by Tom Hansen
“We’re back at the quarry?” Scarhoof pointed to the tilting wooden pallet that was supposed to be a door in this Nagos hut.
Hillbender sighed. “I would have preferred to have you rest in quieter surroundings, but the Chieftain needed me back for a council meeting. Seems like we’re going to war.”
“I’m ready.” Scarhoof tried to stand but fell right back to his cot after his head began to swim.
Hillbender eyed him like an adult would a small Tau’ri who thinks he can run away from home and find a better life by himself. “Relax. We’re not going anywhere immediately. Mages are opening portals and distributing troops between here and the hidden crag. Well, it used to be hidden, anyway.”
Scarhoof noticed a white bar below the red, yellow, and blue that signified his health, stamina, and mana.
“Spirit?”
Hillbender nodded. “Yes, all that work wasn’t for naught. You have completed your first cycle of training. You can now officially call yourself a well-rounded Shaman, though you still have many a path before you.
“Your next ability will come at level 10, and be another healing spell, Mending Pulse if I recall correctly.”
No longer in the grips of a horrific death, Scarhoof took a moment to contemplate his new abilities and the new quest to visit the Aspect of the Spiritmother in her Spiritdream.
He remembered her admonition back at the bonfire to seek her out as soon as he was able. The thought gave him a shudder. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and yet he felt like he hadn’t grown enough to face her again.
His last encounter with her had resulted in him falling to his knees and crying. His emotions overwhelming his mortal body.
How was he going to handle traveling there? He’d of course heard of spiritual leaders entering Spiritdream to converse with her, but who was he to be allowed passage to such a holy place?
He looked up at Hillbender’s pursed lips and sorrowful eyes.
“I can see the concern on your face. Worry not, Scarhoof, you are ready. You are ready and worthy to enter Spiritdream.”
Scarhoof gave his trainer a look of trepidation. “Am I going to be getting sick each time I do this?”
Hillbender laughed. “I promise it does get easier each time, but there were two things that made it worse for you when we teleported back to my place. First, you weren’t ready. That should be a given. Secondly, you didn’t have access to your Spirit magic yet. That matters because normally it would have used your own Spirit to do your own teleport. Since it used mine for the Recall it was not as efficient as it could have been. That took a toll on you, physically. You might not have had the wherewithal to notice, but your Stamina was tapped before injuring your body.”
Scarhoof pondered the situation. The last time he had met the Spiritmother, she had admonished him to meet her in her dream. This gave him the opportunity to do so. He worried about the teleportation spell, but he trusted Hillbender’s judgement.
Besides, he’d dealt with pain and nausea. He was a Tau’raj. Tau’raj didn’t shrink from discomfort.
He stood, clapping his hands together and teetered slightly. The fire in his chest clearly hadn’t fully extinguished.
Outside the small hut, soldiers shouted and ran. The grunts and groans of normal army life was something he had long-missed. Though a large part of him longed for the peace and servitude of Sunset Cove. His mind drifted back to the previous days events. He wondered how much life had changed in such a short amount of time.
A thought popped into his head. “What about the army? How soon are they leaving?”
“Do not worry about them. Time has little meaning in Her dream, you will be gone and back in less than five minutes. In fact, I’ll probably still be here waiting for you with a cup of hot tea.
Scarhoof pursed his lips, trying to think of an excuse to stay, but he couldn’t find any. He thought about the shard, and wondered if he should go help research, but no, this was more important. She had commanded him to come as soon as he was able. He was able, if a little shaky.
No more excuses; it was time.
He grimaced. “What do I need to do?”
Hillbender donned the largest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen on the old bull. “Excellent. You need to do the binding first.”
Hillbender drew his hands together in a prayer pose, touching the tips of his thumbs to his pressed lips, and the sides of his index fingers to his nose. He breathed in.
As he did so, his hands began to glow. He bent down and placed the palm of his right hand flat on the ground and said a word Scarhoof had never heard before. It was a word of power. As he said it, the small hut filled with a rush of Spirit magic. Wind from nowhere rustled both of their robes chilling the air.
“That is the bind.” He looked at his hands for a moment, his mind clearly remembering something from long ago.
“Something wrong, guru?”
Hillbender gave a weak smile. “Just remembering the most important bind I made long ago. One I have never unbound.”
He shook his head. “But that’s no matter of yours. With talents you will be able to maintain more than one bind point, but that is a conversation for later. Why don’t you try. First, feel for your Spirit magic. It’s there, beside your mana, waiting.”
Scarhoof rested his face on his prayer hands and closed his eyes, feeling inside for the magic. It shocked him how different he felt inside now. It wasn’t just a small pool of magic now, it was like a vast milky white ocean before him, grand in its majesty and serenity.
He reached out and touched the pool, and magical energy rushed through him. It was similar to the healing magics he had touched earlier, with a similar signature of crackling lightning and ozone, but this was softer, feminine. It smelled like roses in the rain.
The power was terrifyingly deep.
“Oh! Careful there, you can pull in too much. Now you might need to do this the first dozen times you source your Spirit magic, but it will go faster and smoother next time. Now, bind.”
Scarhoof mimicked his trainer, bending down, palm flat against the ground and spoke the word of power. Like a tidal wave crashing upon the rocky shore, the power surged from him and into the ground, leaving his arm tingly and the air smelling a bit like burnt roses.
A fine image burned onto the earth with runes and symbols he had never seen before. He stared at it for a second, watching its intricate lines and runes pulse with energy until slowly fading away.
“It looks like a Yantra.”
“That’s because it is, but instead of using Mana, you are etching your Yantra with Spirit. This gives it more of a pure focus, but also requires that the etching be done on something already attuned to Spirit, like all of the Eternal Plains is.”
Scarhoof nodded. “Makes sense. So what is next?”
“Well, normally I would have said you have to wait, but see how your Spirit is regenerating? Spirit Regeneration is different than Mana, in that it has a constant regeneration rate at all times of 1 Spirit per second.”
“No way to increase that?”
Hillbender frowned. “None that I’m aware of. Of course there are rumors that certain areas of the world have faster or slower regeneration, but I’ve never encountered those. No matter where you are in Eloria, Spirit will regenerate the same rate, in and out of combat, this is because of your affinity with Spirit and your body only able to absorb the pure form of Spirit at a certain rate.”
Scarhoof watched his Spirit regenerate for a few seconds, finally topping off at the 101 maximum. “All maxxed out, and each of these drain my entire Spirit reserves?”
“Yes, so you must manage your Spirit abilities differently than you do Mana. They are powerful, but limited, and there is no easy shortcut to casting them one after the other. Now for the Recall. Look inside, pretend you are dreaming, let it come to you, the state, the dream. It should already be there, waiting.”
He found it. Like an orb of ocean water floating in mid-ai
r, there it was.
“Good, now reach out and touch it.”
Scarhoof did, and that is when his world turned upside down.
Chapter 34
Celdia Moonrunner didn’t think it was possible to both drown underwater and also fall through the air, but that is the feeling she experienced immediately after casting Great Meditation Recall.
The magic was so powerful, so majestic, she basked in its glory and her newfound abilities. The Elders would be glad to hear about her progress, now that she had been summoned by GreatFather to His Great Meditation.
The magic deposited her into a small meadow with cool grass beneath her bare feet. The air felt wonderful on her skin, like a royal bath. Above her, the sky was a deep black speckled with millions of tiny stars.
She felt both powerful and small.
A brook bubbled to her left, and a granite bench stood about ten paces from her. She took a hesitant step onto the undergrowth, her bare feet soaking up the nature around her.
The baubles in her hair rang with a gentle melody that melded with the serene nature of the Mediation. She grabbed them with her hands, grateful she hadn’t worn her normal uniform. Her soft green robe hung loosely from her body, an uncomfortable feeling from what she was used to.
But there were rules for visiting Him.
“Celdia.”
It was Him.
She dropped to one knee in an instant, her forehead touching her other knee in an act of severe verisimilitude. She was in the presence of a God, and she had to be the best she could be for the sake of the Elders who waited for her back in Highgarden.
“Greatfather. I have come as you requested.”
“Arise, my child. You do not need to bow and scrape in my presence.”
She looked up. His slender build and willowy facial features made him look divine. His piercing white eyes were full of Spirit giving him an otherworldly look.
She was in the presence of the only one to transcend his mortal coil through sheer will alone.
“Come, the other is already here.”
Panic flooded her chest. “What other?”
Father grinned at her, his bright white teeth shining, almost glowing in the twilight. “Did you think you were the only one summoned?” He winked and turned back toward the small cave entrance at the edge of the meadow.
She stood for a moment, watching his blood red velvet robes billow as he walked away.
She wasn’t the only one summoned? Who else had made it through the trials and learned the binding spells to come here? No one that she knew of. Perhaps one of the lesser castes in their decrepit temples could pull this off. Technically all Father’s children were equals in the Eternal Dream, but that was just something they told the lesser castes to get them to work hard, right? Tumultuous thoughts rattled around inside her mind, memories she wished could stay buried forever.
She shuddered. Her past never seemed to remain there, a constant reminder of the path she walked. At any moment her world could crumble around her and then—"
“Coming?”
She nodded in haste, irritation seeping into her mind, edging out the sheer awe and determination that had been her focus since starting down this path. She’d given up too much to turn back, dove too deep and now she must make her own way. Stick to the plan.
She stood and strode across the meadow. Small sharp rocks and thistles grated and poked her feet as she rushed after her God. She barely noticed them.
He disappeared into a large crevice in the stone face bordering the meadow. Inside, it was dark, and a unique smell emanated from within, reminding her of a bonfire. She had been cold so long, the trials had been so grueling, that she yearned for a fire.
She paused just outside, taking in the meadow. It signified a change in her life, a new calling. So few were ever called up by Him that none of the Elders could remember the last time it had happened. She was proving everyone wrong in everything she did. Every step she took in His presence proved her existence.
Yet she wasn’t the first one here, and the thought nagged at her. If she was the first, had someone else been called by Him and passed the trials before her? She had done everything she could to ensure her survival above anyone else. Her entire plan hinged on that.
As excited as she was to pass from the meadow into His hidden sanctuary, she didn’t want to leave. She had given up so much, she had sacrificed everything she had to get to this point. This meadow meant a change in her life, a change for the better. She didn’t want it to end.
She turned after burning the image of the peaceful little copse into her mind. For sure this would fill her dreams for years to come.
Just inside the fissure, through the rock was a small carved walkway, which opened up into a medium sized room perhaps a dozen meters across.
Pale white light bathed the entire room, yet the high rock ceiling seemed to never end and disappeared into blackness.
In the center of room was a large granite orb, perhaps a meter across. It sat atop a pedestal of the same material from which bubbled a source of water. The onyx colored stone glinted the pallid white light as it spun slowly, unattached to its base by a thin layer of water.
Surrounding the globe were a few grey stone benches and seated on one of them was her God.
Across from her God was a Tau’raj.
Ire flashed across her mind as she took in the smelly hulking beast. “Get away from Him now!”
How had it infiltrated the Dream? She only knew she needed to rid this sanctuary of the backwater filth immediately. She reached for the sticks at her belt, but finding none, she crouched into an attack position and leapt for the sullied beast.
Righteous fury consumed her every fiber as she aimed an elbow at the creature’s eyesocket. Disable his ability to see then she would hobble it and drag it from this divine place.
She crashed into something solid and unforgiving. Mere centimeters from the beast’s widened eyes, her elbow met a shimmering translucent barrier.
The rest of her body slammed into the invisible barrier, and she crumpled to the soft ground in a heap. She had hit her head hard. That much she knew, but she couldn’t process the rest. All she knew was her entire body had exploded in pain.
She was then thrown back by some unseen energy, landing in a heap a couple meters away.
She looked up, her head crying out in agony. Her God stood over her, a disappointed look on his white and slender face.
“I do hope I did not choose poorly, Celdia. I would have thought the trials taught you about the importance of all life and the value of all my children.”
He took a step back, his shimmering red robes like water. He pulled his hands apart, taking them out of the large cuffs that adorned each forearm and pointed to the massive minotaur still seated next to the globe.
“Scarhoof is my guest, and vital to my cause. If you cannot see past your own prejudices, then perhaps I failed in my choice?”
Celdia glared at the creature. She could smell him from here. They all stank of unwashed farm animals and dung. Always with the wooly dung smell.
He wasn’t the largest Tau’raj she’d ever seen, perhaps a little taller than two meters. His black hide was taut against his thick muscles. He had black horns to match his hide, something she’d never seen before on a Tau’raj. In fact, his entire body was black but for a stark white patch on his back mane. The bottom half of his right leg was shriveled and sickly in comparison with the rest of him.
And his eyes. His eyes glowed white.
Like mine.
She’d never met any other mortals with white glowing eyes. A rhyme from when she was a child flitted through her mind, but she swatted it away. She’d left behind childish things long ago. There was no room for that anymore.
The two stared at each other for a moment. Despite her attempt at an attack, he seemed rather nonplussed. His chest rose and fell to a slow rhythm. A large brass ring adorned his nose and four more, including one silver, hung from his ea
rs.
She broke her gaze from the beast and fell on the feet of her God. “I do apologize, my Grace. I but thought he was here to attack you, in your home.”
Above her, the God’s wiry frame shook as he chuckled. “This is my dream, remember. How else would he have gotten here if not for my asking him? Besides, do you think he would have been attacking me with those dainty teacups in his hands?
She glanced up. Sure enough, the massive, hulking, bipedal ox held a small teacup in between his huge hands.
Her God turned. “I do apologize, Matuk. I should have acquired larger cups for you. I will make sure I do that next time.”
Scarhoof opened his mouth for the first time. “No problem, m’lady. I am just pleased to be here.”
“M’lady?” She caught the word as soon as it exited his mouth.
Greatfather flashed her a toothy grin. “Well now that both of you are here, I suppose I should dispense with formalities and drop this charade.”
He stood and raised his hands high above his head while magic swirled around him. Intense white light flooded the small cave and, in a flash, Greatfather no longer stood before her. Instead, it was a human female.
The woman before her was around her own age, mid-20’s. Like all humans, she lacked the pointed ears of the Dendrants. Most humans were not as thin either, but this one could have passed for Dendrant if-not for her ears. She wasn’t very tall, about Celdia’s height, and her pale skin was a milky cream she had never seen on a human before. It almost seemed to glow.
“Celdia Moonrunner, I wish you to formally meet Matuk Scarhoof. He goes by his last name as is custom for many of his race.” Her voice was kind yet commanding.
“I brought you two here to share something of the utmost importance. I apologize to you both for the disguise, but I wanted to appear to you both as someone you would trust before I introduced myself to you in a more comfortable form.”
The woman motioned to the Dendrant. “Please, Celdia, sit. We have much to discuss and need to get started. Time is of the essence.”