A Chronicle of Lies-Book 1- The Dark Sculptor (High Fantasy/Isekai)

"Are you certain?” Thal'rin asked, resting his snout atop his folded palms.

I am. Kirlon projected, the two storms we have been observing changed direction. They head toward Meldohv, though they are slow of speed. Fourteen days.”

“Fourteen days?” Saleed repeated.

“That is how long it will take for them to reach Meldohv if their speed remains the same. However, three new clouds have been spotted, one following another in quick succession. These caught our interest. They do not coast as the others do. They seem to be 'certain' of their destination, also Meldohv. Therefore, it is possible that their direction has been unchanged from the moment of their conception. Assuming that the origin of the storms could be deduced from this information, the zerok who scouted them split into two flocks, one to follow the storms, the other to trace their origin.

“And the origin has been found?” Luin Orth asked, his hands gripping the table.

Yes. Kirlon took a moment to rub at his eyes with the backs of his talons. They were still irritated by Vincent's attack. We have been unable to confirm because the region has been changed. It is cold. Very cold. The land surrounding the origin is covered in a white powder. It is painful to touch. Yet it turned or 'melted' into water when we held it.

“Snow?” Argyle asked.

Yes.

Thal'rin raised a brow. He only encountered it once. Snow was an exceedingly rare phenomenon. Rarely did the climate get cold enough to produce such a thing. It would make navigation tricky.

We believe the origin to be Crefield. But we cannot fly close enough to confirm it. The emanations harm our sight. But it is surrounded by storms, constantly.

“Crefield?” Trill muttered. It was a curious origin indeed. There was nothing significant about Crefield except for the fact that it was a small village built on the ruins of a larger city.

Informed by Kirlon's input, Saleed and Luin plotted the storms' trajectories on the map, using dark stone discs to represent the storms themselves. The three coming from Crefield would pass over several small towns. It would be easier for those villages to evacuate until the storms passed. Whether there would be homes to return to was uncertain. The virulence that accompanied each storm was inconsistent. The storms could range from being mere gusts to outright eviscerating the land. Whether or not they produced stormspawn was also uncertain. The other two systems were more dire. One was currently passing over large swaths of farmland. The other...

“Do you have a chain near Kalis?” Saleed asked Kirlon, referring to the formations zerok used to relay messages across distances. One zerok could pass a message along to another in the chain at incredible speeds. Kalis was being hit by the other storm as they spoke. It was a fairly large city with a population of at least two thousand. Kirlon looked up before giving an answer.

We do. But it will be a while before we know their fate.

Zerok to zerok communication was fast, but there would be a delay. If only the reticulum reached that region, he would risk authorizing its use. He wanted to know what was happening. For all the power he had been gifted, he was useless to those people. Though Kalis was within Trill's domain, Thal'rin felt irrationally responsible for their protection. He should be there, protecting them. While the tactical situation was being discussed, Kirlon beamed a message to him.

This is not a coincidence. They are after him. You know this.

“I know,” Thal'rin muttered. Then he addressed Trill. “How are your people preparing for this?”

“Our aluntai are crafting more storm wards and are sending them out to the largest cities. Where we don't have wards, we are telling the citizens to board up their homes, tailors to sew canopies for swift deployment so cattle can be shielded. We are also digging additional drainage ditches to redirect the rainwater away from the shelters. We tell our citizens to stow water reserves and seal them. It is our belief that the storms’ water is responsible for the corruption.”

“This is problematic...” Thal'rin muttered, “if this is true, then what happens when it is absorbed into the ground? What happens to the towns' wells and what happens when beasts eat plants that are fed by this tainted water? Or if they splash through the runoff? Why are we not seeing more stormspawn?”

“We don’t know,” Trill said, “our channelers say the malignance remains for half a day after a storm's passage, but nobody has witnessed a creature 'turn' outside of the storms' veil, even after drinking or stepping in its waters.”

We need more channelers, Thal'rin thought.

But if one was born without the sight, the process of awakening it was long, painful, and trying. Few attempted it, fewer went through with it. Those that did, made themselves vulnerable to horrors and beauty that remained hidden from the rest of the world. Furthermore, they invited distrust and scrutiny throughout the continent. Mid-Admoran was a haven for channelers, but the rest of the continent...not so much. A friend of his, also a gloweye, once asked in distress: "Why would anybody choose this?"

This is why. Thal'rin thought. They needed more eyes. But few chose this burden.

“Our storm wall did not stop the storm from assailing us,” Luin reminded them, looking up from the map.

“But they do have an impact on the rain,” Trill said.

The conversation shifted. They discussed plans to prepare for refugees. Aid was being sent out to the villages that have been affected by the storms. But it wasn’t enough. Entire towns were being destroyed within a day, devoured by the spawn left behind by the storms’ touch. Saleed, Luin, and several other strategists ruminated over how best to handle this calamity.

There was still no word from Jalhara, not even an utterance from across the Skein. Their silence, though not uncharacteristic for the nation, was unnerving. It has been confirmed that the storms crossed over the tangle of interstice threads that marked the Skein’s border, but not a single word from Jalhara itself. There was far too much ambiguity in their quietude. Even the Jalharen zerok refused to speak with their brethren.

Perhaps they are being devastated and don’t want to admit it,

Thal’rin pondered, or perhaps they are waiting to see how we react to this threat.

Though the peace treaty was still being upheld, it was agreed that all the militia of the three Syredels should not disperse too much, in case the Gyanyu wished to launch an attack. Thal’rin knew that Jalhara has not been sitting idle since the last war. They have been growing their militia, creating armies vast enough to darken the land and skies. But now the flow of information, or rather the trickle, has come to a stop. Jalhara has gone mute and nobody liked it one bit. It had to be assumed that though her voice was silent, the Gyanyu was watching...waiting.

Without warning, Kirlon shifted on the beam and gazed into the distance, his pose stiffened. His feather bristled at the news he was receiving.

“What is it?” Trill asked. There were knives in her throat. The eye in Kirlon’s gullet looked down at them.

Kalis is overrun. It is being consumed.

“By what?!” Trill hissed.

Pestilence. The storm has turned the insects. Their defense is moot. Those that wield fireglass are able to fend them off, but they are few in number. The rest of the soldiers are falling to the ground because the insects that are attacking them are burrowing into their flesh.

Thal'rin felt a chill on his neck as he glowered at the map in front of him, at the black disk covering Kalis. In his mind, he saw families taking shelter in their homes, covering up their windows in a fruitless effort to stop thousands of legs from scurrying through the cracks. He saw warriors thrashing on the ground trying in vain to escape the countless pincers and stinging things that wriggled their way past the plates in the armor. They were prepared for beasts, not parasites. Trill and her commander clenched their jaws and gripped the table.

I am sorry. There may be survivors when this is over, but it is chaos.

“Weaverfire...” Trill's voice quaked.

“The path forward is obvious,” Saleed said, “we send a convoy to Crefield, the best soldiers we have. A swift force formed of our most capable, specialized fighters. Find out what our enemy is and stop it.” There was eagerness in his eyes. As head of the Shandan, he was burning with the desire to put an end to these gales, to take the fight to this unknown enemy. It’s one thing for a village to be destroyed. Kalis was not a village. It is a fortress city with its own militia. Now it’s being eaten alive. Luin stood beside Saleed, sharing the same look.

“I am in agreement,” Thal'rin said, “we cannot adapt quickly enough to these kinds of attacks. Saleed, work with Luin and coordinate an expedition.”

Gullreach will lend their wings. Kirlon projected.

“Thank you, Kirlon and thank you, Nextriix.” Though the mother of Gullreach was not physically present, Thal'rin knew a chain connected Meldohv to Gullreach and Kirlon was in communication with her.

Gangen also offers aid and regrets he had to depart.

Thal'rin nodded. If only there weren’t an ocean between us and Rydic Syredel’s troops.

“What is The La'ark doing?” Saleed asked Luin as he sketched a path from Meldohv to Crefield. Thal'rin watched as the path he plotted took them right through The Stillwater. That would be dangerous. But The Stillwater’s domain was expansive. It would take days to go around it.

“Nothing important,” Luin said, “I will send word to her. You want her to lead the expedition?”

“Indeed. But we cannot wait for her to return to Meldohv, so what I am thinking...have her rendezvous–”

Thal'rin got up and walked around the room to stretch his wings and legs. Trill watched him and did the same. She was young for a Diac of a Syredel, but lines sculpted her face with experience. Nevertheless, she was shaken and rightfully so. He thought he saw a familiar look in her eyes.

“I am sorry...Thal'rin,” she said, “I must return to Sinyu. I will send troops to your aid.”

“I would welcome them, but I ask that you wait,” he said, “you may need them more than Meldohv does.”

She seemed to understand the unspoken implication: If the stormspawn came to Meldohv's doorstep, he alone would probably be more than enough to stop them. It was a suggestion that sounded like pride and conceit to his own ears, but he knew it was true. He simply did not like to admit the power he was granted. It frightened him.

“Yes...I suppose we will,” Trill said.

She bid the rest farewell and left. Thal'rin took a seat and contemplated what to do next. If the storms were pursuing Vincent, then they would keep coming for Meldohv. Even with Sincalindre at his side, the High Channeler was still a mortal man. He needed sleep and he needed to eat. Perhaps he could take a battering for a time, but what happens when he needed to satisfy the needs every aging creature abided by? Would Meldohv's defenses be enough?

And the expedition, what would they do if they are caught in these storms with nowhere to go? He wished he could go with him. Meldohv had a large militia that was more than capable of defending the city. But the lore they were dealing with, lore capable of turning insects, was not conventional. How would a militia defend against that? Thal’rin had to stay.

“I need your counsel. Both of you.” he said to Luin and Saleed.

“Thal'rin?” Saleed said.

“Do you remember what Vincent said to me the other night?”

“His offer of aid?” Luin scoffed, “his ‘vision’?”

“He still maintains this offer. If he is willing to accompany the expedition, do you think it would be wise to allow him?”

“Thal’rin, do you actually believe his story?”

“Let’s say I’m skeptical.” It was clear Vincent was hiding something. “His change of heart is too sudden.”

“And it would be too early to use the thumahl on him again and make him tell the truth,” Luin said.

“Yes, it would be too risky,” Thal’rin said.

Though Vincent did not show any adverse effects from wearing the bracers, it was always dangerous to wear them a second time within such a short period. The lore within delved straight into the mind. One could wear the thumahl and feel no different other than a compulsion to tell the truth. But that same person could put them back on a second time and go straight into convulsions.

Saleed bored holes into the table with his eyes. “If he can truly dispel the storms, then the answer is obvious. We would take him. Even if he is a fraud, we can use him to lure the storms away from the villages, since it is clear he is their target now.”

But do we have that right, Thal'rin thought, to send him off and put him in harm’s way?

“I don’t like it,” Luin said, “we know nothing at all about him or his captor.”

“I said the same thing to him,” Thal’rin mused.

“I overheard some tuhli talking about a hypothesis. Their conversation stuck with me.” Luin paused, then he scoffed at himself.

“What is it?” Thal’rin asked.

“Nothing. It’s a silly thing.”

“I want to hear it.”

“What if he is a living weapon?” Luin said.

“A living weapon?” Saleed repeated.

“Instead of using a conventional weapon, the entity responsible for Cordell’s abduction turned him into a living weapon, a being imbued with powers meant to act as a champion for darker forces. What if Cordell’s abductor and the one responsible for the storms are enemies? Perhaps that is the reason the storms are seeking him.”

“And so we are caught in the crossfire between these two forces?” Thal’rin asked. “I would like to hear more about this hypothesis later on. I must ask the obvious question: why would Vincent’s captor use him as a weapon? Why not directly attack the storm entity itself?”

“I don’t know,” Luin admitted, “it is just conjecture. If he does come from another realm, he may be immune to some of the laws of our realm. He is immune to the Bane, for example. There may be other axioms he defies. He may be able to do things that his captor cannot do.”

“Guesswork,” Thal’rin sighed, “I’m afraid that’s all this is, Luin.”

“Either way,” Luin continued, “he has already demonstrated that he can be dangerous, whether he wills it or not. But this is beside the point. I don't believe he is fit for the journey. Twice I have met him and have seen that he is petulant, undisciplined, his rack is uncapped and his mind is fragile. He would slow the expedition down at the very least. And if he has been endowed with more 'talents', then he could be a threat to them.”

“And so, we will need soldiers who specialize in escort missions,” Saleed said, making a few notes. “Akhil and Oris, along with their cabras are experienced in protecting and escorting diplomats. And they have plenty of experience under The La'ark's command. They know how she thinks.”

At this, Luin scoffed. “Cordell is no diplomat.”

“Irrelevant,” Saleed said, “whatever he is, he will not slow them down. And if he is a threat, the La'ark will handle it.”

Luin was still chewing on his own misgivings, but he said nothing more. He could not argue against Saleed's choices. The wooden perch above creaked as Kirlon shifted.

“What are your thoughts, Kirlon?” Thal'rin asked.

He is unknown. And different. However, this is not my decision to make.

Thal'rin took a wing into his hand and massaged his aching joints. “I have this peculiar feeling that whatever decision we do make sets us on a path filled with snares. Either way, he is new to our world, and he is young. I do not believe he knows what he is getting into.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice. If he is willing, I will take him,” Saleed said, “after I meet him for myself.”

Thal'rin ruminated on the decision he was about to make. He was fully aware that there were far too many unknowns. Who gave Vincent the ability to dispel the storms, assuming that is really what happened, and why? Vincent was lying, that much Thal’rin was almost certain of. About what, he didn’t know. Villages and cities were dying, though. This was a catastrophe that would only get worse the longer it went on. They had to act fast.

“I will talk to Vincent,” he said, “I was hoping we could find out more about him before we ever let him get involved. But it is clear our wings have been bent.”

He knew he would be gambling by letting Vincent go. The visions could very well be a trap. Their foe could have some hidden agenda, some unknown reason it wanted him to come after it. Or it could be, as Luin said, a conflict between two unknown forces. The wilds, the many empty, uncharted expanses between Falius' inhabited lands were a tomb for dead civilizations and lost secrets. Every day, explorers were uncovering something new in the overgrown corpses of once great cities, discovering small revelations that reminded them of how little they knew about the world they inhabited. Vincent could be a pawn of forces they have yet to comprehend.

However...he does have the Triasat on him.

“I will mark my champions with the tears of this bloom. Whomever tastes its nectar will be both gifted and cursed. Gifted, because I call them to serve a greater purpose, cursed because they will be assailed with incredible hardship and hounded by my adversaries.”

Those were the Weaver’s words. That promise has been observed throughout millennia. Every champion who allowed the Weaver's will to guide them, had at one point, come across the nectar from a Triasat bloom. Not all who drank the substance became honorable people, but many of the champions had at one time, consumed it. Thal'rin wanted to believe that the fact that Vincent, whatever he was, carried with him a vial of the stuff meant that he had far more capacity for redemption than for bringing about desolation. But did they have the right to exploit him like this? Was it exploitation if he was willing?

“One more thing,” Saleed said, “if he says yes, I want this man to join us as well. Given that we are dealing with an unknown, I am sure The La'ark, knowing her, would appreciate his talent. If the ‘Saedharu’ is lying, then this man will be of use.”

When Thal'rin saw the name Saleed wrote down, he raised a brow.

“That is an interesting choice. He is neither a warrior nor diplomat either,” he said, “why bring him?”