by J Jordan
“She just asked if I understood her, and I said I did,” explained Katrese. “Then, right there, she asked if I was sure, and I said I was. It’s obvious that I didn’t understand.”
“What is that?” Romney pointed to Andrea’s hands.
“Andaran Sign Language. It’s all based on hand gestures. I had some idea that she was talking to me, but I had no clue it was a language. It took me a while to figure it all out. Very neat stuff.”
Katrese watched as her former self lifted a branch from the shore and wrote something in the sand.
Andrea backed away as the strange elf scratched at the sand, but then scooted forward when she saw that the maiden meant no harm. The maiden had written “Hola” in the sand, in perfect Andaran script. She watched the maiden’s face as she continued to write. It was familiar to her. But somehow, the details of it were scattered in her mind, like remembering only parts of a dream.
The maiden wrote “¿Que pasa?” in the sand. Andrea motioned for the stick, then added another question mark to the front of the sentence. She wrote her response underneath.
“Bien. ¿Como se llama?”
And then she offered the stick. The maiden took it and thought about her answer. She carefully drew the letters.
“Katresa.”
Andrea brought her index finger to her chin, then made a twisting motion. Was she serious? She couldn’t be. The elf mimicked the gesture. Andrea motioned for the stick again.
“¿Quién es usted?”
“La diosa” was the maiden’s response.
Katresa, the Goddess. She couldn’t be serious. Andrea wiped out a spot in the sand and started writing. She wrote each question down, then left a space for Katresa to answer, then continued writing the next one. When she was done, she offered the stick. Katresa took it, read each question, thought carefully on each, then wrote out her answers.
Katrese waved her arms around, and the scene changed. Romney was startled by this.
“Wait a minute. What happened?”
“I just filled her in on the details, like where we were, how we got there, what we planned to do next.”
“Could you fill me in too? What is this place? Isn’t this where Aldo and Eva learned to fish?”
“Yeah, kinda,” said Katrese, still putting the next scene together with gentle waves of the hand. “This is the place she’s been looking for, the one from her dreams. She calls it the Water Mirror, because the calm surface of the lake looks like solid glass. I tell her I can help her get the water back to her people, and maybe help her find more.”
“You promise to intervene.”
Katrese glared at Romney. Her eyes had cooled to the darker blue of night.
“Okay, smart guy. Do you want to play god for a little while, see how far you get?”
Romney sighed.
“No, I just want a straight answer. Every time I go to bed, I dream about you showing off all the cool things you can do, but then you say ‘No, Romney, don’t use magic, because it’s bad for the world,’ and then you say, ‘I can’t help you, because I don’t want to intervene, because the world works fine without me,’ but then you go around fixing things and getting into people’s business. So, which is it? Do you want fly down to Reymus Industries and kick Devon out a window? Or do you want me to do it for you? What am I doing here?”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You just carried her up a mountain. You pulled Semnir out of the ocean. And they went on to great things, right? It all worked out in the end.”
Katrese stopped the scene in progress. They remained there in the forest now, still within sight of the lake. It was late evening. The maiden Katresa was stitching new linen robes as Andrea slept by the fire, bundled in a new quilt. Katrese sighed and rubbed her brow with a thumb. Romney could feel the world shifting beneath them.
“It’s complicated.”
“Then enlighten me,” said Romney. “Please, I’m all ears.”
Katrese was watching her counterpart weave the robe from nothing. Romney could see the blue glow in her hands, where the magic strands came together and became tangible. Katrese stared for a time, then sighed again.
“You do one good thing and it all blows up in your face. It’s a slow chain, sizzling down the line, zigzagging all over the place, until you see where it’s headed. And by then, kaboom, it’s too late.”
“Seems to me like it’s working for Andrea. She’s going home with water. Her mission is done. And now she gets to be the hero forever.”
“Keep watching,” said Katrese.
They returned to the scene, but now it played in fragments. Andrea was now properly equipped for her journey home, with fresh linen robes, a shawl, proper boots, and an elko wood staff. She looked to the maiden for guidance, so Katresa demonstrated one last time. Andrea followed along, waving the staff over her head, and then swooping it down toward the ground. She was lifted up into the air, nearly reaching the tops of the trees, before she came down softly to the ground. The maiden gave her a thumbs-up.
Andrea and the maiden descended the summit, bounding from place to place, repeating the jump spell over and over again. They made the trip down in an hour. They both carried jars of water on their backs, stoppered and carefully stowed into rucksacks. And no matter how they landed or moved, their burdens were never harmed. When they reached the base, there were horses waiting for them.
They rode through valley without consequence and when they arrived in the desert, the day was nearly done. The maiden asked if she wanted to stop for the night, but Andrea wanted to go on. Her people needed her. Katresa explained, through sign language, that she could not follow her home. She dismounted her horse and asked Andrea to wait just another few minutes before traveling on. The maiden would show her one last spell.
Andrea followed the motions, sweeping the staff across, then back again, and then raising it up slowly to the sky. As she raised the staff, she could already see the dark spots forming in the sand. The water sprouted from the ground in tiny spouts at first, but then the many smaller sprays combined into a single fountain. Water pooled around the base and formed a small pond that grew with each passing moment. Andrea watched, then raised the staff higher into the sky. Cool, clean water from the sand.
Eventually, the maiden commanded Andrea to lower the staff and told her to be careful with this power. Andrea didn’t understand. Why would you stop? You could shape the world to fit you. The maiden stopped Andrea and explained the troubles of magic.
To use magic was to make a change to an intricate system. Any change, no matter how small, would have a tremendous effect on the entirety of creation. The earth was a living thing, after all. Each change would slow its blood, or put strain on its heart, and the world would ache from it. Katresa put her hand to the ground, and the earth shivered. And they heard the cry of pain beneath.
Magic was a powerful tool, a good one, but a dangerous one too. Every spell, no matter how small or simple or good, had the power to destroy the world. And so Katresa stressed the point: only use magic when it is absolutely necessary.
Andrea made a promise to the maiden. Only when necessary, and never in front of others.
◆◆◆
Andrea arrived with the morning light, her two horses laden with clay jars of water. Her robes and boots were clean, and now she carried a beautiful wooden staff she had found on her journey. Her tribe welcomed her with open arms and carried her throughout the camp. They shouted her praise and honored her as a hero.
“Look at that. Happy ending.”
“Keep watching.”
The next day, the celebrations died down and the tribe returned to its rhythm. The chief made Andrea a scout and told her to make whatever path she wished. If she could wander so far and return with such bounty, then who was he to tell her where to go? Andrea went out into the desert in search of anything. And, oftentimes, the maiden would return to wander with her. They talked about everything in these times, using
their hands, and Andrea would always return with water. The tribe looked up to Andrea, but the chief was suspicious.
A month passed before the chief finally confronted Andrea. He accused her of hiding a well in the desert. He questioned her methods. How she could bring so much water and not show them to the source? Andrea would not lie to the chief, so she showed him the spell and the water sprouted from the earth. The chief was furious. Magic was a deceiver. It brought nothing but harm. And by using magic, Andrea was a deceiver. Worse, she was a sorcerer. So he brought Andrea before the tribe and told them what he had seen.
They were divided. The elders were horrified by Andrea’s magic and turned away the many bounties she had given, afraid that the magic had poisoned them. But the younger ones praised her, and they were many more than the elders. To them, the food was good and the water nourishing, regardless of where or how it was gained. But the younger ones didn’t know the troubles of magic.
Their differences could not be reconciled. A week passed this way, and at sunrise of the seventh day, Andrea moved about the tribe and asked each person to follow her: young or old, strong or weak, for her or against her. For you should offer to your neighbors, even if they turn you away.
It was this way that Andrea gathered her followers. And it was this way that the Lucana tribe was formed.
She led her tribe through the desert, past the mountains, and into the scorched lands of Andara, where the sand was hotter and the sun crueler than the home before. But Andrea guarded her flock and kept them. They were safe from harm and thirst, for they walked with Andrea as the Lucana tribe. And she walked with Katresa.
They found a small oasis in the desert, and they chose that place as their home. But there were no rocks or trees to build homes, and they could not sleep forever out in the open air. So Andrea lifted her staff into the air and cast a mighty spell that caused the very earth to shiver beneath their feet. A village rose from the sands around them. And she had no name for this city, so her tribe called it Delarena, because it came from sand.
Andrea and her tribe lived in Delarena, and they thrived in the scorched lands of Andara for many years. Andrea ruled over her tribe, and she was a beneficent chieftain. She did not take from them, because she had all she needed. Her daughters and sons grew and learned from her example, to be kind and gentle, to be generous. And when they grew to adulthood, she taught them the ways of magic.
Andrea knew the troubles of magic, because she remembered the words of Katresa. She taught her children to only use magic when it was necessary. They learned the spells, but they relied on her to cast them. For they were powerful spells with a terrible cost. And no person’s need should stop the heart of the world.
Andrea grew old. The process was slow, but time always takes its toll eventually. So she gathered her children, who were old men and women themselves with children and grandchildren of their own. And she bestowed her mighty staff to her eldest daughter and told her to protect the people of Andara as their chieftain. Andrea said her farewells and then left once more for the Water Mirror.
She met Katresa at the summit, and together they climbed to their secret retreat. She spent her final days with the maiden. Her resting place was called “Hirna Andrea,” and it stands in a small valley in the Prophet’s Mountains, near a lake of crystalline waters.
“The end?”
“Not even close,” said Katrese with a heavy sigh. “Keep watching.”
Andrea’s eldest daughter was Elvira, and she was chieftain over the sands of Andara. Like her mother, she was a noble chieftain and a generous woman who shared in her bounties. When her sons and daughters were old enough, she taught them the ways of magic. Elvira did not remember the troubles of magic, but she knew that magic should only be used in a crisis. She told her children to only use magic when they needed it. And when Elvira was too old to protect her people, she passed her crown and her staff to Reyana, her eldest daughter. Elvira made her way into the mountains to join her mother, Andrea, at the Water Mirror.
Reyana ruled over the sands of Andara, and she taught her children the ways of magic, but she did not know the troubles. She remembered what her mother said of magic and told her children to only cast a spell when they needed it most. And then Reyana grew too old to be chieftain, and she passed crown and staff to her eldest daughter, Tora.
Tora ruled as pharaoh over the sands of Andara, and she taught her children the ways of magic. She did not know the troubles but remembered her mother’s advice. She told her children to use magic as a tool to help those in need.
And then Tora was too old to be pharaoh, for she was older than Andrea, so she gathered her children and bequeathed crown and staff to her eldest daughter. When the time came, she made the journey out to the Water Mirror to rest in the halls of Hirna Andrea with her mother.
Tyra ruled as pharaoh, then Vera, then Lucia. Each performed a great feat for her people with the power of magic: Tyra built up the city from stone and made a home for each of her subjects. Vera crafted the walls that lined the city and filled their homes with plenty, and Lucia made the waters dance at the center of their city and filled their reservoirs to last for ages. And each pharaoh taught the ways of magic to her children. And each did not know the troubles of magic, but they remembered what their mothers had said. Magic was a tool. Only use magic when it is needed.
Pharaoh Lucia gave the staff to her eldest daughter, Esmerelda, and bestowed the pharaoh’s crown upon her head, and then made her way with her procession to the top of the Prophet’s Mountains to spend her final days at the Water Mirror. Esmerelda ruled over the sands of Andara. She protected her people with the power of magic and provided for them, because it was needed. Under her rule, and with her magic, Andara’s kingdom grew out to the sea.
Esmerelda had twin daughters, Reyna and Reysa, and they both knew the ways of magic. And Esmerelda promised that both would rule as equals over the sands of Andara. But there was only one staff. Only one could be the true pharaoh.
The time came and Esmerelda bequeathed her one crown to her daughters and offered them the Staff of the Prophet. They each took one end and promised to use magic as a tool to protect and serve the people of Andara. Then Esmerelda gathered her procession and began her journey to the Water Mirror.
The two pharaohs, Reyna and Reysa, ruled over the sands of Andara. And it was a royal rumble from day one.
The twin sisters started fighting before their poor mother could even mount her horse. The palace halls flared with blue and red, and orange, and ultraviolet on two separate occasions. Reyna and Reysa battled for the Staff of the Prophet, employing wands and amulets they had been gathering for the occasion. The sisters threw thunderbolts, magic missiles, jets of fire, fireballs, fire-coated thunderbolts, raw magic beams, glowing arrows that melted what they struck, and other mystical projectiles Romney couldn’t make direct eye contact with. Katrese stood beside him, her lips spread into a thin line of disapproval.
“You could have showed me this earlier,” said Romney. “What are all of these—”
He ducked away from a ray of light as it cut through a stone pillar to his left. Then, he rolled away, a jet of fire licking scorch marks across the space he once occupied.
“Defensive magics,” answered Katrese, bowing her head away from a flurry of green arrows. They chewed a hole through the stone wall behind her. “Used for defense, not war. And definitely not for sibling rivalries.”
Romney could already hear it in his ears. Beneath the palace, the earth quaked and screamed as the myriad inner workings began to churn. Fire didn’t just leap out of people’s hands. Lightning needed clouds and ionic discharge. And magic missiles were never meant to be. The world was trying to cope with these things, trying to keep the system in balance, but each spell inched it closer to ruin. Romney covered his ears to block out the sound, but it continued to rise around him, pressing in through his hands.
“Are they going to stop?”
“Not for three more d
ays,” said Katrese, over the cacophony, “but we can skip to that part, if you’d like.”
The scene sped up and the dueling sisters became streaks of mage fire, zipping around the throne room. The sun rose and fell twice before the scene slowed back to its original pace. The chamber was lit by moonlight and the two braziers of blue fire burning in the center of the room. Reyna and Reysa were exhausted now, hobbling from pillar to shaved column, lobbing halfhearted spells at each other from cover. Neither had energy to go for the staff in the center of the room. But it was still the prize.
Reyna peeked out into the room and spoke. Her mouth didn’t match the Ontaran coming out, a translation courtesy of Katrese.
“There can be only one pharaoh, dear sister. Lay down your wands and surrender. I will make you my greatest confidant. You will want for nothing.”
She had to tumble to avoid the magical arrow aimed at her neck. Her sister still had accuracy.
“I am the better,” said Reysa, from somewhere in the southeastern corner of the room. “Lay down your wands and you will have the royal bedroom to yourself. I’ll even give you servants to cater to your whims.”
Reysa poked her head out and grinned. She nearly lost it to a thin magic beam.
“Think of that power, Reysa. Think of the responsibility. You could never take mother’s place on the throne.”
Reysa’s frustrated scream was followed by a miniature flaming tornado. Reyna’s wind blast caught the brunt of its force, blowing the twister out like a candle.
“You are the one who cannot handle responsibility,” shouted Reysa. “You are the one who cannot fill mother’s throne.”
“Such anger, little sister.”
This was the ultimate insult. Being born seconds apart means little between twins, until you bring it up. A second flame tornado sprouted from the floor and gathered momentum. Reyna’s shielding amulet protected her from the fire, but the rest of her enchanted jewelry did nothing to keep her planted to the ground. She was quickly lifted in the air before she could do anything to ground herself.