Chapter 3: The Icebreaker
Wyatt had thought there was always a need for water. Man was made in water and would die with water bloating his corpse. So long as living creatures continued to drink and shower and cook. Thus, water was a resource that could be sold, especially out here where liquid water is rarer than even gold, as at least he could still see gold on rich people. And even they had to resort to boiling snow and ice out here.
Ice. Quite possibly the next best thing from liquid water. Truer than anything, it was his religion, his creed, and his duty. Most importantly, it was his trade.
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
06:58
The duo trekked faster now. The sea of crunching white frost turned from solid to liquid under their feet, then parched dry. It worked wonders, Wyatt conceded, as he followed behind Willem with the thurible, smoke billowing from its top. He conjectured that the smoke probably had something to do with it but had nothing to back it up. It was like nothing they had seen, after all.
It took them a few minutes or so, but finally the men lost sight of their village and the light of its torches under the horizon. Luna, in her eternal malice and indifference, lit the way. She sat amongst the stars; her ring illuminated the heavenly bodies that orbited their world in her beauty and terror. The men used that light to find their path, no matter how dim. Willem had a lantern that shed but flickering light, the pitiful oil inside kept the fire at a bare minimum. In this condition, that must be enough.
To the sound of a rocky crunch, they stopped in front of gravel and rocks instead of dry soil, surprised. Usually, all they felt was snow, but the thurible’s magic had opened a new path.
Willem startled, turning his lantern around. “Is this…?”
Wyatt walked to the front, dropping the sled he was dragging. One, two, three, … He finally stopped when he nearly slipped on the ground, before backing away. “It’s the lake.”
The lake.
An unnamed landmark that went back hundreds of generations, a frozen body of water that had remained static for so, so long. It was abandoned, a forever tomb for the filthy and the dead, from trees to beast and even men.
The duo narrowed their eyes at the frozen surface, before relaxing as they recognized its nearly perfectly flat icy plane. Only the many holes of varying sizes in the ice would suggest human intervention, the work of the young men and many before as well as after them. They turned this frozen hellscape into a business, leaving scars on this pristine surface yet churning it back into use. That symbiosis of man and nature never really occurred to them, just that it furthered their livelihood.
Breaking out of his pause, Willem sighed and tapped the surface once again with the sole of his boots. As always, the aged ice refused to give way.
“I didn’t even know we got here.” Willem managed to his friend’s side, staring down at the ice below. A part of the immediate shoreline was already removed, making it somewhat treacherous to traverse without Willem’s merciful lantern. “I thought it would’ve taken a few more minutes or so…”
“I guess that thing really helps.” Wyatt tapped the thurible, which sprung to life. “Let’s start?”
Willem nodded and drew a knife in his off hand, putting the lantern down. That tiny blade would not burst open any worthwhile chunks, but it could check the frozen pool for any instability, or harvest worthy spots. The man looked for clear ice with very little impurities. Near the shore, this was a gamble, but the further out they went, the better their odds are. With his and Wyatt’s expertise, there was no… way to dig into the ice without slip-ups. Carefully, he went to the middle of the lake.
Wyatt yawned. “I’m not picking you up if you fall, by the way.”
“I know.”
“…If you break the thurible thing, you’re paying for it–”
“Let me concentrate!”
Wyatt shut his mouth and sat down to watch with a mixture of amusement and caution. The way his friend walked caused some suspicion; not that he was particularly off but the path he chose. It took him a bit to finally say something, but Wyatt was dead sure-
“Wait.”
Willem came to a stop and turned
“What is it?”
“Check below you.”
“What is it? Is it cracking?” From his experience, Willem doubted that could be the case, the tone was more surprised than concerned. But honestly, what he saw was a bit worse.
The path he took was turning liquid, digging way into the lake as it created some minor puddles. Both men had expected the thurible to have some effect, but to cave this much into the lake…
Wyatt sighed, “Put it into your pocket.”
“Are you sure? What if it burns me?”
“Or you fall into the lake and die. Either way, either you’re dying of heat, or…” Wyatt tapped the frozen lakebed, “of freezing.”
Nervously, Willem took a glance at the thurible and pondered what exactly he should do at that point. Knowing his time was little, he stuffed it into his pocket, tugging his hand out in mere fractions of a second just in case it burnt a hole through his coat.
…It did nothing of the sort, staying obediently in his pocket and making him smell marginally nicer
“That’s…” Willem trailed off.
“…It’s probably the smoke that’s melting the ice?” Wyatt contemplated. “That is not the fire magic as we’ve seen, but since it’s magic… I guess anything is possible.”
“Right.”
Willem struggled towards some mental marker he made, crouched down and used a long metal hand drill to slowly dig a hole into the ice. Once the long rod was stuck in place, he tied a rope around it and carefully got back to his friend.
“I’d say…” He spoke, looking back as he settled the hemp rope down onto the riverbank, “…A 6 by 6 paces block, 4 paces deep? It should get us started.”
“Did you just eyeball that? We didn’t bring anything to measure it–”
“Look, just cut a “pretty big block”, okay?” Willem pleaded.
“Fine, fine. Can’t be a little professional around here…”
Wyatt headed off with a saw, thicker than the usual wood cutting saw and a lot sharper. The tool looked like it could carve through stone, which wasn’t too far off from what he was about to do.
KRRK, KRRK, KRRK, …
Wyatt cut four strokes at a time, dragging the sound behind him as he worked. Soon, a fairly neat rectangle was cut into the ice, and the man brought the saw down into an appropriate depth. He sawed it off the frozen lake, smoothed the surface then tossed it onto shore.
It was grueling work. Even with the power of a dozen men, such meticulousness demanded focus, as one small mistake would break the pristine blocks and ruin their products. One had to be careful not to scratch or dirty the ice, and Wyatt was indeed very careful, not looking forward to losing a full meal for the rest of the week.
Wyatt estimated six paces across on all sides, and four paces depth wise. Willem descended by the time his friend counted to three, preparing to immediately move the block of ice. They took a few minutes, harvesting the sizable chunk of expertly smoothened ice from the lake, and made a ramp to get it out onto the surface.
Minding his own steps, Willem passed his friend rope tied directly to the drill above the top of the ice block. Wyatt groaned and followed.
“Can’t you do it all by yourself? Maybe we should get another person on this and make them into our mule. At least my back will stop aching.”
“You’ll be better off getting a horse. Besides, it’s not like you can’t manage. You’ve managed since we started.”
“I might break any time now.”
“Sure, sure-” Willem tugged on the rope, “Can we start pulling?”
Wyatt groaned one last time, before pulling the rope taught and the men put their back muscles to work. They exhausted themselves to deliver that block from lake’s frozen womb, but it stubbornly stuck in its place. They recognized the unusual difficulty, but while Willem continued to pull, Wyatt got closer and inspected their ramp.
It was too bumpy. While that helped the men climb out, it was detrimental to sliding the ice block out. The two men thought this would help in their mobility, and the ice will smoothen the ramp naturally, but this time it was too stiff. There was no way for the ice block to grip on, so it remained stuck.
Willem finally called out, huffing and dropping the rope to check.
“Wha… What are you doing over there?”
Wyatt let go as well, slumped forward.
“We messed up. That’s… Almost half an hour wasted.”
“Really?”
Willem descended and saw how there was no meaningful ways to pull the perfectly shaped ice block up
“…Take your pick out, we’re digging another path-“
Wyatt was mid-sentence when Willem pulled out the thurible from his pouch. Its smoke billowed downwards, landing around his feet and ice turned to water.
“Hey!… What are you doing?” Wyatt was concerned and exasperated.
“It melts ice, right?” Willem hovered the metal contraption near the ramp. “I was thinking we can use it like this…”
The incense smoke melted the ice and made a completely smooth curvature leading upwards. Willem raised the thurible, melting down a path akin to ice carved by an artisan, and he only put it away once the path is clear.
“There!” Willem said with pride, “It’s clear. No effort needed.”
“That’s… smart.” Wyatt admitted, tilting his head.
With a light huff, Willem tried to scale the newly smoothened ramp, but struggled as it did not have the bumps that helped his footings. Wyatt offered a hand, tugged him out, before they both took their ropes into position again. They exchanged no words, focused yet in doubt, a far cry from their usual confidence.
One, two and huff! The block of ice slid out with exceptional ease. The thurible brought a kind perfection that neither could achieve without wasting precious time. The artefact was far from just a survival tool, but one of the craft as well. The men had just discovered the versatility of magic.
In quiet musing, they loaded the block up onto their sled and secured it. After they were done, Willem was the first to speak, sounding a bit more energetic now.
“What’s our quota for today?”
“Do we ever follow our quota? Always extensions and retractions…” Wyatt muttered.
“Just tell me.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes slightly, taking the rope on his side of the sled. His friend followed, taking the other rope.
“…Like, three more blocks?” Wyatt counted. “But… As I’ve said… Not too confident- Tch!”
And they pulled the sled back to their village
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
07:21
It was a little over twenty minutes later that they brought the block of ice to a small communal hold in the village. An open-air leather-roofed tent, shielding durable goods like metal, crates, barrels and, of course, ice from the elements. Few people would come by for long, so when the men started to unload the ice block into their little corner, their words cut through the silence and isolation.
“How much do you think we’ll make today? I think it’ll be… Uh…” Taking his gloved hands out, Willem started counting the numbers on his hand.
“You cannot seriously be this bad at math.”
“It’s been a long day! How… How about you try it?”
Wyatt raised his eyebrow, as if slightly offended, and started counting.
“…Around 2000 ES[1] in total?”
“Wait, really!?” Willem jumped, pushing himself off the block of ice as if it was porcelain – Delicate, beautiful and valuable.
“Yeah, we usually dig around half of this size at the best of times,” Wyatt brushed away some of the loose snow and dirt caught on their block during transit. “What a beast.”
Reaching in his pocket, Wyatt searched for something he knew was there, though he might have fumbled it further inwards than he intended to. Some tantalizingly close grasps later, he produced a small, oval slab of carved wood. It was inscribed with what seemed like meaningless symbols to his uneducated eyes, with a layer of fool’s gold glinting on it. He pulled down his face wraps, biting into it and relaxing as he felt something warm and soothing entered his heart. He let it go from his jaw after a moment, leaving behind a slight mark, and handed it over to his friend.
“Your cut.” Wyatt covered his face again. “Don’t take more than 500… Not that I have more than that left to give you.”
Willem snatched the piece of wood and bit into it as well, avoiding Wyatt’s teeth mark. His body also shuddered at the warmth sensation, as he muffled an answer.
“Imf’s nowft wifte youf twwo paift swoft eawftly…”
Wyatt plucked the slab from Willem’s mouth indignantly.
“That was last month. You know, the bonus for reaching the Chief’s quota. He just gave it to me yesterday… Which, now that I think about it, almost stranded me in the snow.” Wyatt sighed, putting the slab away. “At least it seems like we’re going to meet the quota pretty easily– Assuming the Chief has enough transaction blocks. Don’t know why he didn’t give it to me directly though.”
“Well, you’re pretty grimy sometimes. I wouldn’t want to touch you if I can help it.”
“…Shut up Willem.”
Wyatt shook his head, but gazed towards the ice block again.
“I wasn’t kidding though. This was a lot easier than I expected – I mean, it didn’t get stuck in the snow or anything, right? We were almost absurdly lucky.”
Willem pulled out the thurible and gave it a shake.
“…Maybe it was due to this? I’ve got to buy this thing!”
Wyatt went over and put his hand on Willem’s, stopping him.
“You’re wasting it. Put it away and we’ll squeeze more use out of it.”
“A– Ah. Yeah.”
Willem tucked it in his pocket again, fumbling to set the object upright. He rubbed his numbed fingers for warmth.
With a huff, Wyatt looked at the oversized block of ice before glancing at their side of the storage tent. “We’ll probably just need to do one more block. Though, smaller this time.”
“Oh come on, doesn’t taking more home mean we’ll have more to sell?”
Wyatt shook his head and sighed, “No. How are we even going to sell that much? And what about the time we’ll have to take and cut it? Not to mention, do you want the back pain? ‘Cause that’s how you get back pain.”
“You’re overthinking it!” Willem patted his companion’s back, “We’ll see when we get there.”
Wyatt groaned.
The trek took a bit shorter than before, with the two now unburdened and increasingly confident. Once they arrived, Willem jogged towards the middle of the frozen lake, careful not to break through any fragile surface. Wyatt followed quietly, contemplating nothing of importance at all. Quite frankly, the routine was boring, but at least his thought kept him busy. Right up until he shivered, and felt an unusual chill eating through his layers.
Clutching the side of his arm with one hand and the other clutching the end of his hide coat, he stumbled forward, eyes wavering in uncovered vulnerability.
“Hey, Willem-“
When he looked ahead, Wyatt realized he could see nothing at all. He looked down at his hands and felt them grasping in the air, but saw nothing at all. The sensation reminded him that he was still there, but he could not verify it for himself. It was dark, darker than the eternal night usually is. When he looked up, Wyatt squinted his eyes, and noticed…
That Luna was up there no more.
“Wyatt?” Willem called out from somewhere in that dark.
“I can’t see you, but I’m here.” Wyatt responded, his voice audibly tense, “Where’s your lantern?”
“It’s-“
The sounds of fabric rustling filled the air, as Willem searched for the lantern in question. Seconds felt like minutes as his hand patted his body blindly, before he touched something on the side, making it creak with metallic weight. He grabbed it, assuming it to be the light source before realizing he was mistaken.
“I think I forgot it. It’s probably back on the sled!”
“I don’t even know where that is!” Wyatt responded, his legs refusing to move, “We can’t just run around like blind lemmings trying to find our sled in the dark!”
“I know! I’m thinking of… something…”
An idea sparked to life, and Willem grabbed at the metallic thurible at his side. At first, he thought of using it for some kind of warmth, but then he realized he could still see the smoke that came from within it as clear as day.
“Hey Wyatt!” He called out, waving it into the air, “Can you see this?”
Wyatt looked from a distance, seeing the smoke that fell.
“Yeah! What in Sol’s name are you doing?”
“It’s the thurible! Look!”
Willem waves it around, casting smoke to and fro. Wyatt immediately called out after him, voice concerned.
“You’re standing on ice, idiot!”
“I’m trying to-” Willem stuttered, grunting as he swung the thing harder, his eyes furrowed, “I’m going to make it do something!”
“What do you mean “make it do something”!?”
Wyatt’s concerns fell on deaf ears, to his utter, blind dismay. On the other hand, Willem continued waving it around in the air, grunting with effort, praying his hopes would be magically answered. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh in the air the magical tool swung. Smoke billowed, making what could be called art in the most abstract sense of the word. Wyatt began to approach, treading carefully, stumbling though what he feared was fragile ice with every step.
“Okay, just- Just stop.” Wyatt said, tone defeated, “When I get there, you better put that thing back in your pocket!… When I… Get there…”
Willem eventually did stop; his arms were exhausted after moving so much in the biting cold. He stopped, he huffed, and then he felt something grabbing onto his face.
“…Is this you?” Wyatt’s voice rang out from the darkness. He turned his attention to the thurible now, and grabbed at it.
“I’m telling you, I got it!” Willem pulled away.
“You’re just going to break it!”
And snatch! Wyatt took one of the chains and, assumedly, stared at Willem.
“Seriously, what in the Holy Fire did you think this would do-“
Brrt, brrt! The icy lake shook in intervals, powerful, but almost musical like it was deliberate. The men recognized a strange pattern; confused as they were, they counted the sounds from the frozen water – one, then two, then one, then two.
And then it stopped.
“…I think it did something!” Willem cheered. “See? That wasn’t dumb.”
“Okay! Assuming it did do something, how would that help us?”
“I- Uh…”
They both blinked blankly in the dark.
“…We’re so dead.” Wyatt shivered.
“Don’t be a downer! Look, it’s all going to be fine.” Willem nodded in Wyatt’s general direction. “I’m sure that’s the sound of positive things! Like-“
Light. An incredible light rose from beneath them, making the surface of this frozen lake glow. It was beautiful, mysterious, almost divine.
“…Like that!” Willem pointed. “See? Light!”
Wyatt, who had been talking to Willem’s right shoulder this entire time, squinted at the lake surface, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He had to concede, at least they could see now. However, this brought about a much more pressing concern…
“Is it getting brighter?”
“Oh yeah.” Willem stepped back.
The light was getting brighter and harsher. Why would any light source get brighter with time? The answer became clear once the ice below them cracked.
Wyatt looked at the ice, then at Willem.
“…You are dead to me if I die–”
The ice broke before his thoughts did. Below, a droning voice of something ancient and grand bellowed. It crawled out, boring a hole through the ice solid as stone, carving its own way out of this frozen tomb. A cold, artificial beast, crafted by men from generations passed, roared with the anger of thousands of trapped souls. It almost seemed like the steel can feel. Its sides are rectangular, hundreds upon hundreds of paces wide, covered in pristine and picturesque marble. On its four corners were towers, extended high into the heavens. From their tops, lights shone out brighter and more concentrated than fire, scouring the skies. But after just a moment of grandeur, the machine stopped dead again, now only whirring its mechanical thoughts.
The duo struggled to stand as they were raised off the ground, then stopped at what appeared to be a square top. Not until the structure stopped moving, did they stabled themselves, but now shaking in fear.
“What in Sol’s name just happened?” Wyatt looked around, grabbing for his friend. “Willem?”
“Yeah! I’m right here. What’s going on?” Willem answered, his legs still shaking.
“I have no idea!” Wyatt helped him back to his feet. The darkness seemed to have been beaten back by the mechanical beast’s dying lights.
As soon as the men steadied themselves, a hatch opened up nearby; a metallic, slow whirr shredded through the silence. The two were mere paces away from it when it opened, revealing a great source of shimmering light from below. Unfortunately, the discoverers were of little interests, instead they backed up still holding one another.
“Did we die!?” Willem huffed. “I don’t like the afterlife!”
“Concentrate, or do you want to die for real!? I don’t think afterlives have giant splitting crevices on the ground- Whatever!”
“Giant what!?”
“Just keep running!”
Frightful vigor carried them all the way to the edge, where the beast had cruelly stopped their retreat. Looking down, they were horrified to say the least. Hovering hundreds of paces above ground, falling from here would turn them into red paste.
Wyatt sighed. “We’re actually, very much, dead.”
“…Maybe… Maybe there’s way out of this-” Willem shivered from the sweat.
“No matter how you spin this, we’re just dead. There is no actual way we’re getting out of this.” Wyatt stared long and hard at Willem.
“…What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering things.” Wyatt gritted his teeth.
“Hey! It’s not my fault!”
“Never said it was.”
“Well, you’re clearly implying it…” Willem smacked his forehead. “How am I supposed to know that this was about to happen?”
“Look, can we continue this conversation when we are really dead?” Wyatt cupped his hands to his ears. “My ears hurt…”
“Uh huh, when will we die then? Because we’re not dying!”
“There is no way in Sol’s name that we are to survive this.”
“You are so childish! Why don’t you think positively?”
“What do you mean positively!? And who are you calling childish-“
Amidst their squabbles, a single click from the ground beneath their feet drew the men’s attention. The giant mechanical maw had stopped splitting, now a still and gaping rectangular entrance that shone with pale light. From within, more groans and whirrs of machinery bellowed, louder and louder with every second. The men stared, legs frozen as if this whole thing would just pass if they just stood still.
But it was not to be. From the abyss within the mechanical beast, a being with four long, thin legs stuck to the rim of the opening. It reached out of its prison, pulled up to the roof and stood to its full height. About 30 paces tall, a machine of nuts and bolts with limbs coming out from a central round node. The node emitted light in all directions, scanning and searching, until it focused back down on Willem’s legs. Just as he retreated in shock, all the lights converged on him, and the machine now stared at him.
Wyatt acted first, yanking his friend. “GET UP AND RUN BEFORE THAT THING EATS US!”
“Uh, Wyatt-“
“WHAT!?”
“I can’t run.”
Willem’s legs were frozen in fear, shaking and shivering so badly that he just couldn’t stand up.
“…We’re-“
The being came barreling at the duo before Wyatt could finish, making him scramble to drag Willem out of its way.
“PLEASE DON’T PLEASE DON’T PLEASE DON’T-“
Despite his best efforts, Wyatt couldn’t keep his balance. A single stab of the machine’s legs to the ground in front of him knocked him over. Willem closes his eyes, and Wyatt grovels back, ready to take the blow…
Yet no blows came. When they returned to their senses, they found themselves grabbed by the machine’s legs, and pulled down the gaping hatch. There, they found the way down, and their eyes widened at something brilliant – a dome of glass, with figures, symbols and strokes painted on it like a kaleidoscope, more colorful than anything they’ve seen. The machine ferried them closer towards the dome, and the structure lowered its protective layer.
The machine dragged the men inside, closing the dome with one of its legs before the cold can get in. It was then that they recognized the building’s interior. There were books, a lot of books. An entire archive of moving books, knocked over from the sudden movements of the structure housing them. Shelves lined the walls and zigzagged between walkways like a maze, and the books returned to them like birds returning to their nests. They were so abundant that the duo thought they were seeing a whole ecosystem of pure literature, alive and vibrant.
“Where even…” Wyatt trailed off
“Is that…a library?” Willem squinted.
The spider-like machine, meanwhile, cared not for the men’s thoughts. It sprung and landed on the far side of the great structure, in a semi-circle area cleared of debris and books, with a grand marble door leading to the outside. It dropped its passenger to free fall from 25 paces and leapt away. The men landed with a pained groan.
“Seriously? Asshole…” Wyatt stretched his back and stood.
“I think we’re lucky it didn’t eat us… Or crushed us…” Willem followed, grabbing Wyatt’s shoulder. “Where…are we?”
Before either could clear their minds to find an answer, cackling came from the above and made them startled. For a moment, they searched for the cackle, until they found it…
Once strung on strings, it fell like a stiff puppet, resembling a cloaked figure with a beak on its head. Its feet treaded lightly and carefully, its wooden eyes cracked open, revealing self-moving “eyeballs” made of metal. It twisted its gaze towards the two intruders as if they were dirt on the floor, standing 8 paces tall and overwhelmingly wide.
The duo shrunk back, noting the total silence from the machine outside of that familiar metallic whirring. They waited for it to do something but then noticed its static position, and started their panicked debate.
“Who… What is it?” Willem asked, standing up straight.
“I don’t know!”
“What do we even do!?”
“I don’t know, stop shouting!?”
Both screeched like lunatics while the machine of string and wood watched silently. Eventually, Willem sighed and stepped up.
“Willem?” Wyatt asked, clearly tense.
“Hello!” Willem waved at the machine. “What…are you?”
Silence descended on all three for a second.
“…What do you actually think you’re doing-” Wyatt grunted.
“Shh!” Willem shushed, still facing the bird-like machine.
And it answered, after staying quiet for only a moment. There was an unmistakable whirr from within, which stopped when it was done and opened its beak…
“…I…”
The men were startled by its speech. The tone was imperfect, flawed and unnatural, but it spoke their language. It stopped to test and pace itself, and that caught the attention of both intruders. Willem continued, undeterred.
“You?”
“I…” It paused again, before continuing in short order. Willem and Wyatt’s hopes were up, their eyes glued to the machine.
“…am library.”
…
That explained nothing at all.
[1] A type of currency without any physical form.
