Author: Evil Twin Of ReaverClankAlice PM
A run-away witch girl? A brutish red warrior? A moody skeleton archer? A timid little engineer? A loud-mouth demon girl? A self-righteous clumsy knight? A mysterious immortal warrior queen? What could possibly go wrong on this adventure? Rated T for language, violence and other creepier stuff.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Chapters: 4 - Words: 19,080 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 01-22-13 - Published: 01-13-13 - id: 3091712
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 2: At The Crossroads
Starting Notes: Sorry for the wait! Sleepover, warm weather and lack of muse have caused me to produce this slowly; I'll try to get the next one out quicker! Also, exposition explosion, there was barely anything I could shove into this chapter besides it because: a) too soon, b) exposition needed, c) creepiness and extreme action will come soon and I need a break (since I hate action!) So this is pretty much dedicated to Liv' and Dazs' relationship development and a brief aftermath.
'You're really a…?' I find it difficult to catch the words, everything seemed to slow down. How on Aldurus did this happen? Nardazeig, a brutish unassuming voinyudan, is a user of Potegia? I feel completely and utterly frozen in stasis. I should've known that anyone who's unassuming is hiding something. Not only is it an extreme coincidence that he's like me (well not entirely), but that we met, here and now. Unknown to either one of us is the other's circumstances, but fortune isn't quite superstitious enough to cover this. If I was paranoid (and I am), I'd say that it was the Deus themselves that caused this. And I have a headache from the dust!
'Yes really, Liv',' notably I'm far less irritated at the notion of him calling me "Liv'" even though under regular circumstances I'd be a woman scorned. I never truly liked the idea of letting anyone too close back at home, but that was weeks ago and frankly normality has escaped this bloody mess.
When I say "bloody mess" I can say it literally and figuratively, since that moments ago attack from discrimbra, (think floaty-ghost skeleton-zombie that's meant to have gone on*) left the bastard more pounded than I've ever seen anyone. Still his wounds, according to him, "are barely anything to think of". And while the scratches which tore up my shirt, belt, cloak and, most importantly, my skin are painful he's barely even shivering as I watch him bind his own with bandages from his bag.
I've yet to ask what kind of Potegia he uses and suddenly I feel all excited. Like I have some kind of study-buddy to talk spells with and frankly he seems quite intelligent. A bit annoying though, but I guess nobody's perfect. He seems quite confidant however, dealing with those "scratches" all over his body, the white of the bandages are quite complimentary to his red skin actually. Wait. Why am I complimenting his wrapping of himself in bandages, in fact why am I staring at him so much?!
Abruptly I clear my throat and look the other way. Ooh pretty flowers! They're like roses white, but with red dots scattered in them. It's good that this dreary swamp environment still has some pretty little things amongst the endless brown-y green. Udomum, as this land is called by the silvish I recall. Something to do with water? I don't know, but in northernish it's the witches' wilds, perhaps because there are witches? Which brings me to another thing, am I a witch? I think Nardazeig called me that, perhaps he was being cute. Either way, I'd rather not be associated with the stereotype of witches. Something in a story I read once:
'…She had a face as sharp as a bird, eyes lit like diamonds, reflecting the colour of the swamp. Her hair is wild and unkempt with leaves and twigs weaved "naturally" with it. Around her neck is a necklace of bones, likely eaten victims. Her clothes consist of torn cloth of all kinds of colours and feathers assembled by using the reeds that grow tall and plentiful in this grey and wet land…'
I shiver, though I can't quite remember what it was from, still creepy to me. However, more importantly, what did Nardazeig do that got him kicked from his people? I mean ok he's a bit annoying but whatever he did, all evidence points to some kind of advisory role for him in… something, he seems pretty reliable And yes he is magical but if he's good and trustworthy shouldn't that be ok? I mean he had good memory and knowledge and he can clearly understand a few languages. I suppose prejudice makes people do awful things, I know from experience, as if people weren't bad enough. I suppose I was just hoping that his kind were different.
I kind of feel bad for him and a sense of familiarity. Based on human-ish aging he's probably around my age, granted it is that he's seen time, but if voin are purely divine creations he's clearly going to have plenty of years longer than me. 'You're starin' Liv'.' And with that I break out of it so violently I nearly fall over.
'Who? Me? What? No! When?' I fire as quickly as a bullet.
'Exci'able li'le girl, you are.' He is smiling, almost trademarkedly now. That's not a word, but it should be.
I change the subject as quickly as I can. 'Ok, good, yep. You've finished bandaging,' I observe hastily thinking of an excuse.
'So I 'ave,' he says with a little "you don't say" look.
'It's very… good, ' I struggle out
'All righ',' he says, nearly as struggled.
'You bandage up yourself often?' I push the topic.
'No ac'ually, I prefer healin' others though.'
'Ah, so you're a recreationist*. That's a particularly difficult school.' And so it was. A recreationist has to do with healing and well… recreating anything. It's the power of both light and dark; it can be used to heal and used to reanimate corpses. It can also be used to restore something to working shape and such.
'And you are?' he asks expectantly. Oh yes, we really are exchanging little school-girl conversation.
Now that's a difficult question… what school do I encompass the most? I think it would have to be… 'I'm an illusionist.'
'Illusion, powerful and prac'ical.' Illusion is probably the easiest to use since it affects the individual and only in the mind, but it isn't easy, no Potegia is. Trying to enthrall* another for example is very difficult.
'So we're going to be exchanging tips for Potegia? Are we then going to discuss shoes, hair and boys?' I suggest comically.
'Per'aps, if you'd really like to.' And oddly I don't doubt his suggestion.
'You swing my way easily…'
'You're the girl.'
'I'll have you know, that just 'cause I'm the girl doesn't me you have to swing my way.'
'Do you disapprove?'
I pause for a moment before considering. 'No, I like power.'
'It tha' why you're a Magus?'
'Sure, I like it.' He is looking at me a little strangely, but I can't tell if it's disapproval or not. I can't tell what it is at all actually. Bloody voin, let them damn him.
He his head turned to the side a bit. 'Jus' be sure not to like it too much,' he warns me.
'Right,' I say dismissively. 'You're not old enough to be a wise old sage.' And then I consider again. 'How old are you exactly?'
'64,' he said dismissively as if it were an extremely casual thing to say.
'Wow, you look good!' I say, and I mean it.
He scoffed. 'I'm only young.'
'Then how old is "old" for voin?'
'Abou' 300, though age is a bit of an enigma for our people.'
'How so?' I ask interestedly and turning my head a bit.
'Apparen'ly there are some of us who 'ave lived up to 700. I'm not sure if I believe it though, only silvish can live anywhere near tha' long.'
'Aren't silvish immortal?'
He laughed. 'No, they ge' tha' a lo' though. One told me once.'
'Wait… have you met a silvadem?' I croon excitedly. The tales surrounding the silvish people are legendary; to meet one is considered both wondrous and terrifying by human standards.
'Yes,' he was smiling at my enthusiasm. Again with the grins!
'Wow, you've done a lot in our life!'
'No' really, I've only sailed across the sea once, to 'ere. I've only been in one war, I've only seen one leadership change of our people and you're the firs' human I've ever met.'
'You've been in a war?!' I cry in surprise.
'Yes,' he says simply
'And you've witnessed the changing of your people's leadership?!'
'It 'appens a lo' accordin' to 'is'ory*, I knew 'im personally in fac'.'
'You know your…?! Wait what exactly is a leader of your people called?'
'A korolster,' he clarifies.
'And what was he called?'
'Serdhelezo, he was a friend of mine before he became korolster.'
'I sense a story.' I'm quite eager now, since I'm getting the blood from the stone.
'I'd prefer tha' story remained unknown, for now.' Tease.
'Not!' he says quite forcibly. I'm taken quite aback by it. I decide on my better, more sensible judgement to change the subject drastically.
'So… why do they call it a sword?' I say casually, with a forced edge and I lean down to pick up the sword.
'Sorry, Liv,' he says after a long and painful pause.
'You'll be sorry, if you keep calling me "Liv'",' I jest, looking between him and the sword.
He thankfully picks it up and takes it, 'I'll be sure too then.' He obviously desired freedom from awkwardness, like I.
'Cute, but old,' I say and I poke my tongue at him.
'By human standards!' wait… did I just protect himself from being his own punching bag?
Yet again there was an encore of the eyebrow rising. 'You sounded concerned,' he says.
'Believe me, I'm just as surprised!' I launch.
'I can believe tha'.'
'I've got a sword, in case you try anything,' I say as my hand graces a hilt.
He informs me, 'I know suspension.'
'Do you know it well enough?'
A pause before: '…No…'
'And there we go,' I respond, after which I hear my own insecure thought again, of him calling me a witch. I frown; does he really think I'm a witch? Does he know the stereotype of a witch? I'm guessing he actively reads, but does he read stories? Honestly I think he doesn't but… 'Do you think I'm a witch?'
He's amused at my abrupt nature, though most of my nature appears to amuse him. 'Tha's been irri'a'ing you, 'as it?'
'I mean, I don't look like a witch do I? I've not really seen my reflection in a few weeks, or washed my clothes effectively and I mean, I've washed, pools of clean water I've found but…'
'You're freakin' out.'
'But, I'm not a witch, am I a witch? I mean I'm a Magus, but wouldn't a witch be a Potegus? I can't weave hexes either, witches do that right? All hexes I've ever tried give me rashes from the witch's weed and give the hexee a cold. Does that count as a hex? Help me here!'
'I'll be sure to eventually.' Bastard appears to be enjoying this.
'I'm unassuming and "barely matured". What does that mean? I'm 22, I mean that's mature isn't it? People come of age at 20, so I've been all grown up for two years now. Hey when do your people mature?'
'75,' he informs me simply.
'You're barely matured too! And, hey! You're unassuming, sort of. I mean you're fairly face value with most things, except, you know your secrets. Are you a man-witch then? I mean you can command Pragia and Magia, and you're a recreationist. Witches use necromancy right? Well, man-witches, they use necromancy? But do they heal? I mean you might not be…'
'OLIVIA!' he shouted suddenly and I jumped.
'Yes…?' I whisper meekly.
'I'm no' a… man-wi'ch… or a necromancer, you're no' a wi'ch, you're no' stereotypical or at all assuming,' he assures me.
'Then why'd you call me a witch, bastard?' Oh yeah, he can't be a bastard…
'Slip? Besides I didn' call you a wi'ch…'
'You…' No actually he didn't, stupid Olivia! 'Oh yeah, you said something relating to witching country, I mean it was referenced-ish but not really and... I'm an idiot.'
'No, you're no'.'
'Oh yeah I am! I'm not used to dealing with people anyway can't help but being sarcastic, blunt and unable to deal with weird situations. And wacky, I'm always wacky.'
'I can tell.' A silence ensued, awkward, I noted my chest wound, I'll need to bind that. I reach into my bag and bring out emergency bandages and after getting out of Nardazeig's line of sight behind a tree, I lift my shirt and begin bandaging. And suddenly I have a thought and randomly compose a poem:
'Thoughts turn to the blackened dreams,
Empty void, silenced screams,
Hopeless past, unknown future,
One single golden desired lure.
'The south in all its splendour,
What paths shall I endure?
To reach the famous silvish,
And live a long life of bliss.'
I laugh as I remember why I thought of it so quickly. I'd made it after reading a book about the silvish, they were really a desired, golden lure. I left my hiding spot and noted that Nardazeig had gotten up and strapped his sword to his back. He was a little… tense because of his wounds; still he seemed fairly… ok-ish.
I noted the sun, which was a little more than overhead, so it was about 12. And then I remember how little I'd moved, if at all. I mean barely a few meters? Perhaps be even backtracked since the attack with the bloody discrimbra. 'I need to get moving!' I announce suddenly.
'And…?' he says expectantly
'Well honestly, I haven't really thought about this but would you like to come with me?' Seemed a logical enough conclusion.
'To the silvish?' he says with a little surprise.
'Yes… wait how'd you know that?'
'Poetry,' he said simply. Ah.
'Clearly,' I say, more to myself than him. 'So do you want to come?'
'Sure, I 'aven' got anywhere be'er to go, plus you saved my life.'
'Oh, it wasn't really much, just a bit of flipping as stuff and stabbing,' I say, waving it off.
He seems to ignore my mildly humble moment. 'Regardless, you're an excitable li'le girl. I'm sure it'd be fun.'
'Great, firstly…' I looked over to the white and red roses I spotted earlier, finally recognising them. I draw a dagger and, very carefully, place the petals into a pouch.
'And wha' would tha' be?' I hear from behind me.
'Oh, just some dangerous roses, you know, even more dangerous than usual.' Roses, they have some extremely genetic personal space issues.
'It has personal space issues, bloody roses, but likes to look pretty. Also it can make some deadly poisons.' Joyous.
'Looks like blood,' he observes.
'And trying them to see what they taste like will let you see your own blood. It could be useful in the future, I mean danger!'
'Righ', now where?'
'South, obviously,' I say pointing downward the path.
Trekking through the wilds provided none of the conversation I had expected. It was kind of saddening, I always thought that Nardazeig would be one to worry about carrying a conversation or perhaps I'm confusing our personalities. He seems eager enough to carry a conversation but not a maker of conversation. Still I've barely known him for a few hours, yet something tells me that he's trustworthy enough, besides if he really was tricksy, I'd probably be dead.
Yet I sense pain in him, why he left his people, I suspect it was more than mere prejudice. Perhaps he had a falling out? Perhaps it had to do with the korolster, Serdhelezo. He wasn't much a friend or anything if he judged him like that. At least he wasn't completely alone, like me. Ugh, I feel like I'm pitying myself, I hate that. Besides what says he wasn't? My brain switches subjects subconsciously. I wonder what the silvish are like. I doubt they're as glorious as the stories of Doumanesse, I doubt they're as heretic as stories portray them. I think I've read a passage about their culture before and it comes to me, randomly:
'…After fleeing their ancient homeland of Doumanesse over (4,000 years ago) the silvish people scattered in an event called: the Sundering, the silvadeis sailed to various shores around the world. Their first instinct was to sail to the Jiating Islands of the Yuren, though they were denied by the selfish creatures. And so they had to decide where to go. Some went to the land of Voin, in a time in which the voinyudans did not even exist, they occupied the more fertile southern part of the land and they also established colonies on the land of Oordisee, of which there still are silvadeis today.
Some sailed southern, to the cold land of Frigavimento and to this day are the only people that have occupied that land ever. Some went north to Nouvellasion, which was in ruins due to the darklings long for gotten wars, but it is a land that is most like Doumanesse in the southern regions and so the silvadeis who landed there tried to rebuild their homeland. The city of Froscanay tried to mirror their older city of Stelurstria, which existed on Doumanesse, though it failed when it was destroyed by taflennyr 2,000 years ago. Most silvish people living on Nouvellasion live in secluded groups where their culture and way of life has deteriorated.
Finally there are those who sailed east firstly found the island of Pinancheo, which is currently suffering from a dwindling difference. Some loved it so much they stayed, but most moved on to the unmapped mysterious great east continent of the world. There they found what is now known as Patria, Procerus, Medihumus and Terrotegia. Currently most reside in Patria and Terrotegia, though there are small amounts in Medihumus and Procerus.
Since the silvish who landed in Patria and Terrotegia were the majority (approximately 70%) their leaders had to make decisions from pressure coming from their people as to what direction their people would take next. Some desired to move on from their ancient roots of Potegia and traditional nature study, to take their people in a drastically different direction to learn about the world and leave the supernatural powers behind. This group had the majority of supporters, just.
The particularly nostalgic ones thought that they should not abandon their powers and work to preserve their old ways; they claimed that those who had forgotten ancient teachings, necromancers and other tricksters were the ones that caused their downfall. They claimed that the only way for it to not ever happen again is to remain faithful. Since this completely opposed the technological desiring faction-to-be, it caused a great deal of tension between them.
The rest, who rejected them both, thought the best way for the silvadeis to survive was to live simply hunting, surviving and worshipping their gods. This group was least popular, since the other two considered it born out of fear rather than rationality. These groups still define the people of the silvish, who still live like this today, more than 3,000 years after their creation…'
Suddenly I'm violently and rudely awakened from my thoughts as I collide with a wooden sign. 'Bloody hell!' I cry, Nardazeig is laughing. 'Deus, I'm making a habit of this! Crashing into random objects while not looking where I'm moving!' It had knocked me over and seriously reminded me of my wounds!
'You 'ave an 'abit of phasin' out and smashin' into things?' he asked, still laughing.
'A cursed sense of direction, it seems. This is witching country after all, and that fog is creeping in,' I say, nodding to the increased fog level from the brief interval of lack-of-fog. I also check the sun, which tells me it is about 3. And then I check what actually obstructed me from… standing up.
'A crossroads,' I say, getting up.
'Map?' I delve into my bag and retrieve it.
'It appears we have two paths to travel because that way…' I point to the eastern path, 'turns upwards. So vifax…' I point west, 'Or we continue on the great trickster's road.'
'I'm assuming the trickster's road goes to tha' wood,' said Nardazeig as he faced directly forwards. A great long forest can be seen, that must go for hundreds of miles.
'Tenebris,' I say. 'Or woods of the spider, if you prefer that.'
'And the vifax?' asks he.
'We'll pass a town, Wetwatch, which is situated next to the land-sea Altum. If we take the vifax, we'll have to travel longer, but we'll avoid the forest entirely, which could be safer. We'll have to cross under the mountains though,' I say. 'Mortum and Bellum it says on either side of the mountains we'll have to cross, I'd assume tunnels? I mean they don't exactly sound like holiday spots.' Well Nardazeig is asking for directions, perhaps men really are inferior in the "sense of direction" department?
'Yes, judgin' by those names, ancien' silvish tunnels,' says Nardazeig.
'Aren't silvish forest dwelling?' I reply confusedly.
'No, no' entirely,' he says.
Back to the map. 'So what do you think? I'm thinking forest path, but I'd do either.' 'Fores's are thrivin' with crea'ures and traps, lures and secrets; I doub' either path'll provide much safety. But I don' trus' the underground moun'ain tunnels. Bellum has "war" in it and Mor'um has "death" in it, I don' think either of those will be particularly safe and we don' even know for certain what they are. I agree with fores'.'
I have an idea and suggest, 'We could go off path? I've done that a few time on my way here.'
'These paths are fairly warded, old and faded wards, but workin' ones, the wilderness is no' and much more dangerous.' I realize now that I may have a problem regarding food.
'Speaking of wilderness, what is edible in the forest?'
'I don' know, why would I know?'
Because you're a genius?! A part of the party known at the" brains", my mind suggests. 'It's just I've been surviving on animals I've caught out here and plants I've harvested. When we leave, I'm unsure what I'll manage to eat.'
'Emergency rations?' he offers.
'I do have some which I am stored stuff which keeps but the word "emergency" is highlighted with the utmost colour. I eat when I need to, I ate yesterday, so I can put it off for a few days. Judging by this we'll be in there for about two days, if we don't get distracted.' Bloody food and bodily requirement for it!
'Are you seriously suggestin' we won' find trouble?'
'It's not impossible.'
''S not very likely either!'
'I suppose not, let's say then at most four days,' I say. 'Then we'd have about a day to Thuruah Storn which would mean…' And then I realized another thing. 'Nardazeig, you're a voinyudan.'
'I should 'ope so.'
Deus, this is a problem. 'What, by my lifeforce are we going to do?!'
'Nothin'? I like bein' a voinyudan!' he says a little irritatedly.
'It's not that, but we're going to a human city. H-u-m-a-n! What, by the Deus, do you think they'll do? They'll freak out like decapitated chickens!'
'Are you sure abou' tha'?'
'Of course! They're going to be like: "what the bloody demoness is that?!" you're going to stick out like a sore thumb.'
'You didn' freak out!'
'You're a tiny li'le girl!'
'But I'm not tha' scary!'
'You are red, have pointy teeth and ears, you're a demon! To humans: demon= evil. They'll have no idea what a voin is!'
'You'd think they'd 'ave imaginations!'
'They're mundane people, imagination is like the wackiest thing that happens in their lives!'
'Glad I'm a Potegus then!'
'We're going crazy!'
'Shouldn' we jus' cross this bridge when we come to it?' he suggests
'Fine, we don't need to deal with this yet anyway.'
I think of the sun again, 'We've got a few hours before the sun sets. We'll keep moving for a bit until we stop.' I go over that in my head and I notice how bossy I've suddenly become, and I realize how bossy I am! Wow, I'm surprised Nardazeig isn't annoyed, though "technically" I'm older. Besides all I've ever heard of voin says their undisciplined. Perhaps Nardazeig is an exception or maybe all I've heard is lies and voin are as disciplined as humans can be, or more? Either way, he seems perfectly happy to listen to me. Maybe he prefers to listen?
We start walking once more, towards the ominous Woods Tenebris. They certainly look weird to manoeuvre, there are plenty of raised parts, but aside from those it's quite a sea of dark green. Thick trees of various heights and the colour green. I was complaining that Udomum was too brown/green but I think looking at that green sea closer, I started complaining to early. At least it looks cosy and warmer than the mountains we'd have gone under had we gone down vifax.
I have a thought and look at the map. 'Cursed Deus,' I say. There's only one bloody river in the forest and it looks about 30 kilometres from the road, looks like we'll have to move fast. I check my water skin, it's full, thank them. But a dark and dangerous forest for two to four days doesn't sound particularly safe for my hydration. At least with these insect filled wetlands I've had water at the cost of some wood and flame. Suddenly the mountains seem much more desirable.
'Hey, Nardazeig,' I say casually as we're walking. 'Do you think we really should go through the woods?'
''Aven' we already decided this?'
'I'm just thinking, on the way to the mountains we'll pass a town, one that might be able to aid us, supplies, water, food. Are we going to pass that up? I mean it's not like the forest isn't dangerous.'
'Neither will those mountain caves.'
'I suppose that's true, but won't it be safer if we're well equipped?' I wonder.
He sighs tiredly and says, 'Use your brain Liv' or shu' up.'
Well I suppose he was annoyed by it, but bottled it up. 'Hey, pipe down bastard, it's just a question.'
'Alrigh' then, if you can' realize it, those moun'ain tunnels are ancien'. Humans have never tunnelled under mountains before; those tunnels would've been made durin' Doumanesse's golden days by the ancient tunnelling silvish of these lands. Those silvish were not as advanced as the silvadeis* who lived in Doumanesse. These tunnels would be, at bes', dangerous, at wors' non-exis'en'. Tha' says nothing of wha' lives inside. Worse things live in dark tunnels than that which live in forests, Liv'!' he says with a sense of built up anger.
I could not feel more stupid. I want to say "we'll there's no need for you to get so angry I couldn't have known" or something similar, but I think that'd piss him off more. All I can say is, 'Oh. Sorry.'
He sighs even more tiredly than before. 'Sorry, it just builds up sometimes.'
'A thing voin do?' I offer.
'Yeah, a thing.'
'Well good, it makes sense now. But just to ask, why am I leading?'
'I don' wan' to?' he offers.
'That makes sense I suppose, still you're more intelligent, tougher, stronger and older (un-technically),' I list.
'Doesn' ma'er to me, you lis'en to your hear', what else is there to follow?' he says, fairly quietly.
Now I feel weird, a sense of appreciation floods me, he really thinks that? Gives me the wack-oes. 'Umm… thanks.' I stop thinking about that and return to walking. There is significantly less wetlands then there once was and far more trees. It actually seems that we're getting there, though it'll take a little longer. Lepellans (previously mentioned fox/rabbit creatures), are seemingly less frequent and the air is cold.
'I think we should stop soon,' I say, 'half an hour maybe. The sun is creeping down.'
And so we walked for longer. And an uneventful hour later we were very close to the darkness of Tenebris*. We found a secluded spot slightly off the road and we set up our tents, and lit a fire. Thankfully there was a plentiful amount of wood due to the previously mentioned tree quota increase.
His tent was different, made of a less smooth skin, tougher, perhaps in reflection of his people, yet it seemed sturdier. Mine was beige-ish and pretty, but unsupportive. In reflection of the opposite cultures it seems, his rough around the edges yet stronger, humanity with delicate but good looking stability. It was true of course. The king held the lands of humanity together by a thread.
Of our people there had recently been war of course. Some of the surrounding lands of North Home, humanity's home region, had broken off of the Unity Federation, violently. Of course the king didn't stand for that. But the lands didn't stand for that, especially the huge land of Nouvellasion which protected North Home from the Yuren, a race of fish people living in the Jiating Islands. So did Tirnedir, another major land for humanity that is eastern to Nouvellasion. Tirnedir was one of their most important controlled regions, due to its mining and revenue.
These two areas lost, and fighting to keep them severely damaged the nature of the Unity Federation. I looked over to Nardazeig, who was reading using a light spell that I'd bound onto his finger. Well I can't see it, since I used Illusion; I'm unable to comprehend its existence. Notably he has to lick it every fifteen minutes or he'd lose the effect. He's a hard-core reader, and he has extreme-serious face on. I assume it'd take several sayings of his name to grab his attention. In fact speaking of magic, I was about to ward to area. After that I'd be extremely tired, casting twospells in a space of a few minutes!
I gather up the previous ingredients (except the glow dust, need that!) and place them in their respective pouches. I take out what I need: warding weed, lapsiternum dust and blood. I draw the circle; put all the ingredients in place. Luckily it's not windy so I don't need to protect them, I also get a plan.
I take my fine cutting knife. And silently creep over to Nardazeig grinning quite crazily as I bare the knife's blade. From the shadows behind him I swipe at his wrist.
'Yebat!' he cries in surprise clutching his wrist.
'Oh it was only a vein, boy toy, come I need your lifeforce for the ward,' I say.
'Bellum! Tha' was… exci'in',' he says breathlessly.
'Did you swear?' I ask as we wander over to the ritual.
'Yebat,' I say innocently.
'Ugh, yes and you don' need to repeat it.'
'Why not?' I grin.
'What it means.'
'What does I mean?'
'Too harsh for your delicate humanly and girly na'ure, Liv',' he smiles.
'Tell me!' I say and I light the lapsiternum. I remember the chant that I needed to do in order to ward: 'Paxeus, god of peace, prevent those not bound to this spell from entering this area by your divine power, as it is so it was.'
'No,' he says as I get one of my own veins. He lets his blood flow onto the fire.
'Yebat, yebat, yebat!' I respond with a smile as I hold my dripping arm over the fire too.
'Alrigh' then li'le girl,' I says, smiling more now. The fire flares up. 'It means, as eloquently as possible: fuck.'
'Ooh if my father had ever heard me say that! He'd be soooo pissed off! He'd go all tomato mode.'
'Red with anger,' I say remembering the many times I'd experienced it. Bloody amusing memories associated with that.
'I see,' he laughs as I notice the wind growing and shaking the trees.
'Yes I was a regular viewer,' I say. The fire burns out into ashes and I cast them into the sky and the wind catches it as my fall hands over the tent and chant, 'Paxeus aid me!' A familiar feel of warm and muscle spasms cross over my body quickly. The wind dies down like it had done before and the air is charged.
'Na'urally you were a regular viewer,' he says, licking his bound-to-light finger so it stays illuminated (at least to him).
I'm suddenly all weary. Double spells in a night is quite tiring. Better to give in to my sleepiness than bother to fight it. I say after a pause, 'Well that was fun, but now I think it's time to find dreams. You'll be up much longer?'
'Doub'ful, being wounded is tirin',' he says. 'Goodnigh', Liv'.' He give me one final cheeky grin of his.
I respond with one of my own, and now, rather than disapprove of it, I realize that like it about him. 'Goodnight Nardazeig.'
Olivia was way less paranoid there, I noticed, likely the presence of Nardazeig. Next chapter is Tenebris! Please read and review! Still it'll take two more chapters before we really get onto the plot. Or maybe it'll take only one? Who knows, I haven't written it yet! Please read and review!
Extra Notes Related To The Text
*To recap, there are eight schools, four for each stone. For Lapsiternum there is:
Mysticism: Manipulation of the otherworld, powers to do with deflecting spells .
Illusion: Manipulation of the mind and all it perceives.
Destruction: The removal of matter, tears.
Relativity: Placement and space alteration.
*For Lapitae there is:
Suspension: Telekinetics, momentum and force manipulation.
Creation: The making of matter.
Recreation: The reusing and repairing of matter.
Chronomancy: Time manipulation.
*'is'ory is a Deus cursed mess! Also hear' is heart.
*Silvadem- singular (can be used as slang plural extremely rarely)
Silvadeis- proper plural
Silvish- belonging to the Silvadeis (can be used as slang plural)
Silvalinga- silvish language
*"…the darkness of Tenebris…" lol for the cross-language redundancy!