The First Technomancer (2 page)

Like some kind of electric blue tattoo,
beneath his skin, flesh much fairer than that of his mother's,
embedded Vril technology, nanoconduits uncoiled across the left
side of Ambakhun's face, and back toward his spinal column, to meet
at juncture points which finally vanished deep into his body.

Without the
El-Vod-Yad, the Golden Equation, that which I think to be the
true
philosopher's stone.
I do not
believe we Arclayht Warlocks will ever be able to overcome the
limitations that the Universe seeks to place upon our magic. As we
push ever forward with our wills, it returns our force with an
equal measure. You do not get something from out of nothing, there
must be an equivalent exchange, and this is the first law. Yes, we
can cast holographic illusions, and thanks to our nanobots, even
manipulate matter. We can also speak suggestive incantations to
impact other beings, while subtle energies let us bring our
environment into alignment with our commands. The Vril technology
which inhabits our bodies, and plugs us into those eldritch forces
permits wondrous abilities, even the power to fold space-time so we
might traverse without moving. Yet it is the El-Vod-Yad that is the
key to our apotheosis.

–
Karaseer
Drakonis

[Rome. April 15, 4 AD]

The cone of power swirled and crackled with
the collective energy of the supplicants whispered prayers.
Ambakhun watched the blue nimbus gather like a cyclone above the
young Christian congregation. They did not see it of course, yet he
was sure that they could sense the raw power of their worship on
some gut level, just as he could behold it with his special emerald
eyes.

Ambakhun Tan, who appeared to be in his
mid-thirties, yet in truth was much older, dressed in layered green
clothing of his own fashion and stitch, gazed upward as the force
of Easter invocations gathered to trail off into the firmament. To
what end did these Christian prayers reach? Clearly the murmurings
of the faithful, gathered by the flocks Shepherd were impacting the
Universe in some fashion. Or did all these harvested thoughts go
unanswered, left to wane and scatter across the vast cosmos?

“The conjurer!” Bellowed a group of children.
“Aurelianus!” They called out his Latin name, while he casually
strode through the cobblestone streets. It had become his custom to
adopt a native name when he entered a new land. Translation was but
a simple matter for a person implanted with Vril technology. He had
been making his way across the globe, in search of rumored
subterranean cities that he believed his Vril ancestors had
established on Earth, and ended up in the heart of the Roman
Empire. The Citizenry took his trickery, to be just that, mere
illusion, and for the most part it was nothing more than an
advanced sleight of hand which Ambakhun Tan's embedded mechanics
helped pass off as magic.

A wave of his lanky fingers and a flurry of
holographic monarch butterflies rewarded the children who had
flocked around him. They giggled at the light show which soon faded
away all around them in a dust of sparkles. Contented by the
entertainment the children cleared his pathway that headed toward a
grand villa. Home of a Senator who had called on him for counsel.
The price for his counsel? Maps which the Senator claimed outlined
an ancient underground network of tunnels. Perhaps he might at last
find one of his celestial ancestors rumored lost cities?

Rome's interest in Gaul, as well as Britannia
had also brought Ambakhun Tan here, those nations troublesome,
barbaric nature; a resistance to Roman rule had enticed him. So he
thought, go to the civilized world's center. Perhaps in this place
of all places he might learn all that is learnable. Among all
things, knowledge gained is what he thirsted for.

Traveling was no great problem for Ambakhun,
it required of him very little effort, unlike many others, shackled
to where they were born and doubtless would die by a lack of easy
mobility. Though he did not always end up where he intended.
Instinct more than anything else seemed to rule where a spacefold
might drop him. He'd gotten much more skilled in jumping however
since that day of anguish when he fled from the ruinous carnage of
his mother's home village centuries before.

A servant escorted Ambakhun into the richly
appointed villa.

“Master Aurelianus, welcome! Welcome.”

“Senator Gavrus, we come to serve.”

“Your service honors us conjurer.” Gaius
Titus Gavrus's tone exuded disdain for the popular wizard. He did
not like foreign rabble traipsing about his beloved pristine city.
Yet this strange visitor who loved to entertain with his parlor
tricks, and who never seemed short on good, accurate advice had
become popular with the aristocracy, and more importantly the army,
where it is said he had been learning to wield a gladius blade.

The haughty senator called for wine. A
nervous barbarian slave came bumbling into the chamber. “Be quick
boy!” Gavrus demanded, his fist hit the table and then he returned
his attention toward Ambakhun Tan who sat beside him. “I understand
General Ambrosius has made you his blood brother, an honor because
of that Saxon nonsen – “

Clatter!
The clay pitcher which held
the wine shattered.

In a rage Gavrus stood. “Imbecile! Uneducated
twit!” The senator back handed the boy who had tripped with the
carafe of wine. “These Britons, they are not meant for civilized
Roman living. But what to expect from a tribe that paint's itself
blue?”

Ambakhun nodded, yet said nothing. He had to
fight an impulse to jump to the boy's defense, sure he could have
used his power to shock Gavrus – but dared not unleash his fury.
The Senator's behavior however disgusted him.

Suddenly Rome did not seem to be the world's
center any longer.

The next morning Ambakhun set out with his
newly acquired maps, hopes to find a Vril city high. Though he
could not vanquish Gavrus's treatment of the Briton boy from out of
his thoughts. It galled him!

He walked through the forest, and passed in
the shadow of a
Faunus
statue which dominated a pagan altar.
Faunus played his pipes with much abandon. Offerings of bread and
other succulents had been laid out for the stone god. And yes, this
place of worship, like that of the Christian flock's prayers
offered to their savior bristled with power, which Ambakhun could
see with his particular vision. Stored up might flowed off the
altar rock in an eerie blue vibrancy.

Going over to the Faunus likeness, Ambakhun
placed his right hand on the smooth altar rock. In a surge, a jolt
of energy moved up his arm. His Vril technology hummed as it fed
off the fresh source of aether. If he allowed himself, the nascent
wizard could easily become addicted to such fountainheads of might.
How easy it would be for him to become a living god, and leach
power from his worshiper’s prayers as if they were human
batteries.

No
, he shook it off and returned to
his hunt.

Not far from the faun statue, just where the
map claimed it would be, Ambakhun came to the mouth of a cave. He
made for himself a holographic ball of white light to illuminate
the darkness which stood before him in the hollow. Hours on hours
he descended into the Earth. Thus far it seemed to be a natural
occurrence, no indication of mankind or otherworldly beings having
carved their way into the crust could be discovered. Though, as he
moved deeper, Ambakhun sensed volcanic activity. Magnetic currents,
which followed a lava vein, pulsed under his boots.

This to became a source of power, and
explained why Faunus's shrine had been placed where it had above.
The current of magnetism lent itself to ritual. A natural venue to
focus worship and bottle that energy for later use by those skilled
with unleashing it, be they priest or shaman.

On the wall he came across a piece of art.
Another depiction of Faunus. This one, much more goat like, even a
little threatening. Very much the template for 'The Devil' as he
had begun to be recalled among the Christians. Drawing from a
hardwired encyclopedia of genetic memory, Ambakhun knew it for what
it genuinely was, a depiction of a Kri-Skar, the creatures that had
once visited this planet, and seeded the building blocks for life
here. What his Vril forebears called 'World Movers'. Were he to
take a guess, these caverns were probably some sort of tomb.

“I've been watching you.”

Ambakhun spun on his heel at the voice, his
light globe intensified.

At first the wizard could not see, or feel
anything, and he wondered how he did not sense anyone else in the
cavern with him, people, or animals always left an impression which
his technology could trace through bioelectric imprints.

Then his eyes fell upon a stocky shadow.
“Whose there?”

The shadow leaned forward into the sphere of
Ambakhun's light. An old, graybeard man, who concealed half his
face beneath a wide brimmed hat cunningly grinned back at him.
“Just a friend.” Answered the greybeard with a jolly laugh. “Your
trickery intrigues me young Ambakhun Tan.”

“You have me at a disadvantage sir.” The
greybeard truly did have the upper hand. No one in this region knew
Ambakhun's birth name, certainly no one alive, and he seldom went
under it these days in any event. “What is your name?”

The old greybeard emerged from out of the
darkness, garbed in a sky-blue cloak; he stood tall over the young
wizard. On his chiseled woebegone face he wore a curious device,
metal rimmed spectacles. “If you'd care to young pup, call me
Blaise.”

“Blaise, how might I help you?”

“Like I said boy, your magic, I find it of
interest.”

“I'm afraid I can't teach you if that's what
you are looking for.” Over the years bystanders would beg Ambakhun
for his secrets. He always answered truthfully; he could not teach
them to become sorcerers. Though he left off the reason. He had
been born with these powers and was not even sure if normal humans
were equipped to summon magic such as his own.

“Teach me?” Blaise laughed. The caverns
seemed to rumble at his jocularity.

Ambakhun blinked, switched his vision into
another spectrum.

“I need no tutor in the art of miracle
making.” Blaise boasted.

While Blaise rumbled on, Ambakhun studied him
more closely. And quickly concluded. “You're not a Vril.” Could not
but grin when Blaise performed a rushed double take at his
remark.

“No...” Blaise coughed seemingly taken off
guard by the young man's ability to read him. “No I'm not a Vril.”
Yet made sure to add. “But I know all about them.” He smiled. “What
do your scans tell you about me young Technomancer?”

“I think you're some kind of projection. Not
a hologram to be sure, yet I am certain that if we were to leave
this cave anyone else that we should cross paths with would see
exactly what I also behold as a shared delusion. The source, your
point of origin, its power registers orders of magnitudes off my
scales. Beneath that human facade I see fire – Blaise, you are a
burning bush, a column of light.”

“And thus, I Am.” Grinned the greybeard.

“How poetic. A family reunion.” Yet another
voice in the shadows declared.

The owner of the new voice, Ambakhun had
little trouble recognizing in the morphogenetic field. It shined
with unobstructed intensity, as well as an unvanquished pride. “I'd
wondered if you'd show up. In the flesh even, I'm honored.”

“That's more than I can say for the Old Man
here.” Iblis Jinn chided. “At least he didn't send my twin on his
behalf. However I think it might yet be too early on for
El-Shaddai's return performance. The humans have not yet come to
grips with his last incarnation.”

“Thanks for the idea.” Blaise nodded at
Ambakhun. “This boy's creation,
birth
that is, violated too
many rules. Vril are not supposed to procreate. I've already lost a
Legion here to your kind’s infatuation with human women.”

“I am not bound by your laws. You disowned
me, threw me out of Araboth.”

“Yet that does not change the fact Ambakhun
is a weapon –”

The Technomancer cleared his throat. “Excuse
me, I'm in the room.”

“We are here to complete your training.”
Blaise asserted. “My son, Iblis in his arrogance, left you to your
own ends to discover what powers you might have. It’s time we
unleash your potential so that you may help guide these humans in
my plan.”

“You accuse me of violating rules.” The
Opposer snarled. “Now suddenly the Divine Artist pretends he does
not have to keep to the palette that he's chosen?”

Blaise groaned at Iblis. “Now you're claiming
the high road?”

“I claim free will.”

“The theology of all this is very...
fascinating.” Interrupted Ambakhun over the bickering father and
son. “But I have no desire to become a pawn for either of you.”

“Good, then let me hone your power. Do not
fear your innate skill.” Iblis Jinn offered. “Own it. Bask in its
glory!”

“You'd have him repeat his grand mistake
Iblis?”

Blaise mention of his 'grand mistake' caused
Ambakhun to ruminate. Still but a boy, he had been teased back in
his village for his obvious difference. One day, the taunting, and
invective leveled toward both he and his mother grew to be too
much. In a fury he unleashed a storm, a maelstrom wiped out all
life there which had left him alone among a decimated settlement
while the torrent of water receded back into the great lake from
which it had risen. In that moment of devastation which he had
wrought, he warped space-time for his first time.

“Yes, you remember.” whispered Blaise. “The
lives cut short by your anger.”