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ACoL Book 2 - Chapter 1 - Something New
🕑 Added 2024-10-20 02:31:06 +0000 UTC(So here's a little teaser for book 2. This chapter is a little rough and I may expand it, but I figured it's good enough for sharing. It's similar to The Dark Sculptor's first chapter in that the events playing out in it won't come into play until further into the story.
I have 9 chapters written and a 10th chapter partially written, but I don't plan on sharing any more at the moment until they get some more polish. There's some good parts, there's some rough parts. But I figured it'd be fun to share this for now.
I'm open to thoughts, theories, and criticism! Especially criticism. It helps. )
One week prior to the confrontation in Crefield...
In the forest of Cleyran, a predator waited. It was not a big animal, but it was by no means small. A kalap spends most of its days up high, hiding in the thick branches of the wood. It knows how to blend in with the tree limbs, to move and match their swaying. If one looks closely at the dense foliage up above, perhaps they could see a furry snout peeking out every now and then. But the kalap is a master at remaining inconspicuous. It rarely moves and when it does, it moves with purpose.
This one, covered in grey fur, waited with its pack. Another kalap, a brown-furred female, climbed past, stopping briefly to exchange sniffs. The smell was a familiar scent. It meant they could trust each other. The female, and a few others moved to different hiding spots, but the grey kalap remained still. It was part of the scenery, nothing more.
The sky rumbled, wind tickled the treetops. Branches swayed and the kalap moved with them. Its elongated limbs emulated the flexing and thrashing of the trees. The beast did not have a language. Being a mere animal, it wasn’t sapient enough for words. But it knew a storm was coming. It sniffed the air and could smell the wetness. It didn’t matter. It didn’t mind getting wet. Darkness crept over the sky.
Its ears twitched. It heard rustling in the distance, and it picked up a new scent: food. Maruls were coming. It did not have a name for the knee-high creatures that roamed the fields nearby, it only knew them as food. The pack smelled it too. Several raised their heads and sniffed the air. A few licked their lips. There was no need for pursuit, the maruls would come to them. The forest floor below was often traveled by the creatures. Kalap packs learned this, learned that herds of the grazers often took the same paths. And so, they would perch up high and wait.
As the storm rolled in, the forest blackened. Something wasn’t right. It was too dark. It felt like night, and yet it was too early to be night. The kalap did not know about concepts like night and day. It was just a beast. And yet it was confused. It only associated darkness with sleeping. Should it sleep? No. It did not feel tired. And yet its instincts nagged at it, told him it was time to sleep. It resisted.
The first rain drops began to fall on the trees, filling the forest with their hiss. Lightning flashed, followed by a crack of thunder. Water pattered the kalap’s back and soaked into its fur. But it didn’t seem to mind. It hunted from the treetops. It was used to rain. So, it remained in its hiding spot, allowing the water to roll off its fur. It was not used to the tingling, however. That was new. Its skin twitched.
The sky flickered, etching shadows onto the forest floor. Wind exploded, flailing the trees. The kalap tightened its grip as the branch it held onto swayed. Leaves ripped free from the branches and sailed away. A few kalaps moved to a safer location and this one almost did the same. But then it spotted the maruls and its instincts took over, locking it in place.
The docile, skittish creatures trotted down the forest path, fleeing from the storm. Rainwater soaked their white fur and ran down their sharp, pointed snouts. There was fear in their scent. A few near the front sniffed the air and hesitated, perhaps detecting the ambush that waited ahead. But those behind them prodded the herd forward. The kalap crept forward on its branch, almost imperceptibly, getting ready to pounce.
Its arm twitched on its own, a muscle spasm. The tingling intensified. Startled, the beast hissed at a nearby neighbor, another kalap with a white stripe on its snout. It lowered its ears and returned the hiss. A low growl carried itself through the wind. They both decided to ignore each other and returned their attention to the approaching herd. The maruls clung to the foliage, trying to hide from the downpour. Fresh mud clung to their hooves. The kalap waited. It locked its eyes onto a target, an ambitious marul that pulled ahead of the others, and prepared to leap.
Lightning cracked, painting its shadow onto the beast. The kalap sprung off the branch, its arms outstretched and fell with the rain. It landed on the marul’s back, threw its limbs around its body, and clamped down on its neck. The critter screeched and tried to throw it off. But the kalap’s grip was like an iron vice. It couldn’t be tossed off. As if it had set off a chain reaction, the rest of its pack leapt from their branches and descended upon their prey. Chaos erupted.
The maruls tried to escape, but they were so tightly packed, they only ran into and tripped over each other. The forest filled with their barking and wailing as the ambush went into full steam. The kalaps’ long limbs wrapped around the beasts’ necks and torsos, holding on while they injected their venom. It was a paralytic. As the venom spread, the muscles relaxed, slowed, until they stopped moving altogether.
The kalap clung to its mark, gnawing at its neck to stimulate the venom flow. The marul protested, keening pitifully. It stumbled. It became lethargic. It fell to the ground and flopped onto its side. Its eyes were moving, its ears twitched, but it could no longer get up or run. Soon, the path was littered with the doomed grazers. The rest of the herd fled, but the pack had claimed its fill.
As the downpour intensified, the trail gave birth to streams. Rivulets poured over mud and rock. They washed around the kalap and its food. Occasionally its prey managed to kick out, but the venom continued to spread. In a few minutes, the marul would be completely helpless. The kalap would let go, then it would feast. That’s not what happened, however.
One of its packmates yelped. It was the brown furred female the grey one had greeted earlier. She had let go of her prey and was now snarling at her packmates. Her leg twitched and she yelped again, snapping at the air. A few pack members also let go and stepped back, confused. A few cocked their heads. Silence followed, save for the crackling of lightning and the howling of the wind. The trees were gleaming with wetness, their bark weeping as the rain slapped against it.
The pack formed a circle around the brown-furred female and her mark, sniffing the air curiously. But then one of them began to growl and step back from the female. The gray-furred kalap sensed fear. At the same time, the tingling in its skin intensified and it let go of its prey to bite its own arm in annoyance. The female continued to growl at the back, and a few more returned her growls. She eyed each of them, snarling, fresh venom still dripping from her fangs. Her prey lay at her feet, eyes wide, panting. Then it kicked.
The female, startled, leapt away. Stillness filled the forest as they stared at the marul, still panting. Its flesh began to boil and writhe. Spasms wracked its body. It opened its mouth to scream, but all that escaped was a pitiful whimper. It shook, flopped against the mud, vomiting. Its back unfolded like a flower, revealing tissue and bone. Muscles freed themselves from the skeleton and probed the air like serpents. Then the marul got up and stood on its feet. It looked around. There was pain and terror in its scent, but the eyes were no longer filled with panic. Something else occupied their gaze.
A beast is driven by instinct. They can’t build cities, craft tools, or exercise reason. But when the pack looked into the marul’s eyes, they knew something was wrong. They didn’t know why. But they simply knew it was unnatural. They didn’t know whether to attack or to flee.
The marul stumbled forward, hyperventilating. It looked at the female, who took a hesitant step backward. Then she fell to the ground, shrieking. Her flesh warped, her bones broke. Her skin ripped free and foam, mixed with blood and venom, poured from her snout. Several others fell to the ground, howling. The tingling in the gray-furred kalap grew even stronger. It turned around and it tried to flee. But its leg froze, and it tripped. It tried to get up, but its limb would not obey.
The tingling that penetrated its flesh began to tickle. It felt like somebody...or something, was wriggling its fingers against its skin, working their way into its muscle. Snarling, the kalap bit its fur and tried to ward off the unseen attacker. But the sensation didn’t stop. The tickling worked its way into the bone. It became like writhing insects, burrowing and crawling under the skin, a thousand pincers biting into muscle.
The panicked kalap went ballistic. It thrashed in the mud, snapping at everything, even the air itself. It tried to flee, but the sensation was everywhere, in its eyes, ears, mouth, tail, every orifice and every protrusion. Something took over. The flesh rebelled. Another consciousness occupied the kalap’s mind. It told the stomach to open up, and the stomach obeyed. The kalap shrieked until it vomited its own guts. Its innards reached forth, crawling along the ground until they ensnared the marul it had captured and began to drag it in.
***
One week after the confrontation in Crefield...
A pitiful creature shambled in the woods. It was an aberration, an amalgamation of both predator and prey. Its warped limbs trembled and twitched. The bones were gnarled and the flesh, sculpted into new shapes It had the long gnarly limbs of a kalap, but the soft fur of a marul. The snout shared features of both. It was the only survivor of its pack. Pack? Or was it a herd? Sometimes it remembered grazing in the fields. Sometimes it also remembered hunting those who grazed in fields.
The corruption’s influence had left it, leaving behind a broken thing. Two identities were at war inside the creature’s mind. It did not remember what it was. Grazer? Hunter? It remembered the pain…yes, it remembered that. Pain was its life now, its constant companion. It was a walking, quivering bag of misery. It howled in the night, shrieked at remembered terrors. It dragged its twitching limbs behind it and keened among the trees.
Violent seizures wrenched its misshapen form. It gnashed its mouths...mouths? Yes, it had more than one now. The one in its neck used to belong to the marul. A web of flesh covered the opening where the throat should have been, and the tongue was missing, but the teeth were still there, gums shrunken and shriveled. It clenched and opened of its own will, like a trapped creature trying to eat its way free from the kalap’s body. It was something new.
Comments
Abraham Carson
You pretty much echoed my exact sentiments. The prologue is definitely missing something, but I can't put my finger on it. I suspect that it has to do with the fact that writing from the perspective of an animal can be very limiting and so, my prose is rough, and the chapter is short. Maybe it could be moved to a different part of the story.
Joseph Sikorski
EDIT: I just saw this was marked as a teaser rather than a prologue, so maybe don’t put so much weight on my prologue comparison if it’s indeed not that. I’m not sure how to feel about this, I want it somewhere in the story, but as a prologue it feels narratively weak to me. I’ll try to give it another read between everything else but here’s my initial reactions. Keep in mind these may change on subsequent re-reads, as my brain just doesn’t pick everything up the first time around. It’s interesting to see the effects of the Puppeteer on creatures from the perspective of those affected, especially the reveal at the end where yes, they are very definitely still aware and alive in their altered state, or at least they can be because the Puppeteer’s a sadistic bastard like that. It’s been strongly implied that the Puppeteer’s lore can keep them alive through all these resculptings, or can re-alive them if they do somehow manage to kill themselves, trapping them in an endless cycle of suffering. It doesn’t feel quite as strong as the Book 1 prologue, at least to me, but others’ milage may vary. Book 1’s prologue was pure candy to me: Thal’rin and a master Arlock show Salish that Ayrlon’s Tear is doing something freaky, and we immediately get shown that this is a magical world, that the people there at minimum have wings and snouts, Thal’rin is stressed, and that this world exists quite apart from Vincent’s own existence, the last which establishes a narrative contradiction to Vincent’s own viewpoint-to-come. Book 2’s current prologue doesn’t seem to do as much for me, though it is ominous. However, the very end of it is definitely good in that shows the Puppeteer could have left a bunch of still living meat abominations lost and confused and full of contradictory instincts. That part is horrifying in a way that I like. I’m not sure what if anything should be done about it. On the one hand, I feel like it’s good viewpoint experience to know and I want it to exist somewhere, but on the other it feels narratively weak to me. Given they aren’t groundwalkers or zerok, I don’t know that we’d ever get to understand this experience from any of the story characters, unless the zerok can pick up these things from watching the patterns of the abominations and are absolutely terrified by what they find. Zerok understandably don’t fly in storms of any sort, though, let alone Black Storms.
