Skyclad (Fate's Anvil Book 1) Read online

  “But wha-why-HOW? Even with magic, I don’t understand why we can have a conversation like this if you’re that—that instinctual!”

  “Because of the System that exists in this world. You have to make a choice, but it cannot let you make a blind one. It cannot talk to you, the same way I normally can’t. But it can talk to me in the other way, the way you can’t understand, but can only feel. And here, in this place, right now, I can talk to you just this once. You’ve been making choices without understanding anything, but you can still change back, at least for the most part. You can’t turn back once you choose a Class.”

  Morgan’s near-mirror image stepped forward with a grim look in her eyes. “You aren’t on Earth anymore. This world is not SAFE! And I can’t keep us alive alone because it isn’t Earth. We don’t have thousands of years and hundreds of generations of instinctual memory to draw on. I don’t know if the whole world is like these Wildlands we landed in. The System won’t tell me that. It only shows me enough to point you down the different paths and explain the consequences, and even that is vague.”

  “Then we need a plan. What can you tell me about choosing a Class? What even is it? Like the video games I played as a kid with my brothers?”

  The other woman nodded. “In a lot of ways it’s exactly like that. We’ll have a lot of options we could take right now, and others we don’t meet the conditions for. But you already have a big problem, even though it’s not completely your fault.”

  “The Naked Affinity Aspect,” Morgan said as her counterpart looked heartbreakingly embarrassed and ashamed. “What do you mean not completely my fault?” she asked with sudden apprehension.

  “I was already awake when we got here, and then everything went to shit. Right off the bat you earned the basic aspect pretty much by random chance. But after you spent points on the [Naked Instinct], I became something more. I’m a big part of why you only spent points on the naked skills, because I didn’t know enough!” By the end of her confession, the Other-Morgan was almost weeping in shame, looking vulnerable and submissive for the first time since appearing. “And I screwed up, because now I know how stupid that was, not to have other skills…”

  “What do you mean? It all made sense at the time. Other skills applied to using items or weapons, and we definitely didn’t have anything like that, except for the bathtub and the loofah, if that counts…”

  “They made sense because I don’t care about clothes, Morgan. Your instinctive memories go back farther than the time when humans first wove grass skirts or made a loincloth out of animal hide. Many times, many times farther. We spent tens of thousands of years grunting at each other and huddling in caves before we even figured out fire, back when it was all me and you could barely worry about the next meal, let alone the next week or next year. When as women we were claimed by the strongest male whether we liked him or not, and we were grateful for the protection and the chance of stronger children. Before our brothers tamed the first wolf or made the first spear. That is how I think, or thought before this talk. It’s how I’ll think again when you leave here. So you have to understand, and we have to figure this out, because there is no going back once you go forward.”

  Morgan remained silent in thought as the other woman’s voice finished with a quiet sigh. It took her a few minutes to gather herself and take in the scope of that kind of revelation.

  “So you pushed me to the naked skills because they were our best bet for survival, right?”

  The other her nodded passively, as if waiting for judgement for a crime.

  “But all the other skills I could see in the list, they were either useless without the right gear, or seemed pointless in general. I don’t really understand why you feel bad…”

  “Because of what the System has shown me about Classes, Morgan. It curates a selection for every person who reaches level ten. And one of the primary ways it decides what classes, or how to modify your classes that are available…” She trailed off, looking more humiliated by the second, and it almost broke Morgan’s heart to see this other self suffer. “…they’re based off the skills you’ve learned,” she whispered, barely audible in the flat acoustics of the misty dome.

  They both stood in silence for several long minutes before Morgan finally spoke. “Does that mean I’m stuck with the whole naked thing even with a class?” she asked flatly, almost a monotone without emotion.

  Her other-self actually cringed away while wringing her hands. “Probably!” she admitted, followed by a rush of words Morgan struggled to keep up with. “The system works on choices, and your class is the most important one, or one of the most important ones, you can make in your life here in its world! Once you choose, you can’t go back, but you might not meet the conditions for a normal class because of me, and I don’t know how to keep us alive if you delay the choice, and if I’d pushed you toward different skills, you’d have better options, but I just didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know…”

  The woman had dropped down to sitting with her knees drawn up as she spat the words with anguished sobs, rocking back and forth like a forlorn child. “Hey,” Morgan said as she sat next to the woman and drew her into a hug with one arm. “Tell me truly, you didn’t know before now?”

  Other-Morgan wiped her eyes but didn’t hesitate to respond. “Truly, I didn’t know. Wasn’t even able to know. And then we were here, and I was afraid you would hate me, and if you hate me, you hate yourself, and that only ends one way. We die. Either on purpose, or because we work against each other and get killed. Still, dead is dead.”

  Morgan gave a chuckle and leaned her head on the other’s shoulder. “Yup, dead is definitely dead. But we’re alive right now, and I don’t hate you for not knowing. But I need to know what my options are, whatever you can tell me…”

  “Well,” said her counterpart. “If we were anywhere with other people to help, it probably wouldn’t even be a problem. You could delay Class Selection and lock down the aspect with some gear or another bracelet. Then you could practice and learn new skills not under the aspect, and meet conditions for classes without naked restrictions.”

  “I don’t think that would be the smartest thing to do, with Dire Wolves, Tyrannorabbits, Eel-Hydras, and lord knows what else chasing us every time we turn around.”

  “That’s why I thought you’d hate me. Without the learning bonuses from the aspect and the other skills, it could take days, or weeks for you to learn a single spell. And you can’t level any more until you choose a class, so no more skill points or stat points to help.”

  “What if I refuse to choose, but we keep going the way we have been, and try to look for a town or other people, so we can do the whole ‘training new shit but with clothes on’ plan?”

  Other-Morgan looked at her glumly. “The System doesn’t show me much, but I do know we’ve not yet encountered creatures anywhere close to the most dangerous in The Wildlands, and that includes the Packmother. Unless you find a safe place to fortify and dig in for the long term, eventually something will pick up our scent that we can’t outrun and can’t fight off. Even choosing a powerful class won’t be a guarantee of survival, it only improves the odds a little bit.”

  Both Morgans fell silent for a long time, one in deep thought, the other wracked with emotion she couldn’t control. After what could have been either minutes or hours with no way to tell, the original Morgan finally spoke up.

  “No matter what I choose, you’ll still be there, even if you can’t talk, right?” The other woman simply nodded in the affirmative, sniffling quietly and wiping at her eyes.

  “Okay. I understand the downsides. And I don’t hate you. If you really are me, or that part of me, you should know that’s the truth. Now, what can you tell me about the benefits? Are classes that powerful, and isn’t there some advantage to saying screw it and going all in with the nudist thing?”

  Other-Morgan looked at her in shock, which grew slowly into something akin to wonder. “Um!” s
he choked out the syllable with a cough, before taking a moment to catch her breath and continue in a calmer manner. “Yeah, there’s definite advantages. The double experience and points you already know. But you also learn any skills aspected under the whole naked thing a hell of a lot faster. Numbers are your thing; I can’t really count much past fingers and toes. After a dozen or so, it’s all just either a heck of a lot or too many to me. But I know you learn ‘Naked’ skills and abilities much easier, and gain skill levels a lot faster than normal, too. It’s all because of the balance of not being able to equip gear.”

  “That sounds like some powerful benefits, but it doesn’t explain what a class is.”

  “A class is…hard to explain, even with your words to help me. The System lets me know in a vague sense, but it’s stingy on actual classes and details. They’re somewhat like specializations or jobs, and a little like a mantra or a belief system, but not in the religious—well, there might be religious classes, I’m not sure—but…” She paused to consider the words. “Classes are a massive upgrade in your potential, at the cost of narrowing the focus of your life. There is power; from what I can sense, there is a truly awesome potential for power with classes. But the most powerful ones will have the biggest drawbacks. But I won’t know any more than that until we move on to the next part.”

  The original Morgan pushed herself up to her feet and brushed the dirt off her backside, planting her hands on her hips and looking around the featureless dome around them. “Well,” she said, “I can back out and choose to put this whole thing off if I don’t like our options, right?” She turned and offered a hand to her other-self, pulling the wild woman to her feet. “So tell me, if you know, how do we move on to the next bit?”

  That part was immediately made clear by another notification:

  Having reached understanding of thyself, now understand the possible choices!

  The charcoal mists surrounding them suddenly writhed and roiled, and faint purple flashes shone through as if lightning were striking in the distance all around them. Her other-self literally flipped from a sitting position to a fighting crouch in a cat-like display of flexibility and a savage, panicked snarl, eyes once again darting in every direction at once. As Morgan stepped over and calmly took her hand, the more feral version of her whimpered.

  “It’s okay,” Morgan told her other-self. “Out in the world, you help protect me. I don’t think this system will just outright kill us with something like this. I know you’re all feeling and instinct, so in here, just lean on me…”

  The flashes of lightning intensified, and low, rumbling thunder soon announced its own presence as the mists retreated like a wave of ocean waters flowing back out to sea. The ceiling of the dome lifted upward only a few dozen yards, forming low-slung and ominous clouds occasionally backlit by violent streaks of violet purple light. But what currently held their attention were the thousands of Morgans revealed by the receded mists.

  There really were more of them than Morgan could have counted. Easily over a thousand, each standing on her own low stone pedestal raised just a scant handful of inches above the surrounding earth. Some of them wore armor, some of them silks and finery, and they seemed to be grouped with similar attire in clumps that followed various themes. As still and grey as statues, they stood facing the same direction, toward a larger raised section of earth that seemed to have a circle of brighter and more colorful versions of her.

  “Can you tell me anything about this part?” Morgan inquired of her primal self.

  “A little. These versions of you farther away from the center are possible classes that you don’t meet the conditions for. Either you don’t have the right skills, or they’re incompatible with your aspect, or both. The closer you get to the center, the less conflicts those classes have with the way you are now. Easier to figure out how to get to, I think. Words are getting—I’m losing words again…”

  “Then we should hurry,” the original Morgan responded. “If there’s anything you need to tell me, just speak up while you can. I don’t hate you. I’m not even angry about it anymore now that I know the details.”

  Other-Morgan grinned and pulled her along. “No bother with these. Too far away—too many conditions we not ever…meet. But what does Morgan want? Up here?” She tapped Morgan’s temple again, with an intent focus in her eyes.

  Morgan had begun to be distracted by the sheer variety of the statues. She’d seen one with massively exaggerated muscles barely contained in heavy armor holding a huge war hammer overhead. At the question, she stopped for a moment, but only a short one.

  “I want the magic. From the first spell I cast, even as we burned after the fruit screwup—which was all me, I know I ignored you there—I wanted the magic. I miss clothes, but I don’t want to die, and I just…” Morgan lost her own words as her thoughts trailed off. “I want the magic more than I want to give a shit about modesty. I already run around in skimpy dresses, and half the time without panties. I’ll have to figure something out when winter comes, or when and if I ever run into other people. But honestly?” She looked at her other self. “The magic is more important than anything except survival. You get me?” The other woman beamed happily back at her as Morgan continued, “What do YOU want? We have to agree, remember?”

  “I want…” The primitive version of Morgan seemed to struggle again, as if she were regressing back to the wild child that had first appeared under the dome of shadows. “Want survive. Survive mean power. Must be strong enough. Magic better than fist. Much better. Always have fist. Not always magic.”

  As they approached the inner sections of the rows of statues hand-in-hand, Other-Morgan stopped just before the displayed versions of their self began to show in color. “These must be closer to what we meet the conditions for,” Morgan said as the other girl nodded. She started to step further in, where the statues were lit in full detail and vibrant colors, almost as if they’d been caught in mid-motion, but her alter-ego stopped her short with a tightening grip on her hand, and a slightly sad frown.

  “In there,” the other woman said, nodding toward the brightened center-most ring of statues, “no more separate. Only you. Us. We. Am one again there.” She struggled with the last few words, and then seemed to lose all capacity for speech as she dropped back to gritted teeth and a frustrated expression.

  “I think we’re on the same page, though,” said the original Morgan with a smile, gently booping her other-self on the nose. “You want power, to help with survival. I want magic. So I say we find the most powerful magic we possibly can, and we don’t take no for an answer, no matter what this System says.”

  As her primal self grinned back at her, those words seemed to roll out across the assembled statues. The Morgans bathed in light up ahead of their current position flashed brightly, and several of them went dark, while a handful of previously darkened ones farther back suddenly lit savagely bright. A low thrum could be felt in the earth as pedestals began to shift, while the newly greyed-out statues moved backward away from the inner circle, the now-glowing ones further back moved inward to take their place. The ones that moved away seemed to be fighters, poses like martial arts contenders, except for one that knelt with head bowed and hands together as if in prayer.

  Morgan resumed the journey inward, pulling her other self along by the hand. A mere two paces away from stepping into the ring of light, they were both brought up short, as if running into a wall. One more notification sprang into Morgan’s view.

  Having reached understanding and agreement with thyself, a Choice must be made!

  Will you continue Class Selection at this time, or delay for new conditions to be met in the future? [Continue/Delay]

  Morgan turned to look at her savagely grinning other-self. The ferocity and confidence in her gaze was matched only by the sheer, joyous energy that seemed to radiate off the other woman as she pulled Morgan into a hug and pressed her forehead to hers. Morgan smiled and chose to continue, and the other f
aded back into mist that lost its color and dissipated, while a familiar giggling chuckle sounded in the empty and still air. When she realized the giggling was her own, she snorted and clapped her hands together.

  “Well then,” she said with a faint smile. “Let’s get the last part over with…”

  As Morgan stepped into the circle, the shadowy mist descended once again to cover all that remained outside the light. That left only a handful of figures at the edges of the glowing circle, facing inward in stillness toward the center where a broad stone slab lay upon the ground. The top surface of the slab was polished smooth, the outer edges still rough and uncut stone, as if the entire piece had simply been sliced cleanly from the middle of a boulder. The stone was sparkling white quartz marbled with brilliant purple, violet, and indigo veins that reflected the pulsing lightning that still lit the black, soupy sky.

  She stepped closer, and as she fully emerged into the circle of figures, the outer ring of light flared. Space itself distorted as the distance between the figures and the center stone snapped out with a quiet whisper of air. Morgan turned a circle where she stood, and realized she was now standing in an arena. “Oh, dear…”

  With even more intense curiosity, she walked back toward the nearest figure that bore her face. Or rather, it resembled her face if she were to grow a glittering, crystal coating over her entire skin. At the woman’s feet lounged a shadowy, crystalline cat that vaguely resembled the tufted shape of the [Shadowlynx] Morgan was so intimately familiar with, if somewhat smaller than the one that had attacked her that day in the cave. On the woman’s shoulder perched some sort of bird, with razor-seeming talons and a wicked beak, and she saw upon stepping closer that the bird’s feathers were tipped in translucent crystal thinner than the thinnest paper.

  Morgan came to a complete and sudden stop in surprise when the woman turned her head to watch her approach. “SHIT! I thought you were statues!”