by Joshua Cook
“Also, leaving magic doing something, making it permanent, has a price. Part of you becomes the spell. That part never comes back unless somehow the permanence is undone. The more of you that becomes part of the magic, the less there is that is you. Until you can no longer be considered a person; your mind will be gone. Here in the Rivenwood, the permanent spells are actually few. The binding of an Elder to a tree is one of the exceptions. That spell sacrifices the body to save the mind.” Heather pointed behind him. “Look now.”
Cendan turned to look at the woods and caught his breath. The woods were alive in a pattern of lights. Thick and close, the pattern was a detailed as it was stunningly beautiful. The flow alone, the movement; the only word Cendan could place to it was a dance. A crazy, beautiful dance of light. Of pure magic. His logic and detachment failed him at the sight. How could they have created that?
“That pattern, that working you see, Cendan Key, is the work of both the Elder who is being bound into their tree, and a creator. I said making something permanent takes something away from you, remember. Creators, like you, have slightly different rules. You still need to learn the unraveling, but for you, knowing what a creator is capable of is important.” Heather’s voice came to him as he watched the pattern.
Cendan nodded absently, still trying to absorb the pattern he was seeing. The more he looked at it, the more it made sense to him, though it was still a breath-stopping sight.
“Cendan, pay attention.” Heather’s voice once again came from behind him. Reluctantly, he turned away from the forest to face her.
“That was incredible. I need to understand that; I need to know,” Cendan said out loud. “Let me talk to a creator or Maker, or whatever you want to call it.”
“In time!” Heather responded, holding up a hand to stop his protest. “First, you must learn how to unravel. This is too important to not teach you.”
Holding up her fetish again, he could see the same flow as before, still interesting to look at, though nothing compared to the masterpiece behind him.
“Every spell, every working, has a soft point. Finding this point allows you to unravel the pattern. Feel the pattern on your key, Cendan. Each point. There will be one that feels different in your mind. It’s a subtle difference. While the magic can be elusive, slippery in your mind, the one point will feel almost as if it’s wrapped in something. Not slippery, but soft. For me, I always think that it feels like it’s wrapped in a cotton ball.”
Cendan concentrated. “Does it look any different? I’m not feeling…” There. That one green light, it didn’t slip away like the others.
“No, it looks the same, but it just feels different. It’s hard to describe,” Heather answered.
“I think I may have found it,” Cendan replied. “Maybe.”
Heather nodded. “Here’s another important point. Unless it’s a permanent spell, one user of magic, be they Shrouded or Bridgefinder, cannot unravel someone else’s spell.”
Cendan frowned a bit at that. “Why should that make a difference?”
“I was always told because the pattern was tied to the creator. Only a permanent spell is tied to an object, not a person. Spells tied to a person can’t be permanent.” Heather held up a finger. “Now, you in your mind, reach for that soft light, and grab it, and remove it from the pattern. Like this.”
With no other sign, Cendan saw the lights that denote the magic of the world fall away like water, leaving the fetish in her hand uncovered.
“There’s still magic here, but now it’s inside the fetish. But the spell to recharge that well is gone.”
Heather motioned for Cendan to try. Cendan reached out, but the soft spot was hard to find again. He’d get a flash of it, but then it would be gone. Teeth gritted, Cendan furrowed his brow in concentration.
“Relax Cendan. You’re trying to force it. Remember the touch, the first lesson. The same thing holds true for unraveling the spell. Forcing anything just makes it harder.”
A long stream of breath later, Cendan nodded and tried again. This light touch stuff wasn’t easy, he thought to himself. He wondered if there was a better way, one that would come easier to him. This wasn’t the time to experiment, though, he reminded himself. There! That point was it. Lightly, he drew his concentration to that point and pulled.
The pattern fell apart, the points of light showering down to join the pattern on the ground. In moments, there was no sign he’d even cast a spell. A grin broke over his face. Casting a spell! Marcus would blow a gasket over that if he knew, not that he hadn’t already. Jasmine wouldn’t know what to do. Sal would have cheered up a storm, sadly. He felt a slight wave of regret pass over him. He hadn’t known Sal well, but still, it would have been a help and nice to have someone else in the Bridgefinders, who would actually listen to him.
“Now... Practice.” Heather paced around the clearing. “The three basics need to become second nature to you. Practice takes time. Something that is running out.”
Heather looked around. The shadows had gained some length around them, but there was plenty of daylight left.
“This is what I think we should do. You stay here, in this clearing, and I’ll go and see if I can find a Grower to talk to you. You stay here and practice. This area is set up for new students to practice on, so you can’t really harm yourself, or anything else around here. Within reason.” Heather paused. She looked at him with a sad expression, but said nothing and walked off.
Cendan wondered if she had wanted to talk about last night again. Maybe not. Setting that series of thoughts aside, Cendan turned his concentration to practice. A quick glance around the clearing showed him that he was alone, at least as far as walking around people were concerned. A deep breath, and Cendan willed himself to relax. If he truly used magic every time he did his mental exercise of the Branches, then he could do this without thinking too hard about it.
Touching something with his mind, without touching it with his mind but knowing about it, was not something that came easy, Cendan decided rather fast. He half imagined it like one of those ‘if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?’ things. He could feel them, but the moment he paid attention, they would slip away; almost oil like. He tried again, remembering the specks of light, the raw magic. Five tries in, finally the magic moved into a pattern for him. A simple pattern, but a pattern. He wanted the magic to make a light, a visible, simple light. The pattern they sprung into, once he had control of them, was once again a far more orderly and straightforward one than the one Heather had made.
Chalking the difference up to the known differences between the Shrouded and the Bridgefinders, Cendan practiced ‘saving’ the pattern in his focus. A light could always be a useful thing to have whenever he needed it. And normally, a light would be a pretty safe thing to do. He set the pattern to flow through his Key, watching it move in orderly motion around the metal and through it. Heather hadn’t really said how long a pattern needed to be set on his focus before it got saved to it, but he figured a few minutes later, after watching the pattern repeat itself ten or more times, that things were good.
With another soft touch, he searched for and found the point of magic to pull out of the pattern. That was in fact getting easier to do. It occurred to Cendan he’d never had to unravel his pattern-thinking; the skill that Heather said was a form of scrying. He made a note to ask about it. Maybe he was unconsciously doing it just as he was unconsciously forming the pattern?
Looking around and seeing no one nearby, Cendan decided to try to retrieve a pattern from the key. Heather hadn’t actually told him how to do this, but he wanted to push himself. He once again made contact with the magic, and this time fed it into the key with no pattern in mind, other than to make light. Nothing happened. Frowning, Cendan released the magic and searched through the key with his mind, looking for the light pattern he had just ‘saved’ to it.
Eyes widened and breath stopped at what he found. The Key was full of patterns. Patterns o
f great complexity; patterns that he wasn’t sure what they were. He found his rather simple pattern, alongside works of art. Oakheart. This must be part of what Oakheart transferred to the key! Cendan couldn’t believe his luck. It was a treasure trove of knowledge, one that Cendan had not expected.
Heather. He had to find Heather. He needed to know how to access patterns on his key. He started off in the direction she had headed, but stopped after a few steps. Heather had told him to stay here. She’d been pretty adamant about it. The other issue, of course, was that he wasn’t sure he wanted Heather to know about all the patterns on the key. The trust level between them wasn’t high, and that level of knowledge…
He also wasn’t sure if he wanted the Shrouded to know as a whole. The information that Rivenwood had shared, that there were some here who didn’t care if Grellnot wiped out the Bridgefinders, had been an eye opener. Did he want people or tree people to know about the patterns? Could they somehow take them if they knew? Trust. He didn’t trust anyone, really; only himself. He didn’t trust Marcus, he didn’t trust Rivenwood, and he didn’t trust Heather. The closest he got to trust was Jasmine, and he wasn’t sure even about her sometimes. Her loyalty to what she thought the Bridgefinders were, had been strong.
Cendan decided to keep it to himself, for now. Just the light and the recharge patterns were the only ones he’d talk about, until he could get a chance to practice away from the Shrouded; away from any other prying, interested eyes. He did continue to practice getting control of the magic, forming a pattern, and releasing it again. He soon found his mind wandering, however, before realizing with a start that he was performing the actions without thinking!
“See I knew you could do it.” Heather’s voice came from behind him. “You just had to learn to do something you already did.”
Cendan turned to see her alongside a non-descript woman in a brown and grey robe watching him.
“I see you decided to make a light spell. Practical,” Heather noted.
“Yeah, but I can’t figure out how to use the pattern for it in my Key. The pattern is there, but how to use it...” Cendan finished with a shrug.
“Ah yes. The order on things like that are a bit different. First you find the pattern in your fetish, then you draw the magic to it. It will flow into the pattern on its own. Patterns are better used for really complicated spells, however. Simple ones, it isn’t really needed for.” Heather motioned to the woman by her side. “This is Gardener Xid. She’s willing to talk to you about how your abilities are different than others who can use magic.”
Chapter 15
Gardener Xid gave Cendan an appraising look.
“I never thought I’d meet a Bridgefinder, and certainly not a... Maker. A Maker, right?”
Cendan nodded. The woman reminded him of a teacher he had years ago in primary school.
“Yes. I’ve not really made anything, though. All I have is notes and journals. Long on theory, very short on specifics.”
Gardener Xid smirked a bit at that.
“Based on what I know, or at least have bene taught, I should say that doesn’t surprise me.” The Gardener turned to Heather and motioned her off. “Leave us now. This is not a subject of conversation for non-creators.”
Heather’s face had a ghost of an annoyance, but she nodded and walked away, towards the woods.
“Non-Gardeners always want to know how we do what we do. They wouldn’t understand it, and couldn’t succeed if they tried. But they might do something stupid, so we don’t let them watch.” The Gardener turned and walked away, down the path that Heather had originally left down when she had gone to find her. “Come on Bridgefinder!” she yelled without looking behind her.
Cendan paused and then followed. It wasn’t like he had much choice. Staying wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“I’m going to take you to where I work. Where I grow things. I’m not sure how things will be different for you, being as you’re not one of the Shrouded, but hopefully this will fill in some gaps.” The Gardener walked quickly, efficiently. Cendan kept up, but kept looking around. He had never closed off his sight, and could see all the surrounding patterns, and was very unclear on what any of them did. The Gardener disturbed his thoughts.
“I do ask for something in return. I’d like to see your fetish. No sorry, Bridgefinders call them… a focus, right?” Xid shook her head. “Gardeners learn about our cousins more than most, but it’s been a long time since I was taught any of that.”
Cendan paused. “I don’t know... This Key is very important to me.” His grip on the key tightened.
“I don’t mean it any harm. And I won’t try to access the key; I simply want to examine its construction. It will be a learning exercise for us both.”
Cendan still felt unsure, but the Gardener didn’t wait for him as she continued to walk. Jogging to catch up, he decided to try to be social.
“My name is Cendan, by the way. Cendan Key. Pun not intended,” he said, as he waved his focus a bit in his hand. “Heather said you were Gardener Xid, right? How many Gardeners are there?”
“Three,” came the reply, with no other information. Cendan waited for some other acknowledgement, but no other words escaped her. Finally, he could see a low door ahead, cut into the hillside. He stopped mid stride, however, at what his magic sight showed him. The pattern, the magic, was different here. Very different. There was, to his mind, what appeared to be a fountain of magic literally spurting the lights into the air as they flowed.
Just as when Heather worked the stuff, this seemed organic, grown. A pattern of intricate beauty, one that seemed to flow with the earth itself.
“This is a special place. It’s why I chose to work here. A place where magic, the raw magic of our world, is created. There are layers upon layers of subtle workings here, subtle calls and patterns. Generations of Gardeners have worked to create this place.”
Cendan nodded; he could believe it. Gardener Xid came to the door and took something – Cendan couldn’t make out what – and moved it rapidly across the door in a pattern. The door opened without a sound. The Gardener stepped through and motioned Cendan to follow her.
The room they walked into was the first somewhat familiar thing he’d seen today. It was a work room. Tools lined the walls, all hand tools, but they were recognizable. In fact, the room gave him the feeling of purpose and creation in a way he was somewhat surprised by. A low laugh came from Xid.
“If I had any doubts you were a Maker, it’s gone now. The look on your face as we walked in gave it away. Only those with the talent react the way you did.”
The Gardener looked Cendan up and down, examining him as one would examine a block of wood, or clay. Cendan got the distinct impression she was sizing him up to see what she could do with him.
“Cendan, right? Cendan, I will tell you a few things, show you more. But just like what you practiced with our young chosen diplomat to the Bridgefinders, Heather, the best thing is practice; lots and lots of practice.” Grabbing a stool under the workbench, Xid sat. Cendan followed her lead and sat facing her.
“Now. I understand Heather told you the three main lessons of working magic. How to hold it, making a pattern and how to release it, and why. She even told you about making a pattern permanent, yes?” Cendan nodded. “Good. Now, what Heather doesn’t know, and anyone with the talent for creating does know, is that all of that carries a big fat asterisk.” Xid held up a pendant that she wore around her neck. An intricate knotted work pattern covered it and formed tiny cages where even small wood balls floated around. “This is my fetish. I grew this myself. Here, in the workshop.”
“I’m sure you all, you Makers, do things differently. I can’t help you with that. But I can cover what I think are similarities. Now, you have the sight open, yes?” Cendan nodded. “Good. Now, what do you see when you look at my fetish?”
Cendan peered at the pendant, now seeing anything other than the wood itself. He looked harder.
“No,
it just looks like wood to me.” Cendan paused. “You know, that doesn’t make sense. We have these foci, or fetish, or whatever you call it. We work magic with it. You can imprint magic on it. You can even store magic in it. But yet, on the sight, you see nothing.”
The Gardener smiled. “Exactly. What Heather doesn’t know is that there are two kinds of sight. One all users of the magic can use, and one that only those with the talent for creation can use. You can do this. Keep your sight open, but with the same light touch you use to take the magic up before forming a pattern, I want you to take the un-patterned magic and flow it through your sight.”
Cendan cocked at that. “I thought all magic needed a pattern?”
Xid just smiled. “For someone without the talent, that’s true. Just try, Cendan Key. Just try.”
Letting out a long breath, Cendan looked at the fetish with the sight and tried to follow the directions. He fumbled with the magic a few times in his attempt to have it flow through his sight. Then, on the fourth try, it worked.
The Pendant lit up like a rainbow in front of him. Bright colors, near gem-like clarity, enveloped the pendant. It in no way resembled wood anymore.
“That is amazing!” Cendan burst out. Holding onto his new sight, he looked at his own focus. The thing was covered with grooves with the new way of looking. Each groove held magic, moving like electricity, but the colors were as vibrant and strong as the pendant had been. And oddly enough, the parts that didn’t have light on them were dark, nearly black. But even there, he could see... something. Even smaller channels, maybe? And even smaller lights? He found himself wishing for a microscope to look at it with.
“Yes. Your... focus you called it? Your focus is very different from our work. But based on what I’m seeing, just as powerful. But let’s continue.”
Gardener Xid pointed to her pendant. Now, what you’re seeing is the combination of both the pendant itself, and the magic stored in it. If I were to discharge the well, it would still glow in your sight, but far less. I imagine the same holds true for your Key. Xid held up her hand with two fingers held up.