The Land: Predators (Chaos Seeds, #7)

by Aleron Kong

In battle, a moment of doubt can cause the eternity of death.”

“You heard his lordship! Break into strike teams! Do not let these things charge right at you. Use the trees for cover! If you die, you’re on latrine duty for a month!”

As his gramps used to say, his head was more than just a hat rack.

Fear flashed through him. That wasn’t a new sensation and wasn’t one he denied or ran from. Only morons lacked fear. At this point, it was an old friend and counselor that would never inhibit him, only guide him when needed.

Many would trade their very souls for an eternity on this plane, but it is only because they ignore or are ignorant of how being untouched by time means being untouched by life. Every sip of wine is slightly less rich; every breath slightly less vital; every embrace has just a touch less passion. The final consequence is inevitable: a heart that is as cold as stone.

“We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us.”

Long ago he had decided that when he was faced with an impossible choice, when the futures of all paths were equally shadowed, when the countless possibilities of either choice either balanced out or were hopelessly confusing, that he would make a decision based on what he hoped to be true, rather than by what he feared to be true. It was possible that this could be a mistake, but it was his choice, and that was what mattered.

At the end of the day, he realized that he still wasn’t sure exactly what good or evil meant. The best definition he’d come up with dealt with intent and consideration. If you took the needs of others into account when you took an action, then you were good. If you only thought about yourself, then you were evil. Of course, the holes in that logic were big enough for a hippo in a hummer to drive through, but it was better than nothing.

What if someone with an evil alignment had to do horrible and selfish acts because the mechanics of The Land itself forced them to do so? Philosophers had been tackling this particular question since consciousness had evolved on Earth and hadn’t made any headway. Richter was willing to bet it was the same in The Land, and the only ones who felt they had a definitive answer were normally perpetrators of the worst acts imaginable. Any action, no matter how heinous, could be justified if you had a “righteous” cause to drive you forward and you were acting in the “common” good.

I do not believe that will be the case with you, however, my lord.” “Why not?” Richter asked. Randolphus shrugged, “You are stubborn to a fault and luckier than a boy in a whorehouse made of candy.”

“Every Dungeon ever created adds to the Labyrinth. They are entrances and exits from this world to that world. There are unfathomably large areas that comprise the Labyrinth that are not Dungeons, but they operate in much the same way. The Labyrinth contains every terrain and situation you can imagine. To even begin to understand however, you must also add in every dream and nightmare that anyone has ever had, and then add in the wildest thoughts of every child that has not yet been born and that will never be born.”

The most cruel truth is also the most common. Death comes quickly to us all.

‘Each day I breathe, I am more convinced that the true tragedy of life is not in its ending, but in its waste. The love that has not been shared, the chances that have not been taken, the craven caution that robs us of what we truly need: meaning.’”

“Nature is balance, my lord Richter. This can be seen in every sunrise and every sunset.

Yes, actions always had unintended consequences, but they shouldn’t always be world-shaking events. No matter what scientists said, flapping butterfly wings in Georgia did not actually cause hurricanes in China. Yet for him, it seemed that they did! It was almost like he was both drawn to pivotal moments and, by his very nature, triggered massive change.

The answer to those questions didn’t matter if he wasn’t willing to stop.

I do not promise you safety, for only fools or liars would make such a boast. I will make you the same promise that I made to every single person in my village. As I rise, so shall you, and no matter what comes in the future, I will stand with you to meet it.”

“It was a song from my homeland. Just a little ditty about a small-town girl, who lived in a lonely world.” “Sounds sad,” Sion commented. Richter shrugged, “All true stories are sad sometimes. It’s what makes them beautiful.”

You could not apply rational arguments to solve an emotional problem. Thoughts and feelings were not necessarily oppositional, but they were two distinct paradigms of existence. There might be overlap, but each operated by its own set of natural laws. What that translated into was that if Richter was going to find peace, he needed to deal with his emotions, not intellectualize why they were not valid.

the first step in dealing with negative emotions was to accept that they were part of you. A basic mistake that people made over and over was to try and deny the worst parts of themselves. ‘I’m not angry, jealous, vindictive, petty, etc.’ Though it was only natural to shy from difficult truths, denial did not give you control over yourself. It merely ignored a part of what you were. That was actually the complete absence of control. It was why people suddenly snapped or boiled over. No, Emerson had been right. “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.”

Long ago he had been told that while the badge of a police officer was the symbol of his authority, his gun was the power behind that authority.

Richter’s rational mind posited several ideas to try and make sense of the man in front of him. To find some reason for why this person could be so hateful and damaged. Then the strongest part of Richter took control, and he realized that none of that mattered. It was the part of him that didn’t shy from difficult truths and didn’t complain when there was something hard to be done. The truth was that the label “monster” didn’t matter. The truth was that this man was a threat to the village. The truth was, Lieb wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.

once you committed to a course of action there was nothing left to fear.

He’d heard the argument back on Earth that crime actually stimulated economies in some ways. It had sounded like total horseshit at first, but then he realized that it depended on what the definition of a crime was and which society you were talking about. Few would argue that smuggling innocents out of countries hellbent on their destruction was a bad thing, though based on that government’s laws, it would be considered a crime. There were also plenty of examples in history where “crime” had been a necessary component of a civilization. In the United States’ past, it had been a “crime” to help slaves escape to the north. In many other countries, it had been a “crime” to speak out against tyranny. In Richter’s opinion, if you lived in an unjust society, the only true “crime” was standing by and doing nothing. The point was, crime could affect a society in many ways, including acting as a catalyst for social change.

As has always been true, Creativity is ephemeral and comes from the most unlikely of sources.

Embrace all life to increase your own, but never forget that as you reach for the stars, success raises the likelihood of being burned.

The frontline of any army, spear and pikemen stand tall before waves of enemies with a simple message, “Not today.”

Looking at her fierce draconian face, he thought, *You do realize that as the master, you are supposed to obey me, right?* She leaned forward until she was right in front of his face. Then she licked his cheek, *That is so cute that you think that, master.* Saying nothing more, she launched herself from his arms and flew back into the doorway. *What happened to the sorrowful dragonling that apologized a minute ago?* he thought after her. *Temporary insanity,* she sent back with the psychic equivalent of a smirk.

Hail, the Dragon! May they fear your power. Be warned though, mighty creature. Death of one is death of all.

You are not safe behind your paltry walls, foolish human. I will sweep aside the defenses of your mind and visit horrors upon you that shall make even your nightmares flee in terror. You shall tell me all that you know and soon, your dominion will be mine.

The arguments were all quite good. All supremely logical, yet… something in him rebelled. He’d never been one to take the path of least resistance. And if his village was going to mean anything, he didn’t want to build it upon the eternal suffering of others. Again, only a moron built his house on an old Indian burial ground. Seeing as how he wasn’t a complete idiot, he got to work.

Guard your throne well, for every lord must guard against dangers from within as well as without.

Requirements for increasing the Mist Village to Level 2: 1) Increase population to at least 100 2) Build 10 freestanding buildings 3) Master 3 levels of the Catacombs 4) Finish 4 quests of the Mist Village. The requirements hadn’t seemed so tough at first, but now he knew the requirements were like saying “Brush your teeth. Wash your face. Design, fabricate and launch an intercontinental ballistic missile. Make a bowl of cereal.”

“And how did you get a Specialty? And what the hell is Puzzle Solving? And why are you so good at Unarmed Combat?” Roswan finally came back to himself a bit, and gave his signature, “Grrrmmm. The answer to the last question is that for some reason an inordinate number of people need a good punch to the face.

“The Land, the magics in it, the life force of the people in it, the very stones themselves, are all part of a magic spell that was created to keep the Light and Dark Courts imprisoned. Our world was created to generate the magic needed to sustain the spell until the end of the Universe. As long as The Land exists, it can power whatever it is that the Universe did to keep the Courts sequestered, and thereby protect every other soul in Creation. That is why the denizens of the Courts want to utterly destroy the world that we stand upon.” Okay, Richter thought to himself. No pressure.

“Foresuto No.” Literally it translated into “For the Forest,” but it meant much more. It was the core principle that the wood sprites lived by. It represented their lifelong pursuit of balance in all things, both internally and externally. The forest was their home, but the “Forest” spoke to the world itself, the love every sprite had for their people, and their drive to live in unity with the Universe.

Looking at his people now though, united in purpose even with battle on the horizon, Richter knew he had made the right choice in putting his faith in hope, rather than giving in to his fears.

“Don’t worry about spilling water when you’re on a sinking ship.”

Instead, he was just looking slightly pained at the thought of having to speak with Lezli again. The blond gnome was the only person more in love with lists and schedules than he was. Like two schizos, they both thought the other one was buckets of crazy.

the captain, Malcolm Reynolds, had simply stated, “I look out for me and mine. That don’t include you ‘less I conjure it does.” That simple statement had always seemed to cut through the whining and bullshit of right and wrong. You take care of your family. Don’t cause ill or harm those who can’t defend themselves, but if anyone sets themselves against you, god help them, because he wouldn’t.

“Back home, we would say, ‘Fix your face or I’ll fix it for you,’ but in this case,” the chaos seed chuckled, “I think we both know that ship has sailed. I also don’t think we have much time left together since your health is still falling, so let me give you your warning.” He moved close enough that he could have snapped his reptilian jaws shut on the other chaos seed’s face if he chosen to do so, “I do not care who you were back on Earth. I do not care what you think you are owed. I do not care how mad you will be if you are ever reborn. My warning is not the same as yours. I’m not telling you that if you stay away, then I will let you be. I’m not telling you never to come back. I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter if you do. My warning is that you should stay dead. If you are reborn, I will come for you. One day, in this long existence we have ahead of us, I will find you again, and I will feed your soul to the worst demon I can find. Now drink.”

choice allows for the noblest good, but also the most depraved evil.

“People often hate and oppose us because our methods cause destruction, but it is necessary,” one began. “But what is existence without change?” another continued.

Question everything but your place in The Land. Remember, the way is forward, never back.”

“So basically,” he said in a speculative tone, “we are going to be invading the stronghold of a parasitic magic user, via an unstable wormhole, that might open into hell itself at any moment, and every person we send through on this raid increases the chance that none of us will make it back. Is that about it?” “I do not know what a wormhole is, but the rest sound fairly correct,” Hisako told him.

“You,” he began, but had to swallow even though his throat was suddenly very dry, “you gave me a bomb and didn’t tell me?” “No,” Tabia answered in an annoyed voice, “I just told you. Were you not paying attention?” Richter carefully set the explosive down, stepped back several paces, then stepped back a few more. After that, he closed his eyes and started counting down from ten. While he did, he recited a mantra that had been very helpful in the past. Ten, don’t kill her. Nine, she’s pretty useful. Eight, her wife Mimi would probably kill you anyway seeing as she’s a Professed Warrior. Seven, Mimi is pretty hot even though she doesn’t talk much…

I have no idea exactly how powerful it will be, but I thought that since you are storming an enemy stronghold, you might want a backup plan.” “Which would be blowing everything up?” he asked in exasperation. She just looked back at him nonplussed, “I would not recommend blowing up everything, my lord. You should try to avoid that blast, for instance.”

“Alright, I see what you’re saying. How long do I have once I mix them before it explodes?” Her face took on the same expression that Hisako’s had adopted when discussing how long the portal would last. Put another way, a perfect mix of guesstimation, educated guess and utter bullshit, “The acid should eat through the cork in ten to fifteen seconds, and the solution should reach maximum volatility in another five…” She moved her hands up and down like she was a scale weighing something, or jiggling her wife’s boobies, before she finally gave him an answer in a questioning tone, “Ten to twenty seconds?”

Time, it seems, will haunt even an immortal.