by B. T. Narro
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Andar no longer had the Tisary to himself after that fateful day the rope broke. Part of him was relieved he had someone to yell to in case another rope broke, but he was getting tired of worrying all the time. He didn’t know how his father could live like this. My poor father must be worried even more about us now that he can’t see that we’re safe every day.
There had been a few summoners and Ascendants in training who had come and gone, and the last to leave was a young man grumpier than the rest. He had come into the Tisary, no doubt having paid good money like the rest of them, expecting to make links easily. He had brought two stones with him. Andar had watched him practicing while Andar ate his midday meal. Several times the man must’ve thought he’d made a link, for he picked up one stone and watched the other as if expecting it to move. It never did.
As grumpy as this young man was, though, Andar didn’t expect him to drop his two stones into the hole on his way out. Andar heard them bouncing and rolling as they came toward him. He moved to one wall and covered his head. Fortunately, both missed. Andar pocketed the stones and started climbing out as fast as he could, ready to brawl if the man was still there. However, it took a while to reach the surface. He had dug deep by then. The man was long gone, but at least the Tisary was empty.
Andar didn’t want to be like so many of the people who left this Tisary frustrated with their lack of progress. He was thankful Rygen had taken work at a farm, for he did want to stop this dangerous job eventually. He relished the thought of having nowhere he needed to be each day, no one to answer to. He could make more coin on his own, taking and reselling the many things that people did not need. But he would miss the free meals, baths, and his meetings with the commander, as infrequent as they were.
Andar had learned a lot about Jatn and the army. He had once hated both of them as if they were people who had wronged him. But he knew now that both were entities composed of thousands of men and women. Well, he wasn’t quite sure the army had thousands of women, but that was not important. There was no reason to hate an entity as large and complicated as that. Nothing could come from this hate. It had to be directed elsewhere, so usually he pinpointed his rage on the king.
He would not leave this place until he could be sure he’d made a link. There was a good chance that several different links had been made a week ago, when Leo came and saved his life, but Andar still had to figure out how to make a link whenever he pleased.
He focused on the rocks for the next couple of hours, studying them until he could see them clearly when he closed his eyes. But this seemed to do no good, for he still felt nothing out of the ordinary as he focused on them.
Several times he heard voices echoing in the distance, forcing him to stop and stand near the hole in case someone came into the Tisary. He was only supposed to be seen taking a break, not practicing links, and certainly not standing near the rift.
He spent the next hour focusing on the rift itself. He wondered what it was about this red and black sphere that drew Artistry in and out. He could almost see the Artistry entering and leaving as the portal seemed to inhale and exhale. He wished he could reach up and grab the Artistry. He took off his gloves and felt around the air. There seemed to be nothing, though.
He did notice something strange, however, as he waved his hand around. The rift made a groaning sound, like something was rubbing against it. Flashes of light tore across the sphere, brightening when the portal groaned. Andar had always stood a good distance from the portal, father than any of the mages practicing. But now he took a brave step forward and reached out.
The portal let out a terrible windy screech. It pulsed with flashes of light, shaking as if it might explode. Andar stepped back. The portal breathed quickly, its pulsing light diminishing. Soon it whistled normally again.
Andar suddenly felt physically sick as if infected with something. His muscles were weak and strained. He became terrified as he wondered if he’d gotten too close and now he would slowly die.
He sat near the hole to recover, and eventually the feeling passed.
He kept his distance from the portal afterward, knowing whatever had happened to him had been caused by being too near the portal.
Frustration was his worst distraction as Andar continued to attempt to make a link between the rocks at his feet. He’d had no luck when he studied the rocks themselves, and he felt that he’d nearly killed himself trying to use the rift in some way. It was the Artistry he needed to feel. That’s what made links. He had to find some way of grasping it.
He grumbled and ground his teeth together over the next hour or so. It was getting late. Eventually his meal would be brought to him, and he’d have to stop. It angered him to no end that Artistry was most prevalent in this Tisary, right where he was, and yet he couldn’t see or even feel the faintest hint of it.
How was he supposed to use it? This was like trying to use the wind. No it was worse, because at least the wind could be heard and felt!
Andar kicked one of the rocks in his rage. Then he felt something.
“Wait,” he muttered to himself. “Wait, wait, wait.” He ran over to retrieve the rock, then set it down next to the other.
He kicked it again, but he felt nothing this time.
He swore as he retrieved the rock and tried a third time. He swore louder, using nastier words. He tried a few more times, but he just swore some more.
He tried to remember everything he could about Artistry that might explain what he had felt the first time he’d kicked the rock. And more importantly, he had to know why he had felt something at all. The commander had given him a few lessons during his brief visits, but there was nothing he’d told Andar that came as a revelation. Most of it, Andar had already surmised from his discussions with Leo after reading the same books. Most were fiction, but there were rules about Artistry that stayed the same between the tales.
Artistry made links between objects or aspects of nature that were similar to each other. The more similar they were, the stronger the link could be made. These links formed more often when there was a lot of Artistry, and Artistry was more prevalent in places like this Tisary.
It seemed clear to Andar what had happened, then. The rocks had been bound together, probably by a weak link, for the other rock had not moved when Andar kicked the first one. Another reason he knew the link to be weak was because the last man practicing with these rocks was not able to move one by shifting the other with his hand.
Andar wondered if the rocks’ proximity to one another made a difference. He stacked one on top of the other and thought more about Artistry as he waited.
He wondered why Artistry made links between things that were similar. The more he thought of it, the more it seemed like Artistry had a personality. Not only did it make links, it strived to maintain them by making the link stronger over time. It reminded him of magnets. He’d come into contact with several of them in the market, even swiping a few at one point. But he feared what would happen if he tried to resell them, so he’d kept them to himself to play with over the next few weeks. Through experimentation, he noticed that some forms of metal could be magnetized by these cold blocks. It was always temporary, but he wondered what would happen if he held a magnet to a certain metal for years. Would it form another magnet?
What happened to links made by Artistry when it wasn’t disturbed for years? Could Artistry link all the dirt in this place to itself? He squatted down and took some of it in his hand. Why didn’t any other dirt move? It all looked the same to him. If rocks could be linked, why not these tiny grains?
Could it be that they were already linked to something else? He felt a chill as he looked at the rift. Something on the other side?
Maybe their whole realm was linked to the other realm in some way. The commander had said nothing about this, but how could even a man like Rolan know that. The only way to prove it would be to go to the other realm, but only creatures could pass through. Now why was that?
What was it about them that allowed them to travel between the realms unharmed?
But that wasn’t exactly true, either. They did receive harm. He recalled what Yune had said about Jin, Rygen’s creature. The Artistry in this realm acted like a poison to the creature. It had to build up a tolerance. Perhaps humans could build up the same type of tolerance if they stood close enough to a rift. Andar walked over his rocks and ventured close to the rift again, but the rift grew unstable just like before. It seemed ready to collapse as it shook and pulsated, or perhaps it would explode. Andar became nauseous and immensely terrified, more so than he should’ve been, he realized.
He backed away and sat until he recovered. Why could he not stand as close to the rift as the other mages? Could it be something to do with the link he shared with his brother?
Everything would make sense if he could just see these links! He took out his frustration on the rocks again, kicking them both this time.
Something broke—a weak link, no doubt. He was certain of it this time. The sensation was so difficult to pinpoint, though. It was like when he tore fabric, he could hear and feel it tearing at the same time. But when this link broke, he could not see, hear, nor even smell it. The closest thing he could think of was that he’d used his sense of touch. If he was to break a stick in half, for example, he would feel the pressure build and then snap. The same had happened with the rocks, but instead of feeling it with his fingers, he had felt it with something else.
It was akin to how he could focus on an image, like Leo, and he could almost see his small yet fierce brother in front of him. For just a moment, Andar had pictured the link before it broke swiftly and removed itself from his reach. It reminded him of how sometimes he wouldn’t notice a continuous sound until it stopped. In that instant, he would notice the sound fade.
He fetched the rocks and put them on top of each other again, then waited anxiously. He feared the woman who always brought him food would come by at any moment. He couldn’t tell the time in here, but it had probably been many hours since his last meal.
He sat in front of the rocks and tried to reach for something with his mind.
Eventually he tired himself focusing on nothing and grew restless, but he did not give up. He kept on focusing, straining to grab hold of anything that might make itself known to him.
Then he felt something.
He was overwhelmed with joy, so much so that it nearly broke his focus. His grasp of the link was loose, as if grazing it with his fingertips. With a pointed gaze at the rocks, he imagined a hand extending from between his eyes and trying to close around the link, but he had little control over this hand. It was as if he was in a dream trying to tell his body to run, but all it did was putter forward awkwardly.
The link itself he could imagine just the same as he could his brother. Transparent pillars connected the rocks, flimsy and billowing with delicacy. He fatigued quickly focusing so intensely and began to lose his grasp.
No, I must feel the Artistry. It should be here…but there was nothing else except the link for him to feel.
He lost focus and took a frustrated couple of breaths. But then he realized something. Links were made out of Artistry, of course! Condensed Artistry. That link was Artistry.
He had just felt Artistry, and he wouldn’t let himself rest a moment longer. He reached out toward the link of Artistry he knew to be there and gasped at how easy it was for him to find it again. It was as if he’d searched for something in the dark for so long, and now that he’d found it once, he knew exactly where to look again. Or in this case, it was more like he knew how to look.
The imaginary hand was gone. Now it was as if he could see—truly see—the link. The image was no longer like imagining his brother. It was like feeling someone coming up behind him before he heard them, another sense all together. It was a sense he would have to hone, though, or perhaps it would just take him time to adjust to using it.
He nudged one rock off the other. The link between the stones held together but rippled violently, akin to someone uttering a sound as they repeatedly and rapidly placed their hand over their mouth and then removed it.
Andar wondered if the other mages had felt this link. If so, did they leave in frustration because they could do nothing with it?
He began to fret that the same might happen to him. Feeling a link was nothing if he couldn’t use the Artistry to strengthen or weaken it. Without that skill, it would be impossible to make his own link. This could be his only chance to get used to using Artistry, for he would probably never be able to afford to have an Ascendant make links nearby for him to use as practice.
He knew how to reach it with his mind. All he had to do now was…what did he have to do now? What did he want to do? He wished he had an instructor like all of the mages who’d come here probably had.
I must strengthen the link, he told himself. Simple. It was made of Artistry, so he just had to feel for more Artistry that he knew to be everywhere in this Tisary. Then he just had to…somehow apply it to the link.
Andar grumbled with frustration. He stood and walked around the Tisary, feeling for anything he could. He wanted to just reach out and grab the Artistry, but how was he supposed to do that if he couldn’t find it?
He wondered how the link between him and his brother would come to matter, and what did it mean? He was too focused on finding Artistry to be curious now, though. Time was against him.
He decided to close his eyes and cover his ears, eliminating his practiced senses as best he could. He fell into a relaxed state eventually.
Something came to his mind. It had a personality. It was exuberant, determined. It desired harmony…similarity. He reached out for it and was surprised at how easy it was to grasp.
Andar felt as though he’d chased after a friendly animal for the last few hours, but now that he’d finally caught it, the creature realized Andar was friendly. It allowed him to touch it.
He opened his eyes and noticed that his hand was reaching out. He closed his fingers slowly, cradling the Artistry with his mind. He walked toward the rocks as he used his other hand to sweep more of the Artistry into his gathered cluster. He knew all of this happened because of his mind, not his hands, but something about the motion of his limbs made it easier to conduct.
“Steady,” he whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”
It felt as light as feather, ready to slip out of his hold and flutter away. He slowly directed it to the rocks. He’d accumulated what felt to be a fuzzy ball of Artistry that he cupped with his mind, mimicking with his hands. He brought one hand on top and carefully moved the Artistry down onto the linked rocks.
He patted the Artistry into the link, like packing wet sand onto itself. It stuck well. It was probably Andar’s imagination, but it seemed relieved to join with itself, drawing in more Artistry on its own as Andar let go with his mind.
Why not use more? he wondered. He gently packed more of the Artistry around the link, which he could feel was growing in size and strength.
Soon, he figured that there was little chance of it breaking anymore as he pulled in more Artistry from all around. He laughed like a madman, a conductor of an invisible orchestra.
Eventually the link was well past the point of testing. He knew it would hold the rocks together as he picked one up.
It didn’t surprise Andar one bit when the other rock lifted off the ground. What did surprise him, though, was that the rock he held was twice as heavy as it should be, which was interesting to note. He set the rock down and was about to celebrate when a cold realization made his mouth go flat.
He’d felt this before, and not just with his brother. He walked toward the broken rope that the he and the commander had investigated closely.
It was always warm in this cavern, the air moist, but Andar shivered as he looked at the rope one last time. It was true that it had not been cut, but it was broken by an outside force.
By me.
The link between the rocks was n
ot the first one Andar had felt. Before the rope broke as he was climbing out, he’d felt something strange when he focused his worry on the part of the rope that was tied around the base of the pillar. The feeling in his memory was not strange anymore, though. It was a link he’d felt, he was certain of it. He couldn’t tell whether the rope had been linked to itself because of the Artistry in this Tisary, or if Andar had linked it. Either way, both seemed possible to happen again.
All the force applied to the rope was not distributed as it should’ve been. When he’d pulled on the rope, it should’ve caused the fibers everywhere to stretch evenly. But because of the link to that single spot where it was knotted, that small portion of the rope suffered the full force of Andar pulling on it. Of course it broke. In fact, Andar was surprised the new rope hadn’t broken as well since then.
That must be because it was me who’d made the link, not to the Artistry on its own. He hadn’t felt the same connection to a single spot on the rope like he had the last one.
Now how was he supposed to prevent himself from accidentally doing that again?
The answer was obvious. He couldn’t, at least not until he trained more. But he would have to dig more in order to stay here. He shuddered at the thought. No, he was done. He would not go through that again, especially when the hole was that much deeper now. Leo might come and save him, but Andar might not be able to get his brother out afterward. He would not risk it.
Andar picked up the two rocks and put them in his pocket. He would continue to strengthen the link between them even after he brought them home. Having a strong link ready was the best way for his brother to learn what Andar had just taught himself today.
Would the commander look down upon him for being afraid? Andar figured he had just enough time for one last thing. He gathered his current tether until it was tight. It wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to start a link between the rope and itself now. He just had to do what he did last time, pinpointing his focus onto a single spot along the rope.
