Slumrat Rising

Truth woke in darkness. He knew it was dark, but his eyes could see perfectly well with the dim light through the window. Ever since he crawled out of the well, the shadows held no terrors for him. He was holding the angelic sword- why?

Rapid banging on the door. Truth silently rolled out of bed and walked over to the door, raising the sword chest high. Ready to lunge, stabbing through the door and into whoever was outside.

“Mr. Wells, quickly! We must be up and moving!” Merkovah. Truth removed the chair he had wedged under the door handle and unlocked the door without opening it. Keeping the angelic blade aimed at the door. Just in case. He tried casting Incisive, but it didn’t quite take.

“Teacher? If I may ask, what was the first meal you bought me?”

“Eh? Dorowot at the diner, wasn’t it?” There was a pause, then “Ah.”

Truth opened the door, not bothering to put away the sword. “What seems to be the problem, Teacher?”

“Change of plans. We must go to the mountains immediately. Tomorrow, we must be in the Capital. I hope you have enjoyed these peaceful days, Mr. Wells, because the Capital is a nest of vipers and scorpions. Be prepared to truly be a bodyguard. Practice Incisive constantly. Get dressed, get packed, and meet us at my carriage in twenty minutes.”

Truth nodded and got packing. He knew a lot of guys went straight back into being slobs once they got discharged. He liked to keep tidy and keep his stuff ready to go. Partially because the home he grew up in was disgusting and covered in filth. More so because the PMC kept him moving.

He was fresh as a daisy and ready to go in ten. Jember, Etenesh, and Merkovah found him sitting sideways on his iron horse, watching the sunrise with the angelic blade by his side.

Truth didn’t appreciate the picture he made. He knew that his new body was tall, fit, and handsome. His mind could accept it intellectually. His heart was not persuaded. It was not how he thought of himself. In his heart, he was still someone people glanced away from.

For Truth, the romance of the moment was watching the sunrise, tangerine orange over the dark emerald of the hills. Slowly filling the world with light and warmth, growing brighter and more yellow by the moment. It would be a hot, clear day. Darkness on the horizon, perhaps, but today was brilliant.

He tried to still his racing thoughts, forget his fear for the siblings, forget his terror of what might be growing with Etenesh, and just… breathe. Just… be.

For the others, he was like a spell-blade on errantry, ever seeking a righteous cause. Praying, committing his soul to his path under the watchful eye of the Sun. With his round, white Zeph perched on his head, simple clothes, and his body untainted by wine or smoke, he was the living image of a Desrin ascetic. They knew he wasn’t, of course, but for a moment, Truth was more than a man in their eyes.

Jember just smiled and thought wistfully about the sacrifices he made for his career. He didn’t regret his path, but he would never be a storybook hero. He might never be remembered at all. Which was fine, of course, but… didn’t everyone dream of being a hero and saving the day?

Etenesh thought, for the very first time in her life, that she might be willing to marry outside her faith. That a foreigner could sincerely walk with God, as she walked with God. That this was a battered heart she wanted to heal.

Merkovah… thought he saw what he was looking for. He just needed a hook.

The moment was spoiled by a long farm wagon carrying tonnes of coffee beans. The noisy rumble of its wheels and the dust it threw up seemed to smudge the image of the day.

“You look ready to go, Tommy,” Jember called. Truth looked back, smiled, and nodded.

Merkovah waved the cousins towards the carriage. “We’ll get breakfast a little ways down the road. I know a good spot. We must move quickly, though. Unless we are very fortunate, we will be spending thirteen hours on the road today.” Truth twitched at that but settled down. He had spent long days on the road before. His body would hold up just fine. They drove off, letting the sun press them westward.

The roads in Siphios, or at least this part of Siphios, were rather good. The drive was pleasant, the dense green vegetation contrasted in a lively way with the muddy red of the soil. It was a good day to ride a two-wheeler.

Truth would have been content just to enjoy the ride and the charming scenery. Wild, open, utterly alien for a Harban boy. Which is why Merkovah decided to make this a learning opportunity.

A spirit poured out of the carriage’s window, thick and chalk white, like milk that moved like smoke. It faintly formed into the blurred outline of a woman and drifted over to Truth. The spirit kept pace with him as it leaned in to speak.

“Hear now the words of my contractor, known to you as Etenesh. Dread Merkovah has decreed that all his servants must refine their spellwork. Those within the carriage will attack with spells. Your task is to try and capture the least shine of the First Gem of Botis and avoid the spells. I am bidden to remind you that you may not counterattack. Evasion is to be your only measure of success and failure.”

Truth nodded. “Ok.”

The spirit made no reply and drifted away. Truth smiled slightly. This would be fun. Hopefully. He carefully tried to cast Incisive. It… felt like it took? He slightly shifted the two-wheeler left and right just to get warmed up. It was, therefore, probably luck that the first spell just grazed his cheek. A fat little ball of water.

Truth doubled down on the spell. What would Botis do? He was chasing prey, running it down. Letting it tire itself out before moving in for the kill. He cast the spell once more.

From the right. Truth swerved to one side. The water ball went well wide. He grinned. It would be a fun afternoon. Two water balls came at once. Truth’s grin vanished.

_______________________________

It was a somewhat damp Truth that rolled into the roadside diner for lunch. Not unhappy, exactly. His grasp of Incisive was improving steadily. But he made sure to give all of them a Sergeant-Grade filthy look as he walked to the table. The glare seemed to have a good effect on Jember and Etenesh but slid right off Merkovah. To be expected, he supposed.

Lunch was more stew and spongy bread. It’s not that it wasn’t good stew; it was. It was just that he was about ready to eat some fried chicken or a steak. Noodles would be great. This was some kind of stewed goat and a slimy vegetable he didn’t recognize. It tasted pretty ok, but only ok. From the looks on the other diner’s faces, his opinion was widely shared.

Alas, their route took them through an area that could at best be called “rural,” so competitive pressure wasn’t going to drive the chain smoking cook to up his game.

The coffee remained excellent. Perhaps not as fruity as what he got at Bule. Definitely tasted a little scorched. Still head and shoulders above any coffee he had drunk outside of Siphios. Apparently, the Land of Saints and Scholars was fueled by high-test bean juice, and they demanded the very finest. Truth got back on his iron horse with only mild reluctance.

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The river Omo ran high up through the mountains. Or between mountains, Truth was a little confused by the endlessly rolling geography at this point. It was wider than any river he had seen before, with near sheer cliffs running along its banks. No fear of flooding here- the cliffs ran more than a hundred meters high in places. That must have been a comfort to the nearby farmers because the river widened to two kilometers across, or more in places.

The irrational loathing of farms was getting tiresome at this point. When you got right down to it, he had no reason to hate farms, farmers, farming, or any of that. The fact that his body was now apparently disgusted by and held in contempt, the profession of farming (while still perfectly happy to eat the products of agriculture) was revolting in its own right.

System, I swear if you are behind this-

I’m not. Your body is just weird and wrong. Shut up. I’m working on something.

Oh? What?

Shhhhhh.

It wouldn’t say more.

They boarded a long, flat ferry, essentially a board on the back of an enormous river spirit. It didn’t seem to mind. From what Truth could tell, it was something like a giant buffalo made out of water and starlight. He hadn’t the fainted idea of how it all worked, but it was very steady.

Shortly after nightfall, Merkovah led them to a little temple set near the top of a mountain. He was greeted by a few elderly-looking men in what Truth assumed was clerical garb and waved for everyone to join him.

“These are the ones I want to show the sky to,” Merkovah said.

“It is no problem, of course. Although, really, a Desrin wants to come to our little place?”

Merkovah muttered something and pushed the trio through the temple. Merkovah, Etenesh, and Jember all took their shoes off just inside the door, and Truth followed suit.

The interior was sparsely decorated, with whitewashed walls and simple wooden pews facing a raised altar at the front. He got a quick glimpse of an ornate chest mounted on the wall before noticing that the others were engaged in a presumably important bit of etiquette.

They first pressed their palms to their eyes, then to their ears, then over their mouth. They bowed their heads, back straight, to the altar, then quickly walked towards the back of the hall.

Truth was going to ask something, but Jember looked over at him first, pressing a finger to his lips.

They left through a small door in the back of the temple and soon found themselves on a small path up to the summit of the mountain. Nobody spoke. It seemed this was not the place for that.

He wondered how the others were managing to walk barefoot on a dirt path up the mountain. His feet were fine, but he was a body cultivator. He could only imagine they were in pain. Still, they didn’t hesitate or slow until they stood atop the mountain.

At the very peak, there was a stone plinth, and atop the stone plinth was a wide, onyx basin filled with water. The enormity of the sky wheeled above them.

No light pollution, no noise of people or wagons, nothing human to interfere with the terrible glory of the heavens. The stars burned with all manner of colors, showering the world with the emanations of their powers.

Above them all, splitting the sky was the edge of the galaxy, the heavenly river, the road to… something greater. Something more than a mudball. More than a planetary slum.

Merkovah led them over to the plinth. He covered his eyes with his palms, so Truth and the others did the same. With worn sincerity, the old man said a quiet prayer, begging God to reveal the truth of the heavens to them. With a final “Amen,” they lifted their hands away and looked into the bowl.

The heavens were no longer simply dots of light. In the bowl, they were revealed as demons, angels, spirits of ancient power, and forbidden names. Wheeling beasts and birds and great whales swimming through the sky, swimming through the extinguishing void between the stars.

Truth looked at it all and silently gasped. And without realizing it, he fell into the bowl of the sky.

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