Artorian's Archives Omnibus

by Dennis Vanderkerken

The Wood Elf stared in wonder, and pointed at the man Olive was tending to. “Him?”

  Ember nodded, “I just acted to lock down the area, but my control was… lacking. I need to build it back up, and I’m not sure I know how.”

  Olive perked up, a hand sticking in the air to get their attention. “Actually. I might have an idea on that. But…”

  Ember quirked a brow at him; the waves coming from Artorian’s Aura—which he hadn’t managed to break apart fully before conking out—were still soothing her. “…We have to go see a weed.”

  It was a new day when Artorian awoke. He was comfortable, lying in a pile of petals and thick furs. The smell was divine, and he mumbled something while smacking his lips and rolling over. His eyes snapped open; this was not where he’d gone to bed! In fact, he’d not gone to bed at all!

  A quick glance at the sky confirmed his suspicion. Yup. New ceiling. Always with the new ceilings. Still, he stretched wide, and his bones popped pleasantly. Ooh, that had been a good one. He was inside some kind of hollow, and strips of beaded cloth hung over an opening that he guessed must lead outside. A musk hung in the air, but given he’d slept on animal rugs… he ignored it.

  The sound of conversation filtered in. Without further ado, he got up and wandered over. Odd. He felt the need to bathe, but he wasn’t dirty. Pressing his way through the beaded curtain, the smells of a feast tickled his nose. What a scrumptious gathering of flavor! Hordes of Wood Elves were all around. They kept to their little gathered circles, but there was a far greater sense of… what was the word he needed? Civilization?

  There was furniture and handmade products, rugs and carved kitchen supplies. Ceramic plates and ivory mugs gathered together on the edge of a polished wooden table. Wait. A wooden table? That seemed odd, the same as if he were to build a house out of human bodies.

  A great majority of the Wood Elves he could sort of pick out based on the bark skin they had. That crass one was clearly Pine. Those chocolate-veneered ones over there were definitely Cocobolo. He brushed by Redheart and Walnut, excusing himself as he went to find a familiar face. Upon bumping into Rosewood, she turned to regard him with a smile. “Human! So nice to see you. I had a question!”

  Her bloomy, bubbly smile was infectious, and it was returned. “Oh, certainly. Ask away.”

  Rosewood fluttered her lashes at him. “Where… are the clothes I made for you?”

  Artorian felt cold dread creep along his spine and looked around for help. “Oh. Erm. Would you look at the time? Let me go find out for you!”

  He ran away in a rush, dashing between groups of Wood Elves, dodging plates and ducking beneath drinking cups. He saw another beaded curtain against one of the thick trees, and glanced over his shoulder to see Rosewood marching through the crowd like a sweetly-smiling bulldozer. She was gaining ground. Well, nothing ventured…!

  He jumped through the opening, and tumbled down onto more animal-skin rugs with an *ooof*. The hollow was filled with smoke, and he coughed immediately. Attempting to clear it, he waved a hand in front of his face. It didn’t help in the slightest. A fresh stream of smoke puffed into the air.

  “See friends? I told you he would find his way here.” A voice filled with purest relaxation called out. The four Wood Elves each occupied a different cardinal direction in the room, and were adorned with beads and a variety of crystals. Olive coughed and handed a device over to Ember, who held the strange contraption in her hands. Not knowing what to do with the thing, she sat cross-legged on a pillow now that their Human had arrived.

  “Is… is that a pillow?” Artorian’s eyes widened, and his hands stretched out towards it. “Could… could I please?”

  Olive followed the gaze, and didn’t know if the human was reaching for Ember’s behind, or what she was sitting on. This smoke was getting to him, and he just couldn’t begin to care. Loudly giggling at the thought with a stupid grin on his face, Olive fell over into the fluff just to run hands over and feel it. Such divine texture!

  The beads clinked as Rosewood pushed her way through, her noses upturned as high as they could go while remaining socially acceptable. It was pretty high. “Oh of course they’d find you.”

  The four Elves in cardinal directions smiled, and passed around something that went *puff*. Ember stared at a completely gone Olive, who was now entranced by the floor as he lay next to a loud, snoring Baobab. This ‘stuff’ apparently had different effects depending on who breathed it in. Still, Olive had made an odd suggestion to come here.

  “Who would find me, Rosewood?” Artorian raised a brow, wanting an explanation of a few things that had happened in the last few minutes.

  “A blessing to meet you, Spirit of Starlight.” The four Elves took a deep inhale of the cloudy smoke, then passed over their strange metal contraptions. “I am Oak.”

  Artorian sat and joined the ring of people. It was better than getting dragged away by a mad designer that wanted you to stand still for days on end. He wasn’t very good at that. What did they think, that he was made of wood? “Ah, well met, Oak. I’ve heard about you in passing. Pardon the question, but why is nobody fond of you?”

  Rosewood joined in as well. She wasn’t leaving without her mannequin to model her new line of flower robes. Oak exhaled a stream of smoke from their noses in unison, all smiles. “Oh, I don’t worry about such details, my friend. I just go with the flow, and don’t resist change. Unlike the other denizens, I trade with the caravans and those on the forest’s edge. My trees hold great value to them, and my groves are vast. What is but a few of my forms in comparison to the luxuries of an old home? I would rather live in comfort than squalor. Perhaps my kin take exception to that.”

  The northern Elf reached behind her and tossed Artorian a pillow. The old man snatched it up, and burrowed his face into it right away.

  “I see that you are a spirit of refined taste as well. I know why you’ve come, but it seems no one has explained it to you.” She veered off a moment, attention splitting as if she just noticed the new set of Wood Elves were present. “Rosewood! Pleasure to see you! Please, join us! It’ll inspire you for that dazzling creation of yours. That Ginkgo leaf line was just… oh, wow. A real stunner.”

  Rosewood took the odd metal device, and sucked in a breath through a connected pipe, placated by the myriad of compliments that clearly suited someone of her stature. Upon exhaling the thick fog, all of Rosewood’s bodies slumped back and relaxed with a group-timed sigh.

  “Ha ha~a~a, see? Nothing like some pleasant, relaxing herbs from your good neighbor Oak.” One of the Elves winked at Artorian, who had plunked his pillow next to Ember for safety. He was worlds happier already, even if breathing was difficult and his eyes stung.

  “So, what’s going on. Why the big commotion?”

  Ember leaned over to fill Artorian in. “Mahogany explained it to me years ago as follows. Because of the unique method of cultivation the Wood Elves follow, it is their skill and control over their Essence that takes precedence. So, they have… external means, to help with this. The big commotion outside is just the beginning. Many Wood Elves will gather In Oak’s grove. Both because we are here and… as I understand it, Oak has the room for it. Something about an unsavory topic, trees being cleared and such.”

  Another billow of sharp-scented smoke burned Artorian’s big nose, and his eyes watered at the scent. A normal person may have been fine, but as a Cultivator with opened Meridians and senses sharpened to the point where he could correctly identify a type of cheese at a hundred paces, this was strong. Oak giggled at the sight, unbothered at her private congregation’s difficulties.

  “Olive filled me in, man. You’re good. Oak is here to lend a helping branch.” The Elf closest to Artorian handed over the metal contraption, which he could now properly identify as a water-hookah, a type of smoking device. “This here is a hookah. It burns stuff that you inhale, and depending on what you use as a base, has different effects. The good stuff Wood Elven cultivators use is what we w
ere told to offer you. When using the tool as such, this is a Cultivation Hookah.”

  Ember laid a hand on the old man and prevented him from trying it, having not done it herself either. First, she explained. “When using Oak’s special blend of base material, the hookah slows down Essence particle reactions. This has severe effects on the physical body.”

  Oak tapped both sides of her temples. “It’s all in the mind, man. Circulation slows; control increases. It makes Essence do my favorite thing. Relax. This makes Essence more pliable, at the cost that it’s slower. Extended use of the hookah makes this interaction gradually more permanent. So, at the cost that utilizing bodily Essence won't be a swift process, your control over it vastly increases.”

  The Wood Elves all leaned forwards, pressing a hand to their knees as they winked. “What do you say? Wanna give it a try?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ember and Artorian sat back to back in one of Oak’s cleared fields. Night had fallen, and it was dark even with lack of canopy. Both moons hung high in the sky, and crickets could be heard along with other forest dwellers as nocturnal species came out to play.

  “Are we sure about this?” Artorian was hesitant, holding one of the tubes of a very packed hookah. Whole plates of lavish food and multiple ivory containers with water were piled near him. His little ‘issue’ of not having his Meridians fed due to his honeycomb webway had done the rounds of gossip like dry-brush wildfire. It was amusing how similar that behavior was to normal small communities.

  He felt Ember shrug against him. “For me, the downside of this is nonexistent. As a Mage, my Mana flows are immediate and ever present. Slowing them down won’t actually do anything, if the blend in this tool can do it at all. I’m willing to give the aspect of control a try, as I think it would be helpful for me. So, I am doing this.”

  Artorian cleared his throat, and stared at the flute end in his hand. “Well… I can’t let you go through this alone, so I’ll be on the journey with you.”

  The Mage nodded against his back. “For you this is a sizable decision. Your cultivation technique is a beautiful gyroscopic sun core. You’ve done extremely well finalizing the proper measures, densities, and details. It runs smoothly, and in an aesthetically pleasing, ergonomic fashion. It’s a shame we can’t finalize the binding or the trapping principle, but honestly what you have functions… well enough.”

  The old man relished the praise, but knew the downside was coming as Olive filled in some details.

  “Since your technique isn’t solidified, you rely on cellular conductivity to transfer your Essence. Using your body as a transfer medium will become all but impossible. At least in a sense… it might still be useful in situations where you can spend hours of time on whatever you’re trying to do. Anyone that sees the Essence moving through your body is going to laugh at you.”

  Olive ground thumbs into his forehead, he was clearly speaking from experience. “Had you a solidified Core, and your Essence had transferred to moving purely across your Essence circulatory system, then the movements of the energy would have felt immediate. Crisp. Using this tool with such a system would have dropped it back down to the speed you are currently using. It’s a sizable demerit. You will be entirely dependent on your Aura to get anything done. At least until you ease into your ‘C’ rank.”

  Artorian sighed acceptingly. Mulling it over, he played with the hookah tube in his hands. He was still on the fence about following through with it, even if he’d said he would. “I heard it was called ‘breaking into’ a rank, and that it was quite painful.”

  Ember took the first inhale, exhaling a sizable stark-white cloud after a moment. “You will not have that experience. Your cultivation setup, as you keep increasing in power, will allow you to make the shift gradually. Merely expect to feel like you have indigestion, and that a whole rank’s worth of cultivation will get sucked away to complete the solidification, so long as your Core remains at its current size. I believe even entering the Tower of Ascension may feel like a dream to you. If you feel such an event looming, prepare yourself in an Essence-rich environment. That journey will drain everything from both you and your surroundings as you climb. I suggest bonding to an easily reached tier, but I have the feeling that is not what you intend. Be safe, my friend.”

  Artorian felt a tingling rush. She’d never called him by a title other than his name, species, or some off-the-wall comment on something silly he’d done. This was nice, and he smiled as he took the first puff. When the mixture hit his lungs, he snorted and was sucked into his cultivation technique.

  With the exposed stars and bright moonlight, his Center smoothly blazed and sparkled. The space within his Center hazed over as the smoke in his lungs transferred its effect nearly immediately, moving along his Essence and Meridian pathways like a boat dipping into a river.

  He knew Ember had said it, but wow; talk about slow. His Essence didn’t feel like it hit the brakes a little, it felt like he was operating in a different frame of time altogether. The experience either felt like he was incredibly fast, or everything else was just languishing along. He started to stress eat from all the differences. Heavens, this food was tasty. Too much of this and he’d get a taste for the finery of cuisine. A dangerous thing in a civilization-devoid forest.

  “Oooh, that’s strong. Fhwoo!” He coughed out the smoke and felt his eyes water and redden. “I thought you said it was going to slow down a little, not turn into a slug race.”

  He looked over his shoulder, his jaw dropping as he lost all ability to speak. Ember was giving off an aurora of warm light. The borealis that poured from her being appeared as a translucent mass of pure liquid crystal. It traversed on the wafts of exhale she let free in controlled breaths, shifting between one milky color to another as her body gained transparency.

  “How… how can I see through you?”

  Ember was peaceful, and spoke with patient calm. It unsettled him. “I’m altering my body Presence.”

  She blinked a moment. That was going to need an explanation, and her words floated on the auroras that hung around her. “There are three parts to Presence. Inner Presence, Body Presence, and External Presence. The two we haven’t touched before translate in Aura terms as your Meridians, and the overall body and outer skin, including muscle and bone. When infused with Essence and rebuilt, each part will function significantly better. Pre-Ascension, building inner Presence will vastly increase your health, vitality, disease and poison resistance, and recovery time. Building body Presence improves your strength, agility, resilience, and other bodily functions.”

  That wasn’t going to be enough for the academic; she could visualize him asking about what happened after, even if it was far too early for such lessons. “Post-Ascension, those improvements will seem so minor that you’ll wonder what the point had been. When someone becomes a Mage; Inner, Body, and External Presences merge. They become one, forming true ‘Presence’, as there will no longer be a difference between them once concept-bound.”

  “This change is in large part responsible for the naming confusion. Presence may work the same, but the distinctions of the body just no longer matter. Having practiced knowledge of the initial differences remains useful, as it means considerably increased control. Such knowledge will also assist in becoming used to the new frame you’re now living in. Expect having to re-learn how to walk.”

  Convinced that this explanation was sufficient in her hazy concentration, she sunk back into her control practice. Speaking listlessly, she said, “Explaining as a pre-Ascension cultivator, I am currently balancing my Inner and Body Presence to sync and alter, so I may more optimally benefit from the effect we are experiencing. With slower movement of energy, there is increased control. We have more time to work with Essence and mold it to where we need it to be.

  “Post-Ascension, it moves more easily if I tune myself in the process. A body of flesh—even mimicked—is just not the best conductor for the energy. Altering is a work requiring
painful precision, as I am changing body composition. This change is similar to what you did by ripping your external Aura from yourself and forming it into a weapon. It’s useful for a set purpose, and best used temporarily so it does not become permanent. So, don’t go trying to copy me just yet.”

  Her shoulder moved and playfully nudged him. It felt like a statue of clear-quartz crystal, rather than flesh, had bumped against him. Changing your body? What a thrilling concept! Artorian thought this an excellent opportunity to ask a question that had just been itching to be asked. “Does this include body density and weight?”

  The Zen-like statue slowly nodded, it took her entire upper body to do so with all the crystallization. The old man high-fived himself. Success! Everyone else just saw him randomly clap.

  “I’ve said it before. When you become a cultivator, you replace yourself with energy. You surrender what you used to be. Your humanity, my Elven-hood. Instead one becomes formed of the energy that has replaced you. I am not an Elf, so much as I am a creature that is Elven shaped, with Elven features, and Elven behaviors. If I choose to form myself as crystalline, then I am crystalline.

  “If I wish to reduce my density. I can. If I wish to not fully be physically present in the world. I can. It is a measure of method and practice, skill and patience. A body of flesh is one of convenience and social convention. Few wish to show themselves as the monster they know they could be, instead clinging to the life they cherish most.”

  As usual when it came to sublime, profound lectures, Artorian said nothing and simply listened. “On the path of the Ascended, you build your body with pathways that are replaced by greater energy as you progress. After solidification, you will build your Meridians again.”

  She smiled and nudged him again. Far more solid. “You did this with your eyes, far too early.”

  The old man grumbled, but didn’t interrupt further. “The same will be done with the body. When all three Presences are Essence-infused and rebuilt in full form and shape, you have constructed the mold that you will fill with Mana when you ascend. Only parts of you that have been rebuilt with Essence can be affected by Mana.”