by Helen Savore
A new foci to try. It wasn’t the Grail yet, but still a step closer. She’d be back before she knew it, and she’d continue to walk both lives, the magic and the mundane.
5
Alexandrea yanked the red door closed and grumbled at the accompanying thud.
“If you did not wish such a large sound, why did you close it so quickly?” Moralynn asked.
She shook her head at Moralynn. “We are not the only ones here. Phil may be about.” She pushed ahead. “I don’t want to get caught in conversation when we should be finding Boderien.”
She was the sole survivor of her family and had inherited the old stone hall. Only parts of it were modernized, and though not an official historical site or museum, parts required more upkeep than the average home: hence Phil and Janene. Boderien’s forge and space were hidden in the furthest back portions of the house, past the illusions. No adult could see him, but his equipment would have been apparent, and despite their precautions, sometimes wisps of smoke still appeared, trailing outside the hall.
Phil believed the space to be haunted and wasn't unpleased by this. She still didn’t want to give him further hints, in case his curiosity ever manifested. Given all the time she interacted with the invisible, she’d developed a reputation as a loner to others. But she was more a person who enjoyed either libraries filled with books or the wild spaces that surrounded her home. She had never come up with a good reason to spend too much time in these cold, empty halls. Yes, there was potential for magic within the stone’s metal, but it was mostly barren and alone, empty.
Her eyes flicked to Moralynn as she came to the last barrier. Moralynn had worked with Boderien on this wall centuries before, granting it the ability to shift within its stones. It was a specific, single-purpose foci.
Alexandrea placed a finger at the mortar intersection of several stones, in a spot more towards the right, a good foot above her height.
As she traced, the foci stones activated, shifting first back, then to the side, to reveal the opening.
The area was a tight cell. They couldn’t allow much room or folks would realize there was too much outside not accounted for. Boderien claimed he liked the cozy space as long as he had a path to escape to the woods. Beside the second hidden door stood the hearth, dominating the interior wall that led to the courtyard. That was not all—an anvil, quenching barrels, several grind wheels, and other tools filled the floor and walls.
Boderien lifted his grizzled head at their arrival, setting down the piece he was polishing. “Ah, Phoenix Sparked heir, I see Master Moralynn has found you.”
“Found me? Yes, and now we’ve found you.” She let out a sigh of relief, though she didn’t know why she worried. When they couldn’t find Boderien in town they rushed back, but where else would he be? Maybe the woods, but definitely on the property. It wasn’t like anything in this world could hurt him. “Why bother coming into town only to leave so soon?”
Boderien wiggled a bushy brow. “Such beautiful stone, but ultimately lazy. I grew tired of its false hopes, and thought to return to work on more promising ones.”
“I see.” She blushed as she walked around the table to draw closer. When she was younger she had laughed and giggled at the hairy dwarf, saying the most awful things, thinking he was an imaginary friend. Now that she was an adult she was always mindful, but she couldn’t quite forget her earlier behavior. One particular concern: the fuzzy beard of his that had delighted her as a child seemed out of place in his forge. She often commented on it, asking if the beard was dangerous so close to the fire, but he insisted any smith who could not manage their own self within the space was no smith at all.
Boderien offered her the rounded metal sheet he worked on, though, perhaps it was more of a disc. Moralynn came around to peer at it as well. It was a simple, round, grey, slab of stone. Worked metal, but it looked unremarkable. It was larger than the hand that brandished it, but not much so. It could almost be a primitive dinner plate.
Alexandrea wasn't fooled. It must be a foci, just not a style she was familiar with, yet. Unlike her shaping magic, which gave her a bit of a sense of the elements, she could not sense foci unless she interacted with one. That was the lot of the smiths. Smiths were curious and crucial to fae society which used shaping for their technology. A Smith could meld magic through forging, the perfect balance of the elements as outlined by Oberon the creator, to create a foci. But they could not use them. Sometimes she helped Boderien in shaping things, often mineral from the local quarries.
While she understood and practiced the basics of earth shaping, it wasn’t a particular specialty for her. Of the elements, wind was what she preferred to shape; there was a flow and elegance to it. Of course her greatest focus was as a Life Shaper. Besides Moralynn, she was the only one in the world who could do it, at least until they summoned the Phoenix. It wasn’t just the absence of the Phoenix, but the death of the life-rich bloodlines which destroyed the Druids. But if the Phoenix flew again, it would sing to the life in peoples’ blood.
She knew Boderien would not show them something without purpose. Though the foci was round, this was not yet the Grail plate they desired. Still, as Moralynn always put it, it was a step forward in replicating it.
She rotated her wrist, jangling her air psyche foci, another one of Boderien’s experiments. He wasn’t just hammering away at a single piece to recreate the Grail. He experimented with different aspects of the shaping magic that must be imbued within it for different applications. There was a certain similarity to each elemental shaping, though each still had their unique effects. Psyche shaping was still somewhat less understood, but provided a sense into others’ minds. Boderien and Moralynn thought it was similar to life shaping, though more abundant. By experimenting with the elemental connection to psyche, perhaps it would help with elemental connections to life, which the Grail would need.
Alexandrea wasn’t sure how long Boderien had been experimenting with Moralynn. It must have been quite some time. Alexandrea knew when Moralynn originally lived. She never dwelt long on it, but she recognized the great coincidence that meant they would solve things during Alexandrea’s lifetime. Moralynn was confident and had prepared her to be ready to take part in the Investiture of the Phoenix. They certainly could use it now. Casualties mounted from spurious wars, terrorism, and rampant disease, all in her mundane life. A single Druid couldn’t stop all that, but the Phoenix could balance the life cycle.
Moralynn opened a hand beside Boderien’s, and he gave her the disk. “Is this some sort of fire shield?”
Boderien pointed and grinned, shuffling off his stool. “Yes, but more than that. It isn’t an indiscriminate fire protection, but one that senses someone’s life force.”
He tapped the underside of the disk and Moralynn flipped it. It glinted, even in the low light. A sprinkling of clear and red gems studded its surface.
“While looking for the appropriate candidates is not the final planned effect of the Grail this gives us a start recognizing a Druid while still performing elemental shaping abilities.”
Alexandrea’s breath hitched. That explained the clear gems, likely diamonds. It wasn’t just fire shaping, but life shaping. Her heart raced; perhaps soon it would be time to take the Grail in hand and summon the Phoenix.
Moralynn ran a hand along the side, her fingers caressing the facets. Her gloves were off; she must have removed them on the way. “This is not as simple as you say, I suspect. This will not guard just anyone who wields it, will it?”
Boderien nodded. “Yes, this foci requires bonding in order to recognize the wielder more clearly.” He took the piece back and held it towards one of the torches lighting the room. “I know the Grail has much more arcane requirements, but I thought despite—”
“It is fine,” Moralynn said, sweeping a hand between them, being careful not to touch the disk.
Alexandrea watched, but did not want to disturb Moralynn, though she longed to touch it. Maybe after thin
gs were properly settled. “Is it ready for a bonding ritual?” she asked.
Boderien blinked. “Why, yes, that is why I called for you.”
“Me?” A hand flew to her mouth and she looked to Moralynn. “Oh, I mean, of course you wanted me to witness this bonding.” It was selfish for her to want this new foci. A fire shield would be more beneficial for Moralynn given her frequent travels in the Earth Marrow.
Moralynn swung her face around, and for a moment Alexandrea saw the deepness of her eyes. These were tired eyes. Eyes that had seen too much and lived too long. But they lightened, and her lips turned to a smile. “No, it is for you.” She offered a hand.
Alexandrea took it, and warmth flooded her. Each time Moralynn trusted her with something like this Alexandrea’s spirit sung.
Moralynn put another hand atop their joined ones and pumped it once. “Boderien, should we adjourn to the courtyard?”
“Nay, we may remain in here.” Boderien shuffled past them towards the hearth. “Given the fire connection, I must stoke the flames.”
Alexandrea blinked. There was a difference between bonded and non-bonded foci. While she called the ones she wore hers, they were not unique to her and would work for whomever wielded them. A bonded foci only worked or answered to their master, unless a Smith re-aligned the ownership. She had seen a few bondings as Moralynn took on new creations from Boderien. There was always some interaction with the primary element to guide the foci to its owner. Moralynn stood steadfast, despite the slap, whip, punch, or smolder from the associated elements.
A fire foci. Alexandrea banished images of burning flesh, determined not to flinch.
Moralynn squeezed her hands. “It shall be fine. Do not worry about bravery, simply withstand the connection, then all will be well again.”
Alexandrea smiled. Why did she bother to hide her concerns from Moralynn? She acknowledged and took care of them. That is what she had done for centuries, and on the slim chance something went wrong, what she would continue to do. There was no reason to hide anything from her mentor.
“Thank you, Moralynn.” She wiped her brow and laughed to herself as she realized the moisture was less nervous sweat and more the heat rising in the small workshop. “Is there any particular spot on my body that would be best for the bond?”
Moralynn let go of her hands and took a step back before circling her.
What did she see? They were partners, but in one small life Alexandrea could not measure up to Moralynn. Her body had betrayed her, too, since she was so short—just barely a meter and a half tall. She did little to enhance her height, preferring flat boots and shoes so she could trample through the forests as she pleased. She could have piled her long hair, but that would have been unnecessarily complicated. When not braided or fastened back, it fell to her waist, a mixture of brown, feathery tresses.
“Your hands would work, though if you prefer a less sensitive area…”
“No, I’ll make it work.” Alexandrea took in another calming breath. She took off her sweater, draping it over the second stool at the other end of the table. Then she rolled up her sleeves. “No reason to burn anything else.” She tilted her head. “Especially since I don’t know a thing about fixing cloth.”
Boderien snorted. “Unworthy materials, barely holds a foci charge, not worth saving.”
She smiled, Boderien’s prejudice calming her. “True, but they are ever so much more comfortable than metallic creations."
Boderien plied a pair of tongs into the hearth. “I still believe it is unwise of you to walk about without armor, my heir. I could make you such pieces, simple compared to my experiments, yet still…”
She shook her head. “Now is not the time, Boderien.” She had a hard enough time maneuvering modern life without stalking about like a re-enactor.
Boderien withdrew the tongs and in it was the disk again, now a cherry red.
She knew little about the physical act of smithing, only having observed Boderien. She knew it could be worse, the metal was not a bright orange nearing on white.
“Alexandrea, come forward.”
She complied and knelt before him, shifting her knees on the firm stone. Why could they not do this outside in the forest, where the ground and plant life melded to what you needed? She shoved away her banal concerns and looked Boderien in the face. This wrinkled and haired one had been her companion for so many years, she could trust him. Facing the blazing metal familiarity was not enough to calm her.
Fear gripped her. If she could not bond a simple foci without nerves what hope would she have during the Investiture of the Phoenix? This was even the same element, the Phoenix was born and died from flame.
Alexandrea offered her hands, and though she did not yet touch it, the heat rolled off the disc and assaulted her.
The world became small. Her hands, the disk, and Boderien’s eyes. She no longer heard his words, or if Moralynn offered any more. She was tight in whatever spell he wove, or perhaps her own fear. The eyes betrayed nothing, there was only her own breath, shifting herself, for many moments. Sweat beaded and trailed off her hands, but she could not hear the inevitable drip to the floor. The wrinkles pulled, there was a small twitch, and his eyes drooped.
Pain.
Bright light burnt her eyes.
Her skin did not merely crisp and die, it stuck to the super-heated disc, now dropped between her hands.
No! That is my skin. Give it back.
They were inane thoughts, but they were all she could form amid the unnatural heat ruining her hands.
As suddenly as it started, a force manifested that repelled it. A barrier of some sort grew between her and the disc.
It turned grey and cooled.
Her hands grabbed the disk, feeling the foci in a way she rarely felt others. It was now one with her and would protect her from flame. She did not want to let it go, though she understood it did not need to remain in her hands. It merely needed some proximity; this was magic, not a miracle. She did not even need to completely direct it. A stray thought of mounting it in the kitchen brought a grin to her face.
Her breath slowed and her vision returned to normal. Pain still boiled within her, but she could control it now, first things had to be observed first. “Boderien, my thanks.”
His lids drooped as his lips pulled into a smile. He grasped her shoulder. “Well done, Alexandrea.”
Once he let go she rose and put the disk aside to inspect her hands.
She sensed Moralynn approaching, but shook her head. She knew what to do, though the appearance and pain still stunned her.
Normally a pale shade off rose, her palms were now black laced with wicked, dark reds. She had lost more than the skin, exposing some of her muscles and the other viscera within the body. The oozing was the first thing she stopped; best not to lose more material. Then she worked from the inside out, reconstructing vessels, sheathing bone with muscle, and eventually exciting a new layer of skin cells.
Her hands came out good as new, actually a bit too improved. She made a fist, then wiggled her fingers, trying to work out the stiffness.
A hand grasped her shoulder. “That was well done.”
She winced. She loved the praise, not that Moralynn was stingy with it, but she wondered if her pride had stepped in too much. Months, that healing probably cost her months. She could not see precisely how long her life would stretch out, that was Fate magic and not for mortal or fae, only the gods. But as a Druid she had a sense of how much of her body’s resources she expended to heal herself.
However, that would all become moot once the Phoenix returned, for there was no limit to that life force. The point then would not be to heal herself, but to share that life and heal the world’s wounds.
6
Another fae died.
Moralynn closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She did not have to answer.
She let her gaze hover on the horizon, searching for calm in the gentle sway of the trees, which was all she co
uld see from the portals of her eyrie. The great forests of Annwn stretched beneath her, but the windows were too high up to recognize any distinctive areas below. Not that there was any place besides the tower in this forest, but the forest had neighborhoods and landmarks of sort, if one knew where to look for them.
Moralynn’s chest heaved.
She could not ignore the call. The new soul demanded her attention.
She rose from the tangle of branches and moss that formed her bower. Given the majesty of the Keep it was a strange, intimate place. Once upon a time the Phoenix did not live here alone, but her family was long dead. Residing in her small corner might conceal the vacant space, but it did nothing to assuage her loneliness. When she first awoke to her new life she stayed on Earth for long stretches, but as the centuries turned the world changed and left her behind. There was no place for her there, and only an empty home here. There were the children of the isle, but their simple amusements and fey nature could only hold her attention for so long.
When a soul was ready, they usually found their way to the castle, and her. And when they arrived, her duty and connection to them was nigh physical. She must attend to this new soul.
She was too high up to find it. The bond that formed between a Phoenix, or a Phoenix Sparked, could only tell her to go down. She wrapped herself around a vibrant green vine and slid off the landing. Her lips pulled into a smile as she kneaded the fluids of the vine, guiding her progress. She called on the plant to release some of its water to the surface and used the internal water pressure to adjust which portions were rigid and flexible. Water was the first element she Shaped as a child, so it was beyond thought for her to touch the water within plants. Controlling the plant itself required experience in Water and Mineral Shaping, the only admixture firmly understood by the humans during her original life.
The fae claimed it was the human’s hubris in attempting to craft foci for the other Elements and Admixtures that lead to their downfall. There had been experimentation, but many years before. The richest households could always afford rubies to create not just Wind, but Fire Foci. No, it was about life, and Arthur. Merlin tried to chastise the fae, remind them of their own hubris in killing all the Druids, leaving no one to support their rebirth. Then, somehow, Moralynn had woken from the brink of death.
