Day 2 - The Awakening
Characters: Albel Nox Location: Er, a park type thing When: Day 2, upon the death of Albel the Wicked
"Nngh...this...can't be!" The spirit's voice was strange with hollow overtones, but its dismay and disbelief was perfectly obvious to Albel. Albel laughed in its face and the creature's expression shifted with rage even as it collapsed and seemed to dissolve in a shower of light.
The laugh dissolved into a cough and Albel groaned as the spasm sent agonizing pain through his body. Cracked ribs? he thought. He wiped his mouth and his finger came away red. No, broken for sure.
It was cold enough in Airyglyph's dungeons that Albel's breath steamed around his face. He hadn't felt the chill in the heat of battle, but now he felt it creeping like a slow poison through his body.
He had to get upstairs to the castle. If he collapsed here, those cowardly worms would never venture down here to find him. They'd think he was lost the same as his men.
Hah! As if Albel the Wicked could ever be defeated by some pathetic spirit like that. Who cares if it was some kind of King of the Dead? It fell, just like all the others. And he would survive this stupid wound, too.
When did I fall? he wondered. It was hard to think. He was kneeling, but he couldn't remember going down. He felt like the only thing holding him up was his sword.
He couldn't catch his breath, and a thought occurred to him quite suddenly. I'm dying.
Through his dimming vision, he saw the spreading pool of blood on the floor. He hadn't even realized his prosthetic hand was pressed hard to his side, the metal dark and sticky with blood.
I won't! I won't die here! He struggled to get to his feet, trying to use his sword as a crutch. But he felt pain spread through his body as his shoulder hit the floor instead.
And everything went black.
...Fayt, help me...
~ ~ ~
Consciousness returned slowly. Albel became aware of physical sensations first, the hardness of a surface under his back, the soft touch of a breeze that stirred his hair and whispered over his skin. The biting cold of the dungeon was gone, but the touch of the air was oddly intimate. He could hear the stir of grass and realized that he must be outside.
He opened his eyes and they darted from side to side suspiciously.
This was definitely not the Diplo, nor was it Airyglyph. There were trees above him, and other vegetation all around, but none of it was native to Elicoor II. So he'd been transported to another planet? Who might have found him in the dungeon, healed his wounds, and brought him here? It wasn't exactly Cliff or Fayt's style.
He was also laying on a bench, and a line of pavement cut a path through the grassy plants. It was some kind of cultivated park, though poorly maintained.
But far more important than any of that, he was naked. And weaponless. Not. Acceptable.
He started to sit up, reaching to grab for the back of the bench as he did so.
Nothing happened.
Startled, he glanced to his left and Albel the Wicked cried out in horror.
His arm was missing at the shoulder, nothing but the puckered, shiny scar from where it had been amputated, and a bit of twisted flesh above the cut which was the highest the horrific burns that had destroyed his left arm had reached. The prosthetic arm was gone.
There was light enough to see everything clearly, though it was the weak light of near dusk. The sky would begin to darken, little by little and there were no other light sources apparent.
Albel's heart was still beating fast, but he struggled to calm himself. He hadn't been openly confronted by the grisly wound he'd received in some time, and seeing it was always a shock. There had been days when he almost forgot that he was wearing the runological prosthesis, though his left hand had never been nearly as dextrous as his right. He used it as little as possible, but the choice was no longer conscious.
Apparently that was going to have to change. And not for the better.
Shifting his weight, he managed to sit up and swing his legs over. The concrete was cool and smooth under his feet and he stood up, feeling keenly vulnerable lacking an arm, weapon, even a stitch of clothing. It wasn't a sensation he was used to.
It pissed him off royally.
Moving to a tree-like plant, he hunted for a likely branch he could rip off and use to hit things if necessary.
The plant submitted to being dismembered. Perhaps there was an irony in that.
His movement startled something, though. A winged creature, insectlike, rose with a rush of four heart-shaped, velvet wings, maybe seven inches across. It hovered, as if peering at him, jewel-like eyes faceted, and then it flew away.
Albel tensed at the sight of the large insect, holding his branch up to swat it if it decided to try to sting him. When it flew away, he relaxed slightly and placed the branch on the ground, awkwardly stripping it of twigs and leaves by bracing it with his legs and pulling with his right arm. In a few minutes, he had a servicable bludgeon.
Glancing around, he picked a direction and started walking, following the concrete path. On a whim, he followed in the general direction the insect had flown.
The area was wonderfully overgrown off the path, something with tall stems and wide flat leaves arching over the path in several places, shading it. It only drew attention to the failing light.
Somewhere, not far, there was a sudden chirp and quick scuffle, then silence again.
"Hmph," Albel said, balked by the growth. He wasn't about to start digging through the vegetation with no clothing on. Who knew how many thorns and poisonous plants he'd encounter? And it was only some stupid insect.
Returning to the path, he picked a direction and started walking along it. Somewhere, there had to be someone who could answer his questions, and maybe take a bludgeoning. Hopefully not in that order. He was in the mood for a bit of torture.
Eventually the path led to a fountain, a triangular pool with a series of artificial cascades leading into it. There was a wide flat bench similar to the one he'd woken up on beside it. The water had the appearance of being clean, but it was getting harder to see, as the light failed.
Albel paused by the fountain, looking around. Was he the only person in the world? It was only getting darker, and he didn't want to spend the night in a park. He peered into the growing dark, trying to figure out if there was a path he could take out of the park and towards buildings.
A slightly stronger breeze, probably the result of the ground cooling with the dimming of the light, stirred the vegetation.
Beyond it, something cried.
It didn't sound like the helpless mew of a hunted thing. There was a confidence in it, not unlike Albel's own. He would likely know it for the quality of a predator. One that had few rivals.
Albel's eyes narrowed. He was far from helpless, but probably wasn't in a position to deal with being hunted right now. The predator could be quite large, and Albel was at an unaccustomed disadvantage against claws and teeth. While he had no doubt he could defeat the predator in a fight, was it smart to pick one right now?
Probably not.
Firming his grip on the branch, he headed in a direction he hoped would take him out of the park, his senses primed for any indication that the predator had picked up his scent and was stalking him.
The hunter was good, but it was both confident as well as curious. He could tell he was being followed, but it didn't get close, didn't rush. Didn't show itself, using the plnats for cover. It trailed him, as if wondering what kind of thing he was.
The path wound through the park, as if intended for mental recreation rather than expedience in getting to a destination, but there was a wall, maybe twelve feet high, and it was gradually getting closer.
Albel felt the hairs at the back of his neck standing up straight as the creature continued to stalk him. He was sure that when he got closer to the wall, the predator would show itself, but for now it was imperative that he not make any action that it would see as fear. He continued to walk in a steady, measured pace, not in the least bit afraid of the coming battle. In fact, he craved it.
He was smart enough not to get himself killed, but if a fight was inevitable, why cry about it? Enjoy it to the fullest, was Albel's philosophy.
As he approached the wall, he could see beyond the half-screening of unfamiliar vegetation a gap in the wall, where it met the path. The gap was as wide as the path. A gateless entrance.
There was something about the air in that gap, however. It seemed at some angles to shimmer.
Huh. What's that? Albel thought, slowing as he drew closer to the gap. He paused a few feet away, glanced around warily for any sign of the predator, then extended the branch towards the gap. Was it a trick of the failing light, or some kind of force field? He had seen some strange things in The Arkives in the 4-D universe, and while there was no technology advanced enough to create computers or forcefields in Elicoor, his experiences when leaving his planet had given him a passing familiarity with such things.
When the branch moved between the walls, there was aripple in the air and he could feel a vibration, not quite a shock, that ran along his arm. Also, the stick seemed to want to stay there, as if he'd pushed in into something viscous.
"Fuck," Albel hissed, momentarily stymied. Caution wasn't his strongpoint, but he was feeling sufficiently off-balance that he'd succumbed to it anyway. Now he had a choice. He could try to walk through the spot, risk injuring his only working arm, or even getting killed - again - or he could stick around in this stupid park and risk getting eaten in his sleep.
Well, when you put it that way, the choice was clear. He'd never figure anything out cowering in this place.
Boldly, he walked towards the gap.
The vibration he had felt through the stick became a tingle as he moved into the gap. Not pleasant, but not damaging. It would be unbearable to just stand there, though, for some reason. If he lingered, he would probably quickly suffer vertigo and want to throw up.
Well, soiling himself was certainly not an option. Albel moved quickly through the gap and paused when he felt the tingle fade. Perhaps the barrier was there to keep the predator inside?
He glanced around. It was definitely dark by this point, and he wanted to find some reasonably defensible position to hole up for the night.
Behind him, something did break the plant cover. It padded easily out to sit on the pathway, watching him with interest, and maybe a little annoyance. A full grown Bengal tiger.
Albel had never seen a Bengal tiger. The creature had a vague similarity to a common housecat, though it only had one tail instead of two - and was obviusly larger and more garish in colouration. It wasn't at all like the wolves Albel had fought all over Elicoor, but it was obviously a powerful carnivore. Albel smirked at it and turned away, though he listened carefully for any sign that it was going to try to get through the gap in the wall and pursue him. "Sorry, monster," he said. "I won't be your evening snack tonight."
The tiger didn't approach the gap. It was very familiar with the limits of it's territory and supreme within them.
The path continued on and now past the wall, he could see buildings. Low, and somehow giving an residential impression, they blocked off the horizon with their number. All dark.
Albel continued down the path, leaving the tiger behind. Perhaps he'd return to do battle with it when he was in a more strategically advantageous position. He strained his senses for any signs of civiliation as he moved into the residential area. Was everyone asleep, or were the buildings abandoned?
A profound stillness seemed to give an assent. As he walked on, it became noticeable that the quality of the air had changed. Not stale, but clean. Too clean. And the breeze had been left in the park.
The building did not resemble human habitations, though their functionality was similar. But the doorways, all blocked with closing panels, were unique in shape.
To Albel, it was like the air on a space ship, or in The Arkives. The air of a place so obsessed with cleanliness that it stripped all of the character from it. It had been one think he noticed in the 4-D universe and only added to his low opinion of its citizens. He shrugged and moved towards one of the doorways, looking for some kind of buttoned panel to open it, if it didn't open at his approach.
It did not, and there was no panel.
With a growl, Albel struck the door with his stick. "Someone let me in! Now!"
He had no way of knowing that he could have struck that panel with a small cement truck and gotten no different effect. That is, nothing happened.
Albel growled and moved in search of a window he could break. There had to be some way to get inside this building.
As he moved away, the door panel slid smoothly, stuck once, then continued, disappearing into the wall. The door panel's thickness wasfully four inches. The wall it slid into was six. Beyond was a room, large, dark.
Albel stopped and turned back towards the door. "Damn fucking machine is messing with me," he muttered under his breath as he walked back towards the doorway and stepped through. Hopefully, given the thickness of the door, it wouldn't decide to lock him in. The fact that it had stuck on the way open made him wonder just how old this place was. Maybe it wasn't working very well, and that was why the house was abandoned.
He looked around for a lantern to light or a switch on the wall near the door.
No switch. The room was large, and the shaped was a polygon rather than rectangular. There were what appeared to be furnishings, with heavy, though clean lines, not made oif wood or any substance easily identifieable. The proportions of them was also off. The simplest piece of furniture was a three legged stool with a triangular seat, slightly padded. Mostly, they were shapes in the dark, only slightly illuminated by the failing light through the open doorway.
Albel explored the room, looking for anything he could poke at or move that might be a switch, button or touch contact. Presumably the people who used to live here used light, even if they seemed weird in every other respect!
The 'people' who had used these residence, back in a dawn of time too far removed to conprehend, had not needed switches, or buttons. They had used thought. But the young man's mind was too alien, but mostly, too weak, to provoke more of a response than: the ceiling of the room gradually began to glow, the light strengthening to something comfortable and then remaining.
Albel paused when the ceiling began to glow, looking up. So...no switches, no buttons, but it somehow knows I'm here, he thought. The surprise was shortlived. After finding out he was a computer program created for the largest interactive videogame in existance - at least, that was what Fayt called it - things like this had less meaning to it. Maybe there was a programmer out there turning on the lights. Maybe he was affecting the code.
Maybe he was dead and all this was a dream.
Whatever.
He had shelter of a sorts, and light. Next thing to find: food.
He looked around for any hint of other rooms leading off this main room. Surely there was a kitchen.
There were doors, all closed. When approached, some of them did not open. Others did. One led to a courtyard apparently in the middle of the building. Another led off to a room, smaller than the first. It seemed to be furnished mostly with a low, triangular shaped table, the point of the triangle rounded.
In the center of the table was a pyramid.
Albel paused when he saw the pyramid and approached it. To his mind, which had only the barest of experience with technology, this looked like it might be some kind of console. Either that, or a piece of artwork. He set his stick down and reached out to touch the surface of the pyramid with an exploratory hand.
It was smooth, and neither cool nor warm to the touch.
Under his hand, a faint vibration woke.
Aha. This was a good sign. Either that, or it was going to explode.
He bent closer to the pyramid, frowning. He couldn't figure out how to USE the thing, and it was completely smooth. Closing his eyes, he tried willing it to do something. Let's see...maybe this controls the stuff in the house. You, pyramid, turn off the lights again! he thought, as strongly as he could.
The lights did not shift or change. The surface of the pyramid where his hand touched it, did though. It became sticky, then mildly abrasive.
Albel frowned and pulled his hand back, turning it over to check for any residue on his palm.
There was no residue. In fact, the abrasive took a few of his skin cells. The surface rippled and then was smooth again.
Ow. Albel rubbed the spot thoughtfully, then placed his hand on it again. The ripple had given him an idea. This time, he intended to push his hand into the pyramid when the surface texture began to change.
It didn't, however. This time, it remained smooth. But the surface warmed and then an area in front of Albel glowed. Lines appeared in the formerly featureless surface, curved, and met, forming a circle. The circle split apart, and a panel rose, with a triangular tray on it. When it was flush with the table, the panel melded into it leaving the tray resting on it.
In the tray were several polyhedral cubes of different sizes and colors.
</i>What the...?</i> Albel lifted his hand from the pyramid and picked up one of the cubes, turning it over in his hand.
It was much less dense than any of the surfaces in the house. It felt... organic.
It had a faint scent. Something that suggested carbohydrates.
Albel had a horrible thought. He brought the cube to his mouth and licked it tentatively. Hopefully if he was wrong, it wasn't actually toxic.
The taste was bland but edible. Not unpleasant. Mildly sweet,
Sighing faintly, Albel popped the cube into his mouth and chewed. Well, if it was food, it was food. He couldn't afford to turn his nose up at it, since he had no real clue how he'd made it appear. Who knew when he'd find more?
The substance didn't kill him, or make him sick.
After chewing and swallowing that cube, and a few more, Albel placed his hand on the pyramid again. "Now give me something to wear!" he commanded the object, though he wasn't sure he could even give him what he wanted. He'd had it in mind that he wanted food, but he couldn't recall directly asking, either. And maybe this pyramid's only function was giving food, anyway.
The pyramid alas could not produce anything other than nourishment.
Another opening in the table appeared and an oddly shaped container with no top appeared, There was liquid in it.
Albel tasted, and then downed the liquid, then picked up the tray with the remaining bits of food in it. He carried it out into the first room and set it down on a convenient surface, then returned for his stick. He'd snack on the remaining bits of food later, once he'd finished exploring the house.
Which is what he set off to do next. There had been a courtyard, which he wasn't interested in. This time, he was looking for some kind of bedroom.
Some doors opened at his approach, others didn't. Behind one he did find a couch of sorts - it was near triangular in shape and low, and had a covering.
Albel frowned at the couch. Could that be their version of a bed? Or was this a sitting room of some kind. "Stupid people," he hissed in a low tone. "Why can't anything be easy?" He looked around for anything resembling a closet.
No closet revealed itself. As Albel moved around, the ceiling began to glow and provide light as in the other rooms.
Albel sighed and leaned on his stick. He had the impression that there was a computer controlling this place, but he wasn't sure how to make it listen to him. He didn't really know much about them, but on the Diplo all you'd really had to do was poke at a console. In the Arkives, you hooked yourself into a VR system. But he couldn't find a console, and everything just seemed to respond to him without his direct control.
He was starting to think he just wasn't technologically savvy enough to deal with this. Fayt would surely have figured it out in five minutes, but he just felt lost.
Finally he gave it one last try. "Hello?" he called out, looking up at the ceiling. "Is there anyone who can answer me? Anyone listening, damnit?!"
A series of sounds were projected from the ceiling, or perhaps the walls. The voice, if it was a voice, wasn't human. It might almost have been some unusual instrument's voice. The sounds seemed random until the sequence repeated.
"What the... Speak a language, moron!" Albel snapped. Despite his outward reaction, inwardly hope was rising. He was making progress, of a sort. "A language I can understand!"
There was silence and then a shorter series of sounds, repeated.
Then a different set of sounds. Gerald Tarrant, asking for English.
Albel frowned. That sounded like human language, and in fact sounded oddly familiar. He didn't realize that he had been listening to English quite a bit lately, but that Fayt's words had been automatically translated to Elicoorian before Albel could consciously perceive them. He still couldn't understand, though. "I speak Elicoorian," he growled. "What about that?"
Unfortunately the builders of the house had preceded other intelligent life forms by millenia and knew no other language. Gerald's recorded English speech had wakened a reference, from long after the diappearance of the builders, to something recorded automatically from an outpost world. The creation of a translator was not beyond the builders, they had simply never needed one.
There was no answer to Albel's growl, acept for a return to the first set of sounds.
Albel swore and kicked the wall, hard. "Fine, fine, just shut up," he snapped angrily and threw himself down on the couch.
There were no more sounds. Not for a while.
When Albel didn't get up, a soft something returned. It was unlike any he had heard before, but it was music.
Albel frowned at the sensory intrusion. He shifted and stretched out on his back, laying his stick within easy reach and listened to the music. What freaky people lived here, anyway?
Well, he'd figure it out sooner or later. Tomorrow he'd explore the city by the light of day.
And find himself a proper sarong, too.
He allowed himself to drift into a light doze, ready to awaken in an instant if he sensed an intrusion. He was well-aware that the door to the building was still open.
The music lowered in volume as he dozed. Finally it ceased.