Book 2: Chapter 32: The Call of Water
Ancient lore tells of a being beyond reckoning, a figure of myth and legend. Am embodiment of humanity itself, forged in the crucible of our darkest moments to guide us into the light. A beacon of hope, he carries with him the knowledge and wisdom of our forebears, that we may chart a course to a brighter tomorrow.
- On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC.
Slightly annoyed at the dismissal, but grateful for my new equipment, I cut through a gaggle of people going about their business on my way to Ankhset’s wagon. I overheard snippets of conversation amidst the throng, revealing that a certain Gelgor was trailing us by only a few days. Rumor had it that one of the boys had sighted his caravan from atop one of our large wagons. From my understanding of the fragments of information, this Gelgor person was another caravan master who was also leading his group across the Whispering Wastes. Was this to be yet another threat, or perhaps an opportunity?
As I thought upon this, my feet led me to the wagon of the Water Mage. This time, to my surprise, there was no one guarding the entrance. Shrugging to myself, I walked up to the wooden door and rapped my knuckles upon it.
The door swung open to reveal a hunching Aizere, or perhaps it was Erasyl - the twins were nearly indistinguishable. "Please, do come in. Our mother has been expecting you," said the brother, gesturing for me to enter.
Mindful of the dirt on my boots, I kicked them off by the steps and followed him inside. Elwin and Kidu followed suit, removing their footwear before they came in.
As we entered, we beheld Larynda seated cross-legged at a low wooden table. Opposite her was the willowy old woman sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, the Water Mage of the caravan. Her name, according to my Identify, was Ankhset, and she was the mother of the twins. She looked up, registering our appearance through smoke-gray eyes that were still clear and bright. From up close, and despite the ravages of time, I could discern that she must have once been comely in her youth, unlike her monstrously large offspring.
The old woman nodded to me once before she gestured for my companions and me to sit. “Have tea and be at ease,” the woman said in a matronly voice as she poured out some tea for us.
We sat cross-legged at the table. The three larger members of this gathering’s bulk were in stark juxtaposition to the almost jokingly small tea set displayed before us. Raising a small white cup to my lips, a perfumed hint of jasmine graced my senses for a moment, bringing with it a ghost of a memory. Another place, another life. I tasted the golden brown liquid and found the tea clean to the palette, yet having a full and rounded muscatel flavor.
Our host, judging that we had passed some sort of mysterious test, deigned to grace us with an introduction, “I have been told that you already have met my son and daughter, Erasyl and Aizere. Forgive them, they are a little overprotective of me in my old age. I am Ankhset Ulgen, Water Seeker of the Company of the Ravens, and I wish to thank you for your gracious actions.”
With a conscious effort, I stopped a smug grin from crossing my face. Just as I had predicted, an event, in this case defending the caravan, had unlocked access to this new character and started this scripted piece. Instead of a sneer, I decided my most-pleasant smile would serve me better, followed of course, by the expected humble heroic tripe. Also, it was a good thing that Cordelia was not with us, as I had a feeling that if she were present things might be a little more complicated.The origin of this chapter's debut can be traced to N0v3l--B1n.
“I did nothing more than what was expected. The caravan master had hired me to protect the people of this train, and that is all that I did,” I replied as cordially as possible.
“Some say that it is you who also brings the scrutiny of the fates upon us - that Laes has been coerced by the result of his foolish honor,” the sister added to the conversation rudely, her annoyed expression mirrored by her twin. I was glad that Cordelia was not with us.
“Only those who say that honor is foolish are the ones who have no honor themselves,” countered Kidu, his voice a rumbling warning.
Ankhset sighed at this. “I did not invite Master Gilgamesh to gossip like old wives at the festival,” she chided her unruly spawn. Turning to me, she offered in a conciliatory tone, “Peace. I invited you to offer a small gift in thanks, and a humble word of warning, if you would listen to this old woman.”
“Our boss, Gil, likes his presents. Now what he doesn’t like however is surprises. There was this time...” Elwin started before he was silenced by a warning look from Kidu. Luckily, the Rogue held his tongue.
“You have my ear, speak on,” I cut in a little sharply, giving up the pretense of acting the part of the quiet and humble hero. It was never within me anyway, and I just wanted the old woman to get to the point.
“Very well then. Though I am no oracle, I can sense Fate’s heavy hand about you and the young one’s path,” the old Water Mage explained while looking in Larynda’s direction, causing her to fidget uneasily.
Ankhset’s face grew dark and serious, “I mean no such thing, Gilgamesh. The magic she unleashed, the Forest of Crystal, Naspu Surahu, is known to us. And, like the Black Flame, Nara Sakullu, we know the root of such magic. The power that came before the gods of man. So, it is recorded and spoken. Though I know that her birth parent’s people are skilled in Control, it is not a thing for adults to wield, let alone a child. I am not so foolish to tell a curious child to not use the gift Mana, only that she does so with a different, less-dangerous, element, and with some measure of guidance,” she paused for a moment to take a deep breath, “Perhaps this will help give you some understanding. Come here, child. Give me your hand,” she gestured kindly to Larynda, and I nodded to the small girl giving her my permission.
“This ain’t gonna hurt, is it? Or taste like medicine?” mumbled the half-elven child.
Ankhset merely smiled at this and took Larynda’s hand in her own, her old fingers looking like withered branches from a tree. In a casual display of power, she summoned a few droplets of water that hovered in the air just above the table. Whatever this old woman was planning, I thought it better that Larynda be the recipient. Still, it would be best to at least give a token of objection.
“What is this now?” I asked in what I hoped came across as a stern and protective tone.
“Just a small demonstration of one of the fundamentals of existence. Fear not, I would never harm the child,” the old woman replied calmly. I made a show of being barely assuaged by crossing my arms.
The old woman turned to Larynda and instructed, in a kind voice, “Now, stay as still as you can and watch.” I noticed that she had Larynda’s full and undivided attention.
One of the droplets fell gently on the back of the child’s hand, coursing down in a random pattern across her skin. Another droplet fell in the exact same spot, and like the last droplet, it plotted a random and different course. This was repeated again and again until the light of understanding dawned in Larynda’s eyes. In everything there is an element of the uncontrollable, the untameable. The tiniest of changes could result in a myriad of different outcomes that rebelled against the order of the universe. Yet even within this, there was a pattern only visible to the gifted and the mad. Although the crone thought that she had schooled the girl in one of the deeper mysteries, revealing to the child the source of her magic, I had known all along. The obvious clue had been in the name of Larynda’s class. Chaos Mage. Chaos.
While the little girl looked suitably impressed, I, on the other hand, was merely annoyed at the cheap theatrics. Seeing the woman occupied, I surreptitiously cast an Identify on the scroll.
Scroll of Water Ball [Magic]
Durability 9/10
As I thought, a magical scroll. Like my Identify spell, one would, no doubt, be able to learn a new magical ability by touching and absorbing the knowledge and power held within the words of the scroll.
Ankhset wore a satisfied expression on her face, like she had just imparted the wisdom of the gods to us. Little did she know that such ‘wisdom’ was well within the purview of the common school child in my world. Also, in my opinion, a few words would have gotten the point across just as well. All in all, it was a rather primitive and overly-reductive way of demonstrating Chaos Theory.
“Please, let the water guide her. I do not wish to see such beautiful potential cut so short before its time” the old woman begged of me.
I could not stop smiling in smug superiority, for I had known the source of Larynda’s power long ago. It was time to indulge the child, and a part of me feared what taking the scroll for my own selfish desires entailed. She did mention that it would add extra strain upon my soul. Did a strain upon my soul limit me in some mystical way, or was it possibly dangerous to push myself so? Was she lying, or simply mistaken? Did this mean I would no longer be able to learn new magic spells in the same manner as my Identify?
“Touch the magic scroll, child,” I commanded, hoping that I had made the right decision.
With hands trembling and hesitant, the child of half-elven blood reached out for the magic scroll. As the girl's fingers brushed against the parchment, lines of arcane script surged with an azure crystalline light, before flowing like a swift mountain stream toward her. And with a shudder, the power of the words infused the child, filling her with mystical energy. Then, for the briefest of moments, there was the roar of the ocean, the tinkling of gentle rain, and the cacophony of the storm.
Almost as if reacting to being challenged, my Entropic Aura roared to life. I tried to hold it back, but it was too late. Reaching completion, it burst from me in an invisible wave, and Ankhset and her children gasped in surprise. However, I could not tell whether this was from reacting to Larynda’s absorption of the esoteric script or the effects of my own spell. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I quickly reined in the spell and silenced the fury of the voices.
Despite the overwhelming power that filled her, the girl smiled serenely, with a calm that belied her youth and rambunctious nature. It was a picture of acceptance, of a prophet that had found her god.
“Now, truly you are a Windspeaker, little one!” celebrated Kidu in a voice that boomed louder than any storm.