An Omen in the [Sky?]
Stoat on the Water ... Omen in the Sky ...
The haze in shades of mauve drew upon Hydramwt and Pele-Peq as they rode. Then it sank to the ground and embraced the hooves of their iron steeds and leaked into the pale-blown weed and stained the dust and gravel. It at once glowed and obscured, draining the world of contrast but infusing it with hue.
Hydramwt sighed, “It would confuse us, it would lose us, this place, this haze.”
Pele-Peq of the many eyes agreed, “A mere-human it would take and lead astray.”
“The sky, the talking eye, it is talking still?”
Pele-Peq nodded, “It is.”
“There, is that it?”
“There? No, that is not it,” Pele-Peq’s far-seeing eye narrowed, “But what is it?”
This Omen … and What it Promises
a boom, repeating, rolling, groaning … a void traveler has come to earth bearing fruit and famine.
a line of light, a sun spun into a vertical thread … a godling of Long Long Ago has hatched and fled the tired soil.
a screaming of violent fumes … a decayer is unleashed to reduce the living and the machine to resources.
a quadrangle of many colors … a gift from Heaven High or Near is to arrive on clouds of fire and wings of silk.
a darkening of vision, an anti-solar … a portal has opened, an excreting void hole.
a changing of colors above and below … an electric all-chemist permutating, raising the low, abasing the high.
a bird of white mirrorstuff … a fortune of opportunity and terror is seeking, a chance of glory and gore.
a mountain of red, lit in afterglow … a maker has awakened and promises to produce once more.
a cloud of dire hues and cinder smells … the tired soil is torn and the fires come bringing ash and change.
a skipping of medallions glittering above … a taker is near, to accept the traditional donation.
a dragon threading the skies together … a scion is born, one imbued with the source code of a god.
a shouting head of many rolling eyes … a hungry weapon is unleashed, seeking useful idiots for its plans.
a sphere of gold and blood … a promise of flood and fresh starts, a new human is to awaken.
a tessellation of triangles monochrome … a slower of mind is come, to make beasts of men and machines.
a spear of spitting green and silver … a warrior’s blessing, uplifting an army to a higher purpose.
a vertical rainbow of nine bands … a town has ascended to a better place, a treasure has been left behind.
a flock of fluttering skins … a curse has ended, an offense rescinded, a grave emptied, a daemon reborn.
a vision of light, then blindness … a hand of god has descended, the death plankton flies again.
a bloom of teal and honey … a foodmaker has made a season of plenty, drawn the hungry and the damned.
a human form in orange afterglow … a god of the First Settlement has sent an avatar, a messenger of error.
How the Omen Changes the Watcher
installs a new persona
changes one personality trait
new idea worm takes root
extra-temporal remote control
sudden mutation
permutation—existing mutation changes
temporary blindness
temporal madness
waves of nausea
all wounds and afflictions suddenly healed
Hydramwt’s watching eye watered and his mouth went dry. Blur. Clear. Blur.
“It confounds the eye, lies of times now come,” he spat, “a falscher omen.”
“The meat machines, here?” asked Pele-Peq, pulling back the handlebars of his iron horse.
Hydramwt shivered and closed his watching eye. Would he have to gouge it out again and purify himself? Had the omen crept inside?
“Friend Hydra! Speak!” hissed Pele-Peq.
“It crawls inside, it tries for change, calls it upgrade,” said Hydramwt. He spat again, bits of ground tooth in the saliva. The iron horse’s leather grips creaked in his clutch.
Pele-Peq pushed his iron horse against Hydramwt’s and scrabbled in his inside breast pocket for the healer’s gun. Hydramwt twitched and tried to pull away. Pele-Peq grabbed for Hydramwt and in the tussle they slid to the ground between their iron horses.
“By the electric dragon’s tit, stay still!” Pele-Peq swore as he dialed in the reset with his free hand then pushed the healer’s gun against Hydramwt’s neck.
The gun discharged with a crackle and a sour smell. Hydramwt went limp as his circuits reset, purging the omen from his optics.
Weeks at Rest
These words are last week’s. This week, I didn’t have it in me to write. I struggled to figure out why. Finally, a reason crystallized and made sense: tired. The baby is sleeping much of the night. The toddler is mostly recovered from the first round of crèche bugs. I’m mostly recovered from the same bugs. The books are proceeding well. So … it’s been a week of restful drawing.
A holiday of sorts, if you will.
The kind where the working hours, those few spare hours afforded by childcare, are filled with not-work rather than more-work.
But, I’m still going to stuff a link in here! If you want to read the Yellow Land (the last region of the Our Golden Age book I’m preparing), I’ll have it ready as soon as my brain says “ok, let’s write again”.
Probably next week.
Right there, at the wixardftiegstabber patreon as always: https://www.patreon.com/c/wizardthieffighter
(it’s wizard and thief and fighter, not the spelling chaos above)
taek car, h’mans!
—Luka