-From Canticles: 23:55
Vivex stared out with disgust at the sprawling forest of buildings, the mountainous walls bristling with towers like so many teeth.
Salkov.
A port city and the capital of the parasite empire.
The barest sliver of the morning sun rose above the horizon, stark unforgiving shadows spreading from the scrimshawed bones of the earth.
Her black and red flickered as she growled, her yellow eyes narrowing with suspicion.
It was a sprawling warren of buildings, in two separate walled sections. A larger one to the west, farther inland, and another to the east, closer to the sea.
The city poured out of the gates of both sections, the broad walls, taller than most trees, failing to keep the buildings from bursting forth cancerously across the land with little in the way of rhyme or reason. Usually that would look good and natural. Here, it reminded her of a disemboweled carcass, only the most desperate scavengers remaining to pick at it.
A desecrated corpse, no plants, nothing green. There was only cold, dead, gray stone.
It stretched up towards the sky like so many sun-bleached ribs, accented by similarly dead bricks the color of dried blood, and the corpses of trees contorted into unnatural almost square shapes, pinned in place with earthbone spikes.
The very land itself looked swollen, heaved up like an infected wound. The shape made her wonder if there were even more constructions underground connecting the two.
Like the Hatchery. She remembered the temple there on that Island, her pathway during the trial.
Her Instinct hissed, remembering the monster in that temple, the one mutated from One-eye by the Falsescaled. Hunt! Kill!
She growled, agreeing with her hindbrain.
She, like the rest of the Brood, interpreted feelings and drives from her hindbrain into actual language. It helped her control that part of who she was, to examine those urges and decide if she should follow them or not.
That was what an Instinct was. And it was something that had been cursed away by the Gods for the smoothskins. A punishment for their forefathers’ actions.
But she kept coming back to one thing.
The lack of plant life.
Not a single vine in sight.
No canopy to run through, snakes to hunt, tadpoles to find, or eggs to steal.
Some of her favorite things in the world, denied to her because of her size.
This was a mistake. She should have fled instead of facing her judgement. She could have found somewhere away from the brood to hide.
Agreed. Vivex’s Instinct hissed from her snout, as if it was trying to plug it.
She wished it could.
Salkov stank.
It stank for miles and miles.
A pungent reek of excrement, cooking, woodsmoke, and other smells she couldn’t identify. The fact that the Initiate could smell the place long before it was even a dark smudge on the horizon did not speak well of what the experience inside the city would be.
It will positively reek in that termite mound.
Her Instinct grunted. Curiosity… It hissed, and before she could stop it, her tongue slid out of her mouth. The forks spread and wiggled rapidly up and down, some part of her hindbrain fixated on determining what the cause of the fetid miasma was.
It made her want to scrub her scales raw.
She did smell something new this time though.
Ozone.
Magic strong enough to be smelled from here? She felt worry fill her.
Crack!
A loud snap of Shashk’s tail made Vivex wince and nearly fall from her perch on the mast.
“Enough. Descend, my Student. There are still lessons to be had,” her Teacher and chaperone hissed from below, “and garments to put on.”
Damned garments.
Her Instinct hissed in distaste as she slid down, landing on the deck with a bump.
Shashk was a Redscale, a different species of the Truescales than Vivex, who was a Greenscale. Distinguished by her coloration, her neck frill that could flare out in an impressive display of a myriad of emotions, and her whiplike tail.
Her well-defined forearms jangled and sparkled with earthbone bangles, intricate geometric designs carved into each one, part of what marked her high caste.
She was an Ambassador, and the architect of this second testing that Vivex had to complete.
Don’t cover scales. Her Instinct growled. Inhibits camouflage.
“Teacher Shashk… the clothes…” the little Greenscale hissed in distaste, though she made sure to keep her prefixes respectful, “Must I?” She shifted to a less saturated hue as well for good measure, flexing the muscles in her skin that allowed her to change color.
Shashk’s tail lashed in the dehk-zuir, “Silence!” popping to emphasize the single word.
Her frill flaired around her face with a snap of taut skin, painted marks on it another mark of her status, leaning over the little Initiate. A social bludgeon to cow Vivex as the Redscale glared down at her. Utilizing her full seven and a half feet to the fullest as she did.
Out loud Shashk hissed, still looming, “I am tired of this argument from you, whelp! You will wear the clothing and continue to do so if you are to walk the streets.”
Vivex clamped her jaw to bite back a growl as her chaperone continued her snarling tirade, “The smoothskins, they are upset by the unencumbered form of beings.” Her frill flapped with her displeasure, “They already judge us as unrefined savages, even though it is they who are the barbaric ones. As I have told you many times.”
Vivex knew all of that, they had been the ones to betray the first genera. That was part of why she was confused by this requirement. Still, she tried to be diplomatic about it. “Teacher, if I need to blend-”
“Then you will remove the garment’s when you need to.” She snapped, gnashing bright teeth. “I have told you, time and again, the proper thing to do is to wear something amongst them. The more garments, the better. It puts them at ease, and that is something you can exploit!”
Shashk’s tail popped, saying “Follow” as it undulated after, and Vivex knew better than to disobey, despite her Instinct’s snarling rage.
“I cannot wait to be rid of you, runt.” Shashk hissed out loud, shaking her head, the frill flapping back and forth as she did before lowering so that it hung lank over her shoulders.
Try as she might, the Redscale had not managed to teach her pupil the dehk-zuir. It was frustrating to the Ambassador, because with many other things, Vivex was a phenomenally quick study.
Vivex, for her part, had been happier learning new knots from the sailors, though convincing them to share the knowledge had always required intervention from her teacher.
At least I make progress with that.
Her Instinct grunted.
Shashk’s dark purple tongue fluttered out for a moment, and her pupils narrowed further in distaste. She didn’t like the scent of the smoothskin metropolis either.
She already wore her smoothskin clothing, and clawed hands smoothed her sleek black trousers as if wiping them clean. She had a fine silk blouse that matched as well, and accented the ensemble with jade. She did so with small pieces of jewelry and embroidered beads at the neck and cuffs of her top.
One turquoise eye swiveled to regard the Greenscale, and Vivex forced her own yellow eyes back to the boards. Vivex flashed pastel hues again for just an instant, signaling her continued submission and attentiveness.
Kill!
Patience. I need to show patience.
Fight! Vengeance! Her Instinct snarled, fixated on the fact that Shashk was also the one who had judged her as Fodder after the Trial, creating the reason for this entire exile in the first place.
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The warrior fought down a growl. Later. Once I am casted. She kept her head bowed, knowing she struggled to hide the hues of strong emotions, which usually flickered across her face in faint patterns.
Shashk waited long enough to signal that she could make Vivex wait. “Good.” She said, opening the door to her cabin.
It was in the back, and had large glass windows looking out on the sea. It was full of plants that smelled like home.
There was a desk and chair, sized for the Redscale’s tall lithe frame, and bookshelves with ropes across them to hold the tomes in place.
Shashk gestured, and looking Vivex saw that on a bed built into the hull there were several garment options. They all would be much too large for Vivex to wear, though some were almost the right size.
“Choose.” The Redscale hissed, striding in and ducking under the torchbug cage on the ceiling. “The Ship’s fodder can work to size anything correctly as needed.”
Vivex nodded, resigned.
Several of the others all came down and through the open door she could see they all moved back up after each donned trousers.
She looked at the options. Several that were called ‘dresses’, none of which she liked. She understood that that was the typical thing that smoothskin females wore, but none of the female sailors of the brood wore them on the ship, nor did Shashk.
They were also far too big, most likely unwanted ones sized for the Ambassador. While the Initiate had grown another half a foot in the six months after her trial, four of which being on this ship, her growth had completely stagnated after that. Leaving her well below average for a Greenscale at four and a half feet in height.
They’ll get caught when climbing. And they are far too thick. She decided, moving them aside and looking at the trousers, hoping that they might be sinched tight with a rope or something similar...
They weren’t much better though. Thickly padded, and several too brightly colored for her to ever be able to blend in. She couldn’t see herself easily getting them off if she needed to blend right away.
All to keep the parasites comfortable. She growled. “I hate this.” She would not sacrifice utility for the comfort of anyone.
“Tough.” Shashk growled, smacking Vivex on the back of the head for trying her patience. “Choose.”
She looked at the trousers, but they were all too large as well.
She hissed, thoughtful.
“Teacher?”
“What now?” Shashk snarled.
“May I cut one of these?” She asked, picking up a dark green dress, getting an idea. The fabric was thick, but not heavy, and there was plenty of it to do exactly what she wanted.
Shashk’s tail swayed slowly and she grunted. Watching her pupil with unblinking eyes.
Vivex drew her matte black blade, not even the runes carved into the earthbone catching the light as she picked up the garment and set to work. As she did, Shashk had some more Fodder lacquer her slicing-sharp claws a confident blue.
Later, after the ships fodder had been tasked to sew the edges, she stood on the deck and looked back at Salkov, now that they were closer.
She had simply cut a large square out of the dress, slicing a hole in the center for her head. The fodder, scrawny bent things, either weak of body or of mind, had even given the new garment a hood as well with the remaining cloth. After they had finished, cringing in a disgusting display of fear, they had been sent back to the oars just in time as they started to turn towards the river.
I could still become one of them. She needed to succeed here.
No. Apex. Not Fodder. Her Instinct insisted. Thrive!
She got a whiff of the cargo and had to force her mind to stillness.
She couldn’t leave the ship fast enough. In part because of how she was treated, but also because of the temptation in the hold.
“There, you see that.” Shashk hissed, distracting Vivex from such thoughts, much calmer now that her Student had acquiesced to her demands, pointing with a claw.
Vivex could see only one sign of the natural world, a mountainous tree.
“A Barkskin?” She asked.
“That is the assumption.” Shashk replied. “It has been far too long though, even before the mage-emperor came to power, the Yurtree was silent.”
It stood as tall and taller than most things in either half of the city. Its branches easily seen above the encroaching walls that ensnared it, now that their angle of approach had changed.
It was the last bastion of the natural world in enemy territory, proving the maxim of her people.
Struggle breeds strength.
Vivex’s musings made her scars itch. Scars from the trial. And scars from after.
She remembered the terror, the thrill of competition, and the hot sticky feeling of blood and viscera sliding down her arms and face. She still felt the anger at her kin from the times after, her precarious social standing not allowing her to deal with the problems as directly as her Instinct wanted.
But here… here she could do as she pleased. Who cared what these parasites thought of her? And it had been so long since she had really fought anything. Hunted anything. Engaged in predation.
She growled softly and glared at the city. I will prove myself as many times as I must. She hoped that the idiot Ironmantle would assign her something to hunt right away. She ached for a kill.
Won’t. Will test.
Fuck. Her Instinct was right. That was what had happened every other time.
Thrive… She felt that statement deep in her hindbrain, a growling hiss. Vivex.
Stubborn-Victory. That was what her name meant. Tok, her Provider had given it to her. And he had been right to do so.
This close to the city, Shashk used the time reserved for her lessons to do some last-minute practice. So they conversed in the smoothskin tongue, discussing what they saw in real time as one last check to make sure there were no gaps in Vivex’s knowledge. Observing the city all the while.
There were large flat spaces with smoothskins scraping what looked like white sand into little piles. Pools of water sloshing, rings in even levels marking the large fields, hordes of flies swarming the edges as gulls rushed through, gobbling them up.
“Salt.” Shashk said when asked, “They get it from the seawater. Cooking away the moisture with the sun.”
Farther away, up on a hill and behind a third wall, one building had a faint glowing dome around it. Surrounded by slowly turning symbols and complex geometries, similar to the disjointed ones that appeared when her bag repelled the elements to keep her possessions safe and dry.
Another, next to it, glittered and gleamed like fish scales, many towers all in one. She could hear something almost like the calls of massive birds or other creatures coming from it. Something… pleasant about it. She counted the towers.
Ten. She wondered what that was.
Vivex still wanted to go and see these places up close, but she had seen similarly wondrous things before. They had hidden horrors that had almost led to her death. She had no idea why anyone would ever want to live in such a place by choice.
Clicking mandibles, fingerlike and dripping with saliva.
Her knuckles crackled slightly as she gripped the hilt of her blade, needing it to ground herself in the present.
She slid her other hand into her bag, holding her wooden idol of Haan-Kezk al’Shezd, silently praying to the god for the strength to survive in such a dead and unnatural place.
The conversation lapsed for a moment before she managed to rejoin it after a growl from her teacher.
They had taken the north fork of the river, and were almost in port, passing up several docks until they had almost completely gone around the first walled section of the city. The breeze picked up as the sailors began to move the cargo up onto the deck.
Vivex twitched. Cravings surging to the fore of her mind.
Her mouth watered, and her hindbrain rumbled again, primal desires making her ache for more of the herb, and her shoulders twitched again, more violently this time.
The cargo… Her Instinct whined, and she clenched her jaw as the saliva dripped off of her chin, wiping it away harshly.
Bales and bales of the healing herbs that grew in abundance in the swamps.
The largest amount she had ever seen in her life.
And a complete temptation to indulge in.
No. Not again.
Vivex placed a hand on the knife that she wore at her waist, holding the leather wrapped handle tightly as she fought back undesirable urges.
The deck beneath her claws bobbed upon the waves.
Gulls cried overhead.
She only managed to divert the impulses, pushing them into less detrimental directions rather than stopping them cold.
She knew why the herbs were being brought. A trade to the Syndicate, a fiendkin brood within the city, for conveying their message to the human Ironmantle. But she wished the Truescale end of the trade had been brought on a different ship.
“Are you ready for your test, my student?” Shashk asked, inspecting her lacquered claws. Shashk’s turquoise eyes slid in staring sockets, and they narrowed. “Weakling, take hold of yourself.” She could tell that Vivex was craving once again.
Kill! Chew herbs! Fight!
“Yes… I will. I am grateful for everything you have done, teacher,” Vivex said, struggling to get the words out at first, prefixing them with humility and gratitude.
She was exhausted from constantly having to defer to her, especially because of the solitude and freedom she had had on the island where her trial had been.
She gripped the strap of her bag, making sure to keep her head down. It had all of her worldly possessions inside of it, most of which were from the smoothskin world, just like her knife.
She hoped she would have a chance to learn more about them now that she would be living in this wretched unnatural city.
Vivex looked at the walls again, seeing that the towers had people at the top of them, tiny as ants that far away. They were shiny like ants too.
Armor! That meant weapons. Weapons that would be hers if she stalked down the right prey. Ambushed it and stripped it.
Shashk’s eyes narrowed again, reading Vivex like a book. “Idiot Runt. You are only to kill in self-defense. You know your mission.”
Vivex hissed, her black and red of challenge flickering in, but she made sure to desaturate it before Shashk whipped her for being insolent.
“Yes, teacher.” Vivex said, looking away from the towers and back to the Redscale. Imagining her matte black blade in her Teacher’s eye.
I will have my vengeance when it is within my power.
Thrive, her Instinct hissed from the very core of her being.
“The smoothskins are weak, corrupt things, but you cannot underestimate them.” Shashk said, taking on a set of condescending prefixes she always used in her lessons. “Killing any of the ones wearing armor often is a guaranteed way to find death, swarmed by their comrades. And these will have horses. Ones both trained for war and not.”
“I understand, teacher.”
“You better. Losing your meat to the smoothskins would be unfortunate, a waste even for fodder like you. Even though you killed one of their mages, do not expect them to be simple prey.” Shashk snapped, turning away in a clear dismissal.
She started barking orders at the others, tail snapping and popping, and a mix of Bluescales and Greenscales swarmed about the deck. Some of the Greenscales flashed orange amusement at her, openly displaying the same distain their mistress had for the new Initiate and her small body.
I will show them all. She turned away from all of them, snapping her jaws at the city.
Smoothskins, humans mostly, eighth genera, waited at the dock. There were also some third genera, dwarves, and fiendkin as well. They caught the line of the boat, tying it fast, a team of the fiendkins bringing over a stout gangplank.
I wonder if they are poisonous. The Initiate eyed their vibrantly colored skin and horns. At least have tails. It made them slightly less sickening to look upon. Less deformed, even though they were thin pitiful things.
“You will have to adapt to their appearance, Initiate.” Shashk hissed, reading her again. The Redscale turned to regard a dark frustrated-maroon fiendkin, who lifted a clawless hand, fingers spread, and moved it back and forth for some reason.
Shashk lifted her head in acknowledgement, still talking to Vivex, “You will let me do the talking, and you will do as I say until you meet your new master, Ironmantle.” She slipped the human name into her speech, the strange lack of prefixes on the word making it sound alien and crude.
Vivex noted the prefixes that had been used on the word ‘master’, grunting to signal that she understood.
Shashk grunted back, then greeted the Fiendkin in the smoothskin tongue and dehk-zuir, and he responded in kind.
They know it? Vivex wondered if their methods of teaching it were different from Shashk’s.
The other sailors started unloading the other cargo, guiding the Fodder to do the same, stacking the large bales of the healing herb into several carts.
The fiendkin placed an arm around Shashk’s arms, too short to reach her shoulders, which the Redscale stepped out of. Vivex saw that on the man’s coat, on the left breast, was a curious design, a crescent moon overlaid on top of a sun.
Vivex joined them, helping as best she could and earning only sneers from the others as she struggled with the work.
She and Shashk would go into the city after they were done trading, and then she would finally, finally be left to her own devices.
Vivex’s Instinct rumbled inside her chest. Compete. Be sly. Adapt and thrive!
She could do that.
She would do that.
She had to.