by Justin Sloan
“Basically, what he’s saying,” Larick cut in, “is that the concepts you all have come to understand as spirits, or familiars, and magic… it’s all something created here, a way of understanding magic because of your cultural heritage, your past beliefs and mythology.”
Rhona chuckled. “My brother wouldn’t like to hear that.”
“Many of our fire mages wouldn’t accept it either,” Estair said. “I’m still not sure I even do, but I’m willing to listen.”
“It’s a simple matter of discovering the magic, and finding ways to harness it.” Larick frowned at Rhona, and for a moment his eyes covered over in a film of milky white, but then he paused. “Do you mind?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, so she shrugged and said, “No…?”
Again, his eyes went white, and this time, she felt a tingling in her head. He let out a yelp and stumbled back, and when his eyes returned to normal, he looked at her with confusion and awe.
“What is it, brother?” Volney asked.
“She… she is capable of something entirely different. Unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”
Rhona frowned. “I didn’t come here to be analyzed.”
“Please,” Estair said as she placed a hand on Rhona’s shoulder. “I was hoping you could tell us what sort of magic she has, maybe help her understand it, learn how to harness it.”
Larick looked dubious, but cocked his head to one side, thinking. “As far as I can tell, this appears to be physical magic, but of a different sort. It’s possible that the Founder would be able to do similar magic, though I’ve never sensed this in him. It’s…. dark.”
“The Founder?” Rhona asked.
“It’s a long story,” Volney said.
Unlike Larick’s cautious gaze, Volney stepped forward, excitement shining. “I don’t suppose you could show us?”
“Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice.
“Excuse me?”
She glared, unsure what to say next. After everything she had been through in the last twenty-four hours, the last thing she wanted was to be tested and probed. Whatever magic had taken hold of her or she had used, she didn’t understand it in the least and had never wanted it to begin with. So, the idea of these guys standing there and assessing her, asking her effectively to put on a show, really pissed her off.
“We already tried that at any rate,” Estair said, sensing Rhona’s annoyance. “Perhaps it’s best if you simply tell her what you know that you think could be applicable here, and then we can see if there’s a way to draw out the powers to get a good look.”
Volney nodded and began to explain that, in the Arcadian Valley, where they came from, there were three types of magic. Physical magic was the type that often allowed fire balls and even teleportation; mental magic allowed mind reading and manipulation; and nature magic, which allowed for healing and control over plants, animals, and weather. There was much more to it than that, he explained, but these were the basics.
“We had all assumed this was the case everywhere, until those of us from the temple began traveling,” he went on, “and came across the folks such as Lady Estair here. To see that magic manifested itself differently in other parts of the world truly amazes me.”
“Take, for example,” Larick cut in, “the magic that we hear your paladins can perform. This, in many ways, makes no sense to us. They can cast force fields, but also heal, as the Lady has demonstrated. This means the magic must be some mixture of physical and nature magic, as if the colors were mixed in the way the body accepts the magic.”
“Or, as I’ve theorized,” Volney interrupted, “that there’s no base colors to begin with, but one large pot from which all magic is drawn.”
“Either way,” Larick said, casting a glare at his fellow mystic, “does any of this make sense?”
“Not in the slightest,” came another voice, and they turned to see Alastar. He stood before Rhona, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Since what we do is not magic.”
“Ah, the unbeliever,” Larick said, eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’s truly a pleasure.”
“Unbeliever?” Alastar scoffed. “My faith is solid, sir.”
“A different sort of faith,” Larick said. “Where we come from, there’s talk of a matriarch and patriarch, of old gods from the days of before.” He waved as if dismissing all that for another time. “We’ve seen Estair’s demonstration of her skills and would love for you to share with us what you think separates you from her.”
His brow furrowed, and he looked from Rhona to Estair. “I think we’ve stayed long enough. Come, sister, let’s thank these fine people for their hospitality and be on our way.”
He had reached the exit before turning to see that she wasn’t following.
“I’m… curious,” she admitted. “Whatever this is, it’s a part of me now. If I don’t learn to control it, who knows what will happen next time.”
She knew he wouldn’t understand, so simply turned back to the mystics and said, “Let’s try this.”
“Rhona, these people, they’re…” Alastar was at her side in a flash, pulling her arm. “They’re…”
“What? Magic users? Evil?” She pulled her arm free and went over to stand by them. “If that’s what you think, then say it. But know that you’re saying the same about me!”
He glanced around, unsure of his next move, and Rhona noticed his eyes lingering on Estair longer than the others. Interesting! When he folded his arm and raised an eyebrow, she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
Larick must have sensed it, too, for he turned to Rhona and said, “Well then, let’s try and coax that magic out of you, shall we? It would be easier if we had a little of the brew left that our order makes, but my brother here drank it all on our journey west.”
“If I had known we were going to walk so damn far,” Volney argued, “I would have brought more.”
The first few minutes was spent with her simply trying to recreate what happened in the castle when they had been attacked. Soon others had joined them, including Donnon, they had come to watch. But nothing was happening.
“She ain’t no mage,” an older woman called from the crowd.
Larick rubbed his temple and then perked up and turned to Rhona. “Perhaps you need to feel that you’re in danger.”
His eyes went white and instantly he was gone, a large bear in his place.
“What madness is this?” Alastar demanded, rushing to her side and drawing his sword. The two were no longer in the sinkhole, but atop a cliff with waves crashing far below.
She shrieked as the bear approached, but Alastar swung with his sword, shouting, “Back, stay back!”
“This… this can’t be real,” Rhona said. But the taste of the salty wind and the way it whipped her gown across her body certainly felt real. The cold chilled her bones, and when she tripped and her head was over the edge of the cliff, she had no doubt that if she fell, it would all be over.
“I told you they were evil!” he shouted.
The bear reared up on its hind legs and charged, roaring the whole way.
Alastar prayed and, as his eyes turned gold, a barrier of light formed between them and the bear.
But the bear charged right through it!
If that bear hit him, they’d both be going over the cliff. Rhona couldn’t let that happen.
She stood, grabbed onto Alastar, and with a blink of her eyes, the two had formed into shadows that zipped out of the way of the bear and appeared on the other side of it. They reformed back into themselves and were left gasping, sucking in great gasps of air. Rhona’s lungs felt like they had been twisted up, completely emptied and just now refilling with air, and her muscles and entire body ached, but the move had been successful. The bear’s momentum pushed it on and, even as it turned to process what had happened, it fell over the edge with a mighty roar.
Their surroundings vanished, replaced instead wit
h the sinkhole they had been in moments before.
Larick stumbled as if punched, and then recovered to join the others in staring at Rhona in shock.
“By the light, what the hell just happened?” Alastar demanded. He spun, turning his sword on the mystics. “You tried to kill us!”
Volney held up his hands to show he meant no harm. “It was simply an illusion, meant to pull out the emotions that would cause your sister’s magic to be demonstrated. Neither of you were in any harm, I assure you.”
“The better question,” Larick said, eyes fixed on Rhona, “was how did you do that? It wasn’t a true teleportation. It was like…”
“She became one with the shadows,” Estair finished the thought for him.
“I don’t know,” Rhona muttered, then stumbled and Alastar had to catch her. “It was like, my instincts took over. One minute I wanted nothing more than for the two of us to be out of that bear’s path, the next, we were.”
Alastar’s eyes were still wide with the shock of it, but he nodded and added, “It was glorious.”
That hadn’t been the word she’d expected from him. Horrible, maybe, or evil. Anything negative, really. He put his hand on her forehead and closed his eyes, and a moment later she felt the familiar warmth of a paladin’s healing touch her.
“Come,” Alastar said, leading his sister away. “I think that’s enough demonstration for now.”
The others made room, and Rhona was glad to see them gone. While her body was healed, and she could walk on her own, her mental energy had been quite drained by the whole ordeal. All she wanted to do was lie back down and sleep again.
***
Donnon couldn’t sleep, so he found himself exploring the caverns, a small flame hovering over his outstretched hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a place like this, but he had never been in these exact ones. Everything in him said they needed to leave immediately, that each moment he sat here was time wasted.
But he knew they had to shake the sorcerers, and needed to be healed. If they weren’t able to achieve those two goals, all of this would be for nothing.
While the others healed, he’d be tormented with his need to rush, to return home. And in the meantime, try to distract himself with the oddities he might find down here, such as the sign he found buried in the dirt that read, “ic school library.” They were familiar with the concept of schools, but in his clan, it was all done via tutors, gathering children together in groups of three or four and working to learn. Those who knew farming would work to improve their farming knowledge, those who had an ability to do magic would focus on magic.
Why any school would need a library was beyond him. And an “ic” library seemed more confusing, though, he supposed that was either an acronym or the other letters had worn off.
He continued down a dark tunnel, the flame flickering brighter when he needed more light.
When he came to a dead end where the roof came steadily down, he crouched and looked to see if there were any hidden treasures, and sighed when he found none. Not that he had expected to find any.
Then he froze, at the reflection of the flame to his left. When he leaned in, he saw it was a piece of glass at an angle, an old window or something. He moved the flame aside and let it die down slightly, realizing he could see through the window… and then he saw her and couldn’t help but stare.
Rhona.
She looked so beautiful in her sleep. During the day, she was exciting and not bad to look at, but he didn’t realize until this moment that she was truly a sight for the eyes.
Of course, sometimes people become more beautiful as you get to know them. A completely plain woman might become stunning after a day spent laughing together. But he was mostly sure that wasn’t the case here, or not entirely. Her red, almost strawberry hair spread out around her head in a way that made her look like she was floating, her soft, pale skin offset by the rosiness of her cheeks and lips that pouted slightly.
He stared, wondering what she was dreaming of, until a clearing of someone’s throat came from behind him.
With a jump that caused him to hit his head on the dirt above, he spun and saw Larick, the mystic, standing there.
“This is part of your mating ritual in the Lost Isles?” Larick said with a chuckle.
“No, I wasn’t—”
“Oh come now, young clansman.” Larick smiled, and his eyes flashed white. “You’re talking to a mystic, a reader of minds.”
“Oh… shite.”
Larick chuckled. “Though, I must admit, when I saw you there, I expected fairly dirty thoughts. What’s wrong with you?”
Now, it was Donnon’s turn to laugh, though, he caught himself and stepped away from the window, so as not to be too loud and wake Rhona below. “You mean, why am I not having more perverted thoughts when staring through a window at a sleeping woman?”
The man nodded.
“Let’s just say I have the utmost respect for women. I’ve had too many great ones in my life to think otherwise.”
Larick smiled and gave him a nod. “I respect that, clansman.”
“You can call me Donnon.”
“Of course, I can. I’d rather call you pervert-who-watches-sleeping-women, but you took the fun away from that one by being such a nice guy.”
Donnon waved him off with a smile. “Aye, but you haven’t explained what you’re doing here, eh? For all I know, you already found this spot and were about to earn your nickname for yourself.”
“I assure you, I wasn’t. But, since you can’t read minds…” Larick shrugged. “Perhaps we can walk back, and you can tell me a bit more of your ways in the clans? I know Volney would be pleased to take notes, for the records we hope to keep of our journeys.”
“Spill my secrets to complete strangers?” Donnon pursed his lips, considering this. “Why the hell not?”
So, they started walking, and soon met Volney, and as they did, Donnon told them about the elemental spirits they see as kids. How, when a member of a clan first sees a spirit, they report in to the clan elders. They are then given a coming of age ceremony of sorts, no longer considered a child once they are able to wield magic, regardless of the age. But they wouldn’t be given the title of water, fire, or wind mage, based on the respective clans, until they had moved beyond the stage where a spirit guided them in their use of magic.
For a moment, they looked at him like they knew something he didn’t, but neither said a thing. When they reached the kitchen, he found a drink and a taste of apple tart, and went on to explain the differences between the clans, and how they had formed over the years, happy to have the distraction. His clan, for example, had gone to the mountains and found their affinity for fire magic early on. Some, such as the water clan his best childhood friend had belonged to, didn’t even realize they knew magic for a few years after the end of the Age of Madness.
Then the paladins came, led by their High Paladin, Sir Gildon, preaching about magic being evil. But the clans all knew that what he did was no different than their magic. Sure, it performed differently, but his eyes changed color and miraculous events occurred. As far as they were concerned, there was no question about it being magic, and therefore none of the clans ever even considered that they might be evil.
“Rightly so,” Larick said, and then continued with the questioning as the hours went on, while Volney scribbled away at his parchment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After leaving Rhona to nap, Alastar went to grab a snack and inquire about bathing. The mystic, Volney, sat in a chair scribbling on parchment. The man gave Alastar a brief nod, then continued writing.
“This Arcadian Valley,” Alastar started, “what makes it so special that you’d come here to teach us?”
Volney paused, wrote one last word, and then looked up at him. “Perhaps I’ve given the wrong idea. We’re here to learn as much as to teach. Consider it a joint information exchange.”
Alastar bit into an apple and considered that for a mo
ment, then swallowed and said, “What do you hope to learn from us?”
“First, let me ask you about magic. Your Order of Rodrick believes it to be evil, aye?”
“Naturally.”
“Yes, naturally… But have you ever studied it? Bothered to ask where it came from?”
Alastar shook his head.
“What if I were to tell you that magic is really only fifty to a hundred years old?” Volney adjusted in his seat so that he could better face Alastar. “Give or take.”
“We all know that it evolved at the end of the Age of Madness,” Alastar said, annoyed. “This is nothing new. It only makes sense that it would be evil. First, dark forces turned much of the world into creatures no better than animals. Vile beasts. We defeated many of them, then fled, to the hills for the clans, the fortresses for my people. And then that madness transformed into magic.”
“And how do you suppose that came into being?”
“Our beliefs tell us there must have been some form of intelligence behind it. Strike men mad, and when that doesn’t work, give the evil among us great powers so that good might be defeated once and for all.”
“Except, you no longer fully believe that, do you?” Volney leaned forward, eyes moving across Alastar’s face, and then he smiled. “No, you do not.”
Alastar frowned, wondering if the man was reading his mind. But no, that wasn’t possible.
“Where I come from, we have a different tale of the coming of magic,” Volney explained. “The simple, not entirely accurate version is that the Founder used magic to bring the Age of Madness to an end. Do some people use magic now for evil? I can attest to the fact that they do, most certainly. But only because magic has come to this world indiscriminately. It is not for the evil, not for the good. In fact, my understanding of it is that magic came about because of something called the Etheric, and nanocytes in our blood that affect us and our connection to the Etheric in odd ways.”
