12 Miles Below

“Consider me puzzled, apprentice.” Hexis said, sliding over a coin across the table. “I believe this constitutes your first victory.”

I grabbed that golden useless trinket as if it were the most priceless thing I’d ever gotten my hands on. And it really was the hardest I’d ever worked to get a coin if I were being honest.

The game Hexis introduced me to, we’ve been playing rounds each day as a warm up before we switched gears to studying mathematics and chaos theory. In all those days, I’d never once won.

Not a single gods damned time. Whatever was going on in Hexis’s mind, he could always visualize the graph exactly as the math showed, doesn’t matter how convoluted I made it.

This time, we’d gone back and forth with a stupidly complex equation, up until he challenged me to draw it. Maybe he’d lost sight of it himself, but I hadn’t.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’m a firm believer in running with my winnings.” I waggled my single gold coin at him before quickly stuffing it into my pocket, planning to squirrel it away in my room for later. Don’t care how useless undersider currency is up here on the surface, this coin wasn’t money to me - it was a gods damned trophy about how I beat a living calculator at his own bloody game.

Hexis gave a tut, putting his pencil aside then bringing out the workbooks for the follow-up study session. “Consider me curious apprentice, you've shown rapid improvements beyond what's normally expected, even with your aptitude factored in."

"And what metric are you using to measure this?" I asked, grabbing the books and flipping over to our last discussion.

"It took me a year to begin winning against my mentors. And from then on, I remained undefeated. Neither by any of my students, nor any of the other masters within my branch. You are the first to defeat me in years, and you did so within two months. Worse, as much as I loath to admit it, I can detect no means of cheating in your work." He gave me a rather critical glare, the sort of look he gave whenever he spotted an insect on my plate. "Believe me, I have thoroughly checked, especially given your reputation."

"My reputation?" I asked, taking out that gold coin again and biting down on it. Just to check it was real gold of course, and not to flaunt it in his face or anything. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about."

"What is your secret?” He tapped on the desk, humming for a moment, then raised a hand. “Or rather, I wish to test a theory of my own.”

He hummed again, closing his eyes. “I’ve learned a few things about you, over the two months we’ve spent. You are arguably the most stubborn youth I have ever had the curse of teaching, without a doubt. Paradoxically, loss seems perfectly acceptable and expected in your mind, which is not a trait that usually is paired with stubborness. Quite odd in a way, to see someone both be able to lose again and again, and grow more and more determined to win with each round.”

“Feel like you’re describing the human condition here.” I said. “Losing is annoying, so we double down on winning.”

He shook his head. “I have taught many students in a past life, before I became a grand warlock and put teaching aside. Everyone student sees defeat differently. Some grow more and more aggressive, until they choose to quit in frustration. Others lose all hope, and defeat becomes the new normal to them. A few others simply do not care from the start, and never do find any motivation to. To you, however, defeat means making an attempt from a different direction, again and again. What direction you choose in order to finally best me, is what I find curious to consider.”

He was right. When I got beat a few times over in this simple little game of his, at first I figured I’d get better over time and eventually beat him at his game. When the ‘getting better’ part was going slow, that’s when I decided I needed to turn up the heat.

“So what’s your guess on this one, master?”

Other then absolute luck. I beat him once, but by no means did that mean I could beat him a second time. Especially now that he's on guard for it.

“Did you call upon the assistance from one of the two… ‘deathless’?” He asked, giving air quotes for both. “I know you and those two are gossiped about endlessly. Your little honor duels, and both of them living within your estate grounds. Speaking to either would be as easy as a knock on their doors right down your hall.”

Well, he was right about me visiting Wrath. Usually the other way around though, it had become an unworded tradition at the end of the day. Wrath would show up in my room and I wouldn't ask questions as to how, Cathida would demand to also be brought in because Cathida, and I was around by default since this was my natural habitat. Together we plotted out new ways to murder Father.

The current roster of tricks, tactics and potential gear had grown a ton.

I decided to be a magnanimous victor. “You’re right, I did start bringing them in to help. Hecate Wrath has a built in graphic calculator in her head, so each night we’d spend some time practicing this game. I’d get to see the graph change dynamically and ask her all the questions I could want. Never would have guessed actual practice would get me anywhere, but I was a slight bit pissed off at being beat all the time.”

Funny thing about the human mind - it gets used to things quickly, and then starts to find shortcuts. I'd developed a kind of semi-intuition on how graphs would change and move. Not completely accurate all the time, but way better than nothing. “That said, master, I do have a question about the occult. Fractals activate anywhere so long as they’ve got power going through them. So why is it that having the shape drawn out on a screen doesn’t trigger the fractal?”

Wrath could make any equation come to life inside her processors, and yet equations that should have resulted in an occult fractal, didn’t power on at all. This went completely opposite to what Hexis said about being able to imagine fractal graphs inside the mind. We’d tested this on the color fractal he’d shown me all that time ago. And still, the only way we’ve gotten it to work is by having Wrath manually inscribe it into metal.

He smiled. "An interesting question, and one I have the answer to. However, there is no such thing as a free lunch, and this one is quite high level. I will also ask questions in return. If that is agreeable, feel free to ask. If not, we have a lesson to attend to on far more fundamental items then this.”

Oh hoh. So the esteemed master got curious about other things in my life. I channeled my inner Ellie. “Fair. Assuming you’re not going to ask any clan secrets or my deepest darkest fears."

"Agreeable. I’m sure you have some theories already about that, go on and explain what you’ve come up with.” Hexis said, folding his fingers together and leaning back.

He got me there, I had a few possible ideas. “Pixilation. In the end, any graph drawn on a screen is a bunch of squares put together to look like something from far enough away. I’m guessing reality doesn’t see it that way.”

“That is fairly close, however not the full picture. What then, of the interior of the computer? If I can visualize an occult fractal within my imagination and have it work without drawing it in the physical world, why can machines not do so?” He smiled then tapped a finger to his head. The spot he tapped turned bright ultra-violet purple with a mild crackle of occult hissing around the room.

He got me there. That was part of the issue I had when talking to Wrath about all this. She could certainly plot out any graph she wanted to, but actually powering it with the occult seemed impossible to her.

“I got no idea on that one.” I said, being honest.

“A hint then.” Hexis said. “The answer is tied to why puritans believe so strongly that the organic soul is the original creation recognized by reality, while machine souls simply inhabit the same technical gray zone by chance rather than intention. They are pale imitations mimicking truth. A computer does not see a graph within their imagination. What they see is something other.”

He wrote down the color fractal’s equation, one of the regular four I’d already memorized. “Your question of why the inside of a computer’s imagination is not recognized by reality can be summed up with this counter question.” The pencil tapped on the written equation. “Why does the occult not recognize this equation as a fractal?”

“It’s not in a graph form?”

He shook his head. “Hubris, apprentice. I will ask again. Why does reality not recognize this equation?”

I sat back in my chair and mulled it over. Hubris would mean that I believe my worldview was the correct one, when reality was different. In what way would some random equation not reflect reality?

An idea floated through my mind and I decided to try it. “Because, equations are just humanity’s attempt to approximate reality?”

“Closer to the mark.” He tapped one of the variables in the equation. “This character here, we both agree that is an ‘x’, correct?”

I nodded along.

"And if I decide to read all 'x's as 'y's and refuse to see reason, who can claim I'm wrong?”

“Uh, everyone?”

He smiled. “Correct. And if you showed an illiterate barbarian this equasion, would they be able to tell it was mathematics rather than some unknown language?"

I shook my head at that.

"Math is simply a shared set of rules we agree upon." Hexis said. "If we follow the same rules, we see the same results. These numbers are not tied to reality; it's indifferent to our conventions. To reality, an equation is mere scribbles, same as it would be to the barbarian. Its significance exists only because we, as humans, chose to give it one. And there is the arrogance and hubris to believe that our meaningless scribbles should be recognized by the occult. Connect this to computers now. What does the imagination of a mind of rust truly see? A graph? Or something other?"

One’s and zero’s. Bits and bytes. The foundation of everything going on, stored down to the physical memory addresses. “They wouldn’t see a graph, or an equation. Just the building blocks to assemble one.” I said.

“And are building blocks seen by reality as a true occult fractal?”

“No. They wouldn’t be.”

Hexis nodded. “And that is why machines will never be able to mind-weave, or even enter the weave itself, despite their souls being at the throne of the weave. They do not see and feel reality as we do. Their very architecture is maladapted to the task. When we imagine a graph, we see it. Does this answer your question?”

One counterpoint to all this - the mites. They’d created a cube of some kind that would calculate a fractal within a digital space, and I’d used it to take on an entire army of machines along with To’Avalis himself. I could see that clearly in the soul sight.

So how did the little buggers manage to pull off something Hexis said was impossible for machines? But that wasn’t going to be something I’d mention to Hexis. “Guess it does answer my question, master.”

Also kills off my plan of having an LCD screen generate fractals for me to use on demand, or trying to make a computer that could digitally generate what I needed on the fly. Knowing Wrath couldn’t do it already proved it wasn’t a viable direction, but I had still kept it in the back of my mind this whole time.

Drop down menu occult casting would have been awesome.

“Then, I believe it is now my turn to ask a question.” Hexis said. “What are your plans for when your clan migrates down?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He scoffed. “Come now, apprentice. You work hand in hand with humans made of metal, armors that have been connected to the soul-tombed, and weapons of war I’ve never seen before. Hide what you wish from the common folks, hiding anything from a warlock trained with the forbidden fractal is near impossible. You will not stay in this clan. You are involved with larger events far outside what a small clan lost on the surface is up to.”

“You knew I was going to leave?”

He nodded. “Know with certainty? Not quite. However, the writing was on the walls and doorways. A strong suspicion is more accurate.”

“Why did you decide to continue teaching me if you knew I was going to just up and vanish on you?” Knowing Hexis, the warlock would have outright thrown me out the moment he thought he’d be wasting his time.

He shrugged his shoulders, hands stretched out. “Novelty. Amusement. And I have no lack of time. You seem to forget - I am exiled here by my guild. They do not want me back. And I am quite comfortable here, paid with a heavy purse from your clan lord as is expected given what I offer. While I believe whatever apprentice comes as your successor will certainly be among your clan’s most talented, I do not hold my breath they will be anywhere near as skilled as you are. Perhaps more docile and less annoying, certainly.”

“Har, har.” I said, “Sounds like you’ll be getting an upgrade.”

He gave a soft smile. “That was a question earlier. It is my turn again. Why are you dueling with the deathless day after day? You asked for how warlocks fight, depending on your answer, I may decide to advance your lessons forward. Given you will be leaving soon, knowing new ways to fight machines may be in your interest.”

I considered telling him. The pro’s and con’s. Ultimately, he already knew all the parts, and I was running close to time when it came to beating Father. Certainly gotten closer. I’d been badgering Hexis about getting some more combat oriented tips on the occult for a while now, and he’s been dodging like a weasel each time, saying I still had more to learn in the fundamentals.

Ultimately, if there was a way to beat Father, it would come from the occult. And the only source of new occult scrapshit, was sitting right in front of me. Problem is that I wasn’t sure if Hexis would want to help me beat Father - if I lost, I’d stay right here in the clan as his apprentice.

Decided I’d take the chance. “Fine. He challenged me to defeat him, and if I did, then he’d take me with him. If I failed, I’d be left behind. A sort of trial by fire, where I have to prove I’m strong enough to tackle anything underground.”

“Ahh, I see. That does fit nicely with the information available.” He nodded. “So, you need my help to defeat a metal monster commanded by man. The strength and power of a machine body with the purity and focus of a human mind. Not a demi-god, a god. You truly do love to take on impossible challenges apprentice.”

“If I had to pick, I’d rather fight a grasshopper personally. Maybe one of the bigger ones, like around five inches to keep some challenge to it. Much more in my hangar.”

“Were life filled with that level of challenge, the world would be a better place.” Hexis said. “Very well, you were upfront and honest about your goals. I recognize that for what it means and return it. I will teach you some tricks of the trade. Go on and ask.”

Finally, this time he wasn't going to weasle behind more training. “How do warlocks fight machines?”

“We don’t. Not generally prudent to display the occult outside a city. And if we show ourselves to be too powerful, military will demand our involvement in larger raids, likely at gunpoint if needed. However, for warlocks who travel from city to city, should the situation become dire, we do have training to fall back onto.”

He lifted his hands and waggled the fingers at me. “Did you think these rings and bangles were all for some gaudy display of wealth? If so, you would be correct. However that is not all they are good for. Inside each are fractals written on the inside. And this,” He waggled his thumb, covered in a golden thumb cap, “Is not simply for fashion. It is a conductor. Wires connect to a small battery, and once my thumb touches any of the rings, a full closed circuit is established, powering on the fractal of choice. This is how the initiates learn to cast and wield the occult without mental weaving."

Given the amount of rings he had on hand, he probably had access to a few dozen different spells, all by just touching his thumb to different rings. A sort of kinetic quick casting.

“You wave hand signs at machines and cast spells with those?”

Pretty neat. Made them seem far more like traditional spellcasters from old books. And pretty smart use of basic fractals on demand.

"Parlor tricks in the end, however effective in that they can be cast at any time, without any thinking required. You, however, will find very little use with this as you’ve already dabbled with the forbidden fractal and turned it into some kind of permanent ability.”

He took off a ring, and tossed it to me so I could inspect. A fat thing, and just as mentioned, the inside had a few intricate artistic lines that likely hid a fractal somewhere.

"Warlocks usually avoid armor save for the minimum required for an overshield and assisted movement.” He tapped his belt and chest, which had a metallic thud to them under his robes. “I am unsure how you surface sava… ahem, how you surface dwellers customized your armors with fractals and tomb-bound souls within; we undersiders don't have that luxury, not to even touch upon the tomb-bound absurdities you’ve cultivated. Besides all of which, armor would need heavy insulating gear with our gauntlets, and bigger rings would be too conspicuous. Secrecy in the occult is how we remain alive and wealthy."

"What kind of power are you using for combat with these rings?"

“For myself, most of these rings are for convenience, such as keeping tea warm, or parlor tricks to impress yokels. A grand warlock has far more available to use in combat when mental weaving is factored in.” He stood from his chair, “To show you, we will need to find a demonstration target.”

The target in question was a metal training dummy, used by knights to practice hand to hand sparring techniques. The location was a simple courtyard within my estate grounds, the very same one I’d had to fight off a group of slavers, and used the occult for the first time in combat.

Same place I passed by every day when coming home. Some of the Winterscars here were already clearing up the courtyard when they noticed me home earlier than usual, followed by Hexis, his servant, and a few clan knights ordered to keep an eye on the warlock.

He waited at the center of that courtyard, hands folded behind his back, while the area emptied of all possible watchers except for those authorized by Atius. Once our armors all reported clear, he began in earnest.

“For grand warlocks such as myself, direct electric shock is the most effective manner in dealing with machines.” He said, pointing a hand at the target before him. “You’ll want to cover your ears for this demonstration. Noise is unavoidable.”

He snapped his fingers, and a crackle of lighting ripped straight out, as if he’d just connected his hand to the target with a thread of light. It lasted just as long, faster than an eyeblink, and utterly on target. Only the afterimage stayed in my eyes, a sort of forking branch with smaller bits ending nowhere, while the main thicker torrent went from hand to target in one uninterrupted jagged line.

“If the machine is still functional after the first blast, repeated attack will usually dismantle anything.” he said, flaring out his hand again. “Metal is weak to discharge, and machines are not encased in a faraday cage, ironically enough.”

A multitude of lighting zapped from his hand to the target, each repeating the same exact path that the prior one had, until he started walking forward. At that point, the lighting changed paths slightly with each step he took.

His hand lifted up, the flow cut off. “Against some of the stronger machine enemies, you will find this to be… less effective.”

What he was saying is that it probably won’t work against Father. Given the sheer ratshit a Feather can do, I’d believe it. “What do you do against stronger enemies?”

He smiled, pulling his robes back over his hand. “Run. However, we do make use of the occult for this as well.”

He got closer to me, and the occult pulsed around him. I felt myself lift off the ground, gravity no longer pulling me down. Nor did it affect the boxes around me, his servant behind him, and one knight who was clearly in range.

“Most machines move using mechanical limbs. It is very difficult for them to fight back, or hunt when those limbs cannot touch the ground.”

“I could use this.” I said, instantly putting it together. “I could really use this.”

He’d done it with a teacup when we’d first met him. If I could do to Father what he did to a teacup, I’d win.

Main issue with Father is that he could outright dodge just about anything that wasn’t point blank or en mass and undodgeable. But that all depended on his footwork. No footwork, no dodging. Launch him in the air, and then nail him with a Knightbreaker. From there on, pepper him with occult bullets if the round didn’t finish him off directly.

“You’ll find it only has limited applications. If your enemy can fly or otherwise move in the air with a different means of power, this will be functionally useless.”

Wrath will laugh this off is what he’s saying. So too would those giant bird like machines To’Sefit used as a ride. And probably anything with hover technology built in.

“How do you counter things that can fly?”

“The opposite ability.” Hexis said. “You force it onto the ground.”

With a flick of his hands, a burst of occult landed right under my feet and began to suck me down onto it. Like some kind of deranged glowing blue vortex. To’Orda’s ability, I recognized it.

Hissing and dust spread across the room as air began to be sucked into the vortex, just like what his hammer left behind on contact. Condensation started to appear all around the metal floor, leaving streaks as the droplets were also sucked into the occult spell.

Journey held against it for a moment, before it buckled onto a knee, servos inside straining against the gravitational pull.

“You will need to cast this more than once for stronger foes, and it does make navigating near them far more dangerous for obvious reasons. Being stuck within the same gravitational pull will not make your life any easier.”

He snapped his fingers again, and the pull vanished. Instead, the opposite effect hit Journey like a wave. Compressed air exploded out, slamming straight against the chestplate and forcing me up with a spring. Not strong enough to fully lift the armor, but certainly enough for some pep.

Leaving me with a lot of new options to tinker on. Having these kinds of occult spells to draw on would save my life at some point.

The warlock folded his hands behind his back, observing me as I shook off the effects. The amount of ratshit I could do with just lighting on demand from my fingertips and gravity manipulation was going to seriously upend everything.

Hexis was going to be the direct link I needed to defeating any Feather.

“Now, let us discuss what you are willing to return in exchange for these abilities, apprentice.” He said, reminding me that there was no such thing as a free lunch.