become noticeably more fluid.

"How do you learn so quickly?" Rannek asked.

Blob pulsed thoughtfully. "Core stone... processes... information. Connects new... with old. Finds patterns. Patterns are... everything."

"Your core stone is like our brain," Kaelid suggested. "The part of us that thinks and remembers."

"Similar. But different. Your brains... fixed. Limited by... physical structure. Core stone... fluid. Adapts. Changes connections... as needed."

This was a level of conversation neither boy had expected to achieve so quickly. They were discussing abstract concepts with a being utterly unlike themselves.

"Can you tell us more about yourself?" Rannek asked. "Where you came from, how long you've been here?"

"This one... formed here. By pool. Many cycles ago. Time measure... different for us. Not like your... days and years."

"You were born here?" Kaelid clarified. "From the pool?"

"Not born. Formed. From... essence of others. Core stone... carries memories. Knowledge. Identity." Blob paused. "This one is... new and old. Individual and... collective."

"You mean you have memories from others of your kind?" Rannek asked. "From before you existed?"

"Yes. Not complete. Fragments. Impressions. Enough to... recognize your kind. To know your... speech sounds. To remember... danger and safety."

"The war," Kaelid said quietly. "The eastern campaigns. You remember those?"

Blob's surface rippled with what might have been discomfort. "Not directly. Echoes only. Fear. Pain. Dissolution. But also... curiosity. Wonder. First contact."

"Not all humans wanted to hurt your kind," Rannek felt a strange need to defend his species. "Some probably wanted to understand, to learn, like we do."

"Yes," Blob agreed, its voice gentler. "Some did. Some... tried to protect. To communicate. But fear... stronger than curiosity. For most."

"That's why we need to keep you a secret," Kaelid said. "Because there are still people who would be afraid, who wouldn't try to understand."

"This one... understands. Secrecy... protects all."

The conversation gradually returned to lighter topics. They spent hours talking, sharing, building a bridge of understanding between their profoundly different forms of existence.

As the afternoon began to wane, Rannek felt a reluctance to leave. "We have to go, but we'll come back tomorrow, if we can."

"Tomorrow," Blob repeated, the word now perfectly clear. "This one will wait. Will practice words. Will be ready."

"Is there anything you want us to bring?" Kaelid asked. "Besides more books?"

"Information. About your village. Your people. Your ways. This one... wants to understand."

As they made their way back through the forest, Rannek found himself thinking about Blob's words, about the fragments of memory it carried from its kind's previous encounters with humans.

"We're doing something important," he said suddenly. "Not just for us, but maybe for everyone. Learning about Blob, teaching it about us, we're proving that different kinds of beings can communicate, can understand each other."

Kaelid nodded thoughtfully. "I've been thinking the same thing. If Blob's kind and humans fought during the war, maybe it was because neither side really understood the other. But we're changing that, even if it's just in this small way, with this one slime."

"One connection at a time," Rannek said softly. "That's how understanding grows."

They crossed the river as the sun began its descent, their fishing poles and basket of fish maintaining their cover story. But the truth of what they were doing, of the bridge they were building between worlds, felt more significant with each passing day.

It wasn't just an adventure anymore. It was becoming something more profound, a friendship that transcended the boundaries of species, of form, of the very nature of consciousness itself.

And as they parted ways at the edge of the village, Rannek knew with absolute certainty that their lives had been changed forever by the strange, fluid being waiting for them in the forest clearing, the being they had named Blob, but who was becoming so much more than a simple name could ever capture.