Morval Grust: The Forgotten Fire

By Corvon Woods

Azil is no ordinary teen—far from it. Sure she's made of metal, but who isn't? The reason everyone in her society thinks she's a freak has more to do with her unusual behavior. While everyone around her spends their days routinely buffing their metal bodies to a perfect shine, Azil, on the other hand, finds pleasure in exploring and creating unique objects. Her father was also unconventional in this way. Was—but now he's gone. They say he's been "norphoonicated into the Great Glow"—a concept that makes absolutely no sense to Azil. All she knows is her father was there one day and gone the next. And without him, she feels completely lost. Ever since his disappearance, Azil's mind has been racing with questions. Where did my father go? What causes someone to simply vanish?

In her desperate search for answers, Azil must defy the strict—yet extremely odd—rules of her society. More importantly, she is forced to transcend her own fears of the horrific dangers within her world. When Azil takes this leap into the unknown, nothing will prepare her for what she is about to experience. Once she discovers the secret of Morval Grust, everything she has known to be true will change forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corvon Woods
• Release date: Sep 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370104284

Corvon Woods

Corvon Woods has made a life of observing, questioning and interpreting our strange world through his art and unconventional ideas. And now, through his writing, Corvon offers a gateway into other strange worlds.His first novel, Morval Grust, combines mystery and discovery in a captivating story about a dark secret, so pervasive, it has impacted an entire society for generations.

Book preview

ONE

The Missing Part

Azil Grage impatiently stood at the workbench testing her latest invention. As she procked another durval and frantically retried the achton-vorameter, she let out another angry Nooooo! Not again, she thought, tossing the wrench onto her cluttered workbench. The small gadget was missing something, but she didn’t know what. She had been working at this all morning with little success. It was unusual for a project this straight-forward to provide such a challenge. While working on previous inventions, Azil had always craved the challenge of testing and finding solutions, but on this particular morning she felt completely disconnected from what she was trying to accomplish.

For several days now she had been working diligently on the achton-vorameter. Azil had seen its rapid evolution from a rough initial sketch to the fascinating object in front of her. The entire process had been an exciting new challenge that filled her with enthusiasm. Initially, Azil felt this latest gift for her best friend was one of her finest ideas yet, but now she was beginning to have doubts. What is wrong with me? This should be easy, she thought. On any normal day she would be done and on to another project by now, but this was no ordinary day. She desperately needed something—anything that would get this invention working properly. She fervently glanced around the tiny workshop looking for a solution she hadn’t thought of yet. If she was going to find any useful parts or tools, they would have to be somewhere inside the workshop because her mother would never tolerate such things in the rest of the house.

First, Azil checked all the shelves next to the workbench that held the larger metal parts, but quickly realized that was pointless. Why would I need a part that’s bigger than the entire achton-vorameter? she thought. She knew the solution, whatever it was, would most likely come from a small part or a subtle adjustment to what she had already done. Maybe there’s something in here, thought Azil, dumping a large steel bin of tiny parts onto the already disorganized workbench. After thoroughly rummaging through the pile and finding nothing to spark her imagination, she sighed and dropped her head onto the workbench, catapulting small metal pieces all over the workshop.

For the first time in her life, Azil felt like what she had imagined most of the other Fidds in the village felt like all the time. She was completely uninspired and unmotivated to do anything that required the slightest amount of thought or effort. The possibility of being anything like the others scared her. Within the Fidd community, Azil was a complete outsider. The high level of passion and dedication she put into her inventions was not only rare, it was practically non-existent within her society. Many of the others had no specific hobbies or interests of their own and simply couldn't understand why anyone would choose to dedicate their time and energy like she did. As much as she would have liked it to, the effort she put into her work did not go unnoticed. Throughout her life, she had been teased and ridiculed for her abnormal behavior and, despite this, had grown to accept herself for who she was. Deep down, Azil knew she was exactly who she wanted to be and was living her life exactly the way she wanted to live. But the way she was feeling at that moment had nothing to do with her own eccentricities, nor the opinions of others. It had everything to do with the fact that, for the first day in Azil's life, her father would not be there. The weight of knowing that she would never have him around—to share ideas, laughs and other magical experiences—was too real for her to absorb in that moment. Even in the comfort of the workshop—amongst the thunx, murloo, kenoks and other metal parts—Azil felt lost. Normally she would be lost in the joy of discovery and the creation of new and marvelous things, but on that morning she just felt numb.

Azil’s feeling of disconnection caused her attention to drift away from her project. With her head resting on the workbench, she gazed off into the corner of her workshop where something instantly caught her attention. It looks like I’m not the only one who’s working in here, she thought. It was a spinder with black and yellow patterns on its body, and it appeared to be keenly focused on what it was doing. Azil jealously observed as it busily weaved its web. Normally, envy was not an emotion she was familiar with, but she could see this spinder knew what needed to be done and was doing it with ease. In swift sweeping motions, it constructed the threads of its web in what appeared to be an effortless dance. The spinder had no concerns about being right or having the right parts. It was thoroughly absorbed in its task. It surely wasn't caught up in the overwhelming fact that its one and only father had suddenly vanished or what was more commonly referred to as being norphoonicated into the Great Glow. What exactly does that mean, anyway? she thought. Azil never really cared for some of the vague ideas, like norphoonication, that permeated her society. The way she had always understood her world was through clear and solid evidence based on her own observations. She simply could not accept the rationale that, on the previous night, her father was somehow absorbed into the luminous green sky that hovered above their world.

Azil was suddenly jarred out of her mental haze by the familiar clonking of metal feet on the soft dirt floor. She quickly grabbed the achton-vorameter, shielded it from view, and turned her head toward the door behind her. Azil was greeted by the shimmering silver face of her best and only friend, Voda Noan, who stood in the entrance to the workshop.

"What is that?" Voda asked.

"What is what?" asked Azil, smiling.

That thing you’re trying to hide from me.

Azil realized it was pointless to try to hide the gift she was making for Voda and let her see it.

This is the achton-vorameter I was going to surprise you with when I was done—but you ruined it.

Awww—you made me a nakdon-fermonitor? That was so sweet of you. I’ve always wanted an…

…achton-vorameter, said Azil, rolling her eyes.

Well, I like it!

How can you like it? You don’t even know what it does.

So—what does it do?

You’ll find out—after it’s done. But that may be a while.

Azil carefully put the achton-vorameter down on the workbench and turned back to see Voda, smiling widely.

Okay—what is it? I can always tell when you want something.

Think about it… What day is today? Voda asked.

Oh, that… said Azil, remembering the annual festival.

Please tell me I'm not going through this without my best friend.

I already told you I didn't want to go.

Come on—you gotta be there. All the Fidds in the village are supposed to be there, including us.

"More than anyone, you should know how much I don’t feel like celebrating," said Azil, lowering her head and turning away.

"Don't think of it as celebration, think of it as a social restructuring. Speaking of restructuring, wait till you see my brother."

Azil quickly lifted her head and turned to face Voda. What happened to Boden?

Don’t you remember?

That's right, Azil said, his transformation. So your older brother finally grew up.

Yes and it’s weird. You’ve gotta see him. I can’t believe he’s no longer a middy, like us.

"You know I’d love to go celebrate with everyone, said Azil, rolling her eyes, but I have a lot to do here. I want to keep working on your present and there’s still some things I need to figure out."

Come on, Aze… You need to get out—around other Fidds. It's not good for you to be alone at a time like this. Your dad… My mom… They're not coming back.

I’d rather stay here. I don't feel lonely when I'm busy in the workshop—it's like he’s still here with me. I really feel alone when I'm out there—with a bunch of Fidds I don't understand and who don't understand me.

They will never understand you if you stay hidden in here all the time. Voda motioned to the small cluttered workshop and smiled. You may be a freak, but this village needs you—and your brilliance.

Azil crossed her arms.

Well, they’re not getting any of my brilliance. I’m saving that for the ones who appreciate it—and, since my father’s gone, you’re the only one left.

"Seriously, Aze? Our world—Zovia—it’s boring without you."

"That’s because nobody really does much of anything—at least—anything meaningful. They’re all too worried about what others will think. Everyone’s the same—all shine and no substance."

Maybe they just need an example—someone who’s bold enough to do what she loves. You know—someone creative and intelligent.

Voda nudged her on the arm and smiled. Azil was beginning to feel awkward and wanted to shift the conversation to any topic other than herself.

What about you? You’re the boldest Fidd I’ve ever met. And your brother—he’s…

Boden? Well… He’s not the guy you think he is.

What is that supposed to mean? Azil leaned against her workbench and accidentally knocked some of the tiny parts onto the floor. What kind of guy do you think I think he is?

Voda crouched down to pick up the parts, then handed them to Azil.

None of that matters, because he’s nothing like he was when you saw him last. He’s changed a lot. And it’s weird.

Azil casually tossed the parts back onto her workbench. "What do you mean, weird?"

It’s hard to explain. Just wait—you’ll see… Voda’s eyes suddenly widened. Oh, but I haven’t mentioned the best part. Boden, my goofy older brother—he not only became a bigg today—he’s becoming a daddy.

That’s right… I almost forgot!

That’s why you have to go to the festival with me. You’re gonna want to see this for yourself.

Alright—I’ll go…

Voda grabbed Azil by her solid, metallic wrist. Great! Let’s go.

Azil pulled back. Hey, can I catch up with you? I’ve got to finish up here.

Just don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss anything.

Relax—I’ll be there.

Oh—I know, said Voda, winking at Azil as she walked out the door.

Azil grinned and turned back toward the workbench, trying to remember what she had been doing. Her mood sank as she was instantly jolted back to the reality of that morning, and her struggle with the achton-vorameter. Rarely did she need help, but this was one of those times. For the slightest moment she thought about asking her father, but quickly remembered—as the weight and numbness returned. Azil still had her mother and loved her dearly, but no one could compare with her dad. As a caring father, who spent most of his free time working on projects with Azil, he truly understood and accepted her the way she was. She learned everything she knew from him—from how to properly dossify a nurka-deen to finding the best spots in the swamp for locating potagons and other rare parts. Her father demonstrated to her an alternative approach to life, another way of being, that was rare in Zovia. Where others would recoil from the things they didn’t understand, he would investigate. From a young age, Azil found his curiosity to be refreshing and quickly discovered this quality within herself. Their shared curiosity had sparked the development of numerous inventions and had led them on some of the most exciting expeditions of her life.

Some of Azil’s best memories with her father occurred on what they would call discovery days. On those days, they would leave early in the morning and set out for one of two places—the edge of either the wetlands or the swamp forest. On the edge of the swamp forest, among the gaps between the roots of Holobial swamp groaks, they would usually find large metal items—like rods, panels or glanks. These were plentiful and useful for some of their larger projects. But Azil preferred the discoveries they’d make along the edge of the wetlands. There, among the claw-like hollows created by the aerial roots of the smaller Angrobe trees, they were more likely to find what her father liked to call the good stuff—smaller, unique metal parts that had never been seen or touched before. The intriguing forms of these one-of-a-kind discoveries would inspire new ideas in Azil and her father. In fact, some of their best inventions had come from experimenting with these parts.

Parts, Azil wondered. This was one of those words she had used every day of her life without much thought. The word part implied it had come from something that was whole, but she had always used parts to make something whole. For the first time in her life this didn’t make sense to her. What were these parts a part of? she thought, rubbing her chin. One thing was clear to her—there had always been an abundance of them. They were scattered everywhere—throughout the village and the rest of the swamp.

Lost in thought, Azil’s attention lazily drifted back to the busy spinder as it continued to spin its web. She always wondered how tiny creatures, like insects, could be so intelligent and efficient. This spinder, for instance, somehow knew the perfect location to construct its web—out of her way in the corner of the workshop. Azil watched in amazement as it generated its own delicate building material, adding to its complex geometric pattern. How is this tiny creature able to make it look so easy? she thought as her attention moved back to her project. And why am I making this so difficult? She knew the answers were not coming any time soon and realized she needed to step away for a while.

Azil took one last look at the achton-vorameter, shaking her head in disgust. She then turned back to the spinder.

Got any ideas, little one? Why don’t you see what you can do while I’m gone?

She quickly reorganized the workshop, picking up stray metal parts and returning tools to their proper places. She imagined the process as a way of erasing the forgettable and unproductive morning. As she repositioned the vorameter on the workbench, a thought popped into her head—a possible solution. A sprunket! I wonder if that will do it? Azil grabbed the achton-vorameter and held it up in front of her. She carefully rotated it in her hands as she pondered this new possibility. Yes, that could work, she thought with a smile. Suddenly, for the first moment without her father, Azil felt that magical spark of insight she’d grown familiar with during all those times she was able to easily access solutions. She could almost hear her fathers excited voice. You’re sparkin’ now, Azey! She walked toward the entrance of the workshop and turned back for another look at the room where she had brought so many inventions to life over the years.

I’m sparkin’ now, she said quietly to herself as she turned and walked out of the tiny workshop.

In many ways, the workshop was the only room that mattered to Azil. Since her mother never went in there, it was the only place where Azil felt truly free to express her individuality. Unlike the workshop, the main room of her family’s home was nothing special—just a small open space with dirt floors and bare metal walls. Her mom liked the simplicity, but Azil thought the emptiness was dreary and boring.

Azil found her mother standing alone in the main room, silently looking out the window.

Are you okay, Mom?

Her mother instantly appeared to snap out of a daze.

Of course… Never been better, she said with a smile.

You sure? It’s just that…

Azil, don’t you start worrying about me—especially on a day like today.

You mean the worst day of my life?

Don’t be silly. Her mother laughed uncomfortably. Speaking of the festival, shouldn’t you be getting ready?

I’m as ready as I can possibly be.

You sure? asked her mother, stepping closer to examine her face.

Azil took a step back. What? My face?

It wouldn’t hurt to give it a little buffing—especially around the eyes.

Her mother darted out of the room for a moment, then reappeared with a handful of soft brown pobs.

Mom… Come on. I don’t need…

Azil tried, unsuccessfully, to dodge her mother’s large metal hands. With one hand, she grabbed Azil by the back of the head and then rubbed the soft pobs firmly against her face with the other. Azil knew from past experience that it was useless to struggle and just waited patiently for the buffing to end.

All done, said her mother, stepping back to examine her effort. She tilted her head and smiled at her daughter. Now was that so bad?

Azil crossed her arms. Yes.

Oh, don’t be a glunk-a-dunk. You want to look good for the festival, don’t you?

Does it really matter? It’s not like I feel like celebrating anyway.

Awww… Nobody needs to know that. If you insist on being a downer, at least join in the celebration and look like you’re having fun.

"How? Celebrating the sudden and permanent disappearance of someone I care about is not my idea of fun. So why should I pretend that it is? My father’s gone and I’m not going to smile and act like everything is perfect, when it’s not."

I know it has been tough, but it’s all part of the cycle. It has always been like that, and it will always be like that. We’re only here for thirty-six years and that is never going to change.

It just doesn’t make any sense, said Azil, shrugging her shoulders. "He was here yesterday and now he’s… Nowhere."

You know where he is, Azil. You know what happens when our cycle ends. We hear the story every year at the newb introduction. Your father is now part of the Great Glow—along with every other Fidd that has come before.

Everyone in their society knew the Great Glow as the hazy greenish sky that’s hovered above their world since the beginning of time. The story had been passed down through the generations—for as long as anyone could remember. The Great Glow was understood to be the source of all life. It provided each Fidd with enough energy to live out their thirty-six year cycle, but no more. After that, it would require its energy back—and that individual would be gone.

None of it makes any sense, Azil said. How do shiny metal Fidds just disappear into a green haze?

It’s all part of the norphoonication process. That’s all you need to know, said her mother, shrugging.

But Azil knew enough about how her world worked—through observation and experimentation—to realize that ‘norphoonication’, as well as many other accepted truths within her society, made no logical sense. To her, what was even worse, was her society’s reluctance to ever question anything about their world. She was never quite sure why that was, but assumed it had something to do with everyone’s desire for acceptance—the one thing she had given up on a long time ago.

Mom, I need to get going. Azil turned toward the front door and opened it to leave, but stopped as her mother began to speak.

Okay. If you see your younger brother—keep an eye on him. I don’t like him hanging around those two troublemakers.

Alright, Mom, said Azil casually, while secretly hoping not to run into her younger brother or any of his annoying friends.

"And, Aze—Smile. No one likes a downer."

Azil quickly flashed her mom an exaggerated smile before continuing out the door, on her way to the big event.

TWO

The Fidds

Zovia was alive with excitement. Despite another rainy day in the swamp, nearly all seventy-six members of the Fidd community had gathered in the center of the village for the annual Festival of the Great Glow. It was the single most important event of the year—when everyone celebrated and welcomed the newest members into their society.

As Azil grudgingly walked through the village on her way to the gathering, something peculiar caught her eye—perhaps a sign of hope on what had been the most difficult day of her life. Normally, she would have been indifferent to the sight of a crowd of Fidds off in the distance, but there seemed to be something