Chapter 12

All Technology across Anogwin is powered by myst. Myst batteries, myst cores, myst generators, myst circuits. Myst fuels our world down to even the cybernetics in our bodies. As a power source, myst can be used in fluid or solid states. Solid-state myst power sources are known as crystal batteries that can come in a variety of sizes, shapes, and elemental types based on what they are used to power. Liquid myst is a form of consumable energy akin to early-era gasoline, only more eco-friendly and more easily crafted.

Day 28, Castesday

The lunch hour was drawing to a close. I eyed the holo-clock in my vision from my therra-node to keep track even as I hid in the Foundry, working on my project. I was in Cauldron 7, on the second floor of the structure. I hid against the far wall in the left corner, farthest from the wall of tools and supplies. The second years all ignored me as I tinkered away, none caring what I was doing so long as I didn’t burn a hole through the desk or detonate anything volatile.

For the past three weeks, I had slaved away at this project of mine, skipping meals and spending sleepless nights working on it. At first, I had only based my work on what diagrams and equations I could find in the data banks. But when Master Mystagogue Mallock, the cooky old man who gave me words of advice on my first day, took up the instruction of my Myst and Mystech Fundamentals class, he almost seemed to know what I was attempting. He moved the class to the Foundry and began teaching about power consumption rates, myst power source types, and so much more. The Master left most of my fellow students baffled and reeling from the push-and-flow information, but I seemed to soak it in like a sponge. And an eager sponge at that.

I folded plating and casing into shape, sealed rubber, and stitched fabric. I cut out quartz circuit boards and pressed out the circuits in mythril. I gauged the wire, compressed springs, set receivers, set in diodes, resistors, and capacitors, set in myst batteries of air, fire, kinetic force and lighting, and so much more. I did this over and over again, testing tirelessly. I learned from each failed prototype and adjusted accordingly. At that time, I was on Mark 5.

What was I making? A tool, something to keep me safe and keep others at arm’s reach. Why? Because of Mallrimor and his thugs. Every chance they got, they picked on me, pulling my tail, tripping me, shocking or burning me with myst, and taking every opportunity in martial combat training to spar me and beat me to tar. I had to replace several uniforms because of stains from ink and blood or burn holes. The quartermaster was going to have my measurements memorized soon if this kept up. Every lunch, they found me and ruined my food. I was fed up with this abuse. I had spoken to instructors, but they all said the same thing: “Deal with it in your own way” or “Talk it out”. If the masters wouldn’t save me, and I had no friends to stand up for me, I would have to defend myself. I couldn’t outfight them, and I had no magical talent. I couldn’t talk or threaten them into backing off, so this was my only chance. 

The week prior, Mystagogue Kellennar, the Ceangar that seemed to derive deep pleasure from pairing me with the problematic thugs, gave us permission to carry training weapons on our person and perform duals under a nonlethal standard. So if I couldn’t outfight them, outcast them, flush out their secrets, or outmaneuver them, I’d have to out-think them with tech.

Only moments before the lunch hour ended, I slipped on the gauntlet, most of the tool hidden just under my sleeve, albeit a tight fit. As my alarm went off for me to head to my next class, I pulled down my sleeve and made my way to Myst and Mystech Fundamentals, just one floor down.

Master Mystagogue Mallock marched across the room, his hands clasped behind his hunched back. The classroom, Cauldron 2, smelled of hot metal, stone dust, melted plastic, and the ozone scent of discharged myst. Against the far wall, forges burned with constant heat, making the air in the room thick and uncomfortable. The room was filled with thirteen oval tables, each with five seats. Each seat had a set of simple crafting tools set into carved notches on the table for easy organization. I sat alone at my table in the far back corner, my back to the wall, watching the master with an eager hunger for knowledge. The master marched along the wall of forges. How he managed not to sweat at that proximity had me baffled.

“Last class, we discussed the needs for and uses of resistors and capacitors when working with electricity and general shop safety when working with the raw power sources that are myst crystals. Today, we will first discuss the concept of Elemental merging between the core four elements and will later move on to what Vells are and what a Vell can create. After those brief crash courses, I’ll have you craft a simple myst clock.” At this, several students groaned in annoyance. 

“Come now, children, this is all fairly simple stuff you will need to master before you can truly perform anything of use in later crafting classes.” Master Mallock scolded. His tone was that of a grandfather chiding his grandchild to eat their vegetables before they could have dessert. 

The master spun on his heel and strode back to his desk against the back wall near my table. He bent over to rummage around in the drawers of his desk as he continued to quiz the class. “Now, who can tell me what the core four elements are?”

A couple of hands went up among the class in ready answer. The instructor glanced up from inside his desk just long enough to point to a student to provide an answer. He pointed to S18, the Half-Dwarf. “Earth, Fire, Air, and Water.” the student recited from memory with ease.

“Very good, my boy. Now, can anyone tell me how two elements react when mixed?”

No hands went up this time. “Good, good. This means that we are venturing into unfamiliar territory together. Put simply, when you cross two elements, you apply one or more traits of one element to the other, and a new substance is formed.” Mystagogue Mallock pulled from his desk a strange mechanical device made up of glass cylinders, clear tubes, circuits, wires, and what looked to be a pump. “This is a Myst Infusion Apparatus, or MIA, not to be confused with the term for Missing In Action.” He said this lame joke with an amused smirk. Next, he pulled a pair of crystals from another drawer, the glowing shards no bigger than my pinky finger, one red, the other yellow, both emitting a low glow. He held the red crystal “Fire”. He thumbed the crystal in a metal slot in the apparatus, then held up the yellow crystal “Air”, then slipped that crystal into a slot on the opposite side.

“What would you say the traits of the element of Air are?” He asked, gesturing to the class with a sweep of his hand.

There were several long moments of dead silence before someone blurted out, “It’s a gas.”

“Close but not quite. The fact that the element is called Air is a bit of a misnomer. The element can create any gas when influenced by the wielder. So, let’s clarify the question. What are the traits of gasses?”

“The lack of a solid shape?” another student asked.

“Good. Now, would you say it’s mobile?” The class nodded in unison. “Would you say that it can be quick?”

“Yeah, I guess.” came another student.

“Now, what do you think would be made if we applied the quick mobility of Air to the element of Fire?”

He was answered with dead silence. The master answered his own question with a demonstration. He flipped a switch, turned a dial, and pressed a button. The pump on the device kicked into motion. Raw myst sucked from the crystals, the energy flowing through tubes to meet in a central glass chamber. First, the red energy filled the chamber, turning to flickering and dancing flames. Then, the yellow myst was added. The yellow vapor entered the chamber, and the whole cocktail swirled and churned before coalescing into pure, raging electricity, the yellow-white power reaching the walls of the chamber, searching for an escape.

“And there you have it!” Mystagogue Mallock cheered with a mad grin, gesturing to the apparatus with both hands like he had just unveiled the next big invention of the decade. After a half moment, the professor straightened as best he could, his manic smile fading. He calmly set a clear crystal into a slot in the apparatus's bottom and pulled another switch. The lightning was sucked from the holding chamber to filter into the crystal, giving it a lively glow of yellow-red. The color in the shard, as the professor held it up to show the class, shifted in flickering spasms of wild light. 

“We will discuss what elements will create what when merged in a later class, but for now, we will discuss the topic of what a Vell is and what the measurements of one Vell will equal in regards to the core four elements.” He moved the Myst Infusion Apparatus under his desk, out of sight. The Master then stepped to the back wall behind his desk to activate a holo board. He began writing out words with his finger that lit up on the board with a green-blue light. As he wrote, he spoke.

“A Vell is a single measurement of myst. One Vell can create, destroy, affect, or alter the following measurements of each element. One Vell can affect eight fluid ounces, half a pound of earth, one square foot of gas, one Joule of flame, twelve volts and forty-eight amps of electricity, or twenty-five foot-pounds of kinetic force. All other combinations of the core elements will fall into these measurements, falling into the category measurement of the primary element. For example, if I were to alter Water with the traits of Air, the result, oil, would be measured by the standards of Water, not Air. This means that one Vell could affect eight fluid ounces of oil, NOT one cubic foot of oil.”

I followed along with ease, but a single glance around the room showed that much of the class was lost or bored. Some looked at the board in confusion, with brows raised or scratching their head. Other students simply played with the tools at their stations, ignoring the class as if it were something boring. I couldn’t understand how anyone could find this boring. Meanwhile, I was fascinated by this topic, typing out the notes with ease on the GUI (Graphical User Interface) of my therra-node.

“Now, next week, we will discuss the other elements that can be formed by merging the core four elements and will touch on myst crystal sizes, purity, and potency. But for now, I need you all to access the Academy training archive. Under Mystech 101, look for the file titled Simple Myst Clocks. Follow the diagram and steps to create the device. I will grade you on whether or not the item works, how fast you can craft the item, the precision of the item, and the power efficiency of the item. They will be powered by basic Lightning myst crystals, and I have them stalked in abundance in the Cauldron, so take as many tries as you need. But while working, please remember the safety practices we learned about last class.”

This time, it was my turn to show a manic grin. I quickly pulled up the diagram of what he wanted us to craft and looked it over. Annoyed with how simple the clock would be, I closed the file and searched for a more advanced version. It didn’t take long for me to stumble across a diagram of a myst clock that was powered by two Lightning crystals with a backup thermal crystal battery in case of failure. This clock would not only measure hours, minutes, and seconds, but it would also measure them via three separate digital faces for easy reading alongside an analog face. It could also count milliseconds and measure the amount of power remaining in the batteries with a simple warning light when the power source would get low. Looking it over, I noticed that I could add a chiming alarm whenever the clock struck at exactly noon every day. I examined the diagram several times, making sure I could grab everything that I needed before standing and nearly dashing across the room to gather my supplies. 

It took me several trips, but I got all the parts that I needed and the extra tools I would need to make this whole design function as smoothly as possible. We still had half an hour to craft the project when I started, and I worked as fast as I could manage with the precision that I needed. By the time I had completed it, three students had already brought their projects to display to the master. I had kept a careful eye on each of these as I worked. The first student was sent back because of a loose gear alignment. The second got a low B grade for finishing on time, but his clock was using too much power to function. The last student was sent back because his clock, while intact and complete, failed to function at all. 

I triple-checked the time on my therra-node as I set it on my project, down to the last millisecond. As I closed the face and sealed it, I said a silent prayer to whoever the Nameless Goddess really was. I stood up, clock in hand, and slowly made my way to the Master’s desk. As he noticed me, he raised a single brow at the very moment I set down the project on his desk. 

“This is not the project I asked for, Tick. What is this?”

“I-It’s an improvement, Master Mystagogue. I’m sorry.” I stammered, keeping my eyes locked on the edge of this desk. At that moment, I had second thoughts about not just following the Mystagogue’s instructions.

The Master gave a single slow nod as he eyed the product of my work. I dared to raise my eyes to his face as he opened the face of the clock. I watched as his brows raised in surprise. He looked at each shifting cog with his magnifying glasses. His head shifted from one segment to another. He murmured to himself the whole time. He closed the face and read it, clearly comparing it to his therra-node display several times.

“It’s off by two milliseconds.” Those were the first words that he said. I flinched at this comment, almost as if I had been struck with a fist across the jaw… again.

“I’m sorry, Ticker, but I can only give you a grade of…” I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed as I waited for the terrible grade I expected for not following his orders. “An A+”

I stood there for several moments, not believing what I heard. An A+? ”What?!”

I slowly tried to relax as I tried to meet the Master’s eyes. “Excuse me, Mystagogue. Did I mishear you? A+?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t offer you a higher grade. Between you exceeding the project parameters and your project being off by two milliseconds, I only give you a score of 110% instead of 120%. You will only be allowed to do more advanced projects than is necessary after week five. This means that next week will be the first week that you can really show your skill. But don’t worry my boy, you have just proven that you have a massive talent for crafting. I can’t wait for you to join the Sect of the Burning Hand.” He gave me a grand smile of approval paired with a wink that could only have been given by an old man with a few screws loose. “I’m going to expect great things from you in the weeks to come.”

This brought a burning blush to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat from the forges. I scurried back to my seat with a goofy grin on my face. That was the first compliment that I had ever been given without some severe scolding for some mishap. My father had never given me any compliment without it being weighed down by some way to improve that seemed to matter far more than the feat I had completed. I sat back in my seat and watched the other students as they hurried to finish the class project. I decided I was going to return to the Cauldron after school was out to collect my project because I was going to hang the thing in my room. A sign that I can do something without being told that I needed to improve.

It was only after I made that decision that I remembered what he said about me joining the Burning Hand. My grin faltered as I thought about my goal of becoming a warrior. My father’s corpse flashed in my mind, and my heart ached. But I shook the image free. I wouldn’t let this moment be ruined by bad memories.

********************

As class let out, I stepped through the door to the Cauldron with an almost comical grin on my face. Mallrimor hadn’t picked on me the entire class, and now I was about to head to Basic Science class without any issues. I strolled through the door to the Cauldron and made my way down the entry hall into the Foundry when I passed Mallrimor. He and his group’s focus was centered on the cyborg girl. Mallrimor had his hand pressed against the wall beside her face while the rest of his group let out low chuckles as he mocked her. “What’s the matter, bot-chick? Need more oil to help you cry? Maybe you need a tweak or two to help you learn to respect your betters.” He goaded the girl, her head turned away, looking at the floor.

I slowed as I passed, happy that I wasn’t the one to be picked on for once. Five steps past the group, I stopped and turned to watch.

“What’s the matter, gear-girl? Your cogs loose?” Mallrimor mocked as he reached for her face. She turned her head further against the wall, trying to keep her face away from his fingers. As she turned her face away, I watched as the Brightling snarled in anger. He stepped back, snapped his fingers, and pointed to her with the simple words, “Pull her apart.”

The Dracose and Orc, Kesher and Brecken, stepped forward, massive paws reaching for the girl. I watched, my gut tightening as one began to pull her arm from her shoulder, segments separating and snapping under the force, while the other shoved a hand into her gut, between the soft non-combat plates of her abdomen. As the Dracose pulled free a fist pull of tubes and wires, I couldn’t take it.

I took two steps forward to end in a defiant stance, fists clenched, chin high. “Back off ass hats!” I demanded. As one, the group turned to look at me. The girl’s face curled in an expression of agony as she bent over the claw before her gut, holding her internals.

“And what are you gonna do, freak?!” Snarled Gellar as he stepped up to stand between the girl and me. 

Without another word, I rolled up my right sleeve and raised my hand, pointing my fist at the High Elf. With my other hand, I pressed a button on my gauntlet, and a wave of kinetic force launched from my glove to knock the bastard on his ass. I launched him from his stance to land on his back and slide several feet. The air was knocked from his lungs. The two brutes turned to face me. Before Brecken, the Orc, could react, I turned my tool on him and pressed another button. A ball of flame shot forth and struck the wall of meat and set his uniform ablaze. The muscle head staggered back, trying to put himself out in a panic. Before Kesher could move, I turned my gauntlet to face him and loosed a net of electrified steel webbing. The net ensnared the Dracose, taking him to the floor even as he convulsed from the low voltage. Without sparing a second, I stepped up to Mallrimor and punched him in the jaw with my metal gauntlet. I sent the winged freak reeling with the blow.

“How about you fuckers pick on someone your own size.” I snarled with a mad grin even as I helped the girl stand, the damage already causing her problems.

“Thanks.” she muttered moments before she fell into my arms. She was surprisingly heavy for her size, but I held her up as best as I could manage as I taunted the bastards.

“You sick scumbags need to learn how to treat a lady before I turn you all to pummeled heaps of meat.”

I chose my words poorly as Gellar pulled himself to his feet, rage etched on his face. He threw himself at me, only leaving me half a moment to throw the girl aside as he struck me and took me to the floor. I heard the girl strike the wall with a yipe of pain or shock only milliseconds before I felt a body atop me, beating me with bare fists. Blow after blow landed against my face, breaking my nose and bruising my jaw. In a panic, I brought my arms up to defend my face. Blows rained down against my arms from the high elf. Moments later, I heard a deep grunt and smelt smoke followed before a heavy foot struck my side. I cried out even as the wind left my lungs from the first few blows. I heard another, even deeper grunt, followed by something light and metallic clattered to the ground. Soon after, a clawed foot struck the side of my head, dazing me.

I heard a girl’s voice yelling for them to stop. There was the sound of something heavy striking flesh, followed by a body hitting the wall to slide to the floor. I bore the stikes with the resolve of a man ready to die, waiting for the end. Even in what I thought to be my last moments, I wanted to help the girl. She cared enough to try to stop them from killing me. As my vision blurred, I got an infinitesimal moment of joy at the fact that someone cared about me, if only in the smallest way. Suddenly I heard a muttering of words, and the beating stopped. I held myself in the fetal position until there was no pain for several long moments.

I looked up to find a small Gnomish girl. She looked familiar, and only later did I place her as an upperclassman. She stood between Mallrimor and me even as he eyed me before he and the others walked away. The Gnomish girl gave me a long look before the class bell rang, and he hurried off. For a long moment, I thought about that look she gave me. Was that look in her eyes... Pitty? Sympathy? I wondered only for a heartbeat before I remembered the girl I tried to save.

I rolled over onto my other side to find the cyborg girl in fragments and pieces. Synthetic ribs and bones broken, and ligaments sprained or torn. I staggered to my feet, my whole body screaming at me to just lie back down. I limped over to check on her. Her breath wheezed and gurgled. Her left leg was hanging on by cords and tubes. Her right arm was in even worse shape than her leg, barely hanging on. Her abdomen was a mess of mangled wires, tubes, gears, and circuits. Oil and several other unknown fluids were spilling out from the wounds to form a slick puddle beneath her. I needed to hurry.

Almost losing my balance in the puddle, I knelt down and slipped her good arm over my shoulder and around my neck. I heaved her to her remaining good foot with all the strength I could manage. With the shift, more fluids spilled out from her damaged areas, and I thought I might have seen some blood in the mix, but I was too busy panicking to tell. “Come on.” I wheezed, “Let’s get you to a shop.”

“Why?” was all she could manage to say, oil bubbling from her lips, even as I helped her hobble back to the class that we had left.

“Why? Because you need help, and I can help.” I tried to keep my tone light and strain-free, but I was failing miserably. “My dad always said I should help those I can when I can afford to.”

During the whole staggering trip back to the Cauldron, I muttered curses to my dead bastard of a father for teaching me to be a good person.

“Can… you...afford? You’re..hurt.” She gurgled as she hopped beside me on her good leg.

“I’ll manage,” I said with a manic grin under a blackened pair of eyes. “Besides, I don’t see anyone else helping you to the shop. If the Master is still there, I’ll see if he can patch you up.”

I turned to enter the door into the Cauldron, helping the girl along as best I could. We entered the room, the Master rummaging through his desk. I hobbled her to the nearest table and helped her to lie atop it before the elderly Human looked up to notice us. As he saw us, I croaked out, “Mystagogue, she needs help.” 

I watched as his non-obscured eye widened in surprise. With shocking speed, he limped toward us, reaching the table in moments even as I took a seat to breathe. He flipped through lens after lens and on his right eye as he examined the girl and her wounds. 

“Tick,” He said, his tone hard as adamantine, “I need you to follow me. We’re taking her to Cauldron 15, and I’ll need another pair of hands.” Without another word, the hunched Master scooped up the heavy girl with ease and left the room at such a pace that I struggled to keep up in the state I was in.

We reached the stairs and rushed to the top floor, myself tripping several times on the accent. I followed him into the Cauldron, which was labeled as restricted to tier 5 students and higher. As I entered the room, I paused for a moment in wonder at the room. The whole place looked to be dedicated almost solely to cybernetics. Limb components and modifications lined the walls. One far corner of the room was dedicated to vats of various fluids, while the other appeared to have tools or limb removal, and I might have imagined it in my brief glance, but I thought I saw bloodstains.

The Master Mystagogue recaptured my attention with a harsh “Boy!” He had just laid her in a reclined seat against one wall that had limbs extending from the rear, ending in numerous tools. I hobbled over as fast as I could manage. I hadn’t even made it within seven feet of the pair when he started giving me commands.

“I need you to fetch components.” Without even taking a breath, he listed off fifteen or so items rapid-fire and pointed to where I would find them with his organic hand. As he gave me the list, his cybernetic arm unfolded into several small arms, several ending in tools, while others looked to do little more than hold components and parts. The arm that I thought looked shoddily put together when we first met, I found a deep respect for at that moment.

Her breath became more and more labored as I hobbled from wall to wall, gathering everything needed as fast as I could manage. I made several trips, dumping armloads of parts onto a table beside the Master. Within moments of me dumping the first arm-load of supplies on the table, I watched in wonder as the old man began to work proverbial magic without myst. With speed and grace, he merged separated parts, replaced broken segments, and mended fractures and tears. The whole while, he told me what he was doing and explained how each part worked and what each segment was meant to do, even as I transported more parts. 

After what must’ve been five minutes but felt much longer, Master Mallock pointed across the room without looking to where the vats of fluids were. He rattled off the amounts of each fluid he needed and said that there were beakers in a cabinet adjacent to the vats. I fetched the needed liquids, and he fixed the young woman in a matter of minutes thereafter. As he wrapped up the operation, he explained every step as if he expected me to do the same the next time it happened. I drank in every moment of work, memorizing every word of wisdom I could in my addled state. I knew at a fundamental level I would need to know this for a later date.

As Master Mallock sealed the last gasket, he leaned back, his cybernetic hand collapsing back into its standard state as he wiped his brow and looked me dead in the eye. “Speak with her, understand what a friend really is, and never let go no matter how hard things get.” I stood there gaping like a fish drowning in the air, lips flapping as the Master turned and left the room.

As the cyborg girl sat up and tested her arm and leg, I watched, too timid to speak a word. I watched as her blond hair fell around her ears. The scaring along her cheeks, just above the synthetic tissue, blushed a deeper purple. “Thank you for helping me. You saved my life.”

I looked at the floor and shrugged. “Those assholes have been picking on me since the first day. I was planning on standing up to them anyway. The fact that they were picking on you only made it that much more important that I stop them.”

“Even if they kicked our asses?” She asked, a tone of friendly mocking.

I felt my cheeks heat with a burning blush as I intently stared at the floor.

“I know. I need to work on my gauntlet. It was supposed to knock them on their asses just long enough for me,” I stuttered, “I-I mean us, to get away. I guess I got a little too cocky.”

“Maybe you should make more tools like that to help you beat bastards like them.” I could hear the smile in her words. She was trying to be nice, but I felt like she was only trying to make me feel better for my brutal failure.

“I-I, yeah,” I stammered, “I guess. I need to make more tools.”

“I saw you make that clock in class. You have a real talent for making gadgets. Maybe you could make more to help you with bullies like that.”

“I-I guess. But I want to be a warrior. I need to get better at fighting.”

“Well, till you get better at fighting, how about you make nifty gadgets and tools like that gauntlet to help yourself out... and maybe me, too?” She said this last part with her own bit of timidity. At those words, I looked up with sharp interest. I saw her burn-scarred cheeks turn a deep purple rimmed with a burning pink-red.

I think I had just made my first friend. I shot my right hand out in an offer for a shake.

“I’m Iver Maverick. It’s n-nice to meet you.” 

She gave a half-smile before grasping my hand with a firm grip and a reply of “Nice to meet you, Iver, I’m Nennel Darrdane.”

“I-I hope we can be good fr-friends.”