"A Boy Lost in the Pattern" [Æden]

An incident in the desert stirs memories long buried.

Apart from the two major metropolitan centers in the kingdom, The Atraxian Expanse is home to tens of thousands of Solunarians. Some of the Vastii still hearken back to their days as nomads, roaming the open desert and braving its many trials, but most have formed settlements along the River Vasta or around nearby oases. Most of these settlements in the present day are completely self-governing, but there are a few in the vicinity of valuable resources, which are overseen by representatives of the greater kingdom. Unlike the two fortified cities of Solunarium and Tertium, many of these smaller settlements live under the constant threat of desert squalls, droughts and attacks from desert-dwelling predators, like Tusk Titans and wild wyverns.

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"A Boy Lost in the Pattern"
22 Ash 122
The Atraxian Expanse
Roughly 100 miles Southeast of Solunarium Proper
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Principalus Val'Camillus Æden had led a successful, albeit monotonously routine, patrol mission along the southerly borders of the Atraxian Expanse where the sands ran into the grasslands of lower Ecith. Serving as decanus over a contubernium of eight men (One Sunborn, one moonborn and six Vastians), they had assembled for their pre-mission briefing at the Wyvern ærie that stabled Sandworm and the other mounts. Sad-eyes, gargantuan cyclopes were toiling under the command of a master mason who was overseeing an expansion to the basilisk paddocks. Renovations were much needed subsequent to the season's recent boom in both basilisk and wyvern hatchlings.

From the capital, Æden and company had flown a familiar, southerly course and found nothing out of the ordinary. It might have been disappointing to embark on a mission fraught with danger, only to find that it was less eventful than the prior week when Æden had been charged with guarding a diplomatic envoy. At least there, he'd gotten to see a dragon and a cadre of their ancient Orkish enemies. At least then there had been tension for a few hours, but this had been days of soaring over empty sands, scanning for dangers to the ream that never presented themselves.

As they made their way back toward the capital, the plan had been to camp for their final night at one of the modest forts upheld by their branch of the military throughout the desert. Over the years, most of these sentry points had drawn Vastian settlers to build villages, trading posts or waypoints- lured by the safety suggested by a regular presence of præventores in their midst. They might have wound up in such a place, but for the cries of one of the humans in their number who had taken ill and struggled to keep his mount upon the wyvern.

So it was, that they made camp near a rocky outcropping in the otherwise open desert. Æden would wake with a jolt in the dead of night. He could hear the whispers of the two standing sentry outside the tent, but they weren't loud enough to understand, and he was sure that hadn't been what woke him. Then he heard it... a low, clicking sound and a strange roiling of the sands. His training clicked in his sleep-bleary brain and he realised the probably source of the strange phenomenon. But he hadn't time to act, before the screams of his comrades outside the tent pierced the Atraxian night.

As the others in Æden's tent woke, and started to process the din without, the Sandlion- a massive, burrowing arthropod with thick, black chitin armour had begun to tear into one of the sentries with its chittering mandables, as it stabbed the other with a spear-like leg. The wyverns wailed as another of the creatures burst forth to strike at the mounts.
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Æden did not fail to see his slow reaction time as a personal shortcoming. He jolted up and awake, clutching the sword that never strayed too far from his side. Blood stained the stand and the outside of the tent before he could even make it through the panels. Before he left the tent, he knew that his normal steel had no chance at piercing the chitin of the creatures -- and he began extending the length of his sword by almost a foot and width of his sword by some inches with a steeply tapered ward. One that was not tasked against chitin, but against sand, with the anchor placed where it was held, on the hilt.

They would not be so polite to wait and let him don his armor, but the monsters had made quick work of the armored sentries.

With sword prepared but armor doffed, Æden rushed out of the tent to the sight of eviscerated Sentries. It had taken less than a minute to craft the small ward on his sword, but he felt it as another personal shortcoming.

Æden exited the tent lunging his sword at the creature. His goal was not to hit the creature with the metal, which was not difficult from the length he had extended his sword to. When he could see the shimmering disappear in the chitin, he channeled his aether for a moment and changed the tasking of it to block against the creature itself. The change expanded through the length of the sword and the ward itself, and into the flesh of it that had been previously pierced by what was nothing.

Around the ward, the chitin cracked as it was forced to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Æden grit his teeth and pushed the sword in even further, cracking the chitin even more.
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A loud, chittering shriek emitted from between the razor sharp mandibles as Æden's æther shifted suddenly into a ward against its own body matter. That horrifying din was somehow familiar to the pointed ears of the Principalus. But how could he recognise those cries? They vile creatures had been covered thoroughly in his classes on the desert's many dangers, but they were rare enough that most Præventores- particularly those who soared above the sands they haunted- rarely came into actual contact with them. Æden had never encountered one... had he?

He didn't have time to consider the question. The sandlion circled itself rapidly, trying to use the momentum to send the offending elf flying from its shell.

As one sandlion spun, the other was being overwhelmed by angry wyverns raining their caustic spittle onto its exoskeleton. Blinded with its chitin eroding around it, the beast thrashed aimlessly as the agile reptiles danced free of its range- Some taking to the air. Among those was Sandworm who, seeing Æden being thrashed about by another of the gargantuan arthropods, swept down to ram it from the sky. The creature, knocked off balance, tumbled helplessly onto its back with Æden underneath it. The weight of the thing was colossal, and the Platinum Elf was being crushed into the sand- unable to breath, unable to think. Everything went black and fell silent.
* * *
When his eyes fluttered open, Æden blinked at his surroundings. Was this the Umbrium? It was dim and stony, not like the sands he'd been walking for hours since he wandered away from the caravan. But no... It was too quiet and cramped to be any part of the Umbrium he'd seen in his six years on this earth. As his eyes acclimated to the dim light of the surroundings, he would see that there was a bit of light coming from around a corner. And a scuffing sound could be heard from that direction as well.

His throat was dry and his hair was matted with sand and dirt from the floor of this strange cave. Even if he was terrified, the want of water begged him to lift his weary legs and seek relief for the abject dehydration.
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He had thought himself somewhat successful, but in practice, it was Sandworm who saved him.

It was his last thought before he sunk into the dark.

--


Some part of his little brain knew that animals meant water. Plants meant water, too, but he could count the plants he had seen since he went exploring on no hands. But the Umbrium had water, and it was cold, and he liked to play in it when they went to their big house down there.

Maybe there was water here, too.

He was so tired, and he felt shaky on his feet, but he walked towards the scuffling sound. It was almost too dim to find anything in there, even if he took after his father’s night vision. He missed his mommy and his daddy, but only a distant part of him remembered that he could talk to them if he wanted to. Even if he could, he couldn’t remember how, and he was so thirsty he didn’t know if he could talk anyway.

He didn’t remember going into the cave, but he suddenly felt scared about leaving it. He was safe from the sun and the wind and the sand and the heat. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to lie down again...

He started to walk a bit faster towards the light around the corner. It looked like outside, and that’s where his parents were.

If he could just remember, maybe they could bring him something to drink. His skin itched and hurt, especially on his face, and his arms. His mouth felt as dry as the desert. The thirst distracted him from his hunger. He had been without food for just as many hours as he had been without water. He felt like he could eat a bug if it came close enough.
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As the child rounded the corner, he would find himself face to hip with a taller figure. Though the creature before him stood as tall as one of its parents, it was a juvenile of its species. Staring down at Æden with a single, huge eye in the centre of its forehead was a young cyclops. Its eye was wide with wonder and excitement.

"It wake!" The larger boy clapped ecstatically and called over his shoulder in rudimentary, heavily accented Vastian, "Little elf wake!" The cyclops snatched him up and lifted him bodily off the ground and carried him over to where four adult cyclopes were seated around a fire with a large cauldron hanging over it.

The child, who stood a mere six feet in height, was less than half the size of the next smallest of its tribe. He held Æden up for them to see.

"Look how cute!" It beamed, before placing him down, near the others- Who looked at him mildly, seeming to lack the level of interest their youngest bore for the smaller creature. "You sit. Orgus give you soups." The cyclops child marched over to the cauldron to ladle out some soup into a large bowl and present it to Æden. The aroma was somewhat floral, and the consistency was thin but with chunks of some sort of vegetable. There were stringy bits of meat as well, but far from a copious amount. It added a bit of briney flavour to the broth, while the bulk of its hardiness came from the thick cubes of indiscernible vegetable.

"Eat, eat!" The cyclops who'd identified himself as Orgus instructed. "Is yum. Promise." He nodded sagely and watched attentively with his wide-eye focused fixedly on his new pet.
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Æden yelped at the sight of a cyclops, but it did not seem to perturb Orgus in the slightest, as he was swiftly carried over to the adults. Æden closed his eyes and scrunched his face in preparation to be thrown into the pot, clothed and alive, but he opened them in confusion when he was set onto the ground.

Orgus was treating him like he’d treat one of the estate’s cats, not like a meal. But the soup, even in the massive bowl, with a spoon as big as his hand, smelled delicious to his starving, thirsty little brain.

Æden tentatively looked around, quiet, as his six year old mind tried to calculate what was going on. But his hunger won out, and he picked up the spoon, nearly spilling soup onto the ground as he tried to put it to his lips to drink the broth. It was a bit briny, but not in a bad way. He liked the salty taste, but he hated vegetables. The way Orgus was watching him made little Æden pick up the chunks of vegetables with his fingers and take bites from them - they were cyclops sized, not six-year-old elf sized.

From the corner of his eye he watched the adult Cyclops, though they regarded him with very little interest. Maybe they were full from the soup, so they were going to cook him later. Maybe they were trying to fatten him up! But he was a skinny child, he wouldn’t have made a very good meal.

Finally, he peeped up. ”Are you going to eat me?” he asked, quiet, his eyes wide and brimming with tears as he looked up at Orgus.
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Orgus laid on his belly with his face in his hands watching the little elf adoringly as he ate the soup. He kicked his legs behind him and just gaped happily.

"It so cute!" He exclaimed gleefully.

"Eat? No, no! You eat soup. Is good?" He crawled up onto his knees and gestured to the elder cyclopes behind him.

"Tribe of Orgus save small elf from big sand bug! We bring it here but it sleeps long time. Big bug run way. We no kill, so soup only cactus and rabbit. No rich bug meat. Sad." Orgus shook his head, solemnly at that missed opportunity.

This would ring bells for the child. He'd been wandering through the sands for a while, when the sands gave way and he scrambled to get away from the chomping mandibles of a massive arthropod. He'd lost consciousness in the struggle, and woken up here.

"Where small elf come from? Tribe hide from elfs. Elfs hurt tribe, but Orgus say- No this elf little no hurt us. Just baby elf."

"Orgus!" A large male narrowed his eyes at the younger cyclops. "No talk so much at elfling! We give back soon."

"Nooooo!" Got up and stomped his feet. "No, no, no! My baby elf! I keep!"

"You no keep! We save and give back. Maybe elf thank tribe for save baby. No hunt us more. They leave us lone, we have peace."

"We protec elf, elf protec us! We must keep!" Orgus countered, "We no keep, then elf no know we elf friend and 'ttack tribe!"

"Orgus, be quiet." The elder cyclops rose and grabbed Orgus by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him away from the child.
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Æden nodded as he ate the soup, frightened of what would happen if he disagreed that it was tasty. Not that the soup wasn't good, but it wasn't like he ate at home. Big sand bug? He didn't know what that could be. He knew that scary monsters lurked in the desert, like cyclops and wyverns...

"I'm from Sowunarium—" He started, but they were fighting and he curled up a bit as he ate the soup. It filled the aches in his stomach and quenched him enough that he wasn't so miserable. The point of contention seemed to be whether to keep or release him. "I want to go home?" It was posited as a question, as if he were a part of the question. While he didn't want to hurt Orgus's feelings about keeping him, he also wasn't a pet.

He remembered the bug enough, that was real. He could maybe even describe how its mandibles tried to ensnare him. How he didn't remember anything until he was woken up and fed. He didn't understand why the cyclops feared the rest of the elves when they were the scary ones, they were the ones that wanted to eat him. He bet they found children in the desert all the time and fattened them up to eat. He wasn't fat enough for a good meal.

Orgus felt genuine in his desires and thoughts, though. He didn't seem like he wanted to eat him, not yet, anyway. "But if you give me back maybe my family will leave you alone?" He added, agreeing with the bigger cyclopes. He was only a child; there was no way to guarantee their safety, and less of a chance that his family would believe or understand him if he tried to explain that they had helped him. Surely they had, or else he would be dead. He didn't even know how long he had been in the desert since before he was almost eaten by the bug.
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Setting Orgus down by the fire, the large male cyclops narrowed his eyes.

"You hear elfling, Orgus? Come from great village of elfs, protecked of fire lizard and spit lizard. Wants go home! We keep, then him prisoner. We release, then him friend. You no like trap, elf no like trap." Orgus whimpered in frustration.

"But so cute, thooouuuugh!" Orgus whined.

"Ekk know. But he cute also to elf family. Orgus cute to us, but we be sad if someone take cute Orgus way. Keep cute Orgus for self."

Orgus finally seemed to understand the lesson, though he wasn't pleased with the outcome.

"Orgus sad. More soup?" The elder male grunted, and ladeled out a few more scoops of the broth into another large bowl, which was handed to the young cyclops. He toddled over to Æden, and plopped down next to him with his bowl.

"We eat gether." Orgus instructed Æden. "But then we give back. You say good of cyclopes to elfs? Orgus want see more elfs. Elfs cute, but scary. We juss want pet elf, but elf make us think weird."

The large male hissed, and cast a warning glare at Orgus for overspeaking. The larger male stayed near the fire, but cast its one-eyed gaze upon Æden.

"Great Elf Village far from here. You close to elf sea village. We hepp you there. You speak good of cylcopes?"
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Æden nodded, though he wasn't sure what they wanted him to do or say. Speak good of cyclopes — but they didn't listen to him, and he was just a kid. He didn't know what that meant by 'make us think weird', either. It sounded like magic, but he barely knew the basics of magic. He knew that mages used magic to tame animals for the soldiers and the menageries he liked to visit. But he didn't know much beyond that. He ate more of the soup. Orgus acted like a child, but he was the size of an adult

"I speak good?" He answered, lilting the end as if it were a question. "I speak good of cyclopes." Or he would try. "I don't know where my family was going... but they take me home? From the elf sea village?" He tilted his head, trying to remember what that could mean. But if there were elves there, surely it was fine. Otherwise they'd go looking for him. He hoped they'd been looking for him. His mama told him he was special because he was born like the stars, and they called him Dryadalis Platinum.

He missed her. Where was she? Why didn't she save him from the bug? His eyes welled up in tears. "I want to go home. Can I go home now?" He ate another spoonful of soup even as he cried — his sadness did not overwhelm his hunger — but then he set the spoon down on the floor, sated enough by cactus and rabbit soup. "Take me home please."
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