Dodge: Serial 0

Dodge is a weekly, ongoing series. The next installment comes January 8th, 2014. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Serial 0: The Students

September 28th, 32 S.D. 14:23 Oskarya, Upper Vestel

    Oskarya sat high upon hills, dumped in the middle of a dense temperate forest. Although it required quite a hike to reach, the trip to this small, backwater hamlet paled in comparison to a journey up the nearby surrounding mountains. The town itself had nothing remarkable to speak of. It had dirt roads and a dilapidated stone fountain at the far east edge, but nothing more warranted much note. The people themselves weren’t poor or unfriendly, but they sure came across as dull. They spoke in simple tones, dressed themselves in unadorned garments, and largely did the same tasks day to day as they always had. Oskarya was but the home of humble woodland folk.
    But beyond the village, farther north, towards the towering face of Mount Anhel, there sat a larger, shrouded secret than anything the world had yet to know. The villagers knew of it, to be sure, but the likes of Oskarya stood so far removed from the rest of the Continent that this subject effectively remained a mystery to all. The sheer significance of what sat outside their peaceful little domain eluded them as much as it did the Continent at large, so despite the importance of the place just up the mountain trail, they largely paid it no heed. For the most part, they only cared that travelers en-route to Mount Anhel were respectful to their village as they passed through.
    Strangers were rare and seldom occurrences in Oskarya, but certain individuals bearing black clothes and colored sashes were frequent visitors coming and going. These were the people who lived atop Mount Anhel, a small, mixed group of students who followed a certain art. The mayor didn’t know particularly much about this art, but she and the villagers welcomed their “neighbors” some 20 odd years ago. The students and their master were always kind and good-natured, so it was no trouble on the part of the villagers to let them pass freely. Most students didn’t go down the mountain often; instead they made regular seasonal trips. However, one student among the others went out of his way every week to go down into Oskarya, sometimes, in fact, when he wasn’t supposed to.
    He was just a lad of 12 years, one of the most precocious of the master’s disciples. Mesel a’Banar wore a red sash tied around his right arm. It had an embroidered pattern stitched in black but not yet complete.
    “When’s it gonna be finished?” Trisha Gernoff, a 10 year-old girl asked him that day.
    “When I finish my training,” Mesel replied. Trisha had taken note that every once and a while, the pattern would  have more details added.
    “You get to decide what it looks like, right? Cantcha decide it gets to look done?” she asked as she dropped a stone on the ground. The rock fell into a patch of soft dirt, earth that had been scratched into a square grid with a stick. It was a game they played in Oskarya that used sticks, rocks, and leaves. Each player brought a total “deck” of 10 items of any combination. Any number of a player’s deck could be placed on the grid during his or her turn, but once on the grid, these pieces could not be taken out. The only way to remove an item was for the opponent to “jump” a better item onto it. Leaves beat rocks; rocks beat sticks; sticks beat leaves. Only one item could be moved one grid space at a time during one’s turn. Once one player was down to two remaining items, the game ended. While the premise was decidedly simple, the game itself actually offered multiple layers of strategy.
    “It doesn’t work like that; I told you that already,” Mesel said, stooping in front of the grid. She had him cornered, his four pieces to her eight, and he could only jump into several of Trisha’s traps. His brow furrowed as he examined his options. “I have to reach a certain level in my studies, then show that to Master Eltin.”
    “Maybe,” Trisha began, stooping down before the grid as well. “You could get more patterns if you could beat me!” She laughed. Mesel looked up at her then down at the grid.
    “Agh, be quiet! I’m trying to make a move.”
    “Please, do try,” she giggled.
    “Ssh!” Mesel tried to wave her off with one hand while he picked up one of his items. He jumped one of her rocks with a leaf, reducing her total to seven pieces. It was a suicide run, but at least it would partially expose the rest of her items. On Trisha’s turn, she casually moved a stick over his last leaf.
    “I win!” she declared.
    “What? How?” Mesel asked, incredulous. “I still have three pieces left.” She pointed to the grid and spoke.
    “You don’t have any leaves left. You can’t jump any more of my rocks. I’ve got three rocks left. There’s no way for you to win. That’s a ‘null’ loss.” Mesel folded his arms and closed his eyes, as if contemplating this defeat.
    “Hmm...” For a while then, silence.
    “Wanna play again?” Trisha asked, cocking her head slightly.
    “Hmm!” Mesel replied, louder.
    “You know,” Trisha said, standing up. “You sure don’t play this game very well for someone who’s supposed to be a student.” Mesel’s eyes snapped open.
    “I’ll have you know I’m one of Master Eltin’s top students. We don’t really train in these kinda things.”
    “That doesn’t excuse some of the moves you made in that last game. You’re older than me, but probably not any smarter.” Mesel huffed aloud as he stood up too.
    “Hey! I’m good at everything Master Eltin teaches.”
    “Yeah? Well I bet I could too if I tried.”
    “Why not try? We’re always looking for new students.” Trisha shook her head.
    “Nah. Mama taught me plenty enough already. I don’t even know what you study up there; you all never tell anyone.” Mesel diverted his gaze towards the ground for an instant.
    “That’s... because we’re not supposed to tell. But, if you knew all of the crazy things we did,” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You’d probably explode or something!”
    “So, does what you study have a name?”
    “A name? Uh... it does, I think.”
    “You think, huh?”
    “There’s a specific name to it, but we just mostly refer to it as the ‘art’,” he said. Trisha rubbed her chin as she slowly circled around Mesel.
    “Suspicious,” she said, coming behind him. “The nameless art...” He twisted about to catch her, but she’d already spun 360 degrees around him. “I bet you just play games all day... and lose.”
    “No!” Mesel quickly retorted. Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle sounded from afar, followed by an older woman’s voice.
    “Trisha! Triiishaaa!” They both perked up to the direction of the call.
    “Tch. If I could play games with you all day up there, I would. I gotta go today.”
    “Alright. I’ll be down here again in another three days. Let’s see if Jon wants to go scouting next time.”
    “Sure,” Trisha said, looking back at Mesel before taking off into the forest’s growth. “See you next week,” she smiled and waved.
    “Until then,” Mesel waved back as she disappeared around a patch of tall bushes.
    “Triiishaaa!”
    “I’m over here, ma!” Minutes passed, and the quietude of the woods once more resumed. Mesel looked over at the game grid, arms crossed, as the chatter between Trisha and her mother grew further and further away. It wasn’t his first time playing, more like the 17th. Even so, he wondered how he could have lost so badly. Even though he was but a young boy, Master Eltin had shared with him the secrets of a great many mysteries and phenomena. Yet here in the simplest of games of idle entertainment, he had found himself completely inept and unversed. He found it disagreeable to study and comprehend the work of a sage but remain incapable of mustering even a single win against little Trisha. At the very least, he thought, he’d been a good sport, for all of his friend’s taunting. It looked to him that perhaps he needed to learn a few things yet.
     He sighed, turning around to Mount Anhel. It took Trisha and her mother only a few hundred meters to return to their village. For Mesel on the other hand, it would take him several kilometers to do the same. It was always worth the trip in his opinion, but it didn’t mean all that walking was easy. Judging from the angle of the sun, if he didn’t start off now, he knew he’d arrive late. Not only did that affect his chances of dinner, it also warranted a scolding from Losha and Master Eltin. He sighed again for but a moment, then took off for Mount Anhel, leaving the game and its pieces where they lay.

    In his miscalculation, Mesel had forgotten that the older students hadn’t cleared a well-known shortcut that had gone into disrepair after a storm last month. That meant he was forced to take the long route, the same one he’d come down in the morning. To the other students, fixing the shortcut didn’t exactly come to them as a priority, not the least over their studies. Master Eltin had instructed them to do that task, but he had requested it be seen to eventually, not immediately. Mesel figured they’d get on the job at the end of the season, when all students had a minor break before winter set in. At any rate, he spent an additional hour trekking upwards through the woods on top of the usual two hours it took to get to Palostrol, the live-in school and training grounds Master Eltin headed.
    As the hour of the day neared six ‘o’ clock and twilight shades of gold dimmed into gentle darkness, Mesel could sense all of the impending reprimands in wait for him. The lights of Palostrol he saw ahead in the distance, yet his child’s body could not carry him there soon enough. Panting, scrambling over rock and root, Mesel raced across the forest floor.
    “Shrieks!” he swore to himself. In such his frenzy, he nearly stumbled a half-dozen times as he rushed through the blackening woods. Finally, however, he reached the steps �" hewed of stone �" that lead up to the gate. The gate served chiefly to keep animals out rather than humans, but still they were strict about closing them at six exactly. To be found pounding on the doors, asking to get in at so late an hour, it could only exacerbate his incoming punishments. He sprinted up the stairs, pumping his arms and legs as furiously as his frame would allow. He only slowed down once he’d safely entered the school grounds, and even then his legs kept moving forward.
    Quaking, fresh with sweat and out of breath, Mesel cautiously proceeded, looking all around him. His expectation had been that someone would be waiting for him as soon as he was spotted. But as he advanced into an open courtyard, all remained still and silent, as if the night had already deadened the place. His chest yet beat rapidly, and his air came in gasps, but for the moment he walked on normally, as if nothing were amiss. For a time, none of his apprehensions was realized. However, just when he’d felt an ounce of relief, a sudden voice, seemingly born of the darkness itself, exclaimed very loudly.
    “Heeey! Mesel!” He froze up instantly as his eyes darted to and fro. “Sa, what’re you doing wandering around at this time?” A hand swooped down from behind, clamping on his right shoulder. Mesel jumped on its impact, but not from its sheer force.
    “Yaah ah!” he cried, only later recognizing whose voice was speaking to him. “What?” he sputtered. “Oh, shrieks! Denze, don’t sneak up on me...” Mesel wrestled away from his friend’s grip and whirled around.
    “If you don’t want me to sneak up on you, don’t go sneaking about yourself,” Denze said, grinning widely. Denze was a tall 17 year-old, yet quite well built for his age. He had a dark, blue sash wrapped around his head. It fitted around his head like a band, but it tilted to the side, completely covering his left eye. His embroidered pattern sat where his other jet-blue pupil would have shone. Although his clothes largely covered them up, the angular, bold, razor-like tattoos across his torso were still somewhat visible, especially the markings that came up to his neck.
    Despite the differences in age, appearance, and maturity, they’d been friends ever since Denze showed up over three years ago. Denze had great respect for Mesel’s genius in easily comprehending Master Eltin’s teachings. Mesel, on the other hand, relished having someone to act as an older brother. In some regards, they were mentors to one another, with Mesel revealing the secrets behind Master Eltin’s teachings, and Denze showing how one dealt with the trials and wonders of adulthood.
    “I’m not sneaking around,” Mesel said in defiance.
    “Really?” Denze asked, folding his arms together, looking down at him. “Well, you certainly fooled me then.” Mesel sighed as his glance fell down and to the right. It was of no use to dally around like this when talking to Denze. His friend could read him without even looking. Not even Losha or Master Eltin were that sharp. Besides, Denze wasn’t about to expose him in any case. On the contrary, he had wiggled Mesel out of a number of infractions.
    “I’m not sneaking around,” he repeated. “I’m just running a little bit late.”
    “As if that isn’t obvious,” Denze laughed. “You’re very lucky today,” he continued, holding his hand out with the index finger pointed. “First, I just happened to be on gate duty. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been here for the past hour,” he winked. “And secondly, tonight’s a special occasion,” Denze said cryptically.
    “Special occasion?” Mesel asked, uncertain about his friend’s words. Denze spun him around by the shoulders towards Palostrol’s Main Hall, a place of assembly for numerous events around the year. Mesel squinted into the distance. He still couldn’t remember anything important about today’s date, however.
    “Hey, you’re just as out as everyone else. Master Eltin only explained that he’d return later tonight, and when he does, he’d have something to tell us.”
    “He left to go somewhere?” Mesel frowned.
    “Yeah. You’d probably know that if you didn’t skip out so frequently. It was sometime early this morning, before you yourself left here.”
    “You have any idea what it’s all about?” Mesel asked, looking up at Denze as they walked further into Palostrol. Denze gave a quick smirk.
    “Well, I do have a guess or two, but why cast all of the mystery aside just yet? We should get antsy and excited and squeal like little children.” Mesel shook his head.
    “Perhaps you can,” he chuckled. “You can go on about just anything, no matter how small.”
    “And so can Losha if you cross her. Now, listen here Mesel. Go on and eat before it gets too late. She’ll scold you for having dinner this far into the evening after everyone else if you don’t. You lucked out with me here, but things are still hot with her around. You’re not out trouble, not yet. Sa, go on now. I’ve still got duty here.”
    Mesel thanked him as they parted ways. He headed directly to the grounds’ cafeteria. Opening the front doors, he was greeted by waves of scent and chatter. The din of dozens hovered above the savory aroma of food. From the smell of it, tonight’s meal was some sort of heavy soup, brewing and brimming with meats and vegetables. Yet the clamor and buzz around him spoke of only one subject; the impending return of Master Eltin.

    Denze stood with his arms folded, leaning sideways against one of the giant sheets of wood that fenced Palostrol’s perimeter. Before him, pitch darkness sat, pure and lightless. The forest was but an abyss, a void into which the eye could discern absolutely nothing. Only faint sounds echoed gently from the blackness. The gates had two large lanterns fitted upon two high posts, but as night fell and shadows grew ever bolder, even these beacons did little to illuminate the nearby woods.
    “It sure is getting late, sa.” Denze said. “I wonder where Master Eltin is, don’t you?” Denze spoke without looking back, yet all the same acknowledging the presence of another. Losha was nearly 21, but as one of the oldest students in her division, she bore many responsibilities beyond her age. In addition to the fact that Master Eltin greatly relied on her for various tasks about the grounds, the other students depended on her for advice and instruction in their lessons. While she, like their master, was an understanding teacher, Losha had earned a reputation for strictness in some regards, such as tardiness and lack of discipline. To this effect, most of the students both admired and feared her in the same vein as a big sister.
    Like Denze, she too hailed from the Central Plains, grasslands that spread throughout the Continent’s interior and fiercely dominated by 11 separate and often warring clans. They were obviously of different tribes; their accents spoke as much. Nevertheless, like the rest of the students from the Central Plains, they’d never exchanged surnames. This far removed from their native lands and rivalries, the two had developed a strong bond. As with Mesel, Denze had paid little heed to their difference in age.
    “You can sense me so easily,” Losha said. “But can you feel nothing from our master?” She approached him, but still Denze focused on the woodland ahead.
    “Not a bit. I figured that’s why you had me on gate duty though.”
    “None else can perceive as sharply as you do,” she now stood beside him. “Which always surprises me, given how you cover your eye just so.”
    “Heh,” Denze said. “I don’t need my eyes to see all that well. If I keep it up, it’ll be a brand new technique, one that not even you know.” In contrast to Denze, Losha was dark in complexion, brown like the earth. She wore her hair in a long, thick, braided ponytail that swayed and hung behind her back. Her eyes, though dark gray, had a way of gleaming from time to time. They were both roughly same height, but it was obvious that Denze would overtake her in about a year.
    Her sash was bright and golden; she wore it simply wrapped several times around her waist. It stretched tightly like a belt. She had a special way of tucking the ends of her sash such that they did not need to be tied at all. As required, her emblem was plainly visible from the front, like a stitched buckle of some sort. Between Mesel, Denze, and Losha, hers was by far the most intricately patterned and the most complete.
    “Is that so?” Losha smiled.
    “Shrieks, yes! It’s bad enough that I keep company with two little prodigies with little to show for it. I’ve got to show Master Eltin I can come up with something brilliant too.”
    “Every so often,” Losha noted.
    “Sa... I wouldn’t want to overdo myself, now would I?” They both laughed for a bit.
    “Regardless Denze, you have scarcely been with us for some four years. You ought not compare yourself with Mesel or myself. We have studied Master Eltin’s teachings for a great while, and we have lived in Palostrol for most of our lives. Everyone here grows, but at his or her own pace, and certainly not a moment sooner. I ask you to remember this.”
    “Sa, sa...” Denze said curtly. “Hey, shouldn’t you be looking after something?” he then asked, to which Losha eyed him pointedly. “No, no, I’m not annoyed with you. I mean, is it alright for you to be talking to me now, what with the master basically leaving everything to you?” Losha sighed aloud.
    “I would not be here if I had not seen to any other matters first. Everything is in order. It is just like any other night, save for Master Eltin’s absence.” For several minutes, they got on by with friendly chat as the lateness of the evening deepened. When the natural flow of conversation hit a momentary lull, Denze bit the upper skin of his lips, pondering if now where an opportune time to broach the subject in his mind. He’d been meaning to talk to Losha about it for some time, but he really wondered if it were an appropriate subject for him to speak about.
    “Hey, Losha,” he began, knowing full-well he could change the subject at that point should he reconsider everything.
    “Sa?” she said. Denze didn’t sense anyone nearby, so it could at least be an earnest discussion among two friends.
    “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but it’s about something I kinda overheard a while back.”
    “Hmm?” Losha murmured, leaning in closer. “What exactly did you overhear?”
    “Well, I don’t think I should have heard it in the first place, and I’m not sure I ought to be telling you of all people, but it’s been bugging me.” Losha folded her arms and forcefully bumped him with her hips.
    “My, one wonders what you have heard,” she said as Denze nearly fell to the ground. “It had better not be anything troublesome,” she emphasized, slanting her eyes just slightly.
    “Look,” Denze protested. “I think it’s something serious. And there’s going to be a lot more people in trouble than just me.” Her eyes, somewhere between firm and playful a second ago, fixed upon with a sudden focus, her tone one of utter concern.
    “Sa, if it’s bothering you so much, it’s probably something I should know. Go on Denze, you can tell me.” He stood up and looked at her for a moment. His mouth moved to speak, but before a word of any sort could escape, his eye cast its glance down and away as he turned towards the forest. “Denze?” she asked, curious about his actions.
    “We’ll have to talk some other time. Master Eltin is coming. And it looks like he’s brought a couple of somebodies with him.” Losha cocked her head to the woods but saw only the shadows of the night.

Author's Note

In a distant world, on an obscure mountaintop, a secluded school educates children in the secret arts of serialization, the power of channeling the soul's energy. Under the instruction of their wise teacher, Master Eltin, each student aspires to one day themselves perfect their abilities. Yet what will become of his students and the world should the might of serialization prove too strong for man to handle? The tale of a great conflict a millennium in the making begins here with three unsuspecting students, Mesel, Denze, and Losha. Their paths go on to determine the fate of the Continent and whether serialization is ultimately used to forge an end to all wars or to make all wars endless.

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Authors Notes

* Losha and Denze's native language is actually Asten, which uses pure vowels, thus their names are pronounced "Low-sha" and "Den-zey"

* "Sa" in Asten literally means "yes" but it can be used broadly in many ways such as to mean "yeah" or "yup" in casual contexts, "hey" as a way of getting one's attention, or as a greeting (this is extremely casual usage).

* "Shrieks" is a semi-profane exclamation in this world. It comes from Gandian (this world's equivalent to English) and has many of the same usages as "bloody" in UK English. Children like Mesel and even non-native speakers like Denze use it frequently.

* "The Continent" refers to the single large body of land that accounts for about 87% of the landmass in this world.

* Years are referred to in S.D. (literally Serialized Date) which counts up from the time Master Eltin was believed to have first discovered serialization. While people of this time period do not use it, serialization eventually becomes pivotal in this world's history, enough to base their calendars around it.

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Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.

Reviews

[David Jae]

This is good, compelling and very human, with an interest concept and characters that are very real.
An enjoyable read.
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There is a lot to recommend this.

Your characters are well-thought out and their personalities and backgrounds come across through their interactions and dialogue, not through blatant exposition. This is not something that every author understands and it is a credit to you.

The setting you create is clearly a fantasy one, but it has enough grounding in reality to allow the reader to connect with it, which adds to the strength of the narrative.

Your dialogue is genuine and natural.

If there is an improvement to be made, it is with the descriptions of the setting you use at the start.

E.g.

"The town itself had nothing remarkable to speak of. It had dirt roads and a dilapidated stone fountain at the far east edge, but nothing much warranted note."

You repeat yourself here, saying that the town is uninteresting twice. If you had run the sentences together, and lost the ending, it would have been stronger.

You've got the idea of using minimalist descriptions that paint a picture in the reader's mind, but you could do with a little more proof-reading and revision.

Still, a strong piece of work. You should be proud.

Ganbare