Wordscapist: The Myth (The Way of the Word Book 1) (6 page)

     I noticed that the overcast sky had got a lot worse and there were dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon. It looked like the set of a horror movie, and I was all set to watch Frankenstein’s monster stagger out of the warp, roaring for the blood of his demented creator. I kept switching between camera perspectives, checking the headphones to see if all the microphones were catching the words. The wind made everything a little fuzzy, but it was all still working. I could make out the voices clearly. Silvus, roaring; Zyx, musical; Jimmy, deadpan; Lily, nervous and yet furious. As I heard Lily’s voice, I noticed something strange. She was using archaic phrasing for the spell, against the more contemporary language used by the other wordsmiths. “… with the power invested in myself, I urge the firmament to accept my words as a definition of its reality…” That was strange. It was almost like she wanted to do something differently, just for the hell of it. I did not know what her scape signature was and dismissed the difference as a personal eccentricity. The essence of her words however amounted to the same, and the Continuum Meter recorded a healthy 17.

     The most powerful scape I had been on had registered a peak of 63.5, something I had often bragged about. I gulped as I remembered that today I would see the numbers go way beyond anything I had ever imagined. I hoped fervently I would live to brag about it. Something had changed about the cadence of the spells. I saw words on the screen that I did not recognise. It must be the Fractahedron Helix. I only vaguely knew about this spell. It created a complex reality structure that in turn facilitated the L’Esprit spells. The L’Esprit definition spell would create a non-conscious entity, a shell that would then be the basis for the rest of the scape. The wordsmith, in this case Silvus, would then weave his scape into this entity. The group would assign this shell to Silvus with the assignment spell. If all went as planned, this would ensure that Silvus became the Wordscapist. That thought merited another uncomfortable gulp.

     The group continued, focused at the centre of the field. The warp was growing in size and definition. I glanced at the CM. It was already up to 53. The CCC surveillance meters must have started twitching. Suddenly, the group stopped. Lily took a few seconds more to complete her spell. I noticed Silvus give her a suspicious look.

     He raised his voice and shouted out to the others, “Be prepared to complete the L’Esprit assignment. I shall raise my hand when I complete the scape.” I saw the others tense in anticipation.

     Silvus started his scape, his right hand pointing his staff to the scape-crux. I did not need the transcription to know the words. He was loud enough for everyone on that island to know the words of that incredible scape. The words were powerful, and the phrasing unusual. I guess it was his signature method or perhaps he was trying something special for today. I can still remember that roaring voice shouting out words that displayed the sheer insanity of this man’s ambition. “I, Anton Javier Silversmith, command this scape and the reality that it defines.”

   Anton Javier Silversmith, I repeated the name in my head, the name behind the legend. It was not AJ Silvus after all. I wondered why the name sounded familiar. And before I could wonder further, my attention was grabbed by the space warp forming at the crux. It was beginning to thicken.

    Silvus continued chanting the words.

“I call the legend, the lore, the Wordscapist

All that has ever been imagined

The power, the ability, the wisdom

I call it down to the spirit”

     I saw the CM shoot up like a thermometer thrust into fire. The numbers raced through to 100 and kept going. The space warp froze in a strange, twisted miasma, waiting for the rest of the words.

“What every wordsmith has dreamt of

The gift to shape reality wilfully

To create, protect and destroy

Let this spirit be all that the myth is

Let it be silent and potent

Invisible and intense

Inaudible and timeless

Intangible and limitless

Let it be shaped in the silhouette of its bearer

Ready to wield

At the breath of a word

At the summoning of a thought”

     With the last word, the warp went crazy, running into a funnel of furiously chaotic time and space. Slowly, a shape emerged, that of a tortured, struggling human silhouette. It was painful to the eye to the see the sheer violence of the warped transformation this shape was going through, threatening to rip apart the very fabric of the space it occupied. I sneaked another look at the CM. 150 and still going strong. We were in outer scape!

“I weave into reality

The legend, the lore

The Wordscapist

Let it be!”

     Everything froze. The crux with its silhouette, poignantly reaching out to the heavens in an attempt to escape, the rest of the forum of wordsmiths, and even the Mastersmith himself. There was a painful silence. The wind had stopped. The light had a peculiar, other-worldly tinge to it. The silhouette slowly dissolved into a swirling shape that was rich with indescribable colours, rotating with its evanescent arms twisting together to a sharp peak. I could see the others hold their breath as Silvus slowly raised his hands. This was the moment. The CM read an incredible 186. Silvus was going to reach 200 after all. All that was left was the assignment and Silvus would become the Wordscapist!

     And then all hell broke loose.

     The scape crux exploded, a million shards of twisted time-space cast all around. A black, snarling shape tore through, caught for a moment in frozen motion. A vague, blurred memory of teeth, claws and muscle remained as it landed, sliding to a stop with its claws screeching against the rock. It was immediately followed by three more similar shapes coming out of the smoky remains of the space warp, all bounding out in different directions. My heart stopped as I noticed the shape of these beasts. They were wildcats, bigger than tigers. But there were no tigers in this world that came close to these nightmares. Huge cats a peculiar electric midnight blue in colour, with glowing green eyes, and jaws with huge sabre-like teeth that almost glowed a hellish yellow hue. They now stood before the wordsmiths, one before each, their tails flicking menace. I saw the look of shock on Silvus’s face and saw his lips moving. The words appeared on my screen.

     “This is too soon! She should not be here!”

     Sign!

     My eyes went back to the scape crux. The form in the centre had reappeared. Only, this time it looked different. And then it moved, walking out of the smoke and stepping off the crux. Out of the smoke, emerged the most exotic woman I had ever seen. Her skin was so dark it was almost black, but black like some kind of flowing, glittering liquid. It flowed as she moved, swirling with every expression that flitted across her face. She had long hair that swayed with every step she took, moving with a muscular sinuousness akin to that of a snake. She was dressed in a long coat that covered the rest of her form, the same shade of midnight blue as her beasts, with high collars covering the lower half of her face and long enough to hide her footwear, if she wore any. She moved with a fluid grace, walking up to the beast standing before Silvus. All the wordsmiths were frozen in position. I tried to move and realised that I was frozen too. I could not move. Somehow, we had all been frozen into immobility. My mind was still active though, and then the realisation fell into place with a click. The ethereal light, the complete absence of breeze and the way we were all frozen. The scape-warp had encompassed all of us when it exploded. We were in the warp.

     Just when I had made sense of this, Silvus moved forward. A voice went off in my head, “How the hell did he do that?” Another voice was even more incredulous, “He moved forward?!”He was mere inches from the Sign beast in front of him. He chose to ignore the beast and looked straight at Sign and spoke. My eyes flicked to the console, but it was frozen at “She should not be here.” However, the words soon came to me loud and clear, a warped split second after their utterance. “This is my reality. I command it and all entities within it. You do not have any power within this scape, Sign. Begone!”

     Sign looked at him and smiled even as the last of his words came to me, the expression flowing across her exquisite features. Her lips moved as she walked closer to her beast, the one in front of Silvus. The words soon came to me, in a voice that defied description, liquid and menacing. “You have gone too far, Anton. This time I have you, and those that accompany you on this ill-fated adventure of yours. Already, your scape has been cut loose. It searches a host, a being where it may find fulfilment. There will be a Wordscapist, but it will not be you.”

      Once again, the words were still coming to me as I saw Silvus’s reaction. “No!” He leapt for her, his hands bringing his staff about in a violent arc. Even before he could get halfway through the movement, the beast before him leapt to his throat, bringing him down in a soundless motion. The huge man was flat upon the ground, cowering under the snarling beast. I heard the delayed roar of the beast and the painfully loud thud of the man hitting the floor.

     Sign walked up to Silvus. “You puny little man!” She almost spat out the word ‘man’. “You dare attack me?! You dare presume?!”

     Silvus almost whimpered, “No! I am sorry. Forgive me! I just… the Wordscapist… I wanted… No!” This last ‘no’ was almost a scream, reaching me as Sign finished kneeling, bending really close to him. Silvus must have thought that his life was over, with Sign reaching forward with her fatal touch. She merely bent and whispered in his ear, her deadly presence a couple of inches away from him. Silvus’s face went ashen in response to those whispered words. I strained to hear, but the words did not reach me.

     She stood and looked at the rest of us. She spoke aloud, “You mortals have no clue what you have wreaked. You have set loose an elemental entity, and it has gone searching for a mortal body. You have unleashed power that can destroy the whole fragile world you live in, and that being now heads for an unknown source. No one can be trusted with that kind of power; no mortal, and definitely not your Mastersmith! I give Anton, and the rest of you, a lease of life. He will hunt down the Wordscapist that is created out of this scape, and he will kill it. You all will assist in this endeavour. Unless you can hunt him down yourself.” She waited as if knowing that the words would take some time to reach us. “You will probably fail or die in your attempt. But you will persist. Only after you have terminated the evil you have created, will you go about your lives. Or you will answer to me. I will personally hunt down any one of you who attempts to weave for any purpose other than this task.”

     She turned to me and walked a couple of steps closer as her words reached me. “You are not a wordsmith. You are exempt.” She then walked to Jimmy Sau. She reached forward with a slow, languid motion and touched his forehead, saying something as she did so. A purple spot appeared on Jimmy and in a second, he was purple all over, strangely dried and half mummified. He keeled forward and collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.

    Sign’s words came as I watched him fall, though they were lost on Jimmy’s corpse. “And you are my warning to the others.”

CHAPTER 4

Words

What you say

What you wreak

Will follow you

Scurrying in your wake

Slick

     I watched the sun set, and the landscape turn dark. I stayed on my seat as people around me in the carriage made their beds in preparation for the night. The lights soon turned off. I had played the morning’s memory a few more times, my imagination colouring it more and more horribly with each retelling. I tried to focus on what had happened after the incident… the remaining events of the damned day that had me travelling to Goa. I carefully turned my mind back to the point where I had ridden away from the nightmare.

***

     The ride was a nightmare too. My hands were shivering violently and I rode like a drunkard. I was petrified that I would be flagged down by a cop on traffic beat and then it would be curtains for me. The blood stains on my clothes would lead to questions and I was sure there was already an all-out manhunt for me. I tried to keep the speed down and the riding disciplined, but I was too distracted for my own good. There were several instances where my own paranoia got the better of me. There was one woman with blonde streaks riding in front of me. She was in no hurry to go anywhere, and I had a tough time talking myself into overtaking her. When I finally zipped past her, I did all I could to keep myself from looking at her face. I was sure I would see the grotesque horror of grey-green flesh and molten glass. I kept talking to myself, telling myself that my fears were ridiculous. That demon was after that poor guy; specifically, his head. It got the head and was gone to do whatever demons did with heads. I had no dealings whatever with demonkind and should be completely safe. I mean, it could have finished me then and there if it wanted to. All this reasoning did not help though, and only further distracted me from basic essentials like traffic signals and pedestrians. Luckily, no one got killed and I finally got home.

     I did not bother with the lift and rushed up the four flights of stairs leading to my apartment. It took several painstaking seconds to open the door. My hands shivered like I had an attack of the DTs. All the while, I kept mentally willing my nosy neighbours to stay indoors. Finally I was in. I closed the door and collapsed on the floor. That was when it hit me; the sheer insanity of the morning’s events and the mind-numbing horror of what I had seen. I broke down.