Engin

  "Special issue! Special issue!" the market crier was shouting, his voice bouncing between the stone facades of the Aya district gates. "Hot off the press and into your arms — Storm Thump: Special Issue Number Seventy-Four! Fresh and crackling!"

  He yanked a magazine from the basket slung over his shoulder and gave it an exaggerated sniff, eyes rolling back like he’d just caught a whiff of a bakery at dawn.

  "Mmm! Smell that ink folks!? Still warm from the ovens. Nothing quite like it. Pure adrenaline on the pages!"

  Before any of them could duck or weave, the older man pressed a copy into each of their hands. Engin, Little Tommy, Cisco, and Cede all blinked down at the thick, colored-ink pages now sticking to their fingers.

  "One-hundred cens, kids," the crier said, flashing a yellow-toothed grin. "Cheap as dirt and worth twice the price. Pay up and be on your merry way."

  Engin frowned, flipping the magazine over to check the back. "One-hundred cens?" he said, squinting at the man. "But that’s ten golds! I could get one for only five down by Eastmarket."

  “Aye, regular issue maybe,” the crier shot back, leaning in with a sly wink. “But this here’s special issue. No second prints. You’d be searching the storefronts for an hour in Eastmarket just to find they’ve sold out.” He raised a finger. “Tell you what: buy four, I’ll do ‘em at seventy cens each. No less, no more.”

  Before Engin could answer back, the crier spun on his heel and swung his basket around to the next cluster of passersby, already hawking again.

  Cede pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, squinting at the glossy cover. "The Contenders Circuit doesn't start for another three weeks," he said, almost to himself. "Wonder what’s got them rushing a special issue out."

  Cisco had already cracked his open, eyes scanning hungrily down the first page. "Probably a scandal," he smiled. "It’s always a scandal."

  The cover art practically screamed off the page — a tempest rendered in lurid violets and angry green streaks. The storm's wall was a titanic engine of power, extending to the reaches of the void sky. Red lightning veined the air like blood in glass, splintering the clouds that loomed like anvils. Below, the jagged black coastlines of the Greench Sea twisted against the chaos, those trademark basalt columns jutting like broken teeth from the water.

  The headlines stamped across the page read: Seabelt Madness! Bora Returns to Form! The Coastfarers Crash and Bust! Jackjaw and Crew take a Gambit!

  Eventually the crier circled back to them, asking for payment. Engin and Cede dug a few gold notes and cens out of their bags to pay for the entire group.

  "Wise decision, lads!" the crier noted, before pocketing the money and scurrying off to rope in another group.

  Engin zipped his satchel and led the way forward through the gates. The group moved together into the square, where the air smelled of sage-dust, perfume, and an ever-present tang of meal and drink carrying from the saloon nearby.

  “Ugh. Bora’s back in circuit contention,” Tommy frowned, struggling to hold open his issue as they walked. “He's pulled a five-stone haul right outta the Maw. That’s more than enough to push his crew back into the Contender's Circuit.”

  "Where do you see that?" Cisco leaned over, helping Tommy hold it open.

  "Page fifteen." Tommy shoved him away. "And stop walking so close!"

  Engin shuffled to the page Tommy was referring to. He passed by some impressive illustrations done by artists from various storm chasing crews, falling onto a photogram of Bora the Anvil and some of his crew.

  Bora was a beast of a being, like something carved out a mountain and then taught how to swing. It was no exaggeration. He was large in ways that most other humans weren't — the last descendent of a dying noble lineage; the Anvilmen. On his back he carried the great Madness Hammer, a powerful runic artifact once wielded by the Monarch King Drades. It was an azuline maul, crested with multiple engram slates that seemed to glow even in print. He wore it strapped behind his big black fur-coat, which was a permanent mainstay over his shoulders.

  Flanking Bora in the photogram was his crew: Dogbane Charles, a forecaster with sharp shoulders and sharper eyes; Kanna Silvers, the stormseer with that impossible, gold-laced hair; and Karbaran Steel, a navigator, grim-faced behind a storm of scarred lashes and bruises.

  Above the photo, there was a emblem stamped beneath the header. The insignia of the Anvil Chasers; deep blue and gold — the Madness Hammer mid-strike on an anvil, thunderclouds booming at its crest.

  "Now I understand why they pushed out a special issue!" Cede announced, dodging a group of working-men carrying wine barrels. "A five stone haul this late into the season is bloody impressive! The Anvil's have practically knocked Kingjay's crew out of the circuit in one swing."

  "Kingjay might challenge for an honor duel now," said Cisco, his blonde hair curling over his eyes.

  "He'd get obliterated. Him and his entire crew."

  "What other choice do they have. They moved ten spots this season in the rankings, only to get knocked down now and just miss out on the Contender's Circuit. If they ask for an honor duel, they at least have a chance to get back in."

  "A duel with Bora is not a chance, Cisco." Cede shook his head. "It's just asking to be killed."

  "Assuming Bora even accepts." Engin noted.

  The other three boys looked at Engin as if he had said something completely blasphemous.

  "What?"

  "Bora never says no to an honor duel, Engin." Cede reminded him. "He's ancient-code. You challenge him, he shows. That's how he's always been. Plus, it's just extra rating points for him if he wins. Kingjay also has a few knobs loose in his head too though. I wouldn't put it past him to go off the rails like he did in Desmond Town."

  "What happened in Desmond Town?" asked Engin, admittedly out of the loop.

  Cisco took a deep breathe and shut his magazine closed. "A couple of rookie chasers made the mistake of blocking Kingjay's escape route on a tempest chase. Their entire crew was found tossed and torn apart the next day in a farmstead ditch."

  "I remember reading about that." Little Tommy frowned. "They couldn't pin it on Kingjay and his crew. The troopers just chalked it up to a rogue harbinger accident. But everyone knows the Kingjays were the only other chasers on that storm."

  Engin rolled his eyes. "Even if the troopers did know it was them, are we really expecting them to do anything about it. The Ministry doesn't touch chaser conflict, even with a ten-foot-pole. It's an animal kingdom out there."

  "Unless it's an honor duel." Cede laughed. "The Ministry LOVES sanctioning a good honor duel."

  "It's barbaric." Little Tommy said, thumbing the edges of his issue. "It's not anything but that. That's why Leon stays away from that sort of stuff. He doesn't need to flex his power to show that he is the best chaser in the world."

  "It's old tradition, Tommy." Cisco retorted. "You just repeat everything Leon says because you love him so much. Leon wouldn't even be a quarter of the chaser he is, if it wasn't for the crew he has around him."

  "That's not true!"

  "Of course it is!"

  Engin stayed quiet as Cisco and Tommy started to bicker. The traffic behind them moved as a caravan rolled through, metal wheels grinding stone.

  He looked down at the photogram again in the magazine. Bora’s eyes stared back at him off of the page—intense... unreadable.

  The Aya district was a city folded inside of a city. Here the spires rose like glass lances, finished in cerulean and silver, and steeped in a maroon that bled into the dark stones of the street. The market square did not rest, it fractured in every which way with wide roads and narrow channels threading between tall uneven shops, constructed in ways that made you look it over twice. It was the hub of high penny trade. In every sovereign city, the Aya District was the center of commerce. The Sovereign Bank would be the first thing you noticed, big and white in the distance, made of the most expensive stone and architectural framework in the city, save for the Ministry Embassy and Church. Then came the memorial statue of the east's longest reigning and most beloved Wardnik, Greygon Eshmeer. On his worthy and titanic shoulders, he carried an enormous black starrock, the one that had fallen from the void skies, cratering into these lands, and carving out what would become the great city of Sorens Peak. Beneath his boots was a black marble reservoir of water, where people would throw cen to wish for better fortune.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Easy there! Don't run across the roads!"

  A group of what looked like trooper initiates and their captain, directed traffic on horseback amidst the busy afternoon commute. Patrolling beside them was a pair of crowcaps, their brooding armor glimmering like obsidian under the breaking daylight.

  Engin crossed the road after a carriage passed them by, mingling into a huddle of fine dressed girls, arms burdened in bags, giggling and bantering about the shop they'd just come out of. He waited for Cisco, Tommy and Cede to catch up, taking them further down the bustling streets. They passed from under a tangle of terra star vines, their bulbs flickering a myriad of different colors under a sign that read: New and Bold Color Combinations! Shopwide Sale! Remo's Starlights!

  "Where are we going?" Little Tommy asked.

  "Quillets and Tomes, first!" Cede took the lead. "I've got to buy a few things from my list."

  The rusty golden shop known as Quillets and Tomes was already quite busy this afternoon. Most of the patrons were young students, combing through the tall, crowded shelves in search of books and study materials. A few adults were scattered quietly among them as well, lost in their own literary pursuits. Engin moved past a hooded woman lingering silently in a row filled with aged tomes and forgotten novellas. He skimmed the shelves, searching for a nightly read. He wanted something different, something to help him take his mind off things when he wasn't so buried in his musings.

  "I wouldn't recommend reading that one." The lady beside him remarked dryly, a gloved hand coming out of her cloak.

  Engin looked up from the novella he was holding, taking a side glance at the figure beside him.

  "Unless you prefer a lot of smut in your stories, of course."

  Engin shut the book closed immediately and put it back on the shelf. "No, definitely not."

  "Caught me by surprise too the first time I read it." The lady said. "You wouldn't know it by the title."

  The lady put down her hood. She was a Noryn, evident by the blue undertones in her skin. Her hair was snow white, as were her large eyebrows.

  Engin stepped back from the shelves. "What would you recommend then? I've been reading a lot more recently. Anything here catch your eye?"

  "That depends on what you're looking for." She ran her finger along the spines of a few hardcovers. "What's the last thing you've read?"

  Engin scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the ceiling as though the answer might be floating above them. "I'm not finished with it yet, but its called Genosama's Eccentric Dance with Skyflayers. It's more a memoir than a novella really. Although I've had a hard time believing if some of the accounts are entirely real or flavoured for the story."

  The lady's brows raised with a modicum of curiosity. "Genosama... why do I feel I've heard that name before?"

  "He's a nomad writer. A solider turned traveller. Some call him the greatest channeler of our era, but I feel a lot of that is just folklore than fact. My sister's a big fan of his. She's the one who recommended it to me."

  The lady's cloak seemed to move with her hips. She placed her hands together and started analyzing the shelves behind them. "Ah. So does this 'Genosama' actually manage to have himself a dance with some skyflayers?"

  "Well, I haven't gotten to that part yet. But he's made his way to the Jojoba Mountains, meeting with the mountain folk there and spending a week with them, embracing their culture. He talks about their advanced meditative practices and how they've managed to live isolated from sovereign society for so long."

  "Hmm. Seems a bore to me," said the lady, sorting through a row of novella. "I suppose you want something with a little more teeth now."

  Engin was a bit taken aback by the lady's bluntness, but he appreciated her for it. "Definitely. Something a little more thrilling before bed."

  "Try Karka Nazanuma." The lady pulled out a dingy black hardcover and held it out for Engin to take.

  It was a bland cover, no art, just a heavy book with an interesting title.

  "Is that... Bedmizian?" Engin asked, running his hand across the gold lettering.

  "Mhm. Roughly translates to Nights in Blood. Trooper Haaj investigates a series of murders taking place within the New Mizia Embassy every fortnight. The secrets he uncovers..." The lady leaned in a bit closer, tapping on the front of the book with her colored nails. "Well, let's just say you'll be losing some sleep this week just to make it to the end."

  Engin nodded his head carefully. "Hopefully not too much sleep. Thanks. You've rescued me from a half hour's indecision, that almost certainly was going to lead to me leaving this place empty handed."

  The lady stood up straight, and propped up her hood. She was about Engin's height, perhaps a bit taller. "No need. I do it for the love of the passion."

  Before Engin could think of something to say back, with a faint bow and a sly wink, the lady turned and vanished deeper into the stacks, her cloak trailing like smoke.

  Engin watched her go, then turned the book over in his hands.

  Hopefully this doesn't cost a fortune.

  Meanwhile, Cede had loaded his arms with a small tower of texts, muttering titles under his breath. “Introductory Aerolithics… Kinetic Tracing… Why is Advanced Etching next to the cookbooks section?” he grumbled.

  "Because they both do the best work at putting someone to sleep." Cisco joined them. "Can we get out of here now? The lines for the engram shops are already going to be so long. It's midday and we're buying books."

  "I'm set." Engin proclaimed, holding up his new novella.

  Cede on the other hand was hesitant, going over the list propped over his bundle of tomes.

  Little Tommy and Cisco pushed him along. "Come on! You can come here again on your own. You don't even need these right now."

  As they made their way to the counter, the shop bell rang overhead—someone exiting, fast and cloaked. A breeze followed them out, sharp with sea salt and mild perfume. Engin watched the figure leave, recognizing the back of the lady's cloak.

  Thanks for the help stranger.

  "Just the one?" The older clerk asked Engin, her chipped teeth visible between the lips of a weary smile.

  Engin paid for his book, nodding kindly to the shopkeeper on his way out.

  The wind had picked up, sovereign banners flapping high on their perches.

  "It's going to bloody rain again today." Cede remarked, stuffing his newly purchased tomes into a ballooning satchel.

  "We'd better hurry then," said Tommy. "None of us were smart enough to bring an umbrella."

  "If it rains we'll just get into a cafe," said Engin. "Madame Song said she'd meet us in Olivernus with the girls in a few hours, we're pretty much stuck here till then."

  The boys rejoined the current of the streets slipping past street vendors and apothecary shops. Engin made sure to keep an eye out for Cisco and Tommy, keeping them close so they didn't get lost in the crowds. There were a few engram dealers in Sorens Peak, but the largest and most accessible for new engram users was the Crystal Emporium. You didn't even need to see the emporium to know you were close to it. The bubbling crowds and youthful banter was your biggest sign that you were approaching its premises. It had a street of its own, paved roads in colorful stonework and posters and signs on every other window. It was a black and green establishment, with plants and terra star lights decorating its exterior. At the front was a replica of Leon Goldstruik in his signature outfit; a golden beige suit of tempest gear, with a visored helmet in his hands. He was pointing to the skies, sort of like a 'look over there' pose, that was great for taking photograms with if you could afford them.

  There was a queue to enter the shop. It wasn't as big as it normally got during the weekends or amongst the festive seasons, but it was a line nonetheless.

  Cisco had started fidgeting and groaning by the tenth minute, and by the fifteenth he was already getting on Tommy's nerves.

  "Oy, stay still and stop leaning into me."

  "We should've come earlier," Cisco whined. "It's never this bad in the mornings."

  Engin grabbed Cisco by the shoulders and pulled him away from Tommy.

  "Straighten your posture and stand still. You're not a child anymore," he scolded.

  Cisco looked back at Engin and smiled in a knowingly mischievous way. "Fine, but can you buy me something today? Please? No one ever buys me anything."

  "Not happening."

  Cisco dropped his act and then grumbled to himself. "Hmph. Was worth a try."

  The queue eventually moved them to the front doors where they were let in by a female staffer who handed Engin a colorful flyer.

  All of the staff wore red and white coat-suits with a black bowtie.

  "Second Floor's the discovery floor," the staffer explained. "First Floor is new arrivals and general purchases, third floor is advanced primanetics. Need any help, just find someone dressed like me — we're here to make your day go smoother. Enjoy your time at the Crystal Emporium, and have a blessed day!"

  The doors to the emporium pulled open, as the two troopers standing guard let Engin's group and some of the others behind them through.

  The boys spilled into the showroom. The ceiling took their eyes. A collage that mimicked the heaven skies—shifting in hue from a silvery-white to the deep, gossamer golds of Tiol's crest. Terra star light traced the edges of the vaulted arches, casting a starry illusion across the polished floors, which reflected every movement, every shimmer, like the inside of a gemstone. A weighted density to the air was immediately palpable. Engin's lobe flickered with power, awakening the Aya Machine inside of him. So many engrams, sealed inside cases of glass like jewelry, all shimmering in their own unique ways. It was always a mesmerizing place to be. A wonderland of Aya and innovation. Engin had been here many times, but each time it felt new. Each time it felt like something had changed. There were banners and statues, and merchandise everywhere. Storm Chaser figurines for children, and clothes designed for all ages in their branded fashion. Sometimes it was just about the experience. To be amongst the marvels of the world. It was the one of the few places in Sorens Peak that the connected the people of the East, to the rest of sovereign society.

  Engin looked down at his satchel, feeling the slight weight of the new book resting beside his other items. Madame Song had given him just enough gold notes to buy himself a decent communications engram. That was the priority.

  Beside him, Tommy, Cisco and Cede were already in awe, itching to run to their most desired section of the floor.

  "This place never gets old," Cisco whispered, eyes wide, almost drooling.

  Engin smiled faintly. "No. It doesn't."