Wordscapist, The Myth
Chapter 3: Weaving Scapes

He was born to crawl

And mayhap to walk

Imagination unfurled its wings

He painted himself an illusion

He leapt

And the end began

The Historian

The scape site was a bleak, uninhabited excuse for an island; a clump of volcanic rocks somewhere in the midst of the Galapagos archipelago. There were no inhabitants there, unless you counted the thousands of seabirds that flew and crapped all over the island. That day, there was a wicked wind blowing in cold spray from the sea, ensuring that everyone and everything on the island was cold and damp. Every exposed inch of land on the island was coated with guano. The wind did not help the smell much and it was acrid enough to make my eyes water.

We had landed at the nearest airport on the mainland and boarded a Guild yacht that had been waiting to bring us to the synch point. None of the remaining members of the group had spoken a word to me, though Lily Pendleton looked like she might a couple of times. I was done with my survey of the place and my forebodings. The weather, the location, the atmosphere…it was the perfect setting for disaster.

The scape was scheduled to begin in a few minutes. I was setting up my recording equipment. Most of it had been arranged by Silvus’s team. I just added the special lenses and filters that marked my personal recording signature, and installed and calibrated the equipment. Seven specialised high resolution video cameras with infrared sensors were set up at strategic locations on the perimeter. It was not easy, considering the unfriendly terrain and the vicious winds. I had to calibrate every stand and use drills to screw the equipment to the bedrock itself. I finished with the directional microphones and the satellite uplink that synchronised all recorded data to a terminal at the headquarters. The scape was always recorded and preserved, even if there were no survivors left at the end of it. I could not get over the fact that Silvus had asked for a historian on this scape. Given the number of shortcuts he was taking and the singular ruthlessness with which he was proceeding, I would have assumed that he would need no witnesses or evidence. Why bother recording? Once again, I went back to thinking about the report on the scape as I set up the solar panels and the backup power equipment.

The file had been a professional report of a proposed scape. Apart from the sheer lunacy of the proposal, it seemed pretty kosher, at least in the beginning. All the information that I would need to record the scape was provided in the folder, along with profile details of the participating members. Everything was in order right up to the ‘Risks and Mitigation’ section. As expected, there was the mandatory note on Sign, and the measures the group would need to adopt if she attacked. There was a special handwritten note scribbled at the top of that section.

“Please assume that a Sign visitation is inevitable. The proposed scape is expected to rate close to 200 on the CM.”

200 on the Continuum Meter! Group scapes that rated higher than 75 on the CM were flagged red because of a high probability of being attacked by Sign. Only five scapes had ever been attempted that registered over one hundred on the CM. All five had been utterly routed by Sign and their teams hunted down to the last wordsmith. With a CM reading of 200, we might as well have officially sent Sign and her hellcats a formal invitation, with special funeral arrangements for all wordsmiths on the team.

The other concern was the legality of the scape. I was sure that Silvus had not gone through the formal approval procedure with the Continuum Control Corps. Any scape that managed a CM score of 50 or more implied a Continuum violation and needed CCC approval prior to actual weaving. 200! CCC would have given Silvus hell for even thinking about such lunacy! I was sure though that the CCC had no clue of Silvus’s little adventure. I wondered what would happen when the warp showed up on their global surveillance meters. I checked all my equipment. I was ready to record. If the CCC could lay their hands on the records of this scape, Silvus would spend the rest of his life in the detention sector of Alter. He would of course have to survive the scape to get there. With a scape this powerful, Sign would be vicious in her attack.

At the thought of Sign, I shuddered. Sign was the age-old nemesis of all wordsmiths; an elemental being whose singular purpose was the fatal disruption of any wordscapes that modified reality beyond a point. Very few wordsmiths had survived an attack by Sign, and no scapes disrupted by her had ever been completed. “How will Silvus deal with Sign?” I wondered. That was indeed the million word question. I was not very worried for my safety though. Sign usually did not hunt the historians recording the scape. But then, if Sign did not get me, Silvus would.

As I tinkered with the equipment, the rest of the team got there. Lily was the first. She saw me and hesitated for a moment before walking up. I straightened from my last camera and gave her a very tense smile as she approached briskly, struggling a bit with the wind that was whipping her long overcoat against her. As far as I knew, Lily was in the same leaky boat as I was. She returned the smile, adding her bit of tension to the atmosphere.

“Nasty day for a scape, milady,” I said noncommittally, sticking to the safety of the weather cliché.

“Nasty scape, Historian,” she muttered back, watching Jimmy and Zyx walking towards the scape-field, “The day has nothing to do with it”.

I nodded at the wisdom of the statement. I decided to be a bit braver. “Milady, have you considered the possibility of Sign…” I started.

“Attacking and slaughtering the entire group?” she finished.

“I was hoping for historian immunity myself,” I said with a sick smile, trying a bit of morgue humour.

She gave me one long look that froze me inside, leaving me with a feeling that I would never be warm again.

“Historian,” her voice added to the chill, “wordsmith or not, when you see Sign and her hellcats, you run. Try and skip into the Alter rabbit hole as soon as you can, or keep running till they give up or till you die. Sign does not specifically hunt historians, but her hellcats do not ask for your ID before they rip you apart.”

With those comforting words, she walked away to study the runes inscribed on the rock that marked the centre of the scape-field.

“Making small talk, Historian?” The voice tinkling with warmth instantly caught my attention.

I turned around to see Zyx’s smouldering eyes. “Good morning, milady,” I gulped. “Bleak day for a scape, isn’t it?” I decided to give the weather topic another shot.

“Is it now?” she purred. “I always liked the shitty, frozen charm of this place. It makes you think of ways to stay warm.” Her eyes smouldered some more as her words made my heart skip like a giddy teenager.

I noticed how the wind fluttered her silky coat against her body in a very flattering manner. I got a grip on myself and looked away from those eyes. “Milady, it is forbidden to use your gift on historians,” I managed to croak in protest.

She laughed. That intensely musical sound made my blood rush to my ears in a hot roaring torrent. I thanked God (or whatever kept the Continuum going) for the protection woven around every historian that kept my mind safe from the brutal scape-enhanced flirtation this woman was directing at me. She dismissed me with a toss of her pretty head and walked away towards Lily. I took a deep breath and braced myself for Jimmy Sau.

He walked right up to me, and gave me a deep bow. I managed to stagger forward in a sorry excuse for a bow, acknowledging his silent greeting. He moved on too, checking all the recording equipment set up around the scape-field. I heaved a sigh of relief. Those two were a very nasty pair and I was not letting Sau’s ‘I-am-the-peaceful-Tibetan-monk’ bullshit fool me for a minute.

As I walked around my camera, trying to gauge its range, I saw Silvus walking towards us. The immense power of the man struck me; his sheer physicality and the aura around him. It was like he had shaped himself in accordance with his insane dreams. He was huge and yet very lithe. He walked like a predator, taking long, powerful strides. He carried a scape-staff. Most wordsmiths had a custom-made scape staff that they crafted all their lives, adding runic symbols to the slim totem pole that was their personal weaving tool. Silvus’s staff was a huge one, thick in girth and about six feet tall, a few inches less than his incredible height. It was carved with powerful symbols that enhanced his scapes and spells. It must have weighed a fair bit, but he carried it lightly. He nodded at me with a faint smile. I nodded back, not trusting my voice to make normal sounding conversation.

He walked to the centre of the scape-field and said something to Lily. I checked the master console. The microphones caught the words and the software transcribed the speech into text for the records. I hit a button and the transcript scrolled on the screen, “Good morning, Lily. All set for the scape?”

Lily’s reply was to the point, “Yes, Master Silvus. I could not replace my scape-staff though. It seems to have disappeared.”

“No problem,” Silvus dismissed this with a wave of his hand that I could see from the corner of my eye. The transcript scrolled on, “The spells are unusual and would not have been aided by your staff. I have my staff for what enhancement we need. So let’s get on with it.”

He gestured to Zyx and Jimmy who were talking outside the perimeter, significantly beyond the microphone field. As they started walking over, he turned to me and nodded once, clearly aware of the fact that I was watching them closely. I abandoned my pretence of being busy with calibrations and started walking towards them.

“Wordsmiths, Historian,” Silvus started, the charm in full force, “We are here for a historical scape, the first and probably last of its kind. If this works, the Guild will be empowered beyond imagination. I trust all of you are sufficiently prepared with your spells and other arrangements.” This last bit was said with a nod to me. “I am going to lead you all through the scape strategy. As you will have noticed, I have listed in the briefing the spells we will be using in the scape today. The rest of the scape will be woven by me and me alone. I do not want any of you to add to it. You will contribute to the spells only. With the kind of experience and capability this group has, I do not think a rehearsal is required for spell incantations, even ones as obscure as these. And yes, we do not have much time. The moment we define the scape and its intent, Sign will become aware of our little initiative. That gives us a few minutes before she gets here. We need to connect to Alter and set up the special defence I have designed to prevent her from tracing the rabbit hole.”

He was being cryptic and was leaving nothing at all to the others. The spells were complex but child’s play for a group like this. They were only to add the collective strength of their gifts to the scape, while Silvus manipulated the scape to its completion with his words. Spell incantations were standard, and when rendered in chorus, there would be no innovations and therefore no chance for any misinterpretations. The strategy was well thought out and left no scope for Lily or even the faithful Zyx and Jimmy, to sabotage the scape. Lost in my thoughts, I did not notice that the wordsmiths had all fallen into position.

“Historian?” Silvus’s voice was a query and a reprimand. I quickly muttered an apology and ran back to my console. I checked all the equipment readings one last time and raised my thumb to signal that I was ready.

“Wordsmiths! Make me proud!” Silvus roared out.

Snatches of words floated to me, carried by the wilful wind. I brought up the master console to check the scrolling words. They were the opening words of the Covenant Seal; a spell to bind the group to its common objective, extracting an oath of intractable fidelity from them. I switched to the camera perspectives to ensure they were all capturing the group members. I then brought up the master camera perspective. It was focused on the scape-field centre, over the runic rock. The space over it was already warping as the combined words of the most powerful wordsmiths on the planet shaped reality against its will. The air was charged with raw power and the strange smell of split air peculiar to lightning strikes. The master camera had special filters that captured warps and shades that were beyond the ability of regular lenses. The filters had been scape-enhanced by a team of wordsmiths to be able to capture these details.

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 replace 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.”