Chapter 1:

  The Dying Beast

  The City of Kharatoula.

  As the train entered the outskirts of Kharatoula, it slowed down to allow for the passage of daily life. People crossed the tracks at crossings and some brave souls even played with an early death as they ran across the tracks while the train blew its haunting horn, charging at them with all the ferocity of bull that had seen red. The steel beast had carried him over eight hundred miles south from Somar. Sareth kept staring out the window, taking in the shifting scenes that brought back memories. The sun was high in the sky, green fields of rice paddies and people in straw hats working as children swam in the ponds and rode around on bicycles, breathing in joy that only a child's mind could perceive. The first-class compartment he shared with Cassian now seemed awfully suffocating to Sareth. As the train entered the station, Sareth's eyes moved away from the window and settled on Cassian who was occupying the seat across from him. Cassian felt the gaze and looked up from the deck of cards he was manipulating to play tricks as a way of amusing himself.

  "You know Cass, we could have spent the last few days planning our next moves if you had just stopped drinking for a second," Sareth said with a hint of frustration in his voice.

  Cassian smiled at his words which only served to irritate him further. Sensing his irritation, Cassian offered an olive branch, "Sare, you have not been back for six years. As you said, you have way too little information to even start planning and no matter how much I try to explain, you will understand the situation only once you are there in person."

  "But you could at least provide me with the most important issues I should know about."

  Cassian replied with silence. Then, he sighed in resignation and inwardly cursed Sareth's attitude of always working and said, "The Vine has splintered into three factions as of now. Their leaders are Tomas, Jineta and Amber. Let's start with Tomas. He is an elemental rippler of the first fold, he has access to some deep ripples but he mostly swims in the shallows. He is the one leading the faction supporting the Orthodoxies. He believes the Untethered Vine should support the churches and temples of the Named Gods. Says it will ensure safety for the members of the Vine, as if that would ever happen."

  "Do we know what forms the foundation of his delusion?" Sareth asked with a hint of disgust in his voice.

  "He seems to be a devotee of 'The Unbroken Chain,' a Herald of The Father of Oaths. I have seen him attend sermons at the Church, pretty regularly actually."

  Sareth next words were filled with confusion, "He is a follower of The Father of Oaths and yet has access to deep elemental ripples? That's surprising. I thought the Church of Oaths only worked with ripplers of the same sort. Where is their usual disdain? Or is it something they only reserve for those of us who follow the Fourth Way?"

  Cassian chuckled at his words and said, "The reason they work with him, my dear Sare, is because Tomas is in charge of some of the smuggling routes into and out of the Lower Quarters of the city. The Oathsworn have been cracking down on needra shipments over the last two years or so."

  Sareth could only curse when he heard this. Needra, meaning 'divine dream' in an ancient tongue, the herb gifted to the people of Mollard by the Forgotten Gods. A hallucinogenic plant which gifted even the unblessed with the momentary power to perceive the flow. It was the reason the Empire had set its sights on Mollard in the first place and over eight centuries had steadily made sure that most of the supply was reserved for the Empire itself. Now, almost the entire supply of needra was under the control of the Temple of The All-Mother, The Goddess of Life, used exclusively by high ranking members of the Imperial Bureaucracy. The rest of it was grown in several secluded enclaves across the delta at the Southernmost tip of the city. It allowed for easy access to the Bay of Blood and the entire operation was controlled by some of the filthiest people one could ever come across, individuals who stood out for their propensity to evil even within the dreary criminal underbelly. And now, the Empire was cracking down on them. Sareth knew what this meant, the gangs would be forced to look for new ways of making revenue. Wars over territory would be fought and the city would be mired in unrest. But he also knew that this is what the Empire wanted. The Empire had tried to subdue Kharatoula for eight centuries but they always failed. They may have broken down the walls of the city but they had never broken its hauntingly beautiful spirit.

  Cassian continued, "Next, let us discuss Amber, I will save Jineta for last as I have a feeling you will find him interesting."

  Sareth's eyes narrowed at those words. Usually, when Cassian called someone interesting, it meant that the person in question was more trouble than they were worth but Sareth refrained from indulging him and let his silence communicate instead. Cassian immediately knew Sareth would not fall for his tricks this time and said, "Oh, don't give me that look, I promise you he is very interesting. Reminds me of you actually, but anyway, moving on to Amber, she is your classic deviant. An existential rippler of the Second Flow, she mostly has access to shallow ripples. I don't know which ripples they are but I would imagine they would be somewhere in the domain of indulgence. She runs the extortion business under the Vine."

  Sareth frowned, "I don't remember the Vine engaging in extortion."

  "A lot has changed Sare. Choices were made to ensure the Vine did not wither and die out. I may not have agreed with all of them but the choices were made nonetheless." Cassian's voice carried a hint of guilt and self reproach. Sareth expressed his displeasure with a grunt and motioned for Cassian to continue.

  "Amber doesn't seem to have any overt allegiance to the Orthodoxies, in fact, I would wager she does not owe anyone her allegiance, she would probably sell herself if the price was right. She is dangerous not because of her intelligence or her backers, no," Cassian looked into Sareth's eyes as he said his next words, "She is dangerous because she has no restraint and no shred of morality. She cannot be controlled or blackmailed. She can only be put down."

  Sareth could feel that Cassian was serious about this. He wondered if his best friend had some sort of history with this woman but he pushed aside the inquiry that was bubbling up inside him and asked, "And what about this Jineta? What is so special about him?"

  Cassian's face broadened into a smile as he answered, "Ah, Jineta. The boy is special Sareth. He is only in his teens and yet has more backbone than most people. He is the guy who cleans our money. He is smart, driven and extremely handy with a revolver when it is necessary. He is an University Student, attends the Imperial College of Economics. He is the man who manages a large portion of the Vine's funds. We were also pinning our hopes on him becoming an inside man for us within the Imperial Offices but that has all gone to shit now."

  "And why exactly has it all gone to shit?" Sareth asked.

  Cassian gave him a look filled with irritation and said, "This is exactly why I told you to wait until we got to the city before we started discussing plans." Cassian sighed and continued, "The Revolution has gained momentum again. The people of Mollard, especially Kharatoula, are tired of the Empire and The Imperial College? The native students there have become the beating heart of the movement. Jineta came into contact with one of these revolutionary organizations in college called, 'The Unchained Birds.' And now, he is advocating for the Vine to openly ally with the movement and provide them with armaments and other forms of support. Out of the three people we have mentioned, he leads the smallest faction but his faction is the most motivated."

  As Cassian stopped speaking, there was a knock at the compartment's door followed by the Conductor's voice, "Gentlemen, we shall be reaching Central Station in about 15 minutes, please prepare your luggage accordingly and if you need a porter do let me know."

  Sareth turned down the offer of having a porter carry his luggage and watched as the Conductor moved on to the other compartments in the coach. He could feel the train slowing down further and as he looked outside, signs of city life started to replace the verdant greens of the rice paddies. It began with the odd chimney belching silver ash into the sky, signs of a small factory that was hidden from sight by other buildings, usually ramshackle houses where people who worked at the factory lived. As the train neared the station, other tracks running adjacent to the one they were on came into view and then he saw the platforms. Sareth got up from his seat, put on his top hat and remarked, "Well then Cassian, it seems like it is time to go to work."

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  Sareth was momentarily taken aback by the rush of people on the platform. People closed in on him from all sides like walls, the air was heavy with the smell of sweat. Sareth overcame his shock quickly. 'It has been a while since I felt this,' he thought as the muscle memory of his youth kicked in. He stopped resisting the tide of people and simply let it carry him. He soon found himself outside the station, looking at a row of carriages. Sareth smiled as he thought how often people get what they want simply by surrendering to life. He heard a disgruntled huff on his left and looked to find Cassian standing beside him looking haggard. Escaping the station had obviously been an ordeal for him. Cassian stopped breathing heavily and hailed a carriage. Cassian got on the carriage and beckoned for Sareth to get in but Sareth simply nodded his refusal.

  "I need to take a look around the city, get a feel of how things are. You were right, Cassian. It feels different, something is off. I cannot explain it, but I can feel it."

  Cassian gave him a smug look and said, "I am always right." Sareth snorted at his friend's antics and said, "I will see you at the Mystique." Cassian simply nodded and pulled the carriage door shut. Sareth heard him knock on the roof of the carriage and yell, "17th Street of the Third Marshland." As Sareth saw the carriage pull away, his mind became clouded with thoughts, none of which seemed to be good. He had felt it the moment he had stepped off the train. Something was different about the Flow here. It had changed and while the Flow did change over time, it never changed this quickly, it had only been six years after all. A change of this magnitude would ordinarily take decades depending on the place and yet it had happened in Kharatoula. The Flow was a reflection of life itself. An unstable Flow meant an unstable Kharatoula but how could this have happened? All the Orthodoxies, no matter their origins, had strong presences in Kharatoula and that presence brought both oppression and stability. The Orthodoxies were the pillars that held the Flow in place so how could such a change occur in their presence? What scared Sareth even more was the fact that he was not even in a Flow sensitive spot yet. No, he was far away from the Old City and he could still feel the ripples of change. Sareth quickly decided on his next course of action. Before he could revive the Vine, he needed to make sure the soil it was meant to be planted in was safe. He needed to visit the Old City, for that is where the soul of Kharatoula was.

  *************

  Kharatoula was an ancient beast. A city of princes and paupers, belonging to both the Forgotten Gods and the Gods that ruled the flow now. You could see and understand only parts of it, to comprehend it as a whole was impossible. The city had survived for over a millennia and a half, spending half of its lifetime shackled by the Empire. It had once been the crown jewel of the entire Mollard Sub-continent. The Crossroads of Empires, where thoughts and belief flowed like the Ahanta, the river that welcomed all visitors. Built on a delta that met the Bay, small distributaries of Ahanta ran across the city like veins, carrying the lie of freedom through it, Each corner whispered tales of forgotten kings and the streets whispered of a war to come. The distributaries divided the city into an uncountable number of Islands, each was its own little world in a way and yet, the city itself operated as one giant machine. These islands were connected by bridges, some old, some new, some barely hanging on like spiderweb against a harsh wind. 'They will use any and all means to keep people apart,' Sareth mused. These Islands could have been brought together by an elemental rippler of the third fold and Sareth knew that most Orthodoxies had at least one such being present in Kharatoula all the time. It was to maintain the balance between all sides. The Orthodoxies of the Named Gods might even have multiple such beings in the city. And yet, the islands remained apart. The rich lived in the eight central islands in the middle of the city, each a show of ungodly wealth that stood in stark contrast to the Northern and Southern Quarters of the City. The Northern Quarters were a collection of Islands that served as the base of the Imperial Administration including Fort Borsoi, the Millitary Headquarters of the Imperial Army's Mollard Regiment as well as the Hall of the Blessed, of well respected and empire-sanctioned ripplers who formed the legislative core of the city.

  The Southern Quarter is what was referred to as the Old City, these collection of Islands had been the first to developed when Kharatoula was first founded. Sareth had heard the stories told by the oldest residents there. Kharatoula had once been nothing but these islands and the docks at the edge of the city. The Docks had once been the only thing worth seeing, now, they were the home of the thieves and murderers. Most people in this area had lived off of working at the docks, fishing from the Ahanta but now, as the gangs looked to expand their influence due to the needra trade drying up, these people would be forced to choose.

  As Sareth made his way to the Old CIty, he could not help but marvel at the Bridge of a Hundred Saints. It was an imposing behemoth, erected before the Empire had ever reached the shores of Mollard. Stories told of Forgotten Gods themselves having descended to aid in the construction. As he stepped on to the bridge, he noticed the telltale signs of a large construction project at the banks of the river. He made a mental note to enquire about it and kept walking. He knew where he had to go.

  As Sareth neared his destination, the smell of dried fish assaulted his nostrils. He had forgotten how to enjoy that smell after years of not having been near it. He kept walking through the winding alleyways. Soon, he came to stand in front of an abandoned warehouse. Despite homelessness being an epidemic in these parts, nobody seemed to approach the warehouse. Sareth knew why, even if the people themselves did not. As he was planning on how to scale the wall, he heard a rough voice speaking to him from behind. As he turned to look at the one who had spoken he heard the voice say, "Never seen you around here. Must be new. Well, new people must pay a fee for..," the voice stopped for a moment, as if unsure of what excuse to use, and then continued, "....for protection, you see?"

  Sareth took one look at the scarred and poverty marked face of the speaker and knew that he would have to fight. He counted six men surrounding him. Without warning, he punched the one closest to him, as he pulled his hand back to attack another one of his assailants, he reached out with his soul and touched the ripple that signified the consciousness of the people around him and whispered a suggestion to the ripple, 'My punch is strong enough to knock you out.' The next moment, his punch connected with its target and the suggestion he had made to the Flow became real, the man he had punched fell to the ground. With two of their own being taken down so quickly, the others became much more vigilant, one drew a poorly fashioned knife and the other three had their hands on rusty steel bars.

  "Do you really want to continue?" Sareth asked calmly. Hearing no answer, he took a deep breath and exhaled, clearing his mind. He took stock of his surroundings, no one else seemed to be coming his way and he did not sense any ripples from others. 'Well, let's get this over with,' Sareth thought to himself and launched himself at the one wielding the knife, he was the biggest threat and had to be neutralized fast. The man swung the knife at Sareth but he rolled under the swing and used the added momentum to hit the man with an uppercut on his chin, knocking him out. Before the man's body even hit the ground, Sareth turned and hurled his dagger at one of the remaining three bar-wielders. The man ducked the just in time and the dagger found itself embedded in the door of the house behind the man. Before the man could even stand up from his crouched position, Sareth arrived in front of him and kneed him in the face. Sareth did not stop, he kept running until he reached his dagger. As he gripped the handle and tried to pull it out, his instincts screamed and he felt the Flow warning him of danger, he braced his right leg against the door and used it to aid in his pull. The dagger came lose and Sareth flung it at the man in one seamless motion, as the dagger flew towards the man, Sareth reached out to the flow, touched the ripple signifying his dagger and whispered a suggestion, 'This dagger does not kill, but those struck by it forget how to stay awake.' Sareth felt the flow accept his suggestion and as soon as his dagger hit the man running towards him, the man's body went limp and fell to the ground. Sareth looked up at the final man standing and saw him trying to run but Sareth would not allow that. He reached out and touched the Flow once more, he located the ripple he needed to, the one that allowed the man to walk and whispered a suggestion, 'You have forgotten how to run.' Sareth felt his working take hold and the man fell face first into the ground.

  Sareth approached the man laying on the ground, crying out about not remembering how to run. He kneeled down next to the man and looked into the man's eyes, "Next time, think before you attack. Sometimes, even lions look like small cats if you are not paying attention." Sareth knew the man had not registered any of his words, he was still caught up in his fear of having his ability to walk stolen.

  Sareth looked up at the sky and found out that dusk was settling in. He realized he would have to make his way to The Mystique and meet Cassian and the other members of the Vine soon. He picked up the steel bar from the ground and threw it away. Then he pulled out his revolver. As the man saw Sareth's silver revolver with runes etched into it, his eyes widened in fear, Sareth said with an exasperated voice, "Don't worry, this is a Flow-gun, I am not going to kill you." Sareth reached out to the flow again and touched the ripples around his gun and whispered a suggestion, he had to word it carefully to match the gun's purpose, then he proceeded to shoot every one of his assailants.

  Then, he made his way to the gate of the warehouse again. He was not planning on using his power today, for fear of alerting any nearby ripplers, but since he had already used them in the fight, he touched the large lock on the gate and performed a working. He simply made the Flow believe that the lock was too old to stand a kick from him. He felt his working taking hold but it was slower than usual. He realized that there were other ripples coming from the a corner of the warehouse compund that were slowing his working down but instead of worrying, Sareth smiled. The presence of these ripples meant that he was in the right place. Only places that had weight in the Flow could produce ripples such as this and that is exactly what he needed. As his working finally took hold, he kicked the lock and it broke apart. He pulled his coat a little tighter aroundnhim to fight off the evening chill and made his way towards the cradle of those ripples he had sensed.