The Cartographers Novels & Stories

Bloodlust was drawing out the forested areas on our lands, and I’d hopped up onto the kitchen counter, wanting to watch what he was doing. Despite the pressured situation, it felt nice to be in the pack kitchen, surrounded by familiar wolves. The sun was just beginning to descend, but was still at a high enough angle that it cut through the tall windows. If I leant back and looked sideways out of the windows, I could see the miles of pine trees that Bloodlust was expertly drawing. Idly, I wondered when he’d developed his skills as a cartographer; as I looked closer, though, I realised that his map consisted of squiggles and arrows, and big, clumsily labelled circles. It did the job, though,

Aurelius's heartbeat was rippling high through every second. It was his responsibility to keep the map safe but he failed and now his loyalty was being questioned . His shaking finger tips curved to pick up the parched yellowish paper with black lines but nothing seem suspicious to him. His mouth was dry but nonetheless he gulped down hoping that few drops of saliva could water his throat. His unsung question was heard by Augustus and he said, " While cartographer was making this false map, few drops of the ink fell on side corner leaving behind a stain but map which we have over here has no such stain which means that someone has replaced it. "

My eyes were glued to the sight before me, my heart thudding within me as my gaze skimmed the detailed drawings. There were maps of all kinds. Detailed maps of Night Wolf territory, separate Detailed-maps of the other three territories. Old maps that detailed Valcane in the time of Alexander the Prime, the paper old and crusty, almost crumbling in my grip. I handled these with the utmost care. The last thing I wanted to do was anger a master by ripping them. The thought of losing my head for something so stupid made me even more careful with the ancient maps. I had to leave everything as if it was untouched.

It was a jagged spire of ancient, unformatted data, built by the very first iterations of the Source before the Architects even existed. As the team docked, they were met by the Cartographers. These weren't players or warriors; they were beings of pure observation, their bodies thin as parchment and covered in glowing, shifting ley-lines. "You seek to expand the map," the Lead Cartographer said, his eyes like two white pixels. "But the Nothing is not empty. It is Potential. To render it is to kill the infinite possibilities of what it could be. Are you prepared to take the responsibility of 'Finalizing' the universe?"

Oh, what an adventure learning cartography for a fantasy world was. At first, I just knew I wanted the land in my world to be formed in the basic shape of a semicolon to honor those semicolon tattoos that mean the bearer is a survivor of self-harm/anxiety/depression or things of that sort. This was kind of my symbolism for pushing through, not giving up, and valuing perseverance.

There were two other people in the whole space, both at the far end. Jonathan walked in without hesitation as I followed. Then he stopped in front of a display case near the back. Inside were maps...Old maps that were framed with hand-drawn details and names in script. They weren't geographic maps, but invented ones with cities that didn’t exist and imagined rivers. With mountains named after feelings. "This is a collection of cartographic fantasy art," Jonathan explained. "A private collector loaned it to the gallery for the month and I came here two weeks ago. I stood in front of this and thought about your twelve notebooks."

he told me, but it wasn't very convincing. "Oh, yeah? Then, what's your problem?" I snapped. "I think we need to take a shortcut to make up for lost time, and I can't remember where the turn is," he answered unpersuasively. "Shortcuts are rarely shorter," I advised, though I was talking out of my ass. I just didn't like the idea of leaving the wide-open road where we could at least see a good way in front of and behind us. "I didn't realize you were a cartographer," he said.

By the eleventh day, two of those people were quietly no longer in their positions. The cartographer was unexpectedly cooperative. She had been working under coercion, trapped by a debt arrangement that had long outlasted any reasonable expectation of its end. The arrangement had been maintained by people who understood that documented debt could be renewed indefinitely. When Luca and Calder’s network arrived at her door with the information that the debt holder was now facing inquiry charges, and that the arrangement was legally and practically dissolved, she sat down and produced every map she had made.

She finally decided on the large map hanging over her cluttered dining table, and she felt a small but welcome bit of peace as her eyes roamed over the map's hand-drawn lines. She had a thing for maps the way Mrs. Greaves next door had a thing for cats. Old maps or new, topographic landscapes or Mercator projections - she collected any and all of them, and hung them on her walls for inspiration. This particular one held a special place in her heart - she and her mom had found it together in an antique shop. The thick paper was yellow with age and fraying at the corners, and some of the original ink had faded, but it was gorgeous. The cartographer, whoever he - or she - was, had filled the la

~ Harper’s POV ~ I frowned at the map laid out in front of me. The map depicted the large area of this pack, with the boundary highlighted and various important landmarks marked with an appropriate color. This map was the most updated version of our pack grounds and was made by a skilled cartographer who had been richly awarded for his efforts. Dad had called a meeting with the high-ranked wolves and some of his most trustworthy fighters. The room was filled with fifteen people, my parents, the old and new beta couple and the rest were fierce and loyal warriors.