Dodge: Serial 5

Denze plunges deeper into doubt as Losha and Siersus undergo their test of mastery. All the while, King makes his approach...

Serial 5: In with a whisper

October 20th, 32 S.D. 19:32 Palostrol, Upper Vestel

    With Losha and Siersus away on their trials, Denze had taken it upon himself to make sure Istan received any additional tutoring he needed. In truth, he’d actually taken a liking to the new student. Although it remained a virtual taboo to discuss too much of their homes for fear of revealing which clan each belonged to, the two often talked about their lives in the Central Plains. For Istan, Denze assumed, his village and family must have still seemed so fresh. The life he’d always known was so many kilometers down south. Talking about it was perhaps one way to cope with the transition, although too much might invoke the ill effects of home-sickness.
   
    Nevertheless, the two had much in common thanks to their shared culture, and Denze had quite forgotten how enjoyable the company of another Asten male his own age could be. Often, they found themselves having private conversations in their native tongue. Even with Losha, he hadn’t spoken to someone like that in a long time.
   
    Aline seemed to be adapting well enough under Mesel’s guidance. She was obviously doing her best to learn Gandian, and she certainly sounded better each week, but it was a long process to be sure. Even so, one had no better opportunity than in their youth to learn a new language, so it was fortunate that she was starting the process now. Denze didn’t recall when he’d picked up Gandian, but it must have been a long time ago back in the Plains.
   
    Following the development of these two new students gave him something of a distraction, something to idle his mind rather than worry it. Watching them helped him ignore the foreboding sensation that kept stalking him. For whatever reason, he was recently afflicted with an unshakable, unsettling apprehension. Though it was but nameless, he knew it stemmed in part from the conversation he’s overheard months before. Earlier, he was somewhat certain that he’d felt or perhaps “seen” something very odd that day he’d helped Istan with aggregation. Exactly what was off about the forest when he’d looked that one instant eluded him, thus he could not say.
   
    Regardless, it stirred within him what he could only describe as a “very bad feeling”. As vague as this apprehension may have seemed to others, to him they were not without substance. Possibly, he truly was just connecting desperate threads together to form new fears, but he couldn’t ignore how they all appeared to indicate something malicious on its way.
   
    It all continuously turned back to that conversation, the one he’d pushed aside every time it invaded his thoughts. As of late though, his mind had no way of avoiding it. As he sat there eating in the cafeteria that night, he felt no will to continue his meal; his doubts encroached from within.
   
    “Where are you going?” Istan asked as Denze suddenly stood up. Several other close classmates from both of their divisions looked at him curiously. He’d scarcely finished half of what his plate offered.
   
    “Sa, I guess I really can’t agree with tonight’s food. There’s always breakfast though.” Denze picked up his plate and utensils and started to leave. “I’m going to call it a night as well, guys.” He waved, and shortly thereafter he was on his way to his room. Yet even in these personal quarters, he was given no respite from his grave concerns. All because of that stupid conversation...


    It had happened fairly early on while Denze had been perfecting his third-eye series. Although he’d named it as such, he had discovered almost immediately that it had many applications beyond sight alone. Sound could be analyzed by accurately picking out the vibrations striking the screen. He could simply aim the screen at a distant somewhere, and then using it like a super-sensitive eardrum, he could interpret the meaning of the input. It was a very strange concept at first; the output he received wasn’t sound exactly, not anything he could hear. Instead, they were like signals that his seras interacted with. It had taken a few days of constant practice, but he soon began to understand which signals corresponded to which sounds. He could thus “hear” far away things: the rustle of treetops, the closing of so many doors, and of course, the chatter of numerous students.

    One Monday, he’d climbed up into a tree and used his series to grab an overall aural snapshot of Palostrol. He could sense a great deal of sounds, more than his humble human ears were ever capable of recognizing. In fact, the experience proved a bit overwhelming. Rather than taking in the entire school grounds at once, he focused on specific bubbles of activity. He scanned the training fields, the cafeteria, various halls, and different groups of students milling about - some of which he couldn’t even see.

    While he swept over a number of buildings, he only caught himself thinking of the privacy implications his series held as he came to the dorms. As he gave pause, he considered it unwise to test his series there. In reality, testing it anywhere required the utmost discretion, for it really was a powerful tool that could easily fall into abuse. Denze knew he’d rather not have anyone possibly spying on his every word, so he decided he would limit the use of his series’ long-range hearing capabilities. At the minimum, he’d found out that he could practically apply the theory, so he was satisfied with the results.

    He was right about to quit his little experimentations then and there in light of their obvious success, however, he accidentally swept over another building before he finished. The structure in question was an old storehouse that few of the students actually used. Denze would have passed it up altogether if he hadn’t caught a snippet of an ongoing conversation. For one thing, what were people doing in such an odd location? His wonder got the best of him as he focused on the storehouse a bit longer until the words of the conversation became clear.

    “-will kill you. That is almost certain.”

    “That is nothing I hadn’t figured myself already.”

    Denze froze, not daring to dissipate his series in the least. Perhaps it was all light talk. Many of the students joked about how Losha or another strict mentor would “kill” them for not taking their assignments seriously. Given that his skill with this series was developmental, he only had the scantest ability to discern individual voice patterns. He could hear the words, but he wasn’t sure whose voices they were and if he knew them. At any rate, he continued being a third-party to this discussion.

    “I’m only trying to warn you. We’re in similar positions after all, except you have more to lose than I. All of this I mean.” A pause ensued before the second person began talking again. As far as Denze could tell, it was a back and forth exchange between two entities.

    “And what would I be left to do then? Pick up all of Palostrol and move it somewhere else?”

    “At the very least, don’t let the children become involved. I doubt he would do anything to them, but it would be best to avoid ever the merest chance.”

    Breathless, Denze settled on the branch more comfortably, his back set against the trunk. Whatever this was, it was no trifling matter at all.

    “He cannot so easily find us. Otherwise this school would never have been. And yet we are still.”

    “And yet I found you,” the first person said, and in him Denze thought he detected some level of emphasis. “Don’t be foolish,” this person continued. “You and I are both too old to confuse not being found with never being found. I marvel that, unlike myself, you have been able to keep to one place for so long. But you must remember that it can only stay that way for so long. The clock is ticking, and I wouldn’t be here when it strikes.”

    “Make no mistake, I greatly appreciate your timely warnings. However, I am resolved to stand against anything or anyone that so much as threatens my beliefs. You know too well that that man is the antithesis of my every conviction.”

    “Then when he arrives - for it is only a question of when - once he is here, you intend to challenge him? Do you have any idea what will become of you?”

    “Come what must,” was all the second person said. Another pause occurred, them the first person concluded their rendezvous.

    “I cannot say I think you very wise, but at least you are a man of your own choices. Farewell then. I hope this isn’t the last time we speak to each other, Eltin.” And then both people stopped talking all at once and the room, as far as Denze could perceive, fell into utter silence. Even straining the limits of his series, Denze gleaned not another word from the old storehouse. It really appeared that whatever business had transpired there was completely over.

    Yet, what sort of business exactly had been dealt? From what he gathered, someone had been talking to Master Eltin, an outsider most likely. No student ever spoke to him so frankly, nor could he imagine anyone talking that seriously with him. What’s more, he was certain that nary an outsider had ever set foot in Palostrol. Denze couldn’t fathom who this mysterious person was in the least. As the conversation made quite evident, there were others that Master Eltin knew who remained entirely unknown to his students. To be honest, few if anyone in Palostrol actually had any knowledge about Master Eltin’s life before he’d founded this school. The ever-referenced “him” of the recent discussion could have been anyone on the Continent. What’s more, he sounded dangerous, enough for the mystery voice to concern itself with the welfare of the students.

    But, this couldn’t be real, could it? Perhaps he’d just been much too overconfident in his own abilities and had made too many assumptions based on his series. But none of that made any sense when it had been working fine all of this time. Something troubling was brewing behind the gentle scenes of Palostrol, and he’d just caught wind of but a whisper of it.

October 22nd, 32 S.D. 16:40 Great Mountain Temple, Upper Vestel

    On the afternoon Losha and Siersus had set forth towards the temple, they were indeed met with a gate that blocked further progress, just like the rumors spoke of. On the secret path Master Eltin had given them, as they turned around a thick patch of forest growth, two boulders sat side-by-side with only enough of a gap for one person at a time to walk through. The complication in passing, however, resided in a set of thirteen square bars that impaled the stones horizontally, effectively prohibiting one from going forward. The boulders could not be scaled, and neither could the jagged, rusty bars act as a possible ladder. To either side of the boulder, the land suddenly rose, making a wall of earth that stood at least a meter above their heads. Beyond the bars they could see how a hall of a sort had but cut through the dirt. Steps of irregularly shaped limestone marked the ascent.

    “This must be the path,” Siersus noted, touching his glasses with both hands. “But how to continue?”

    Together they approached, uncertain of what they needed to do. Yet, as soon as they were near the gate, a sharp, distinct click sounded, and almost immediately thereafter, the bars began to part. The top bar slid into the left rock, the second on the right, and so on, alternating until the last and lowest bare had finally recessed.

    “Interesting...” Siersus said. “It may well be some mechanism that reacts to our seras frequencies. That would allow Master Eltin to control who comes here.”

    “Indeed. But we did not come here to merely ponder that,” Losha said as she stepped ahead of him into the narrow trail.

    For at least 120 meters, the path continued steeply, driving up the mountain. In fact, they were probably farther up Mount Anhel than they’d ever been before. They headed straight onward, save for the occasional, slight bend here and there. Out of nowhere it seemed, a dense mist rolled along the ground, cool and cloudy. This eventually developed into full-blown fog however, thick, heavy, and impenetrable. Their visibility was soon reduced to a scant few meters before them. Siersus in particular struggled, constantly having to wipe his spectacles free of moisture. Were there not but one direction to follow, he would have easily lost his way. Yet they did not spend too great a time wandering through this haze.

    As soon as the fog has settled in, it waned away as they climbed on. Perhaps they had just breached a layer of some kind. Once the fog parted clearly enough, the end of their ascent came into view. The incline on which they traveled leveled out sharply. Coming up over this line, the two entered into a sweeping, circular lot. In front of them stood the Great Mountain Temple.

    The temple, unlike what many students had imagined, was largely free of ornamentation or for that matter all architectural style. Built of simple, gray stones and slanted roofs, it did not appear so different from any of the other buildings in Palostrol. Where the glass of windows should have been, only large, open frames stood, however. The temple took the shape of a very rigid and rectangular “U” with two attachments on the sides connected by a length at the end. Stone steps lead up to this middle part where two doors stood together. There was also a sort of patio here that hung beneath the roof’s coverage.

    It was, albeit, not without character, for the masonry was imperfect, and many surfaces remained uneven. For whatever reason, Losha had found herself questioning if this had been built by Master Eltin before all of Palostrol. Was he inexperienced in construction at the time? Had he not used serialization to make everything? At any rate, that had been the extent of their arrival one week ago. Now they were both hard at work on their tests.

    As Master Eltin had said, the temple had a month’s worth of provisions. There were two mats and a table inside the temple, and nothing else except what they had brought with themselves. With neither lamp nor candle on hand, they often resorted to using series to cast balls of light around them. Although it was but sunset, Losha already had her light close by.

    She stood over the table with her arms folded and braced against the edge. In front of her, the instructions for the series they were to learn sat unrolled. Her serialized sphere of brightness shifted overhead, angling its rays to provide better luminosity as she slid the paper closer to herself. She had carefully studied each of the directions, but even after seven days, they remained arcane and obtuse. She felt certain that she had the theory, or at least parts of it, behind the series understood in her mind, but she couldn’t reconcile how the pieces fit together in a practical manner.

    To her, the instructions seemed to make assumptions - especially about the reader’s comprehension - when a thorough explanation was much more warranted. The whole process proved maddening; some of the later instructions seemed contradictory, vague, or didn’t make any sense. When she’d first heard what their task was to be, Losha imagined they would train in an advanced series where the challenge chiefly came from perfecting the techniques involved. However, Losha had never expected half of the test to revolve around merely deciphering its inner workings, let alone its purpose.

    It was an exercise of utter frustration at best. Every time she read through the points one-by-one, she got to a certain part that simply confused her to no end, and the rest after that was as transparent as the stone walls around her. She hadn’t ever found herself frowning so much.

    Siersus appeared suddenly, opening the large set of doors at the entrance. They both figured it best to take breaks as often as they could. The temple was probably secluded for more reasons than to serve as a separate training site. Isolation from all distractions would help them focus on the task at hand, but it would also let them clear their minds when the test began to cause them undue stress. The rather spartan furnishings of the temple too were possibly to reduce distractions, though Losha wished they at least had decent beds.

    “How is it going?” Siersus asked, having been out for a few hours.

    “Unwell,” Losha replied.

    “Do you at least understand how the process of conversion works?”

    She shook her head. “That is what I cannot reason with. It seems as if that is the crux of the problem: conversion. We can only convert seras into things like heat, light, and electricity. But what this document describes... It is almost as if we are supposed to use a totally new form of energy.”

    “At least new to us,” Siersus said.

    Master Eltin had left them with very few restrictions in actuality, save for the time limit and the location of the test. The actual means of learning were up to them, and they saw no reason not to cooperate with one another. Already the pair had had many thorough discussions about this complex series.

    “Well, understanding that much is progress in itself,” he said, drawing closer to the table. “What you say seems the best explanation to me. It indeed looks like a form of energy we’ve yet to deal with so far.”

    She sighed aloud. “If that is the case, what kind of energy is it? What kind of properties does it have? How do we manipulate it?” She thrust herself away from the table all at once.

    “The answers are most likely already written down here,” Siersus said, tapping the sheet of paper on the table. “The problem is that we don’t terribly get it.”

    “No one claimed this would be an easy test...”

    “Let me have a look,” he said as she began pacing around. She moved to the side while he settled in front of the table for a minute or so. After a time, he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he recited text from the paper. “Draw from the soul a mass of seras. Meld it to your will. Govern it as you comprehend its properties and powers in full.”

    “It then goes on to explain the execution process. But of course, none of that quite adds up since this is an energy we have yet to use.”

    “Yes, we can’t exactly work our way backwards using the result to determine the input, unfortunately.”

    Losha stepped forward, leaning over the table once again. She bit the lower part of her lip as she looked at the section Siersus had just quoted.

    “What if...” she began. “What if this is not an unknown energy?”

    Siersus looked at her quizzically for a moment. “Do explain.”

    “Imagine,” she said, slowly walking around the table full-circle. “There is no conversion taking place. Say we are using raw seras.”

    Siersus frowned before countering. “That does not sound right. We have always had to convert seras into another more usable form.”

    “As we have always assumed,” she pointed out. “Heat is more usable than raw seras, but that is not to say raw seras is unusable at all.”

    “Hmm...” Siersus mulled this over in his thoughts.

    “Consider this: we already control raw seras enough to turn it into other energies. What if we were in enough control to bypass the need for conversion altogether. Think about it. This explains why the document so poorly describes conversion; we simply are not converting anything.”

    “But how do we control raw seras? Effectively I mean.”

    Losha took the sheet from the table, holding it in both hands. “What is it Gandians often say, ‘through trial and error’?”


    Later that night, high above the evening, over the rolling spans of Mount Anhel, nothing stirred. The sky remained inert, quiet. Suddenly, however, several figures appeared, rushing into the scene instantly, their very outlines blurred by speed. Yet just as soon as they had whipped into existence, their very bodies stood rigid and unmoving. Draped in dark cloaks, the nine of them assembled in the very air, their feet planted as if they were on the ground itself or perhaps a platform invisible to the eye. All of their features were concealed except for their faces and their lower legs.

    “Smells like rain,” Laisa said aloud, looking distantly at some approaching clouds.

    “I smell blood,” Einer said.

    “Hmph, don’t you always...” This was Decha, an older-looking, dark-skinned Asten. He had a thick beard and a mustache along with partially cropped hair on the top of his head. His general expression was of one unamused by what he saw. Einer disliked him as much as he did Allon, but tonight he said nothing in reply.

    “I needn’t remind you that we are all bound by King’s orders. We do nothing without his approval,” Allon said.

    They spoke nothing as they waited for several moments. Then out of nowhere, a tenth person blitzed into view nigh instantly. With his back facing them, King appeared some five meters ahead of them. Slowly, carefully, his sight traced the land below.

    “So, this is where you have been hiding all of these years,” he said. King stepped forward, but where the sound of a footstep should have rung, only a gentle whoosh  was heard in its place as he moved across open space. All through his advance, his eyes fell downward ahead of himself as a smile crept over his face.

    “Come,” he announced. “Let us begin our work.”

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.

The next installment comes February 12th, 2014. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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Authors Notes

* Not much to say in this serial. The next few serials, however...

* Well, 6 segments like this isn't bad for the exposition I guess. Things should really heat up from now on.

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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.