Magic's Genesis- Sword of Wilmamen

by Rosaire Bushey

  “Whether we offer such protection or not, your very presence is in some ways as effective as a large guard. I expect that if you and Perryn were to hire yourselves out, you could make an excellent living by simply walking back and forth along this trade road with your heads covered and your necks exposed.”

  It was later that afternoon, as Grettune started thinking longingly for a place to rest for the evening, that she saw how correct Krieger was. A northward bound caravan passed by with two men leading the way – around their necks, bright collars of cheap blue glass. When they realized they approached actual wielders, they shied away, and turned their heads, moving their mounts to the back of the train. An overweight man made heavier by a large stack of thick gold necklaces, bracelets and earrings, looked from his camel and realized almost at once, the collars of his guard were imitations, and soon the two would-be wielders were racing south again, being chased by three sword-wielding men shouting abuse at the frauds. All along the southern-bound caravan, laughter followed the chase. Perryn and Grettune looked at Krieger who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

  The campsite they chose was one often used by the caravans, close to the main track near a small oasis with several tall trees and a source of fresh water. To keep the water clean, traders didn’t camp near the site, nor use it for waste of any kind. Krieger unloaded two large tents he had purchased in Swinton. He and Perryn unrolled the heavy material and prepared to set down guide lines and stakes. Grettune watched for a moment and, being impatient to lie down, had the tent set up in the blink of an eye.

  “You know, I hadn’t even thought of that, dear.” Perryn shook his head as if the idea to use magic to set up a tent were entirely fantastic to him.

  Krieger looked at her and his shoulders moved up as he suppressed a silent laugh. “Well, we should take care of the camels by hand, so they don’t get spooked and run.” He set off to the oasis with a large container for water, while Grettune pleaded with her camel to be let down.

  After convincing the beast to let her down, Grettune set up a small sleeping area at the back of her tent and lay down listening to Perryn root through their baggage to arrange their belongings.

  When Grettune woke again it was the middle of the night and she gratefully pulled up the blanket Perryn had placed over her. The desert was cold at night and the tent was pitch dark. She reached out a hand to find her husband but found only his blanket, tossed aside.

  “Krieger,” she whispered into the darkness. “Has Perryn gone outside?” When she got no answer, she lifted herself to her hands and knees and crawled across the tent to where she knew Krieger would have been and found another empty blanket.

  Opening the flap to the tent she was met with a clear sky full of stars. From horizon to horizon, the sky looked like an upturned bowl, with the dim light of hundreds of stars providing the flat desert surface with features and shadow.

  “He was on watch and has not been back.” Krieger didn’t look at her but stood staring toward the oasis. “He woke me to take my watch and went outside to attend his needs, but he’s not yet come back, and I’ve heard nothing.” He pointed to where footprints led off toward a patch of darkness where Grettune knew a small thicket of scrub grew.

  “How long?”

  “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”

  “Has no one else heard anything.”

  Krieger uncrossed his arms from his chest and looked at Grettune’s eyes, “There is no one else here.”

  There had been at least ten tents nearby when she had raised their shelter, and to find all of them gone was jarring. The animals were gone as well, and the space left as if nothing had ever been there. Only Perryn’s tracks indicated something was amiss.

  “Did they take our...”

  “Everything except what is in our tent. If we are going to find Perryn, we will have to do it on foot.”

  Grettune’s collar blazed in the darkness, stunning Krieger. In seconds their bags were packed, and they were walking, following the one clue they had to Perryn’s whereabouts. The sharp pain in Grettune’s knee should have slowed her down, but it didn’t, the stabbing that jolted underneath her kneecap with every step hurried her on her way. They had taken her husband; they had taken her child’s father; and she would make sure that whoever was responsible would live to see how poor a choice they had made.

  Codex of the Prime Wielder

  Magical Transportation

  Among the events brought about by the arrival of the Stones of Power, one of the strangest was certainly the magical transportation of Lydria and several of her fellows from the throne room of Bayside, in the presence of the King Ahlric and guards. Directly after the woman Haustis (nee Haidrea) had been struck in the chest by a spear from a king’s guardsman, Lydria magically moved herself and several others across many scores of leagues to an Eifen camp south of Steven’s Folly, on the opposite shore of the Great Lake.

  Such expenditure of magic resulted in Lydria’s incapacitation for months – a time during which she was unconscious yet still providing healing magic to Haustis. This constant use of magic allowed Lydria, when healed herself, to use magic far more easily than any wielder since.

  Still, the issue of magical transportation has been constantly with the Prime Wielder. She has attempted on several occasions to move herself from a place to a place no more than a hundred feet distance. While she has succeeded, each success has resulted in a terrible price requiring weeks of recovery. Most recently, she has managed to move herself a dozen paces without serious incident. She dedicates considerable time and energy to the mastery of this skill. She believes, however, that even with years of practice, she will never again replicate the movement of so many people across such a distance.

  As her training progresses, however, she has learned one thing that may be of use to future wielders. Magical transportation to an unfamiliar location seems to be impossible. A wielder must be able to visualize the location they are attempting to reach.

  Grettune

  11 - Nethyaxl

  Despite their desire to leave quickly, Graenel would not let his guests go without a feast and without showing off his son for the people of Safarngal. In deference to his guests, the king held the feast outside, by the river’s edge at night. The great walls of the town towering over them on either side of the valley, their dark windows crowded with those who hoped the height would provide them a better view.

  Lydria captivated the children by moving several of them through the air to their seats, and a cry went up for the prince to try his hand as well, and despite Lydria’s warnings about what might happen should Hokra attempt his first magic in front of his people, Graenel believed it would be well that the people understood that magic, like mining, or crafting, or fighting, was a skill to be learned and not a gift to be given.

  “Are you sure, Hokra?” Lydria sat beside the young Chag as servants filled wine cups along a wooden table set up along the riverbank. “Start small, perhaps a small fire?”

  “A fire would be ill-advised, Wielder,” the prince replied. “I have a thought.” Hokra smiled at her and lifted his upper eyelids and lowered his bottom lids revealing his enormous brown eyes. They seemed to sparkle which was unlooked for in the Chag Ca’Grae whose eyes always seemed dull and dark.

  “Be careful.” It was all Lydria could say before the prince stood by her side, and still was only just able to look over her head from where she sat.

  With the prince standing, activity around the feasting tables stopped and even the children were quiet in apprehension and anticipation. The only indication something might happen was the collar around Hokra’s neck which began to glow a dull blue, causing some of the older Chags to close their bottom lids and squint with their tops. The younger among them kept their eyes wide as if they might miss something otherwise.

  The dim blue light rose, but did not get bright by human standards, and then it started to slowly pulse, creating a beat the Chags picked up on and joined, their
rough hands slapping the ground, or their legs in time with the collar. Hokra’s eyes were shut tight and his hands would clench and unclench by his side as the noise from his people maintained a steady beat. Holding out his arms, Hokra, Prince of the Chag Ca’Grae, rose from the ground until his feet were level with Lydria’s eyes. The rhythmic clapping stopped suddenly and for a second there was silence before the air was rent with the cheering of hundreds of voices. Chag Ca’Grae from the river and to the highest points of Safarngal watched and cheered as their future king flew above the table. As the cheering reached its height, Hokra regained the ground; not in an ungraceful fall into a ruinous heap, but slowly and smoothly. When his feet touched the ground again, he stumbled and reached out to Lydria and his father who supported him from either side. When he opened his eyes, the people of Safarngal began their cheer again and didn’t stop until Hokra had emptied a goblet of wine and waved to all parts of the city.

  When the cheering stopped, and food was placed before him, Hokra attacked it with a hunger he said he had not felt in his lifetime. Leaning toward Lydria he whispered casually between chewing, “How long will it be before I can move my legs again?”

  Lydria laughed and clapped the new wielder on the back. “Hokra, losing your legs for a time is the least of what will happen to you as you learn your true power. I am surprised, however, that you can move at all. Even now, if I attempted to fly as you just did, I might end up in far worse shape than you.”

  “We are a very sturdy people,” was all Hokra said as he turned his attention back to his food, and his father.

  By morning the sounds and smells of the night before were a memory as dim as the mist that hovered over the river, partially filling the valley. Graenel stayed up all night with his son and together they came to the water’s edge where weapons were returned to Lydria and the others along with full packs.

  “We worked with Pars to find food best suited to you,” said Graenel. “Send word if you need us, Wielder, and we shall send what aid we can.” Pulling Lydria toward him in his thick hands, he smiled widely before turning to Relin and Haustis. “Your people were seen by our scouts heading south down the river when they were taken. If the Qorghal have them, it is possible they are in Nethyngal. If you move quickly, you may reach that once honored town in five days. But do not move too quickly. The woods hold more than deer and Chag Ca’Grae and Qorghal. Find your kin and return to us and we will feast together and maybe I can atone for sending your people away from us and into the hands of the Qorghal.”

  It was apparent to Lydria and the others that most of the Chag Ca’Grae had quickly grown fond of Relin and Haustis. She knew from her friends’ reaction, they felt the same toward their hosts, but there was no time to linger and so they set off from the valley and walked along the river until the hills on either side dwindled to nothing more than mere riverbanks.

  Lydria spoke to Hokra about magic and introduced him to Kimi, who sat by the trail some several miles south of Safarngal waiting, a freshly-killed doe by his side. “I brought you lunch. I’ve already eaten.” Kimi’s greeting met Lydria about a mile before they arrived by his side and the large cat was happy to welcome Hokra, finally able to put a name to the smell he couldn’t identify earlier.

  “Do my ears deceive me that I can understand this cat, and why is he so large?” Hokra looked quickly to Lydria who smiled and nodded.

  “If he wishes you to, you can understand him. Kimi also wears a collar as to yours and mine, which we think accounts for his size. Although, it could just be that he is always eating.”

  Pars scratched the cat’s ears and began preparing the deer while Relin and Haustis scouted around the camp, looking for signs of passage or something that would indicate they were on the right trail. By the time they returned to the camp, the meat was packed, having been cooked by magic, and Lydria was putting a sling around Hokra’s neck. Haustis looked to her friend who said out loud that he had only dislocated his shoulder.

  “Hokra is very robust as it pertains to magic. He is not suffering the kind of pain that I suffered, or that Grettune suffered as we learned. His injuries are more superficial, and he seems to easily regain his strength.”

  “I told you, Wielder, we are a sturdy people. We dig with our hands and endure much hardship living in the darkness. Our strength is a part of us, from here,” and Hokra touched his heart, “not here,” he said pointing his hands at his arms and legs.

  Throughout the rest of the afternoon, they moved quickly and quietly, Hokra not using his magic at Lydria’s insistence lest something happen to him that would slow the group. As the sun faded to the west, Kimi was ahead scouting a place to camp when he contacted Lydria.

  “Come carefully. There has been a disturbance here. It is not recent, but hidden under the treetops, there are smells that remain, and I think Eifen among them.”

  If after all this time Kimi could tell something was out of place and still smell Wae Ilsit’s people, then they must be near the place where the Eifen were overtaken, Lydria thought. How else could the smell linger so long?

  Lydria told each of her companions to stop by sending the word silently into their ears. It was a useful piece of magic but one she didn’t like to do unless necessary as it could sometimes frighten people into making more noise. Everyone came to halt at once. She pulled the short bow she carried off her back and watched as the others did likewise. Haustis, left her bow, instead choosing to level her spear is if preparing to defend a charge. Relin slowly drew his curved blade, and Hokra a large hammer, flat on one end and spiked on the other. “It’s excellent to help dig in places where our fingers are too big,” he said directly into Lydria’s head. The Chag Ca’Grae’s grasp of magic was astonishing and Lydria couldn’t help but smile when she thought of what Grettune would make of him.

  They slowed considerably as they made their way to Kimi. Despite the bobcats’ assurance there was no one nearby, they crept forward with their weapons drawn and when they saw Kimi, he was sitting on his back legs, looking at an area of vegetation that had been trampled carelessly.

  “Haustis, go south, I will go west, Pars take 50 paces to the east with Kimi.” Relin gave the order quietly and everyone, including Kimi set off immediately to follow his command. Hokra looked at the ground and pointed out the clumsy, heavy shoes of the Qorghal.

  “The Qorghal do not often travel cleanly,” the Chags said. “This is where they caught Relin’s people, but not all I think.”

  Hokra pointed to the ground while dancing in circles amidst the carnage of undergrowth, showing Lydria tracks she couldn’t see. “Wait.” The Chag closed his eyes and in a moment, the tracks he was following glowed blue around them.

  Lydria sucked in her breath and held Hokra’s arm and walked him to the southeast, his eyes still closed. As they moved, the glowing prints moved with them, visible for about fifteen feet in every direction. “Hokra, that is enough,” Lydria said and gripped his shoulder. The Chag slouched down to one knee and reached into a small satchel by his side and ate some of the food he carried.

  “Are you well?”

  “Well enough. The tracks are there, and I could point them out to you one by one, so this magic was simply a way for me to show you clearly where they stood. Still, I would do well to sit for a moment.” As Hokra sat near a tree, he held his wrist, but never a noise of complaint did he make.

  Haustis was the first to return, followed quickly by Pars and Kimi. “Lydria, the trail does not go cold even after such a long time as they damage trees and crush brush that does not heal with the rain. The Qorghal move carelessly across Eigrae and a blind man could follow them. They travel in a large, compact group to the south.”

  “There is no sign of anything more than scout traffic to the east,” Pars reported, kneeling by Kimi and scratching the bunched fur under his neck. “Your friend is a magnificent hunter and a keen tracker. He is the one who found the scout’s trail. And a squirrel.”

  “Magnificent. He said I
was magnificent. You should take a lesson from the manners of this one.”

  “He is correct, Kimi, you are magnificent. You are also a glutton.”

  They passed several minutes waiting for Relin. Hokra said he could guide them through the darkness, and Lydria could make the others see well enough to continue the search for several hours after sunset. With luck, they would gain time, but so much time had already passed, it would be a wonder if their mission would result in a happy reunion.

  Relin’s return found them preparing to leave in search of the Eifen, but his look forbade admonishment and he held out his hand when he saw the others.

  Lydria gasped and Haustis moved toward Relin. “Is it…?” was all Lydria managed by the time her half-sister reached the sack the Eifen held aloft for them to see. It was an old and weathered leather sack decorated with delicate silver and gold patterns of leaves and trees and hanging with the remnants of leather strips along its seam. Lydria knew the bag belonged to Drae Ghern as he had it with him when they first met and when he gave her the bag she carried now. Her stomach churned to think what had become of its owner. The bag was open and torn and when everyone had gathered around Relin, he opened his other hand which contained what looked like dirt and leaves.

  “Drae Ghern did not lose his bag through force or accidentally. He left a trail.” Relin smiled and soon everyone understood that the old man had left a trail of spirit weed followed by pieces of his pipe and finally his bag.

  “Spirit weed has a very distinct odor if you are paying attention,” Relin said. “I walked only a little way from where we stand when I stood silent and breathed deeply, thinking I had caught the trace of an odor I couldn’t place. After a few moments I realized what it was and began to look and was not disappointed to find a small line of the weed on a rock sheltered from both wind and rain. As I followed, I noticed other signs. Drae Ghern was here, along with perhaps one or two others of your kin, Haustis. They walk quickly, but do not run, and I believe I know where they head. From a tree I spied a small series of rock hills where there may be caves.”