The azure clouds. That’s how I remember the sky that day. I had been walking the sacred grounds of the Tereasu campus. Where the order has taught the arcane arts and sciences for almost 200 years. It’s been six years since I left that cycle of my life. The strict adherence to the old magics left me unfulfilled and wanting. The underground culture of ecstatic practice and bacchanals tempted me from that rigorous study and bureaucracy, but eventually spat me out like so much chewed leaf. Yet I came back to this place now that life threatened to overwhelm me.
Two days before, my disoriented brain found itself awash in new information. Just rising from my beddings, groggily heading to relieve myself of that evenings alcoholic and herbal ministration, a psi-memo rang loudly in my mind like a reverberating voice of one of the lesser gods.
"I am sending you to the capital city of Iasczi. In Jeibi you will learn their foreign magics and alchemy. Their potions have cornered much of the known worlds... in that place you will become a man of worth."
It had come from my father. A midranking mage of the city conclave.
He had once been a cavalier in the previous regime, serving under the dictatorship of Tesselav. When the hero, Niana, was murderered, he joined the opposition.(Killed midtep, while disembarking the express floating turtle from SeasEnd to Highwall, with a magic arrow.) Teselav himself was the most ruthless man of his generation, killing four of her daughters’ husbands before she finally decided to move farther away.
A piece of parchment empowered to grant passage and secure lodging had been deposited in his inbox. The Iaczi Empire decided to open their schools to foreign scholars. A hard task, to be sure. Especially since their realm has long been shrouded in stories of grotesque acts perpetrated on the general population by state dragons.
(It’s said that once every two-and-third moon, they would offer all the daughters born that day to the rivers of Lihrang.)
The message lingered long in my mind. For the first time, in a very long while, I was unsure of what to do. Total Immersion. That was what the information cube I held in my hand called it. The entirety of that alien culture thrust on me with unrelenting savagery. My stay lasting for almost the lifespan of a hellion pixie.
This was not good. The language of the central Iaczi consists of a series of high pitched shrieks. I knew no one this side of the string that was fluent in it. The books would be in their thick scratch alphabet, read only with intuition and a lifetime of practice. I, personally, had no ability in languages. The most powerful language matrix spells would not affect me. Curse of my blood. The air in my lungs stayed still. My breathing slowed. Hands shaking, I stood.
Yesterday, my father’s winged drow brought me the parchment. Her paper wings jutting out from a hardwood round shell. The paper held tight between lips that were too humanlike for my tastes. She flew repeatedly into the iron frame of my window till I woke from the noise. My sleep had been fitful and unrestorative. The arrival of this document in the glare of the morning's shining star almost broke me. Time was moving too fast. Control retched from my hands. Winds carrying me towards the unknown.
This was an opportunity, of course. There was no denying that. And it was also an honor of sorts. The Iaszci are not well liked in these parts. (Which is probably the reason for this cultural exchange.) They control a small section of downtown, with their strange spells and foul potions lining the side streets. Conspiracy theorists say that they control a third of the city conclave as well as the flow of money in the state. I don't buy into all this, yet the swirling flakes in their eyes fill me with suspicion. Their gold weighs heavier that most. I was not sleeping well.
Messages arrived on my globe in the study. Blood relations came to my door. All wishing me well on my travels. Telling me how nice it is for me to finally do something with my destiny infused life.
That, I don't mind saying, hurt.
This morning, still clothed in the previous day's garments, I was roused by the TOKaTOKaTOK on my front door. My parents. Father with his cane rapping on the rune laden entrance of my porch. Clothed in the traditional off-white layers of flowing cloaks, his wild mane giving him that look of a caged lion. The only feature that diffused the aura of power was the belly that seemed to have absorbed the fat from the rest of his body. Mother was floating behind him, resplended in her mauve tresses. She was silent, recovering from a selective youth spell. Her favorite pastime. In his hand was the parchment.
Then it was in mine.
I rushed out the door, pushing my way thru them. They threw immobility spells at me, but my blood protected me. Mouthing a few quick incantations, I side-shimmered. Out of their sight and range, I finally resolved to think things out. I usually did so in my study, with diagrams, flowcharts, and the like. I would fill them with possible outcomes, pros and cons, solutions and remedies, spells and counter spells, the proper weapons for the proper circumstance. But I was not in my study. I was walking in the harsh morning star. Wearing the wrong sandals, the soles of my feet losing more skin each step, rubbing the wrong way.
A lot of people walk in shimmer. I wasn’t used to it. Wasn’t something I did. But the more I walked on, the better I felt. In shimmer, the world is out of focus. Details are indistinct. Everything in one-dimensional grey. Passing by the eastern gates, my eyes were drawn to an amber crest of a flaming skull. I was at the keep of an old friend. Or enemy. Depending on who you ask. Having nothing better to do, stepped back into realspace and knocked.
We hadn't seen each other in about five years. The time it takes to cook a bronze dragon. His brother (whose name I didn't remember and felt too awkward to ask) let me in. the stone walls and floors kept much of the humid air at bay. Lighting was scarce. Candles and burning incense provided the only source, apart from the open keep entrance.
It was customary to leave it ajar since the death of 3rd knight of the bones. (by the name of LLewylyn, I believe. my friend’s great-uncle. not that he was all that great. the story being, that he was stoned to death by a crowd for running over a 3 little girls and dwarf in various parts of the city. with a runaway manure cart. he would have been safely in the keep were it not locked by the servants.)
Februarian Lonicaris LaVille stepped from the shadows of the stairwell. He was naked except for the bearskin pouch over his groin.
( Their clan having long abandoned armor. probably due to the fact that LLewylyn would have made it over the wall if he weren't weighed down by steel)my memories of our friendship was spotty at best. Of all people, I knew him the longest. As children, we learned the runic alphabet together. And spoke of banned grimoires during high tea. Many a time during our stay at Tereasu, bad evaluations would have gotten me barred if not for certain paperwork-eating gremlins. We bred and sold them for fun and profit. We had fought together and also against each other. The time apart had clouded my recall. I wasn't sure if who was supposed to be mad at whom and for what. I assumed there was a maiden involved.
I stood. In my soiled clothing, reeking of the stink of travel, suddenly awake to where I was. We clasped arms. Brothers of the folded cloth. An old salute, but it was welcoming. I smiled. Drinks were offered and accepted. We sat on iron chairs, made from abused armor, and drank from wooded goblets. And we talked. He was invested in a new form of magic involving help with delicate spells thru globe-talking. I wasn't really listening. I told him I had been earning my way as a merchant of sorts. Collecting rent on some properties an uncle of mine owned. He nodded and made no outward expression. This was not work that was praised. It took no magic. Aside from the occasional cleaning and anti-gremlin spell, it was work anyone can do. Even a centaur.
(Centaurs leave their spoor everywhere. every hour, on the hour.)We spoke of old battles and new ones. I told him the story of how I met a dominatrix single mother when our talk-globes got crossed in the ether. He told me of the how love spell tattooed on his back failed and how hard it was to remove. (Usually, one of the paramours would die as a result.)Then I told him of my worries. He listened. And growled. Then listened some more. I breathed. Just talking relaxed me. For a short time, we were youths again. Thinking alike and smoking alchemical herbs. Words flowing like a spell. By the time I stood to go, not a piece of furniture was on the ground. Everything was floating round the cavernous hall. We shook hands and spoke of hitting the mountain taverns someday soon.
Tereasu. The rock. The order of the folded cloth made many changes to the plaza. Flowing water and massive statues dot the landscape. I stood outside the meditation hall. The largest of its kind. Carved out of bedrock. It was almost empty. I walked towards the center, where a homunculus of the great suffering ox hung from the ceiling. It never moved. Once, when I was a boy, I stuck inside and screamed at it. It didn't acknowledge me. Then again, it wasn't supposed to. The mind was its element. The only use for its physical form was to aid visualization during meditation. I knew this. I sat down on one of the benches carved out of the floor and hummed. It was easy to fall back into. Almost all beings knew this magic system. All the private study devoted to KIA and runes and sigils. I end up humming like I did as a child. Sigh.
I walked out with no closure. Feeling the star heat on my face, I sat on a bench at the plaza. The grass was as green as I remembered. Old memories flood back. I take the parchment from my back pocket and look at it again. There’s a spot at the lower left hand side. A spot for a mage-print. All I have to do is touch my thumb to it. A jade dragon would come, saddles and all, to take me. I’d have to be in Jeibi within two days if I wanted to go thru with it. Adventure and alienation. Horror and wonder. Alone.
This was a good day. Haven’t had one like it in a long time. Looking to the future had me look to the past. Not so easy for one used to only dealing with the present.
I stand, a smile on my face and the wind in my hair.
No comments:
Post a Comment