by Ivan Kal
The conversation with the Captain had been much different. He had asked questions, yes, but Vin got the impression that he was not really concerned about Vin’s sudden appearance. It was almost as if he had expected it, which only made Vin more suspicious. In the end, the Captain just put Vin to work with the crew, even though there wasn’t much to do. There was no wind and the ship was just moving slowly across the expanse of water. Vin had learned from the crew that the absence of wind was a common occurrence, a side effect of the mages playing with the weather, as they said. They’d gone on to say that the ship’s mage was preparing a spell that would bring wind to the ship. He still didn’t quite understand how their magic worked; it was an alien thing to him and he had no desire to learn. He had seen their magic kill too many of his people.
Vin turned to the barrel of rainwater beside him, and leaned over to look at himself again. The features of the face that looked back at him were still unfamiliar—those of a young man, barely twenty years of age. Brown eyes and chin-length black hair framed an oval-shaped face, with no marks upon it. A face of someone who had had an easy life. The young look didn’t bother him much; after all, his old body had looked young as well. A side affect of advancing to the fourth step of the path was that his original body had aged much slower. Very few spirit artists managed to reach the fourth step, and fewer still had managed to do it as young as Vin had. Most that had managed it had done so in their middle age after half of a lifetime of preparing for the moment.
Vin was the exception to the rule, and his talent as a spirit artist had attracted many different Clans, all of which had vied for his attention and loyalty. From the young age of five, when his talent had first become apparent, he had been given secret cultivation techniques and master tutors. Vin had advanced far faster than any other spirit artists in his people’s remembered history. A treasure of elixirs and potions, spirit cores, and purified ki had been given to him as gifts—more than any ten other spirit artists could hope to see in their lifetime, he had consumed in a decade. It had accelerated his growth immensely, all culminating in him reaching the seventh step of the spirit arts at the age of thirty-nine, younger than any ever born. And there had only ever been four other seventh-step artists in the recorded history in the first place.
Two years later, the Arashan arrived. Four decades worth of training and advancing on the path, gone in the instant they pulled his soul out of his own body.
Vin took a deep breath and then splashed his face with water from the barrel. There was no point in him dwelling on his fate any further. Now was the time for him to begin his journey on the path again. Only this time, he was going to have the benefit of his past experiences. He started walking toward the stern of the ship—it was the one area which was usually empty, and where he could train in relative peace. Voices turned his attention to a group of sailors playing cards.
He turned and saw Ashara talking softly to the sailors, while they laughed at her words. She moved around them seductively, clearly making sure to sway her hips as she stepped around them. Tight clothes made her already attractive body stand out even more. As she passed, she put her hand on a young boy’s shoulder—he was barely sixteen years old by Vin’s reckoning—and whispered something in his ear that made him blush. It was not the first time that he had seen her act in this way with the men, and the young boy especially.
She turned and started walking in Vin’s direction, and he couldn’t help but notice the looks that the men gave her as they watched her go. The young boy’s look alone spoke of infatuation and adoration. The boy wasn’t all that attractive himself, at least by the standards of Vin’s people; he had probably never been a target of such a beautiful woman’s attentions. It was obvious to all that the boy was almost certainly in love with her.
Ashara reached him and he put his fists against each other in front of his chest before bowing his head. “Greetings, honored sister.”
“You know that calling me Ashara is fine? There is no need for all this honored stuff,” she said as she twirled a lock of her bright golden hair around her finger.
“It isn’t proper, honored sister. I must apologize for the way I acted when I woke up—I was disrespectful. I had abandoned the proper greetings, but in my defense I had no need to speak in civilized ways for a long time.”
“Well, I just wanted to come over and see how you’ve been doing,” Ashara said.
“I am doing well, thank you.”
“Did you remember anything else about the people that had been holding you captive?”
“I am afraid not, honored sister. I know very little about them other than that they used magic,” Vin answered truthfully. He was ignorant about many things concerning the Arashan.
“That’s a shame. I still hope that we can figure out where you are from.”
“I hope so as well, but I knew very little about the worlds beyond mine.” Vin blanched—as soon as the words had left his mouth, he realized what he had said.
“Worlds?” she asked slowly.
“Apologies, honored sister. The spell your mage used on me is still making me misuse words at times. What I meant to say was that I knew little about the world beyond my village and the valley we lived in.” He would need to be much more careful in the future. He didn’t know how their spell worked, but he could not afford a slip of the tongue at the wrong moment.
“Ah, of course.” Ashara nodded. “Well, I think that I should retire to my cabin. Good day.”
She turned to leave, and Vin hesitated. He didn’t know how much was proper for him to say—he knew nothing of the social norms of these people. But in the end, he decided to speak.
“Honored sister?” he called.
“Yes?” Ashara turned and looked at him.
“I apologize if am about to offend… I do not know how much it is proper for me to say… But why are you giving your attentions to that young boy if you have no intentions of acting on them?”
“What?” she asked, her expression turning dark.
“I have no objections, of course. The boy is already in love with you; it is probably the first time he has fallen in love. It just doesn’t make sense to me that you would encourage his affections if you had no such affections for him. I only seek to better understand your culture and customs. Is it considered acceptable for people to show such attentions to one another if they have no intention of marriage? I wonder if I have missed something,” Vin mused.
Her blue eyes glared darkly at him as she put her hands on her hips. “And what makes you think that I do not return his feelings?”
Vin narrowed his eyes in confusion. He was certain that he had read the young woman right. “It is clear to my eyes. You are…” He searched for the word, but he couldn’t find the word in her tongue, so he used his own. “You are an ulqui.”
“I am a what?” She took a step toward him menacingly, which almost made him laugh. The woman was about as menacing as a small pet animal.
“I am sorry. I cannot find the right word in your tongue. But it is a word for a woman that is attracted only to other women,” Vin said.
In a moment her face went from dark and foreboding to pale and afraid. “What did you just say?” she whispered, and then glanced around.
Vin tilted his head as he studied her. “It is obvious. You flirt with the men, but you do not look at them—but I had seen you look at the mage. That she is pleasing to your eyes is unmistakable.”
As he spoke, all color left her face, and she just stared at him.
“Did I say something wrong? I apologize if I offended you. I still know little of your customs.”
“You are wrong,” she hissed. “And don’t you ever speak of this again!” She turned and shakily walked away, soon disappearing below the deck. Vin concentrated in his confusion. He had obviously offended her. Vin sighed in frustration. It would be better if he kept his words to himself in the future—at least until he learned far more about what was acceptable in this world. He turned
and walked away, toward the stern of the ship.
* * *
Vin sat with his legs crossed on the deck, deep in his meditation. He pulled and pushed the ki in and out of his core, readying it for the first step. He needed to force his core into a spiral to compress and purify some of his ki—only then would he be able to reach the next level.
A part of him was worried. He might have all the requisite knowledge, but the last time he had done this he had been seven years old and had the benefit of elixirs and potions to augment and help his transition. Now he had nothing but his own power. Thankfully, though, his core was close to the transition. Indeed, this core held more ki than what was actually necessary for the transition. The previous owner of the body just hadn’t made that transition for whatever reason. Vin could understand some people waiting; to walk the path was not an easy thing, and many had lost their lives in its pursuit. But Vin could not imagine a life lived without walking the path. It was all he knew.
Finally, he began. He used the breathing technique of the Way of the Flowing Stream, as it was easy to use and allowed him to channel his core’s ki more efficiently. He pushed as much of it out of his core and through the channels of his body, expanding them as far as possible without burning them out. With less ki in his core, it was easier for him to push it into the spiral—but it being easier didn’t mean that it wasn’t still difficult. He concentrated and willed his ki into the spiral, forcing his core to compress it and purify it. Slowly it moved, and he felt as if he was burning up, the effort of keeping as much ki away from his core catching up to him. Drop by drop, he accumulated enough purified ki to reforge his core.
He stopped the spiral, pulling the pure ki to the center of the core, and then with a surge of will he pushed it out to its boundary, burning its walls and expanding it. Next he allowed the rest of his ki back inside, draining all of it from the channels throughout his body. Next, he used that ki to reinforce and keep the walls of his core expanded. He struggled to keep his breathing level as his core fought to compress back down. He kept it up for what almost felt like an eternity, until finally he felt a pressure start to build up. The sensation intensified—until finally it reached its peak, and his core snapped into place, taking its new shape.
Vin kept his breathing technique up, cycling the ki in his core and slowly pushing it through his channels. His core seemed brighter, and almost two times as large as it had been. He set himself the task of cycling and purifying his ki until he eventually managed to get all of it through the spiral in his core in one surge of will. Only then did he finally allow himself to relax. Now, he thought wryly, he understood why a lot of potential spirit artists never even made this first step, and why most of those that did waited until they were far older than Vin had been. Even with all of his knowledge and discipline, it had been an ordeal. The first time he had done it, he’d had the benefit of elixirs and other means of easing his ascendance.
The first step of the path was often called the true sight, as it was only after someone had made the first step that they could see the world in truth. It was the beginning, the first step out of infancy. He could call himself a spirit artist now, although this was the smallest and the easiest step to make. He still had more ahead of him, with each step getting much harder to achieve than the one before.
Vin opened his eyes and truly saw this new strange world for the first time. Everywhere he looked, he saw the elemental auras of the wind and the water and the light. The air in front of him was filled with them, far more than even the greatest holy places of his world had been. On Orb, there had only been a few places where auras gathered, places where a spirit artist could meditate and cycle to a much greater effect. Places which were necessary in order for a spirit artist to take the third step and reforge their body, at least for those who had aspirations of climbing higher. But those places were rare, and under the control of the seven heavenly clans. Few were the spirit artists that had the opportunity to practice there, and even fewer were those that could take the third step there. Vin knew how much training at the holy places benefited the spirit artist. It was the reason why spirit artists of the seven heavenly clans were the best and the strongest, and why the seven heavenly clans had ruled.
But here, in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere—in the middle of this great ocean, no less—there was enough aura to rival the greatest of his world’s holy places. Many would have given all the riches they had just for a day worth of training in this place. A part of Vin that had been worried about how he was going to advance on the path calmed itself. He might not have access to many of the aids that his people used to advance on the path, but he would never have a lack of aura to draw in and turn into ki. He smiled at the revelation—it was the first thing that had gone his way since the Arashan invaded his world.
Immediately, he settled back into his breathing technique. He had no time to waste.
CHAPTER SIX
KYARRA
It dances across the night sky. And it brings only darkness. The Great Wolf howls at the star, cursing his brother.
–Excerpt from the Journal of Vardun Con Aroch
Kyarra checked all her wards one last time before leaving her home—a mage’s greatest weapon was being prepared. She had her wards, defensive runes, inscribed into her jewelry. The inlaid spells hummed to her senses as she brushed her will against each one. The jewelry had been warded a month ago when she had been experimenting with different techniques of infusing anima into gems.
There were only two ways of storing anima: the first was by pushing it into gems, and the second was by making an anima-well. Gems could be infused by any kind of anima, and the anima inside would last until it was spent, but once it was gone, the gem was depleted and couldn’t be infused again. These gems were usually used in concert with inscribed bases, which allowed the spell-construct to utilize the anima stored for a one-shot spell. Afterward, the spent gem would need to be replaced in order for the item to be used again.
An anima-well, on the other hand, was created by using a very unique type of a gem as the heart of a crafted item. Usually, a necklace or a bracer would be used as the base, with carefully inscribed glyphs that would allow a mage to store his or her own anima into the gem to call upon in the future. Anima-wells could be used as many times as one wanted, but they needed to be recharged by a mage’s anima, and they couldn’t store anima from any other source. Her jewelry was made up of mostly anima-wells, as she didn’t like to use one-shot infused gems—she preferred the versatility anima-wells provided. But then, she could afford it; the vast majority of other mages could not.
Satisfied that all her wards were acceptable, Kyarra stepped out of her home and into the yard. Ovar was dressed in his finest black doublet and white pants with black leather boots. Over the doublet, he had a dark coat bearing a crest that depicted a silver staff on a field of dark blue—the crest of House Con Aroch. As she drew closer, she noticed a slight chill in the air, one she hadn’t noticed before, as the house had spells regulating the temperature. With a thought, she activated a spell in the ring of her little finger, and continued walking as the chill left her.
As she stopped to stand in front of her guardian, she noticed his gaze slip to her jewelry and then finally to her staff.
“You think that you are going to need all that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“They invited the Eternal Soul, and that is exactly who they are going to get,” Kyarra responded simply.
Ovar sighed and then extended his arm, escorting her to the horse-carriage that was already waiting. With his help she stepped inside and Ovar took his place in the front with the driver. A few moment later, they were on their way.
* * *
They arrived at the palace grounds relatively quickly, and Kyarra left the carriage and walked with Ovar to the entrance, where a single steward and two guards were standing and checking invitations from the people in line. Kyarra and Ovar took their place in line and waited.
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“Good evening, my lady. May I see your invitation please?” the steward asked pleasantly when they reached him. He looked at the small piece of parchment, and not at Kyarra.
Kyarra looked at him in surprise—she had forgotten about the invitations. But then she decided that it this was a good opportunity for her to have some fun. She saw Ovar preparing to speak, so she spoke before him.
“I believe that I must’ve misplaced my invitation,” she said, exaggerating her cheerless voice.
“Then I am afraid that you will not be able to enter.” The steward looked at her but still didn’t recognize her. She would’ve thought that the staff might clue him in, but he hadn’t really looked at it. And it wasn’t like Kyarra was often seen at these kind of gatherings.
“I am sure that I am on your list. Would you be kind enough to check?” she asked hopefully.
The steward sighed, but looked at his parchment. “Name?”
“Kyarra Con Aroch.”
The steward started looking at his list, and then froze a moment later, and the conversation from the rest of the people in line hushed.
“My lady.” The steward’s face lost all of it color, and he quickly bowed. “You don’t need an invitation, of course, I apologize for not recognizing you sooner.”
“That’s all right,” Kyarra said as the guards moved aside and they were allowed inside.