Bound Waking, Free Dreaming: A Tale of Zoaria: Ch. 1

Prologue1

Under the gray-blue twilit sky, a wispy figure roamed the shoreline. The beach they walked was the terminus of the Neck of Khua peninsula, leading out into the sea from which the expansionist Straka had first surfaced onto land. As the frail-looking wanderer gazed out through goggled lenses at the rhythmic tide, they bent down and traced the shallow water with long, delicate fingers. The surf broke and foamy spray hit the kneeling form, but they felt nothing. With a tinny, feminine voice, they cursed and stood up again.2

“Damn this,” the woman said, staring down at the watersuit which encased her. Her entire body was covered by the elastic material, processed brine cycling through it for her to breathe. But the Water Pedalae within pined for pure ocean against her naked skin.3

Bhraja sighed, prompting a metallic wheeze from the suit’s voicebox, and continued to meander down the coast. Back at the hotel, Master Tuai slept, but she had found herself restless. Irrational fear gripped her when she thought of removing the suit, regardless of her disdain for it. While it was true she could withstand the open air for a time, she did not know what such an experience would be like, having never before been to the surface. She did not possess the same talents with hardwater as her master and, in the event of exposure, Bhraja would undoubtedly suffocate. Her vigilance over the suit was quickly becoming obsessive.4

As she loitered, the Water Pedalae took in the great clutter of exoskeletal husks that had been shed off and forgotten by Straka while in the heat of passion. The crashing waves rid the sands of some of the exuvia, or else they were carried away by Yaubi-Gaubi beachcombers picking up after their inattentive masters.5

Bhraja sneered under her face mask. Unlike Master Tuai, she did not foster much personal affection for the crustaceans, her fealty to them only the indentured sort which her people had long ago inherited in exchange for continued sovereignty. She hardly cared to be working with that rickety old Admiral—on the surface, of all places!—but if it would help her standing back home…6

As she brooded over her impending mission and the pains it would entail, a scream from the cliffside district above broke out like a cock’s crow. Bhraja turned her head as best she could in the suit. The cry had been loud, even to her insulated ears, and the Water Pedalae wondered just what could evoke such uproar. She saw others on the beach, stevedores and fishermen and slaves, looking up to the cliff which loomed over them all, riddled with chiseled windows and terraces and adorned by green walls made up of diverse, hanging flora. She rose her eyes to do the same.7

There, a mere speck on a ledge, some verdant shape writhed and wailed. A Plant Pedalae, Bhraja guessed; Uzmez Ibul was full of such sycophants. Judging from the high pitch of the voice, she assumed a female or maybe a youth. Bhraja strained to make sense of the keening.8

“Dead! She is dead! My Lady is dead!” the proclaimer lamented.9

Though a part of her could intuit which “Lady” was being bemoaned, Bhraja decided it was best to find out for sure. She traversed the beach with long, plodding steps, eventually reaching the incline that led up into the masoned villas of the Straka, its walkway ornamented with more vegetation.10

A short while later, Bhraja stood outside the manor of the Admiral she and her master had visited only hours ago. As she had anticipated, the great room was crowded with people, land Pedalae and lizardfolk all asking or being asked questions. She saw a plant-woman weeping near the patio as some of her kind dually comforted and interrogated her. On the other end of the room, the hallway entrance had been procedurally cordoned off by ropy vineweave and rock-men guards. Bhraja left unnoticed, her suspicions confirmed.11

As daybreak showed to the east, the Water Pedalae made her way back to the beach, now returning to the hotel she had left earlier. Her suit squeaking defiantly against her wishes for it to be silent, she came to her suite. Passing through the bedroom area arrogantly designed only for airbreathers, she opened the door to the bathing room in which her mentor rested.12

Tentatively, she moved toward the porcelain tub, not at all eager to do what she must. Bhraja stooped down to gaze at her master, his scaly blue form lying beneath the still water, lidless eyes staring back up at her even in slumber. She stretched out one of her hermetically sealed limbs to wake him, but a small, gloating smile on his face warned her, though all too late. He shot up from his recumbent pose, the water hugging his figure, and grabbed her wrist.13

“You know better than that, my pupil. Never let your guard down thinking someone else has let down theirs,” Tuai chided as he wore his mischievous grin. He freed his hold on her and rose from the bath. “What reason have you for presuming to rouse me?”14

Bhraja examined her wrist with frenzy, forgetting herself for a moment. “I—I—I…”15

Tuai frowned. “Stop this, now. I won’t have you fussing over that suit every time a strong wind blows. Why do you disturb me? Speak.”16

Bhraja composed herself. “My deepest apologies, Master. I could not sleep, so I took to walking the beach.”17

“This is what you have come to bother me with? Your insomnia?”18

“There is more,” she continued. “While I was out, there was a commotion from the cliffside district. Master, I have some very unfortunate news…”19

Tuai was overcome with profound silence as realization dawned. Though his face remained enigmatic, his gelatinous armor slowly began to bubble and hiss. The room suddenly seemed stifling to Bhraja, and as she watched the looking glass over the hand basin fog over, she took a step back, not unfamiliar with the sort of things her master was capable of when enraged.20

Whisper-quiet, Tuai said, “Tell me.”21

And so, calmly and cautiously, Bhraja did.22

———23

As the city began to bask in morning sunlight, its marketplace stirred with life. Plant and Burning Pedalae citizens filled the square alongside Yaubi-Gaubi slaves and even a few Xranite truth-seekers, all of them dwarfed by the occasional lumbering form of a Straka on holiday. The crowd of shoppers and onlookers clamored and shifted constantly as street merchants hawked goods, philosophers debated, artists displayed new work, and religious devotees practiced their faith.24

Keeping to the dwindling shadows, the lizardman Splitter spied the masses. He slunk on the edge of their vision, each of his steps stealthy and deliberate and his padded feet barely leaving a trace in the well-traveled sands. He stuck to alcoves and back alleys, darting from cubby to cubby with a supernatural speed. If a passerby came too close, he became unmoving as stone and, when necessary, contorted his body in strange ways to stay out of sight.25

Word had traveled fast since dawn; the Lady Vigda had been slain. Assassination was the leading theory, given her credentials as a former Admiral of the Imperial Traders’ Navy, though her slaves were also considered suspect. It was well-known how permissive the Lady was with her domestics and several Straka who had learned of her grisly murder were convinced one of the uppity beasts had grown too bold. Such speculation was given weight when it had been leaked that one of her Yaubi-Gaubi had gone missing.26

Sitting together in a cramped kiosk, a trio of plant-men were mulling it over aloud as they half-heartedly pitched wares and tallied the contents of a cash box.27

“It’s not the first time this sorta thing’s happened,” said one of the vendors, a stout fellow with a tangle of autumnal leaves growing from ear to ear. “You remember when someone put a hit out on Small-Claw?”28

“That was different,” said another, an aged plant-man with a visage warped by knots. “Small-Claw was a cheat, that was about money. This is a decorated naval officer, and a female no less! You know how the Straka work. It’s the women who’ve got all the power.”29

“Never understand how an empire run by women manages to stay afloat,” cracked a third, a lanky type with an array of shoots protruding from his body.30

“It doesn’t!” the fallbeard replied. “Those crabs all live at the bottom of the sea!”31

The plant-men shared a laugh.32

“I’ll say this, though,” the fallbeard continued, “we’re on shaky ground with all these nobles and moneymakers here. Practically beggin’ to be caught up in all this cloak-and-dagger crossfire.”33

“It’s the monkeymakers being here that makes *you* money,” the branchback quipped. He and the knotface howled together.34

“Why don’t you go back to your own booth,” the fallbeard grumbled. “Try and sell some of the worthless junk you’ve got to these spoiled Straka bastards.”35

“No way, no how,” the branchback shook his head. “Crabs only buy from crabs.”36

“That’s the truth, all right. They think they’re—”37

“I am sorry to disrupt you, but I must sell this right away,” someone interjected from outside the kiosk. The three merchants turned to see a lizardman on the other side, holding a crumpled article of clothing and nude save for a leather loincloth. He glanced about regularly, seeming on edge.38

The fallbeard assumed a more professional demeanor. “Uh, sure thing, fella. What’ve you got there?”39

Splitter handed his garment to the plant-man, who looked it over. 40

“Tunic, eh? Looks pretty fancy, if a little beat up. Your master tell you to get rid of this? Can’t have a pebbleskin just selling me something without knowing it’s legit.”41

“I assure you, my Lady will not protest.”42

The fallbeard considered, scrutinizing the needlework and fabric and finding all up to par. “Alright, then. I’ll give you… seventy.”43

“That is unacceptable,” the Yaubi-Gaubi said. “I need one hundred, at least.”44

“Oh, so it’s a haggle, then, is it…”45

“Wait,” the knotfaced Plant Pedalae said, pointing a gnarled finger at their strange customer. “I know you.”46

“Really?” asked the branchback. “How can you tell? They all look the same to me.”47

“Don’t be a damn fool. Look at the pattern running down his face and neck. I’ve seen that before. You’re…”48

The plant-man thought a moment on it before his woody features screwed up in horror.49

“You’re hers.”50

“Whose?” the branchback asked.51

“Hey, c’mon, I’m trying to make a deal here…” the fallbeard started.52

“He’s the missing slave!” the old knotface yelled out suddenly.53

Splitter raised a hand toward the kiosk and the vendors tensed, unsure of what he would do. As if compelled, a small bag of coins that had been sitting in the cash box seemed to launch itself into the lizardman’s grasp.54

“Thank you,” he said, bowing quickly before racing off. Lean, streamlined muscles gave him a pace unparalleled by any other creature in the city, save his own brethren. He was gone before the plant-men could blink.55

The merchants began gesticulating wildly to the nearest law enforcement around. They told the officers, a group of four Burning Pedalae, that the dead Admiral’s servant had just fled and feverishly directed them where to go. The rock-men drew out their provided truncheons and took after the Yaubi-Gaubi as best they could.56

They stormed through the throng of market-goers, grabbing and accosting every lizardman that crossed their path in single-minded fervor. It was only after several minutes and a few dozen threats that one of the lawmen spotted their quarry. The pebbleskin they sought waited patiently and with a pointed stare before the lustrous fountain in the center of the marketplace.57

The rock-man who had distinguished him, a blandly-colored officer with a chin like a stalactite, rallied his fellows to him, evidently their leader. Two subordinates obeyed, winding through the mob to join him, but the third ignored his commander, choosing to make the first move, and a rash one. With a guttural bellow that startled several passers-by, he charged toward the lizardman, club raised to strike.58

As the rock-man drew near, Splitter stood unwavering, feet and dogged gaze set. Bystanders began turning their attention to the scene, watching with a mix of fear and morbid fascination for the inevitable blow. The jag-jawed commander attempted to restrain his careless officer in harshly-spoken Low Pedan, but to no avail. Now mere steps away, the Burning Pedalae slowly brought down his weapon.59

As the bludgeon came forth, the lizardman crouched with lightning reflex and clasped at one each of the officer’s arms and legs. Taking advantage of his assailant’s momentum, Splitter propelled the rock-man’s craggy form over his own and into the fountain. With a great splash, the officer was submerged.60

Moving to aid their impetuous partner, the other Burning Pedalae closed in on the Yaubi-Gaubi. The leading jagjaw got to him first, swinging his club with zeal. Though there were a few close shaves, he hit only air, Splitter ably dodging each attack. With a graceful spin, the lizardman swept one of the jagjaw’s feet out from under him with his long tail. Losing stability, the commanding officer fell to the ground.61

Another rock-man came from behind to try the same tactic as his superior, but Splitter was sent into the air as he completed his arc and kicked the Burning Pedalae in the chest. Flung backwards, the officer collided with the fountain’s base and was knocked out cold. The juddering contact his body made threw the waterlogged rock-man, having gotten himself halfway out of the basin, back into it.62

At the sight, the fourth officer was inspired and used his own, blocky tail similarly against the Yaubi-Gaubi. Splitter promptly jumped into the air as the rock-man’s caudal appendage came at him. Rather than hitting his target, the Burning Pedalae struck his fallen commander’s prominent chin. Cursing in Low Pedan again, the jagjaw grabbed spitefully at his underling’s tail and took him down with him.63

His would-be captors momentarily incapacitated, Splitter sped to lose himself once more among the masses. But while he wove through the dense and diverse jumble of bodies, a faint shadow fell over the crowd. As the people began to panic and scatter, the lizardman turned to see just what stirred them so.64

From out of the fountain, the water had risen up like a shimmering glass wall to tower over him, a rock-man still floating helplessly within. Slowly, it left the confines of the fountain altogether and hovered amorphously in mid-air. Splitter flitted his eyes about the marketplace and broke into a run. And then, the water came crashing down.65

Before he could even register his dilemma, a torrential wave knocked the lizardman to the ground, engulfing and carrying him across the plaza along with those too paralyzed with fear to escape and one unfortunate lawman. Splitter’s lungs filled, choking him, and he retched while whirling underwater. As the surge died down, he emerged gasping and hacking on the sodden sand. Weakly, he looked around him to see others doing the same and tried to stand up.66

Like a fist, a blob of water rose to strike him in the face and he toppled over once more. A figure glided toward him and the Yaubi-Gaubi found himself lifted up by the very same substance that had tossed him about.67

Forcibly repositioned in front of the figure, Splitter regarded the sea-swathed form of a Water Pedalae. An idly raised hand bespoke his nature; this was a mage and a powerful one, by his performance. Another of his kind stood nearby, quiet and concealed inside a watersuit. With the quick flick of his wrist, the fish-man had the fingers of his hand wrapped around Splitter’s leathery throat. The mage pulled the Yaubi-Gaubi in close, his large, unblinking eyes full of quiet fury.68

“You. Filthy. Little. Pebbleskin,” Tuai whispered ominously, his barrier fluctuating around him. The lizardman grabbed for the Water Pedalae’s wrist beneath the semisolid hardwater, trying to get out of his slippery, but firm grip.69

“I will break you for what you have done,” the mage continued in a low voice. “Crush your bones to dust beneath the waves.”70

With difficulty, the lizardman replied, “I have done our Lady a kindness you could never imagine.”71

Tuai snarled and forced open his captive’s mouth with ease. Smirking, he brought up his free hand, the hardwater covering it narrowing into a bladelike shape.72

“You must be parched after all this excitement. Let me oblige you, brother,” he said, and tossed back his arm to pierce and flood Splitter’s exposed airway.73

“Enough of this, now!” a voice cried out. “Unhand that Yaubi-Gaubi!”74

All those still present turned their attention to the source of this abrupt order, a plant-man at the edge of the marketplace. Barky skin and sparse greenery made his ripe old age plainly obvious. A white tunic hung from his withered frame, its purple-red trim marking him as a respectable official of the city. An inscribed golden sash further revealed he was, in fact, the Chief Supervisor of the resort staff. On either side of him stood three other Plant Pedalae, local soldiers, each carrying hand cannons.75

Tuai paid them little mind. “Do not interfere, dirtspawn. This is Imperial business I have with this slave.”76

“Really?” the old plant-man asked, disbelieving. “Because, to me, it looks like someone taking the law into their own hands. And that is as much a crime as what this one’s wanted for,” he said, gesturing to Splitter. “Now, don’t make a mess of things. Let him go.”77

“He has murdered the Admiral Dakja,” Tuai replied simply. “Justice must be done upon him.”78

“And so it shall,” the plant-man said. “But first you must release the lizardman so that we may take him into custody.”79

The Water Pedalae shook his head. “You misunderstand. I do not mean your justice, I mean mine.”80

The plant-man let out an aggravated sigh, motioning to the soldiers immediately beside him. “That, I cannot allow.”81

The two Plant Pedalae raised their cannons and aimed at the mage. With minor magical effort, they thrust the weapons forward and fired a pair of vineweave nets at their targets. Tuai reacted quickly, dropping the Yaubi-Gaubi and hurling a volley of sharpened hardwater at the oncoming webbing. The meshwork intended for him was cut into pieces and fell unceremoniously at his feet, while the second net wrapped itself around the other Water Pedalae, who struggled on the ground before thinking better of it and going completely still.82

“It will take more than that to restrain me,” the fish-man informed dispassionately.83

“Oh, I don’t care a lick about you,” the old plant-man said. “It’s him I’m after.”84

Tuai turned to see his prey was now in the hands of the rock-men who had previously been bested. Instead of resisting the officers, Splitter now seemed quite serene. The Water Pedalae took a step toward them.85

“Try anything and I give these soldiers free rein,” the plant-man warned. “I doubt you’ll escape every net sent your way.”86

Tuai glared across the square at the interloper for a long while. Finally, he tilted his head in the direction of his fallen accomplice.87

“Bhraja, try not to make a further spectacle of yourself and get up.” He looked again to the plant-man and pointed a scaly, water-wrapped finger. “This is not over.”88

“You want to make a thing of it, come on down to the jailhouse and we’ll give you a nice cell right next to this one,” the plant-man replied, putting a hand on Splitter’s shoulder, the lizardman now standing shackled beside him.89

“I might take you up on that offer, Chief Supervisor,” Tuai said as he turned and left. Bhraja followed soon behind, still freeing herself of the vineweave.90

“Damn fishies think the surface is one big free-for-all,” the plant-man muttered. He scanned the lingering crowd and the sopping, cluttered marketplace. To one of his officers, he said, “See that anyone who needs it receives medical care immediately. Inform ahead that I don’t want a one of them charged for it. And gather a clean-up crew to deal with this mess.”91

“At once, sir,” the officer said and took off. The Chief Supervisor then rounded up the rest of his men and his new prisoner and made for the jailhouse.