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The Way; not much is known about the origin of these mysterious powers. Some say the first known accounts of the Way came soon after the Great Change, but I have seen written accounts of similar powers going back five cyns before that. Argonians believe the power was gifted to them by Argon and Felina, but I tend to believe the origins of the Way are not that simple. It seems to me that this ability may be something innate that has evolved over time, which also leads me to think that the Way is not a god given power. I know it is sacrilege to speak of such things, but as an historian I must look at the picture through an unbiased lens, putting the pieces together until the puzzle is solved.
It is now known that the Helnians have a similar power. They call it The Fury, and when their warriors utilize the power in combat, they become frenzied combatants with great strength and speed. We do not know much about The Fury, but the Saricons believe it was given to them by Heln, just as the Argonians believe that the Way was a blessing from Argon and Felina. My educated mind of course says that they both cannot be right; therefore the source of these powers must lie elsewhere.
We do know some things about the Way. We know that those who are gifted with this ability will fit into one of four different categories, either an Aura Mage, a Merger, a Channeler, or a Sapper. The unique skills of each category vary, depending on the inner strength of the person possessing them. Thus, the Way will be stronger in some than in others. We know that there has never been any accounts of a female Merger, although we have little idea why. I have spent countless evenings reading, researching, and writing about this topic, but I’m afraid I have answered very few questions about the true origins of the Way. I’m convinced, however, that with time, we will learn more about the intricacies of the Way. I may not be the one who finds the answers, but hopefully my work will be a part of the process.
Journal entry 21
Kivalla Der’une, Historian, Keeper of the records in Cythera, capital of Dy’ain
* * *
5088, the 14th cyn after the Great Change
Prince Jarak Dormath was moving slowly through the throngs of people in Market Square, his towd turned on, concentrating on those closest to him as he passed, looking for intricacies within their auras. He was tasking, slowly pulling small amounts of energy from each person, and storing it in his tarnum, a place Jarak had created in his abdomen. One’s tarnum was not really a place, it was simply a focal point, in which to briefly store the energy before it would be released in the form of a spell. Some Aura Mages created their tarnums in their chests, or even their heads, but always it was considered their center, a place to concentrate on the energy they were about to release.
Nearly eighteen, Jarak was still a young, inexperienced Aura Mage, but being the heir to House Dormath meant that his Aurit powers were strong. His training had started when the Way had emerged at the age of fourteen. He remembered how difficult tasking had been nearly four years ago, but now he was able to concentrate on just the people nearby, shutting out the others and preventing himself from being overwhelmed by all the other auras around him. The first time he had tried to task, he had eventually collapsed in exhaustion, overwhelmed by the hundreds of auras assaulting him at once. His towd had shut down automatically, a built in fail safe to prevent him from passing out, or causing other permanent bodily damage. After that first attempt he ended up with a headache that lasted for days.
“Watch out for the burning aura on your left,” Serix said from behind. Serix Rilonan was one of two brothers of House Rilonan, an influential noble house from Kreb. He was a powerful Aura Mage who had been given the job of training Jarak, a job he had begun four years earlier and would continue until Jarak turned twenty one.
Serix was dressed in the clothing of a common trader, allowing him to blend in with the people that frequented Market Square. He was of average height, though quite thin. His hair, too, was a nondescript pale brown, long and straight and pulled back behind his ears and held in place by the typical wide brimmed hat of a farmer. His thin face was dark, tanned by the sun. Brown eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips complemented his unassuming face.
Jarak too was wearing clothes typical of a trader; gray wool trousers, a heavy wool coat, and a worn and tattered farmer’s hat similar to the one Serix wore. Their goal today was to practice tasking, and that would be almost impossible if anyone recognized either of them. Prince Dormath, however, was far from unassuming. His hair was a rich darker brown, long, thick, and wavy, and despite his relative youth he had already managed a decent growth of stubble. Jarak’s features were handsome, with a prominent narrow nose and a strong chin and jawline. His large hazel eyes and long thick eyelashes would make any princess jealous. And even his plain clothing could not completely disguise his strong, athletic frame.
Jarak quickly glanced to his left, and saw the fiery red aura on a young man striding quickly by him. His aura was dancing brightly, and near the man’s skin it was turning a dark red, nearly black. The man was obviously angry, or perhaps consumed by negative thoughts, and Jarak did not want to inadvertently take any of his aura. It was always dangerous for an Aura Mage to use negative energies, as the negative influences of those energies, over time, could cause physical and mental changes in the mage, or result in sickness, even death. That was why, under conditions where negative energies were abundant, like combat, an Aura Mage almost always needed to be working with a Channeler, someone with the ability to take in and filter the energy of other’s auras. Channelers were similar to an Aura Mage, but they did not have the ability to convert the energy into spells. All they can do is take in the aura energy, filter it, converting it into a clean source of power, and store it briefly for an Aura Mage to use. If there were no mage available to harness the power, the Channeler would have to dissipate the energy into the ground, or risk being consumed by it. A powerful Channeler and Aura Mage working together were a deadly combination. Jarak circumvented the burning aura, blocking its energy and continued tasking from others whose auras were clean.
“How does your tarnum feel?” Serix asked as he moved next to Jarak.
“Good, but nearly full.”
“Shut off your towd and concentrate on the energy in your tarnum. Keep it stored until we make it back to the palace,” Serix ordered.
“All the way back?” Jarak asked, a bit worried.
“Yes. You can do it. Focus and push in with your own aura. Keep the energy in place until we make it back.”
Morlock’s balls, Jarak though. “I will do my best,” Jarak said, not really confident that he could perform the task.
Sensing his concern Serix tried to reassure him. “You can do it. Trust me.”
Jarak was already anxiously focusing on the task, and his tarnum was beginning to build up heat. The walk back to the palace was five city blocks, and that was a long time to keep a large amount of energy stored in one’s tarnum. Aura energy, like all energy wants to be used. And now it felt as if it were expanding inside him, ready to burst out and be released. The longer he held it, the more painful it became. But, as they moved their way through the streets, he worked on his concentration, focusing on his own aura, and using it to form a wall around his tarnum like he had been taught, and keeping the energy there. After several blocks, the tall towers of the inner palace rose above the buildings surrounding them, beckoning him on as his tarnum continued to burn in his gut.
“Almost there,” Serix reassured him, knowing from experience how uncomfortable Jarak was feeling.
A couple more blocks brought them to the palace’s north entrance. The portcullis was down, blocking the entrance. The inner castle was protected by a thirty foot wall, and the barbican protecting the gate and portcullis was sturdy and strong, constructed of massive blocks of gray granite.
Two Sentinels, the elite palace guards, stood before the portcullis in full armor, carrying long spears with swords at their hips, their gold capes wrapped around their shoulders. More S
entinels walked the walls, peering out from the battlements at the large bustling city below. The palace, built hundreds of years ago when the city was ruled by House Banrothus, was positioned on top of a hill directly in the middle of the vast city. Cythera was the largest city in all of Dy’ain, and perhaps even Corvell. The Kul-brite mines brought incredible amounts of wealth to the city, and to House Dormath.
Serix and Jarak took off their hats and the two Sentinels recognized them immediately. One guard yelled to a Sentinel on the barbican. “Open the portcullis! The prince has returned!”
Jarak and Serix moved inside quickly as the gate reversed direction, once again sealing the inner palace from the city. The courtyard was mostly empty, although a handful of Sentinels and servants went about their daily chores. Inside the walls was a magnificent palace. The palace was U shaped, the open end facing the main gate they had just entered. The royal residence consisted of three stories and contained over fifty rooms. Immaculate gardens, manicured lawns, and a copse of fruit trees filled the inner courtyard between the two wings of the palace. A straight stone path directed visitors to a series of wide steps which led to a large covered entryway. Colossal white stone columns flanking two huge oak doors marked the entrance; the entire expanse of the massive double door was a carved depiction of the symbol of House Dormath, two swords crossed over a mountain peak. Other stone paths branched from the main one, meandering through the gardens and trees, forming an intricate pattern of walkways from which one could enjoy the spectacular botanical views of exotic plants and flowers that had been collected from kingdoms near and far. On either side of the palace were storerooms, an armory, a smithy, stables, and the barracks for the two hundred Sentinels that guarded the king and his family at all times,
“Okay,” Serix announced as he walked up behind the prince. “I want you to create a fire chain where you release the flames in six bursts, the first one reaching five paces and continuing one pace further for each consecutive burst. Imagine an enemy at the end of each burst, and each time the fire chain reaches its target, create an intense explosion. You ready?”
Prince Jarak nodded his head and planted his feet wide. He could have just released the energy harmlessly, leaching it into the ground through his feet. But he knew that Serix would not allow that, that he would want him to practice some sort of offensive spell. His tarnum was burning and he desperately wanted to release the energy stored there, but he had to control it in order to do as Serix instructed. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes briefly and concentrated on his tarnum, visualizing the fire chain as he slowly moved his arms in a graceful circular pattern. Instantly fire burst from his hands, and as his arms moved the fire pushed out, forming rope-like appendages of intense white hot fire. The ropes seemed to dance around him like fire whips, then, after concentrating on the task, he pushed out with his right hand, the fire rope lashing out fifteen paces and exploding in a shower of flames. He followed suit with his left arm, sending another fiery chain forward, exploding another pace further from the last. In less than twenty heartbeats he had successfully launched six bursts of fire, each one moving further away and ending in a brief explosion; the last burst, however, was less than stellar as he had run out of energy.
Once he had released all the energy, his hands dropped like lead and he took a long deep breath as his body adjusted to the loss of power. Serix walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Good, Jarak, but where did you err?”
Jarak thought for a moment. He was happy with his performance, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer. “At the end, I did not have enough energy for a proper explosion. I used too much at the beginning.”
“That’s correct. You were so eager to release the energy that you used too much at the start. It would not do to have incinerated five of your enemies only to leave one at the end to finish you off. Learn to adjust the release of power. Do not be so eager to get rid of the very thing that may save your life.” Serix patted him on the shoulder. “That was well done though. I know it was painful for you to contain that much energy.”
“Perhaps less painful than a sword blade,” Jarak added, clearly realizing the importance of the lesson.
Serix smiled. “That is true. That is enough for the day. You are excused.”
Prince Jarak bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Master Serix.”
The prince was more than happy to be finished with his lesson. Although he enjoyed his time with Serix, he was getting tired of all the classes and training required of him. He smiled as he made his way through the palace grounds towards his quarters. It was nearly dark and he had plans for the night. He knew he should study as he had a history exam tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Tonight he was going to have some fun.
Later that evening, Prince Jarak crept quickly and quietly down the long hallway, being careful not to alert the palace guards. It would not do to be caught roaming the halls when he should be in his chambers. The young Prince of Dy’ain and heir to House Dormath was not yet eighteen, and therefore had to abide by his father’s rules, one of which was to remain inside the palace after the sun had set. Prince Jarak, however, chafed at such restrictions, and in this, his eighteenth year, had developed the habit of sneaking out at night to visit the local taverns and brothels. And though he tried to disguise himself, more often than not he was recognized for who he was, which caused significant embarrassment for House Dormath, and unpleasant consequences for Jarak. The combination of a little freedom and a little ale often led to some poor decisions. If he were fortunate enough to not be recognized he would often be drawn into a barroom brawl. More often, however, he would find himself spending exorbitant amounts of his father’s gold in the city’s most exclusive brothels. His behavior was not very princely, and his father had repeatedly scolded and threatened him, until finally he had assigned two of his personal guards to follow him around like his shadow. But after three months of good behavior, his father had called off his babysitters, and Jarak had waited all of one night before taking advantage of his new freedom.
With eager anticipation he was on the prowl again, but this time he wanted some company, a partner in crime. So he was heading two floors below, to the room of his tutor, and for the last ten years, his close friend as well. He had been bored out of his mind the last few months, occupying his days with his mandatory classes, which to him seemed endless and pointless. Why would he ever need to know how many bags of grain would be needed to feed a thousand men, or how long the grain would last before it spoiled? After all, he would soon be king, and he would have someone else more knowledgeable on the subject make those decisions for him. But he did enjoy the riding and weapons training, which were his only escapes from the countless classes that his station seemed to require of him. He was an excellent rider, and his lithe but muscular frame made him a decent swordsman. Still, the sword drills and daily rides were not enough to satisfy the prince’s restless spirit. Even his Aurit lessons with Serix did little to calm him. Despite the energy and concentration needed to master the complicated skills of an Aura Mage, the lessons, though mentally and physically taxing, did little to tire the exuberant youth. And so, he would typically blow off some steam in one of the local taverns, or in the arms of a buxom lady at the Black Cat. But after he had been caught several times those evening escapes from his daily drudgery disappeared like a noble’s coin in the Stye, the poorest and most dangerous section of Cythera, the capital city of Dy’ain.
To get to Rath’s room he couldn’t go through the halls as he was sure to run into guards who were stationed all over the castle, especially at anterooms that acted as hubs for the many halls that connected the two wings and three levels of the castle. The layout was purposeful as there was no way any intruder could gain access to the wings and upper levels without passing through the anterooms, all of which were guard bases for the Sentinels, House Dormath’s elite guards.
But the prince had another idea. He was running barefoot so his
boots wouldn’t be heard on the dark smooth stone that covered the corridor’s floors. He quietly slid to a stop outside a guest room that he knew to be empty.
The polished stone used throughout the castle was extremely rare, with veins of gold and silver running throughout it. It was worth more than the total wealth of most kingdoms, testament to the wealth of House Dormath. There was no other location in all of Corvell, or even Belorth for that matter, that controlled Kul-brite mines as productive as the mines that existed in the Devlin Mountains. And whoever controlled Kul-brite steel controlled nearly everything else. The rare metal was used to forge Kul-brite blades, blades capable of containing the aura energy produced by a Merger, like his father and grandfather before him. Experienced and powerful Mergers could even cause their swords to flare and burn with this fiery energy, or in rare cases, even propel flames from their blade for short distances. But Jarak was not a Merger like his father; he was an Aura Mage. He had started his training at a young age and was already becoming quite proficient in his inherent skill. Aura Mages could pull the aura energies from people around them and manipulate the energy into various forms. Skilled mages could harness this energy, creating both offensive and defensive spells.
Jarak was unarmed except for his short sword, a weapon given to him by his father when he had turned sixteen. Most Aura Mages were not always particularly skilled with a blade since most of their time was spent learning the mental intricacies of working with aura energy. But Jarak was taught by Serix Rilonan who was a talented sword wielder in his own right. He had always directed Jarak to learn another skill and to not rely on his innate abilities in combat. The young prince enjoyed swordplay and had found that it was a great way to relieve the mental stress associated with learning the craft of a mage. He also carried his Mage Stone, given to him by Serix when he had turned sixteen. These rare red gemstones were capable of storing aura energy. Serix was believed to be the most powerful Aura Mage in Dy’ain and had created the stone for him. It was capable of storing enough energy for at least one offensive or defensive spell. Serix had commissioned an artisan to set the stone into a beautifully handcrafted silver belt buckle, the same buckle worn on the belt now holding his short sword. Along with his blade, the young prince wore simple breeches, a faded gray tunic, and a coarse wool over-shirt, hoping that he would blend in well with the common folk.
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