Dreambreaker: Chapter 1

This is a WIP to which I am currently devoting a lot of my time. The more ratings and reviews I get, the faster I'll post new chapters.

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From his perch on the cliff, he could see the sunrise with its pinks, oranges, and yellows over the morning mist that enshrouded the forest below. The faint blue glow of an aurora could still be seen in the remaining night sky. While the chill of the night still hung in the air, the day promised to be warm enough to make people believe that summer was on its way. Kalar could see it in the bursting buds of the trees. Then the multi-colored foliage of summer would turn that tell-tale crimson. The harvest would come with autumn, and after that winter and a time for reflection. Then spring again, and the cycle of growth, change, and death would repeat itself again, as it had the year before.

         A soft chime pulled Kalar from his reverie. He pulled out his Wimcard, and a virtual face in the thin, clear plastic sheet told him the train for Tijan would be arriving in a few moments. He pressed the button that would hail the train at the closest station, and started toward the station. He mentally began planning out his day. It was the last day of the Week of the Greater Spirits, and he had been avoiding going to the Grove to pray. Auni-Gokheu rarely gave those seeking to serve It or those who sought to better themselves an easy gift. If a calamity didn't follow his prayer, he planned to put out a call for anyone seeking metal work or help fighting ponoin. He had also planned to meet Rynaugh, Kamosa, and their daughter Chinya for dinner in Meqiyoha. He and Rynaugh had some preparation for Feather Festival tomorrow.

         If we're going to prepare forms for the festival, we should probably ask Sumili to add some  of his natura, Kalar thought to himself. After he tapped the wicket to enter the platform, he checked his Wimcard. The train would be arriving very soon. He considered the solitary vending machine, and chose a soup as breakfast. The train pulled up right as he opened the can. Entering the car, he sipped the soup, relishing its savory, leafy flavor. Its aroma of fresh picked greens with citrus and pepper wasn't bad for something in a can. The train was nearly empty; the other four riders were sitting together, making small talk amiably. He saw them and chose a seat away from them. The riders, two yellow, tentacled male Skwa, a woman with dark brown scaly skin, and green crystalline being sprawled over a seat, stopped conversing to consider him before shrugging and resuming their conversation. Kalar didn't bother looking out the window. The world whizzed by so fast he could never make anything out. He pulled out his Wimcard again and asked it to call Sumili.

         “Hello Kalar, up-to-date and in good repair?” Sumili said with a hint of humor in his electronically synthesized voice.

         “Yes, thanks for asking. Where are you?” Kalar asked after seeing the stark stone walls and the purple robe the robot was wearing.

         “With the monks at the Mountain Temple. We have a small break after breakfast before we begin meditation again; you're lucky you caught me.”

         “Rynaugh and I are going to prepare forms for the Feather Festival tomorrow, could you meet us and add your natura to the form?”

         The train had come to a complete stop at the Tijan station. Kalar headed toward the platform for the train to Meqiyoha.

         “I can and will. The monks will excuse my absence if it is for Au-Muy'yu. When shall I meet you?” Sumili asked politely.

         “Can you meet us in Meqiyoha on the south side?”

         “Sure, what time?”

         “First Red*?” Kalar said, unsure of when the monks would let him leave.

         “I may be late, but no later than third Red. Do you need me to bring spindles?”

         “No, we're fine. It says here on my Wimcard I have two hundred. We'll probably use them all. The ponoin attacks seem to be getting more frequent, and these forms give a good advantage.”

         “That is true,” Sumili responded.

         “Wait a second, you don't eat. Why was I lucky to catch you now and not earlier during breakfast?”

         “The monks require everyone to attend the breakfast ritual so that all will be mindful of our interconnectedness, our community, and the harmony we seek to promote.”

         “Oh, well, that makes sense.” Kalar said, thinking the opposite. Robots shouldn't have to watch others eat if they didn't want to. Kalar could see people behind Sumili on the screen of his Wimcard beginning to move towards a large door. “Your break looks like it is just about over, so I'll let you get back to meditating. See you tonight. Be well.”

         “Be well, Kalar.”

         The train reach Meqiyoha within the hour. Not for the first time, Kalar marveled at how the rail system shortened a trip that would take months on foot and and days on a riderfly to an arc at most. He switched trains and headed toward Generator. For the brief period he was on the train between Meqiyoha and Generator, he fiddled with his empty soup can. With a simple form, he dissolved it into a puddle of pure, clean aluminum, and caught the remaining soup and coating in a napkin he had in his pocket, and then reshaped the pool into a long, sleek feather.

         This will make a good trinket for Feather Festival, he thought to himself.

         Soon, he was exiting the platform, and after checking the local time as Meqiyoha was several Arcs ahead of Tijan, he headed toward a riderfly station. At the riderfly station, he bought the dry pellets that would serve as his “fare.” The pellets smelled like decaying meat and pond scum, and regarded them as such. He pressed a button that emitted a call for an available riderfly. The giant, shiny green insectoid landed quickly in front of the station and turned to regard him with huge, empty eyes.

         “The Grove, or as near to it as you can get,” Kalar said as he put the food on the ground in front of the creature. The riderfly lowered itself slightly, and Kalar climbed up into the basket on its back, strapped in, and held on. After it had finished crunching the pellets and pecking at the last remaining crumbs, it was in the air without warning, and zipped south.

         Over the roar of rushing air, Kalar tried to remember the proper Zy'yrojt form for addressing the Greater Spirit of Virtue. The wind whipped at Kalar, flapping his long coat and tugging at the leaves on his head. As is typical with riderfly flight, the insectoid flew vertically down without warning before hovering momentarily and coming to rest in a small clearing in the forest. Slightly stunned, Kalar stumbled from the basket. He stood, trying to recover after the jerky flight.

         Peering at the creature wearily, he murmured to it, “Wait here. I'll be back soon.”

         Kalar looked around briefly to make sure there was no one else in the small clearing, and then quickly removed his clothes and crystal necklace and folded them neatly into a pile before entering the forest.  Despite being completely naked, he cleared his mind of all thought except finding the Grove. Mosses twittered in the forest canopy. Unseen animals rustled the bushes and fled from him. A bird growled as he passed a nest. His prayers to the Greater Spirit of Virtue would informally begin now, to prove that he was worthy of Auni-Gokheu's consideration.

         Mustering all the humility he could, Kalar began, “Auni-Gokheu--”

         Kalar tripped over a root, fell down a small bank and landed face first on a soft patch of babyleaves. Kalar got up, dusted himself off, and looked around. He was in a small circle of trees, the girth of which he couldn't even fit his arms half-way around. They were a pale gray, tall, had smooth bark, and held a lofty crown of leaves far above the surrounding forest.

         Kalar then noticed that the air was full of a smoky light that he would have described as twinkled and weaved lazily in the shadow of the canopy. The Greater Spirit of Virtue was very present in this space at this time, almost to the point that Kalar thought it was paying attention to him. Kalar was speechless, in awe to be in the presence of something so immensely incomprehensible and humbled and bewildered by what he supposed. Kalar watched for an unknown amount of time until the light swirled as if a mighty hand had been drawn through it and disappeared. Kalar blinked, and he slowly started to walk out of the woods. Looking down so as to not trip over any more roots, he headed in the direction he thought he had come. He walked for a while and began to wonder if he was going the right way. Then he saw the short brush of a clearing and when he looked up, he was staring at the riderfly next to his pile of clothes. Looking around, he quickly got dressed, and waited for something to happen. When nothing did, he fed the riderfly another “fare,” and headed to Meqiyoha. If there were going to be a situation where I would have to prove my virtue in my ways, it would have occurred, Kalar thought to himself. Nothing had happened. No ponoin invasion.  No accidentally bumping into Yekju condemning a family to different levels of the Realm of the Greater Spirit of Darkness. No waking nightmares that almost made him kill his closest friends. Just seeing the Greater Spirit of Virtue. He had never heard of anyone seeing a Spirit before. Something left him wanting answers to questions as vague as his encounter. The center for information lay at the heart of Meqiyoha and had a longer name that Kalar had once known, but everyone knew it simply as the Library.



         Meqiyoha was an ancient city, although no one knew precisely how old it was. The tallest buildings reached into the clouds, and all buildings had several bridges that arched between them. The city contained hundreds of such buildings and sprawled vastly in each direction but was mostly empty. The city was breath-taking despite its emptiness. The buildings gleamed in white, silver, black, and clear crystal; they were sleek, rounded shapes as smooth as glass and somehow repelled dirt. Open floors and rooftops had abandoned gardens that overflowed their boundaries and attempted in vain to reclaim the city. Winged creatures glided and flew between green havens.

         To an outsider, the city would have been off-putting because of its near total automation. Despite the lack of observable cameras, external power supplies, motors, and service access, the city opened doors for its inhabitants, restricted unregistered people from off limit buildings, and ran an intracity cab service that eliminated the need for personal motorized transport. Windows turned opaque or clear automatically, elevators moved people between floors, and ambient lighting flicked on and off when needed. The city even automatically watered the patches of jungle with rain water it had filtered. Quietly, attentively, the city listened to the needs of its inhabitants and obliged.

         The streets and sidewalks were made of a material that was almost stone, but unlike stone, it hadn't degraded with the millennia since its creation. The material wasn't slick in the rain and didn't allow ice to form on it. Fountains, courtyards, parks and sculptures generously peppered the city. Manicured copses of trees and vibrant flowerbeds full of plants chosen to attract the brightest songfrogs and flowerwings lined the streets. The city's beauty and wonder negated its constant surveillance.

         Kalar had no time to think about the city watching him or the beautiful architecture. A news  story had just flashed across the screen of his Wimcard.

         “The Center for Information, Archival Systematization, and Artifact Repository was attacked by the Akina Balaa; books and talismans stolen and damaged; the archival system is down until further notice.”

         Was it a coincidence that the first place I thought to look was attacked? The Greater Spirit of Virtue must be testing me, and the test is underway, Kalar thought to himself.

         The Library was an enormous, round, squat building with three spires surrounding it. Gleaming white stairs and ramps ran up to it. From the outside, the building looked as it always had—an indifferent, round face unaffected by the changes in the world. Kalar rushed up to the doorway and stood on the fine circle in the ground in front of a barely noticeable seam. Kalar flashed his Wimcard near the seam and stood waiting for the door to appear. Instead, a red triangle blinked once.

         “Please let me in! I'm here to help!” Kalar yelled, banging on the door.

         Silently, the door slid open. Kalar paused for a moment wondering whether it was “please” or “I'm here to help” that made the building open.

         Inside, the building was a hurricane. People were running everywhere, smoke and ash filled the air, and books, scrolls, pages, shelves, and talismans were flying around the room dive-bombing people or smashing into walls. Several  large cases had grown teeth and legs and were chasing after anyone who got near them. Piles of blackened books and bookcases were strewn about the floor.

         A book came whizzing at Kalar's head. Nearly without thinking, he made a complex form. Kalar's body faded to nothing, and phased into being a few steps away. The book, realizing it had missed its target, swung around and zoomed toward him again. He made a form that turned the metal from an overturned chair into a coil. The coil flew through the air, collided with the rogue book, and bound it tightly. He fused the coil to the rest of the chair to keep the book in place. Looking up, Kalar noticed more books had decided to attack him. Five more forms made more coils from the surrounding chairs, and sent them to bind the books and blended the metal together so the books fell struggling to ground unceremoniously. Kalar frantically searched for more sources of metal, put couldn't find any. He hurried toward the other side of the Library, avoiding dive-bombing books and talismans with his phasing. Chairs had been cast about close to the walls. Kalar took all the metal in the chairs and made as large a net as he could. Sweeping it around, he tried to gather as many books and talismans into the net as he could. Sweat began to bead on Kalar's forehead with the effort of the form. He gritted his teeth.

         “Just a little longer,” he said to himself. His muscles began to ache and quiver from the strain. Finally, he couldn't take it any more. He closed off the net and let it fall to the ground with a thump. He breathed hard and looked around quickly. An unaffected talisman which appeared to be made of crystal lay of the floor near him. He dashed to grab it, but a bookcase lumbered toward him, gnashing its teeth.

         Probing the bookcase frantically with a thin stream of Metal natura, Kalar groaned, “Why do these bookcases have to be made without screws or nails or anything metal?” It fell on him as he grabbed it to keep it from chewing on his face. Being that close to the crazed furniture, he felt something within it and had an idea. He snatched the crystal talisman and suddenly his tiredness was gone. He focused on the bookcase and suddenly realized a feeling that resonated within Kalar. It wanted to live. Not as some bird-bookshelf hybrid, but the wood told him it wanted to live as a tree once more. He easily drew upon the Plant Way, his other inherent ability with which he had little skill, and made the bookcase grow. The form fanned the smallest spark of life into a living, photosynthesizing tree. Sap flowed within its wood, and roots and branches began to sprout from it. He effortlessly phased out from under the bookcase as the limbs and roots to grew faster, pinning the vicious bookcase beneath the weight of them. He helped the roots adhere to the floor to secure the bookcase in place.

         Kalar took a moment to look around. The action had mostly died down, but the Library was a disaster. Books, bookcases, and talismans from all floors of the building were scattered throughout the main floor. The fires had been mostly put out, and the building had filtered all of the smoke and grit from the building. Kalar sighed at the cataclysm. A being a good head taller than Kalar that looked to be made of a thin sheet of clear plastic came up to him.

         “Hello Kalar,” he said in a melodic hum, “you weren't here when the attack started. Interesting that the building let you in.”

         “Gylus, what happened? I was on my way here when I got the news.” Kalar studied Gylus' face; his synthesized face looked tired and angry and was overlaid with images from the past half hour.

         “It's all my fault. It all felt like a dream, but it really wasn't. He, Mahrnog, he planted the dream in my head. I dreamed I had amnesia and had forgotten all my training in the Way. The Akina Balaa had gotten into the library and destroyed the catalog and the security system. The building was rejecting people and a crowd outside was about to riot. While I thought I was working to correct it, I was really disabling it. I let them walk right in the building. I let them take whatever they wanted. I'm responsible for the destruction of priceless books and scrolls and talismans!” Gylus folded to slump down in a chair and put his head in his hands.

         “Gylus, listen, it's not your fault. Mahrnog is powerful; it could have happened to anyone. I'll...” Kalar trailed off as he realized how little power he compared to the Akina Balaa. The desire to correct the situation made Kalar pursue the issue. “Gylus, what did they want?”

         Gylus took a deep breath. “I don't know. I won't know what they took until we've got everything back in order. Vesina's on her way here...”

         The door had just slid open. In the open door stood the very image of shock. Charcoal black hair framed her round face and large black eyes. Her hair seemed to move on its own, slowly. Her skin was mottled black, pink, and orange. She wore a simple black coat with a single large pocket on the side, which contained a softly glowing blue rectangle. She rushed up to Gylus.

         “When I heard what happened, I had to check the code for the area. I still couldn't believe. I tried to manipulate the code to return it to order, but the Chaos forms are randomizing the execution. I have to undo those first. Get everyone to try and return everything to normal. I'll see to the animated books and bookcases.” Vesina turned her head to glance at Kalar briefly, but turned back to Gylus. Kalar prickled. Despite his curiosity about this code, he disliked her immediately. She was of the Chaos Way. A very messy Way, completely unpredictable and amoral at best.

         “Thank you so much, Vesina. This is Kalar, he's responsible for the captured, writhing mass of books on ocean harvesting over there.” Gylus said, gesturing toward Kalar. “Kalar, this is Vesina, responsible for overseeing the order of the entire world.” In Kalar's mind, awe battled skepticism, and both showed on his face.

         “Nice to meet you,” she said levelly. She moved to attend to the sack of books and the restrained monster bookcases.

         “She's usually so pleasant,” Gylus said thoughtfully.

         “Someone of the Chaos Way is responsible for keeping order on our planet?”

         “Well, she's very qualified. She kept “order,” in a sense, in Iehjoxu Kuyqoha. Not that that place is supposed to have order. Actually, she was more of an artist there than law enforcement, but she had experience with the programming.”

         A memory glowed dimly in Kalar's mind. A long time ago, a small group went to Iehjoxu Kuyqoha. It was a realm outside their own, but they found two beings living there and brought them back to this realm. They had also found a door to Huqikyn, which Kalar recalled vaguely had something to do with some Way that wasn't the Metal Way. After the defeat of Elivedon, their world, torn by war, destruction, and unusual and dangerous phenomena, had returned to order remarkably quickly. Was Vesina behind that? Kalar was impressed, but then he remembered why he had come. Perhaps something Gylus did know would help him focus on something other than his ruin Library.

         “Gylus, has anyone ever seen the Greater Spirit of Virtue?” Kalar asked as Gylus continued to watch Vesina undo the Chaos forms.

         Gylus blinked and patterns of lights flashed all over his body. “'The Greater Spirit of Virtue appeared to many before and after the creation of the Hihofykm in the Sixth Age,'” Gylus stated in a level and informative voice.

         “What's the Hihofykm?” Kalar asked.

         “'That information does not exist.' That's odd. Information about that information existing exists, so clearly it must have existed...that's a very strong error message...” Gylus trailed off.

         “Wait, what's the information about the information existing?” Kalar said after the moment he had take to sort out what Gylus had said.

         “A reflexive archive has a log of the definition of the Hihofykm existing and tagged it as critical,” Gylus replied, seeming distracted by something. Lights and patterns continued to flash all over his thin, plastic body.

         “So, you remember reading the definition and thought it was interesting?” Kalar asked.

         Gylus looked at Kalar and blinked. “I suppose you could say that.... The reflexive, private archive contains some information about the Hihofykm.”

         “What do you remember about it?” Kalar asked, final starting to understand Gylus' unique way of talking about his thoughts.

         “'Information about the Hihofykm can be found on the reference scroll “The End of A Koaxigealiaturgy” by Mendon Fearsoods.' Where is that scroll?” Gylus said as he made a form that would make him aware of the location of the scroll. A silvery arrow flew from his hands and left the Library. Gylus' eyes widened in horror as he waved his arms to abort the form.

         “They have it. They have the scroll,” Gylus said slowly.

         “So they have a scroll that tells what the Hihofykm is. We could find that out, too. What's the problem?” Kalar asked.

         “That scroll is a reference scroll. It has references to books on it. The name of one of those books is blacklisted as a level 5 dangerous information. Instruction books on star implosion or global ecological destruction are only a level 3,” Gylus explained, expecting Kalar to be shocked. Exasperated, Gylus gathered himself and began again, as if he was speaking to a child. “We don't have this dangerous book. We have information about the danger of this book. We never had this book. We have records of never having this book. These records are securely backlogged by a system to which even I don't have access. That means this dangerous book is out there.”

         “Well, what's the title of this book? I'll find it before they do,” Kalar said.

         “'That information does not exist.' I must have purged the contents of the scroll from the records,” Gylus said, sadly.

         “And the 'private, reflexive archive?'” Kalar said, deliberately using Gylus' terms.

         “The title is The Journal of Rasbin A. Majlif' but it's written in Zy'yrojt. It was never published, so that's why it was tagged as 'critical,' and then it was flagged as level 5 dangerous information. You have to keep them from getting their hands on it,” Gylus said, the urgency rising in his voice.

         “Don't panic. Where is the book most likely located? I'll take some friends with me and we'll find the book before they do. Can I take some talismans with me?” Kalar asked. His mind raced as he began to contemplate the danger of the situation into which he was heading.

         “Yeah, sure, take as many as you need. It's almost certainly in one of the chambers at Tox'xun. Here, I'm sending the name of the journal and what it looks like written in Zy'yrojt to your Wimcard. Be careful, but whatever you do, you can't let them get that book.” Gylus clasped both of Kalar's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “Don't let them get that book. Go. Now!”



"Dreambreaker: Chapter 2" 



*Time is denoted by ten colors that symbolize the color of the sky at that time. Each of these parts “Arcs” is divided into seven smaller parts, “hours,” named with ordinal numbers. More technical measurements of time exist but are not used in day-to-day conversation.