The Shotibl were not lovely birds. Tall, covered in rough gray feathers, and with a face dominated by a wide hooked beak as long as a forearm. They had a deathly glare to them. And yet, they were quite docile, according to Jember. These Shotibl decided there was no future for the ek. They were thirsty. They would drink that strange water from another dinsion. Truth and the others would die for standing in their way.
Truth had a magic sword. It was a really, really good magic sword. And he cheerfully would have swapped it for an Army standard issue Needler right now. Swords, famously, were not ranged weapons. Even his POS acid bolter would be an improvent right now… which he still had lashed to the fra of his two-wheeler!
Truth sprinted for his iron horse. The birds saw him moving and dove on him. The holy blade flicked out, not trying to cut but to break the montum of the attack. Force them to divert. The birds ca in fast, flared their wings, and screeched.
The noise was tearing, penetrating, like the whine of bone drills into his skull. He tried to push through. He had the sudden realization that he had never tasted moonlight, and until he did, he would never really know the moon. Or the love of a mother, because without knowing the moon, how could he know a mother-
Long claws tore open his back. A wicked beak jabbed down to tear out his spine. Truth spun fast, far faster than a human should be able to, beheading the unnatural thing. The spray of blood from his back made a red crescent in the dirt. He kept pushing for the iron horse as the birds shrieked reminders of all he had lost and all he had never known.
The accumulated blows to his mind quickly started to take effect. Truth was swaying by the ti he reached the two-wheeler, and he didn’t trust his fingers to untie the fetish. He jabbed his sword at a couple more birds making strafing runs, then quickly sliced the fetish free.
Ranged weaponry at last! One of the gray horrors scread a reminder of what it was like to miss three als in two days and that no matter how long he lived, he would never get those als back. Beak open, it dove for his face.
Truth tore apart the gaping maw with a bolt of high-speed acid. He was already lining up on his third target before the first hit the ground. His aim was off, but he made up for a lack of accuracy with the volu of fire. The fight was over very quickly after that. He looked over at rkovah and the others. They were quite safe, guarded by a little speck of sun-bright spirit.
The loss of adrenaline quickly brought the long gashes in him to the top of the priority list. He could ignore the pain during the fight. Now? His back shivered with freezing pain. A feeling of burning alternated with the cold, the drip, drip, drip of life flowing out of him and infection settling in.
“I don’t suppose you can cast that healing spell again?”
Truth was patched up without too much difficulty. Between a Level Seven exorcist and two highly competent ritualists, the tears in Truth’s muscles were quickly nded, and the infection banished. The ntal damage would take longer, as it was apparently not a curse as the word was generally used.
“This is alarming. Alarming. The corruption of sapients has been well established, but to corrupt birds in this way? Very alarming.” rkovah didn’t look alard. Serious, perhaps. “We need to enact the ritual. It will stabilize the space here for a while. It will give us ti to bring in experts.”
Truth wanted to point out that, by most standards, they were the experts. But maybe things were different in Siphios.
“This is a useful learning experience for everyone. Etenesh, Jember, did you see the difference in how you and Tommy reacted to the birds?”
“We raised wards and shields,” Etenesh said. “We wanted to secure the defense before worrying about the offense. Tommy disregarded defense in favor of speed and offense.” rkovah nodded.
“An important difference in mindset. You two have, essentially, a fortress ntality. It’s by no ans a bad ntality to have, but it is limiting. You are pinned in place and have given the initiative to your attackers. You would have to raise a very powerful defense, very quickly, if you had no support.”
Truth was suddenly, vividly reminded that rkovah was a teacher in more than just na.
“Likewise, Mr. Wells’ strategy can be thought of as high risk, high return. He trusted his reflexes and his speed to carry him through the battle, deciding that the best defense was a good offense. Correctly, but only to a point. He would likewise be in very poor condition if he didn’t have support after the battle.”
Truth nodded. It was true. He knew rkovah could look after himself, but he had no confidence in the cousins’ ability to kill the birds. Turtling up had never occurred to him, though it seed obvious now. Aerial attackers should tell you to get under a roof.
“Now then. Mr. Wells, continue your patrol while we conduct the ritual. Consider all you have seen today. I believe it will aid in your comprehension of Incisive.”
______________________
The ritual was almost anti-climactic. Normally he would have been very impressed by the illusory forms rising and descending, the incredible pressure brought by its holy patrons, and the general aesthetic pleasure one could get watching Jember and Etenesh work. The birds had ruined that, for today at least. As had the little drop of fluid.
His mind kept being pulled back to it. Sothing about it seed to trigger… if not a mory, the sense of having once rembered sothing relevant. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like wondering if you had locked the door behind you when you left ho in the morning.
Truth shook his head, trying to dispel the irritant. What did rkovah an about improving his understanding of Incisive? He mulled it over for most of the three-hour ride back to Boule.
They were in ti for dinner in the Faculty Dining Room. There was no flan, but there was a small slice of cake. Truth felt quite confident in his evaluation of the cake as both dry and bland. If this was the standard of dessert here, he could understand their love of flan.
rkovah called him over after dinner. They walked to the office he was borrowing for their stay here. “Young man,” Truth smiled brilliantly at the deceptively young-looking teacher. “Mr. Wells. Have you had any new thoughts about Incisive since this afternoon?”
“Many, but they keep going around in circles.” Truth admitted.
“The difficulty of spells is that, from our perspective, they often defy logic. You have to understand the unique thinking of the creator, be they angels or demons. Or human, but we so often design our spells on what we learn from angels and demons.” rkovah added softly.
“Teacher, forgive if I am asking sothing rude, but… are there any spells that co directly from God?”
rkovah sighed deeply, looking a little sad. “Not in the sense that you an, no. There was a ti, long, long ago, when God would hear the prayers of the faithful and, on occasion, answer them. This was not the manipulation of cosmic rays, you understand, but direct divine intervention.”
“So all heavenly or divine magic is, essentially, angel magic?”
“You may think of it as such. The angels insist they get their power and authority from their service to God, but… well. Suffice to say it appears to be more complicated than that.”
Truth nodded. In his admittedly limited experience, things were always more complicated than they first appeared.
“Back to Incisive- You fight the sa way its creator thinks. Keep that in mind, and demonstrate what you have learned so far.”
Truth did, and he still had a long way to go. Still, it was nice to feel tangible progress after a very tiring day. Etenesh and Jember were watching the Pitz in a common room. They invited him to watch with them, and he did. The ga was still very silly, but every now and then, Etenesh would smile at him, and Jember would laugh at sothing he said, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The next morning, as rkovah had no need for them, Truth, Jember, and Etenesh set off to tend to their own projects. Truth was rapidly learning as much as he could about possession and then once again turning to the question of baptism. Finally, he worked on the puzzle that was Incisive.
Why, exactly, should it matter that he fought like Botis thought? The geotry of a spell form wouldn’t change because of his combat philosophy. The thought led Truth back to the fundantals of spell construction- the intent of the mage, then the sacrificial energy (usually your own, from your own apertures) that stirred the cosmic rays into acting as the geotries of the spell form required.
Which linked back to intent, didn’t it? The mage required sothing of the world and, by an act of focused will, made it happen. The energy, both in his apertures and filling the world around him, were ans to an end. He wanted sothing cut- sword or spell; both were ans to that end.
It felt odd, picking his way through his thoughts like this. A sort of stretching feeling. His mind wasn’t used to this kind of exercise, this sort of analytical reasoning. Taking what was known and deducing a hypothesis. Not that he had the language to describe what he was doing. Nobody had ever thought it a useful skill for him to have.
Truth’s mind kept wanting to wander away to other things, but he knew he was on the trail of sothing. He pushed himself to stay focused- he didn’t want to lose the scent. Intent. He felt like he had been struggling to morize the complicated spell forms and the various invocations needed to stir the magic to life. But what if he used the intent to guide him in rembering all that?
He stood quickly, stepping away from the desk. Truth tried to imagine deploying Incisive in combat. What would he want to use first? It would depend on the situation, of course. This ant that the first thing he should draw on is the battle sense, the limited foreknowledge the spell granted. And he should do it fast.
Truth quickly tried to summon the spell form, already letting his mind move on to the next action. Armor, most likely, then putting a killing edge on his blade. Cutting to the heart of things. Incisive.
The spell never ford, not even rising to the level where it could be said to collapse partway. But he felt sothing stirring. It was very rough, a long, long way from being usable. But there was a definite feeling of progress. That this was how the spell was intended to work. Not a carefully planned series of moves, but fast, brutal, and to the point. Foreknowledge, yes, but only as far as the problem at hand.
Truth smiled slightly. That would be quite enough for him. And after a full, satisfying day, he went to bed.
__________________________________________
That night, as Truth lay sleeping-
The part-ti philosopher and full-ti bon vivant was sitting slouched on a bench, head lolled back, unfiltered cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The scent of a woman’s perfu lingered on him, dancing with the rough tobacco sll. One of his lovers lived near the boardwalk, and he had obviously just left. Truth sat down next to him, offering a hunk of the bread he just bought. “Franc for your thoughts?”
“If they are only worth that, I am ruined.” The man managed to chuckle around his cigarette. It appeared to be almost surgically attached to his lower lip.
“In this absurd world you tell about, I may be overpaying.”
“You have no true understanding of absurdity, my friend. We are absurd. The world is absurd. But the true absurdity lies between man and the world. Our desire for connection and aning in a aningless existence.”
Truth shrugged. The philosopher snorted at that. Then he tore off a hunk of bread with his teeth. It was still warm from the bakery.
“Tell , Truth. If the world is absurd, and life is absurd, why do you live on? Beyond the force of habit and your body’s reluctance to change, why do you choose to keep going?”
Truth sighed and tore himself a piece of the bread. “Is the bread tasty?”
“Yes.”
“Was your girl sweet?”
“Hah. Yes. The pleasures of the flesh remain just that. But this is re philosophical suicide, a refusal to struggle with the pressing question of existence in the face of a pointless existence. You might as well go to church!”
“If the world is absurd, then find absurd reasons for living.” Truth shrugged and grinned.
The philosopher considered that for a mont. “Not the worst idea I’ve heard.”
“Going back to Maria’s to test it out?”
“Obviously.”
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