by Kody Boye
“My office,” Jarden replied.
Keeping his silence, Odin shrugged his hands into his pockets and continued to follow the person who would soon be his mentor, not bothering to comment on the paintings that adorned zirs walls but more than fascinated by their prowess and integrity. One featured the city of Lesliana viewed from what appeared to be a bird’s-eye view, while another showed a creature that appeared to be made of stone lumbering across the hillside looking out toward the distance with a pair of eyes made visible only by the shroud of mist that suspended its limbs and body of rock together. He was so drawn to the paintings that, at one point, Jarden’s hand fell to his shoulder and encircled around his upper arm to draw his attention.
“Sorry, zir.”
“Do not be sorry. They are quite beautiful works of art. Come, though—I have much to teach you today.”
“What do you plan on teaching me?” he frowned, continuing his trek down the hallway and toward what appeared to be a slight turn in the path.
“I would like to teach you about magical amulets and jewelry.”
Great.
The strife notion of the very thing Virgin had placed around his neck upon their first meeting immediately came to mind.
Rather than express his unsurety about the situation, Odin straightened his posture, held his head high, then took a deep breath as they turned into another side hall and headed toward a single door that lay at the very end of the hallway.
“It may be dark,” Jarden said, “but that can be easily solved.”
“Zir?”
Jarden opened the door to reveal a room completely darkened by shadow. “Would you?” ze asked.
Odin pressed his hand forward and shot three orbs of light into the office.
Almost immediately, light burst into life to reveal a room far larger than he could have possibly anticipated.
“My library,” Jarden said, flushing his arm out and toward the office. “And my personal quarters.”
“It’s beautiful,” Odin said, stepping into the room.
‘Beautiful’ could not describe the confines of the room he had only slightly seen from the outside, for when he stood solidly within the structure, he had to turn completely around not once, but twice to see every hardbound scripture that adorned the shelves. Books spanned from wall to wall, then wall to wall in all shapes, sizes, lengths and colors, while in the very center, poised under a series of two candelabra, was a desk formed in the shape of a U and emblazoned in the finest red wood Odin could have ever seen, though where it had to be found he couldn’t possibly now. That in itself wasn’t what caught his attention though, as something green and glowing in a jar on the corner of said desk seemed to magnetize his eyes toward its surface.
Within this glass jar, a jell-like entity that seemed to move in response to his and Jarden’s presence pressed forward and morphed from the back of the jar to the front.
“What is this?” Odin asked.
“You will enjoy this,” Jarden said, stepping forward to press a finger against the glass.
The creature inside—whether it be living or just some false trick—extended what appeared to be a single small tentacle to touch the Elf’s finger on the opposite side of the glass.
“Maelforms are not often found in our world,” the Neven D’Carda said, turning zirs eyes up on Odin when he stepped forward and crouched down to examine the creature. “Sadly, you seldom see them around anymore.”
“What are they?”
“Gelatinous creatures that dwell within the deepest parts of the earth—most specifically, in mines and deep caverns.”
“Why is this one in a jar?”
“I keep this one as a sort of pet, if you don’t mind me saying,” Jarden said, lifting the glass within one of his abnormally-large, disjointed hands to view its form. “If you would like to know the explicit reason though, Maelforms are quite useful in regards to magical amplification.”
“Really?” Odin asked.
“Would you light those candelabra please? There are matches in the drawer.”
“Matches?”
“You have never heard of a match before?”
“No, sir. I… don’t even what one is.”
“I will show you.”
After placing the Maelform in its jar on the edge of the desk, Jarden rounded the desk, then reached down and pulled one of the drawers open. From there, he pulled a small, obviously-paper box from within, then slid what Odin could only classify as a tray out to reveal twelve finely-crafted, red-tipped pieces of wood, along with a patch of black surface that must have, in some way, something to do with lighting them.
“These are made by Dwarven scientists,” the Elf said, drawing one of the small pieces of wood from its place in the carton and holding it up before Odin’s eyes.
“That must be why I never heard of them,” Odin replied, reaching out to take the object from Jarden’s outstretched fingers. “How do you have them?”
“Pardon?”
“I thought the Elves and Dwarves didn’t get along so well?”
“We have had our differences, yes, but that does not mean we do not communicate with them.”
“I just always assumed that the Dwarves had a problem with your kind.”
“That we were too…presumptuous,” Jarden agreed, retrieving the match from Odin’s fingers and striking it on the black surface. Flame burst to life at its tip. “They are quite the object, are they not?”
“They are,” Odin said.
Extending his long, lanky arm, the Elf first lit the candelabra to the west, then the one to the east, taking extra care not to allow the flame to touch the very end of the wooden construct before lifting it to his lips and extinguishing its power.
Once sure that they would no longer be requiring the use of his magic, Odin willed the orbs to dissipate into thin air, then walked around the desk before seating himself in the chair opposite Jarden.
“I suppose we should start now while the day is young,” Jarden said. Ze, too, seated zirself and crossed one leg over zirs knee before turning zirs blank eyes on him. “Do you have the time?”
“I have all the time in the world.”
“Your partner will not worry?”
“He thinks I’ll be here for the whole day,” Odin shrugged. “At least, if you’ll have me for that long.”
“There is no reason for you to believe that I would not like your company. You are a special person, Odin, especially in part due to your mixed lineage.”
In the lapse of silence that followed, Jarden began to pull from drawers a series of items that Odin could tell reeked of the isolating power of magic if only because of the sensations that ebbed from them. Dark, sour, like fruit gone bad and vegetables bearing mold—each and every object that came into contact with his eyes threatened to impale daggers into his vision and blind him, thus leaving him incapable of learning or knowing anything that could persuade the chance of a more active use of his magic.
It’s all right, he thought. They’re just rings… amulets… necklaces.
Every piece of jewelry seemed to taunt him with its presence, creating a euphoria Odin found hard to process. It seemed like he was drowning beneath the shifting waves of the ocean, dragged into darkness by a creature invisible yet bearing sharp teeth. He could still breathe—such was his confusion—and he could still sense the presence of life around him, but something seemed wrong about this feeling, like he’d just been smothered beneath a pillow and forced to breathe through its fibers in order to draw life’s necessity of oxygen.
Jarden raised zirs head.
Odin blinked.
Ze lifted in zirs palm a ring that seemed to crack with static that Odin unarguably knew was a magical amplifier.
“What is it?” Odin asked, not sure whether to reach out and touch the object or to just leave it within the Elf’s hand.
“This is called an Amplifying Ring,” Jarden said, extending zirs opposite arm in order to take Odin’s wr
ist in hand. “What this does, before I proceed any further, is give you a source of power to draw the energy needed to cast magic from. While wearing this, you will have no need to actively seek out the Ether within the world, nor, shall you say, will you have to resort to concentrating the tension and heat in the air in order to produce a flame.”
“You mean I can just cast a flame, like that?”
“Try it.”
Odin extended his finger, then concentrated.
A plume of plume of white flame burst into life at the front of his digit and began to sear toward Jarden’s face.
“Suh-Suh-Sir,” he managed. “I-I mean zir!”
“See?” Jarden asked. “You barely had to concentrate.”
“This seems a bit dangerous.”
“It can be, if not properly used.” Jarden lifted another ring and balanced it within zirs palm. Faintly, Odin could make out a water drop-shaped insignia upon its face. “See this one here, Odin? This will allow you to call upon the essence of water without having to seek out a source.”
“You mean I can make water out of nothing?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“How is that possible?”
“The essence of the water has been captured in a solitary form and bent into a loop.”
“A loop?”
“All sources of magical energy are, as our scientists have come to understand, circular in construct. These constructs—circular, just like I said—are formed into loops either by natural or, dare I say, intelligent design in order for there to be an endless source of energy. Consider it a figure eight, if you like—an infinity symbol in which a source of energy can repeat itself eternally without fear of extinguishing itself.”
“So these rings,” Odin said, “these wards—“
“Stop the magical energy before it can continue to loop itself.”
“How, though?”
“Say you set a wall between two sources of energy, Odin. There is no way for the two polar ends to get to one another if there is something blocking them from their natural path, is there? No. Imagine a source of what the Dwarves have shown us to be electricity inside one of their bulbs of light. They are made, by my understanding, and constructed in a rectangular shape that starts from the base of said bulb and continues on throughout the inside of the bulb until it meets a contact source. There, it sparks, then continues until it goes back down to where the initial wire started, thus rerouting and continuing the process. This would happen endlessly, if given a natural source of power to derive itself from. Like that electricity, magic works in a similar matter—the figure eight, like I described, endlessly looping. However—unlike electricity, which eventually burns out, magic persists forever.”
“So these… inhibitors... produce a barrier between the ‘center’ of the magic,” Odin said.
“Correct.”
“That doesn’t explain where magic comes from.”
“We do not necessarily understand where magic comes from. We know there is a stream of energy that exists within the mortal plane—the Ether, as most mages know it as—but we don’t know what necessarily creates it, or whether or not it is a natural of supernatural thing.”
“Then how do people become mages?”
“There’s a variety of theories. Some are born too close to heightened sources of magical energy, mothers are exposed to magic and therefore their children innately develop the Gift. We believe our source of magic is derived from our contact with the creatures you have possibly come to know as the Godly Ones.”
“What are they, zir?”
“Monoliths of creation, power, barbarianism. They hold the greatest sources of power we have ever seen within their very hands and use it to bend the wills of those who are weaker than them—which is, essentially, everything they come into contact with.”
“That doesn’t explain what they look like.”
“Many ideas, many theories. The art has been long lost in the attacks that were led on us when we crossed the Crystal Sea, though to be quite frank, Odin, I would rather not know what they look like if they were so willing to enslave our people.”
Not sure what to say, but agreeing with the prospect entirely, Odin gingerly reached out and extended his finger toward one of the warding rings.
The end of his digit touched its brass.
A bright, white light burst forward and would have knocked him backward and onto the floor had he not reached down to grip his chair’s armrest. “Ouch,” he said.
“I am sorry. I should have warned you.”
“How can you touch them? How can any mage touch them?”
“I can touch them because these are blood-bound to me,” Jarden said. “I slit my palm and allowed these constructs to share my essence.”
“Is that how—“
No. Don’t.
“Pardon?” Jarden asked.
“I was going to ask a stupid question,” Odin admitted, “but I’ve decided against it.”
“Are you sure you would not like to ask?”
“Yes sir. I’m sure.”
“Very well then.” Jarden stood. “For your assignment, I would like you to take one of these rings and experiment with them—preferably the water one.”
“Why that one, zir?”
“Because there are many things you can do with just one drop of water, Odin. Let your imagination run wild. I’m sure you can come up with something.”
After reaching forward and accepting the ring, Odin encircled it within his palm, then looked down at the insignia emblazoned upon its surface.
They said all life had come from water.
Could he possibly make life of his own?
“You’re back,” Virgin said, cracking the door open just enough to reveal his face.
“Yeah,” Odin frowned. “Why?”
“I didn’t expect you until tonight.”
“Jarden dismissed me early.”
“What’s that you have there on your finger?”
“A ring,” he said, lifting his hand to show his companion the fruit of his results.
Virgin opened the door, let him inside, then took Odin’s hand and lifted it high enough to where he could easily look upon its surface with his leaf-green eyes. Lips pursed, brow furrowed in what appeared to be awe more than confusion, he reached up to steady his other hand alongside Odin’s, then tilted his head up to offer a smile that could have easily turn lead into gold. “It’s quite the treat,” he agreed.
“I’m not sure if I get to keep it,” Odin shrugged. “I was just told to practice with it.”
“It’s a water ring. Am I right?”
“You’re right.”
“What are you supposed to practice with it?”
“Jarden said I could use my imagination.”
“That should be fun.”
“I guess,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him and examining Virgin’s form—from his uncombed hair, to his open jerkin and his lack of a belt. “Why aren’t you presentable yet?”
“I had a late morning.”
“I see,” Odin smiled. “Have you even eaten anything?”
“Not yet. Why? Have you?”
“No.”
“Would you be interested in going down and getting something to eat with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I just thought I’d ask.”
“Don’t start thinking that I’m not willing to do things with you.”
“I’m more than aware you will regardless,” Virgin smiled, crouching down to pick up his belt.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Odin laughed.
“Tongue in cheek.”
The Halfling bulged the side of his mouth out in response.
A short laugh later, Virgin secured the belt at his waist, slid his dagger into its sheath, then crossed the room and began to lead them toward the stairwell.
“Do you have any ideas on what it is you’re planning to do for your ‘assignment?�
�” Virgin asked, raising his eyes from Odin’s face only momentarily when a waiter came forward bearing their midafternoon meal. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Odin said, giving the Elf a nod of his own as he turned and made his way back to the bar. “I’ve got a few ideas, but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to execute them.”
“Do tell.”
“I was going to try and dye the water a different kind of color, but since I have no idea how to do that, that’s likely out of the question. I also thought about freezing an orb of moisture as much as I could until it either cracked or couldn’t be chilled any further.”
“That would be interesting.”
“The only problem is that those ideas are too… well, simple, if you want to know the truth.”
“Who said experimentation couldn’t be simple?”
“I was never one for doing things the easy way,” Odin said, sliding a piece of sliced tomato into his mouth before leaning back and spreading his arms out along the booth.
“You have any other ideas?”
“Well… one, but I’m not sure whether or not I should do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it involves binding water into a living form.”
“Ah,” Virgin said. “An elemental.”
“Have you heard of them before?” Odin frowned.
“You’re not likely to find an Elf who has never heard of such a creature.”
“The only problem I’m having with the idea is the fact that the ring might not have enough power to make anything worthwhile.”
“You could always make it small.”
“Yeah, but then I risk not being able to dispel it once it’s summoned.”
“Whatever you do,” Virgin said, reaching across the table to set a hand over Odin’s, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Thanks, Virgin. You’re my biggest fan.”
“I try to be.”
A smile cursing his lips in the most beautiful ways, the older Halfling returned his hand to his side and continued to eat with his head bowed and the corners of his mouth tugged into a grin. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, that Virgin was truly happy about the banter, if only because it allowed them nothing dour and depressing to talk about.
