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ethereal_fauna



Joined: 16 Feb 2005
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Posted: Fri Jul 22, 2005 7:16 am    Post subject: Finite Cosmos Chapters 1-6  

Chapter 1 The Island of Diasis
Often the waves rise high above our island home. Today proves an exception, with weak rays of sunlight filtering through a heavy morning mist, promising a dawn. Children laugh merrily and scamper from knob to knoll as our tired minds relax. The combined mental efforts of our people to keep the raging sea at bay remain unnecessary for several days, as the sons of our neighboring city Oekarakos strive to control the burgeoning crests. We welcomed the CalmSea.

Oekarakos rests on the ocean floor, threatened by the gigantic creatures lurking in the depths. Today our beautiful island Diasis peeks coyly from the stilled waters. The mirrored surface surrounding the isle deceives the casual observer, for the sea protects our Diasis with the same savagery that would destroy it. Sheer weathered rock rises majestically from the ocean floor- the face of a mountainous region that isolates Diasis from the Mainland, and the brutish beasts dwelling amidst the thick mats of forest flourishing there.

“Come, Chakra,” Veronici calls gaily from a fragrant bed of flowers. “Let me weave flowers into your hair.”

Shiny petals of varied hues lay gently upon her head and shoulders, as she scoops up more blossoms on bended knees. The long, lovely wings I so covet brush softly against her ankles, reflecting the increasingly strong rays cutting through the grey blanketing the skies. I ponder my future as Veronici toys with my hair, the playful sounds of children enjoying the CalmSea chiming in the background as my mind drifts deeper into my thoughts.

The manner in which we live our lives shapes our being, from the processes of our thoughts to the physical appearances of our bodies. I am unhappy with my body. Although taller now and more shapely than when I was a child, I lack wings or horns, or anything that marks my significance. Most of my girl friends sport long gossamer wings. Just as much food fattens the body, or much exercise strengthens the body, Veronici’s and Seani’s use of the Finer Magics to defend our beloved Diasis resulted in the budding of wings early in our youth. I know a little Light magic, emitting an eerie, overwhelming glow if I concentrate long enough, confusing my foe. Not very useful to Diasis. Veronici’s mastery of Wind magic and Seani’s mastery of Water magic aid our lovely home in holding back the ferocious waves of the sea.

I also consider Coarser Magics such as Curse or Health beyond my grasp. Mostly the men of Diasis practice these arts, as the Coarser Magics tend to build bulk. Since these magics place greater physical demands on the caster, only very few females master these magics that prove most useful in defending our shoreline from the occasional monster that rises from the deep. I would not mind growing very large and strong, with great leathery wings and bulging muscles.

“Hey, ouch!” Seani’s voice intrudes into my thoughts. “You seem too preoccupied with wings.”

Seani lies flat on her stomach looking out across the placid waters. The victorious sun gleams high over Diasis, reveling in victory over darkling skies. I release my obviously painful grip on Seani’s wingtip.


“I just want… I want something,” I mumbled. “I’m not good, really good, at anything.” I try not to whine, but I feel almost desperate. “It’s like everyone of my friends have a purpose in life, while I’m just good for nothing. I look like a woman in some ways and a child in others.”

Veronici chuckles. “With all the thinking you do, you keep getting lost in your own head. The Wise White Witch was a great thinker in her youth,” she chides.

“Yeah,” chimes in Seani. “She spent almost her whole life unchanged, until in her old age one long, spiral horn sprouted from her great, bulging forehead, pushed up by all her high-minded thoughts…”

“Stop teasing,” I almost shout. “You guys aren’t helping.”

I shake off their teasing laughter and playful hands, heading towards the shoreline to further contemplate the CalmSea. On my way to the water’s edge I resolve to find my way by the end of the five season’s turnings.

Chapter 2 The Magics

As I approach the shoreline the sounds of sea-maidens basking on the shoals fall on my ears. The sea-maidens sing a happy tune while playing melodious instruments. The CalmSea always brings groups of sea people to the shore, where they soak in the warmth of the sun while they can. Friendly smiles and waves greet me, but I return them with a sullen glance. Off the shoreline beneath the sparkling waters I spy the sisters Aanira and Uusela gathering shiny crystals from the ocean floor. The sea people cannot learn the magics. Utilizing crystals, plants, and an odd assortment of bizarre water dwellers, the Oekarakonians brew potent potions and craft powerful charms. The sea people then use these items for defense.

Swimming lazily in the quiet water, the young and promising dark magician Choice pulls himself ashore beside me and proceeds to demonstrate a greater level of Light magic than I have yet to reach. I applaud his display and reward him with my silliest smile. Choice is truly a Coarser Magician, mastering Curse last season, but he pursues the Finer Magic of Light as well. I implore him to share his knowledge of the Magics with me. In his finest impersonation of an Elder’s voice, Choice begins his dissertation:

The Finer Magics of the Diasinians consist of the Soul of Earth Energies. Water, Earth, Wind, Ice, and Fire magics draw from positive energies and command those respective elements, allowing manipulation for defense and damage of a selected target. Drawing from negative energy, Light and Shadow magics do not physically damage an enemy, but mentally harm the target. Driving your opponent insane can deal a very effective blow.

The Coarser Magics of the Diasinians consist of the Soul of the People Energies. Strike and Pounce magics enhance the strength of the caster resulting in more effective physical blows. Health magic draws positive energy from the caster and his surroundings, which can then be ‘pushed’ onto a target providing healing and strength. Curse releases negative energy from the caster, while focusing negative energy from the surroundings, weakening and physically damaging a target.

The dark magic Oblivion summons negative energies to the caster, who then focuses and unleashes this powerful magic on one or multiple targets for great physical damage, often utter annihilation.

His voice trails off. We shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of this taboo magic. Recent gossips proclaim that someone attempts to revive this ancient art even now. Choice dives back into the water and announces his intentions to harass the sea-maidens, as he swims in the direction of their lively song.


A scrabbling from above sends a small shower of pebbles my way. Soon the scant rocky spray swells into a deluge of stones and rubble. I cling to the rough sides of the shore wall. Amid a torrent of debris a falling form with collapsed gnarled wings, broad shoulders, great talons, and a heavy horned head disappear with a thud into a plume of dust. A gurgling noise thick with warm wetness pours out from the melee.

“Knute,” I gasp, rushing forward to his crumpled form. My eyes dart in the direction from which he had fallen. I wonder what monstrous creature attacked him.

Knute groans painfully and his eyes roll up into their sockets. I grasp his shoulders, my tiny hands pale and childlike against his bulk. He has practiced Coarser magics since boyhood, mastering Strike and Pounce. His strongly muscled and heavily clawed limbs serve as testament to great strength. Now his body bears several deep gouges, all bleeding profusely. His mouth moves as if to speak, but a sticky crimson bubble pops out instead. I feel life oozing between my fingers and floating away. In terror I turn to face the sound of something approaching from above.

With liquid adeptness Asher glides from the cliffs overhead to my side. Beads of sweat slide down his face which remains smooth and mostly unchanged despite his practice of coarse crafts. The muscled legs and stout talons on his feet bespeak his Pounce skill, but with relief I acknowledge Asher’s mastery of Health magic. Bending over Knute he concentrates.

Drawing from his own strength, Asher pushes energy from himself onto our fallen comrade. I observe with anxious fascination as Asher’s body tightens, the muscles bulging and veins popping as if lifting a heavy load. The air around us ripples with energy, moving in waves and resembling heat rising from barren hot sands. All sound dwindles until I hear only my own quick breaths. His lips pulled back into a grimace, Asher grunts with the effort to magically mend Knute’s broken body. A small gasp escapes me when I feel Knute’s rough, heavy hand slide along my backside. My eyes shift instantly from Asher to him. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, which he turns up into a toothy smile. His feral amber eyes hold mine while he addresses Asher.

“Your Pounce skills have definitely improved,” he snorts. “That hurt.”

Asher’s baritone laughter rang in my ears. “But I always end up honing my Health magic,” he quips.

Incredulous, I hear myself chastising the two in a high-pitched shaky voice. My relief gushes out in a torrent of nagging. Shrieking nonsense about monsters and death, my fears take form with continuing disbelief that these knuckleheads had nearly killed each other through horseplay.

“It wasn’t a game,” Asher corrects me. ”We are trying to perfect new skills. Something you should consider doing yourself.”

Having put me soundly in my place, Asher clambers up the cliff in search of Veronici. I call after him, directing him to the sunny flower patch as he disappears over the top of the cliff leaving Knute and me alone. Knute’s wandering hands become even more familiar, and he raises the crest on his head.

“What are you doing here by the water?”

“Thinking,” I murmur. “And I don’t have time for frolicking.” Reluctantly I disengage from his suggestive stroking and wander to the water’s edge.

Knute walks up behind me and sniffs my hair, warm puffs of breath slipping from his muzzle. “I am thinking, too,” he whispers, “that everything floating around in that pretty head of yours will continue to drift just out of your reach.”

After a playful swat on my bottom Knute climbs to join Asher and Veronici, convinced that their CalmSea activities must prove more interesting than my morose musings.

Why have all my friends found their calling with such ease? Why does every Diasinian enjoy life with contentment, while I struggle in self-imposed unhappiness? I resolve to perfect my Light magic, and to seek the advice of others with an open mind. By the end of the five seasons turnings I remind myself, and further resolve to stay on task. However, Knute’s observant yet cryptic prediction niggles at my mind. While my desire to discover my purpose may be strong, I have one other equally strong desire that remains completely out of my control. Sighing, I push that thought away to ruminate on another day, and slip into the warm water to relax and enjoy the CalmSea.

Chapter 3 The Thinker’s Quest

The light of day fades quickly on the CalmSea celebrations, but the festivities continue beyond the dusk. I leave the darkened shoreline and climb the steps to the Great Hall of Elders, intending to seek advice from a wise Elder if I might. My friends remain outside, I am almost certain, although I really do not know for sure. The Great Hall appears empty. The pleasures of life wander into the Great Hall, carried as sound on the rigid air. Laughter pads in on softened paws through open windows, the hushed whispers of love creep in through a door left askew, and inflamed cries of passion ignite the atmosphere.

Somewhere from the cavernous bowels of the structure I ken the scent of dark magic. Lightly I glide down a narrowing corridor toward the source of this energy. The path terminates at a heavy door. Childishly I bend on hands and knees, and press my face to the floor. The view under the door affords a glimpse of Holden, furred face distorted in deep concentration. Although his age falls close to mine, Holden appears much older. Moody, withdrawn and mysterious, he pursues that Coarser Magic that many thought completely abandoned. The extreme efforts necessary to master Oblivion wreak havoc on his physical and mental self. Long, gaunt but tightly toned limbs terminate in sharp slashing claws. An uncharacteristic hair covers his body, providing protective warmth against the chill of such dark magic. Only his will of stone protects his mind from the extreme biting cold.

One bleary red eye opens and focuses on the crack at the bottom of the door. He sees me there spying, as impossible as that might seem, and I feel him touch the small of my back with the tip of a razor sharp phantom claw. The mighty roar of rushing waters fills my ears, along with indistinguishable voices of our entire people. With a gasp I quickly stand and prepare to flee back to the Great Hall. The door opens and my world stills. The raspy voice of Holden speaks my name. Chakra. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. My mind wanders back in time to our childhood when we played at jumping rope, little variation in our pixie forms. The daydreamer Chakra and the moody Holden are laughing at a secret joke. A timid, minute sound escapes my throat as I faint.

I awake to Bathini’s and Ordoc’s concerned faces. The dim corridor is gone, replaced by a brightly lit room with verdant green cushions.

“I have told him many times to go deeper into the ground,” Ordoc grumbles, knitting his heavy, hairless brow. “The darker the coarse magic, the more likely to release ill effects on the unwary.”

I push up on my elbows. My head throbs, and I watch as several deep gashes rending my side fade under Ordoc’s Health spell. Bathini holds my hand. She comes from a far-away people, but cannot remember her youth. Ordoc retrieved her broken body from the pack leader Honros-del-Nordes on the Mainland many seasons ago. Bathini is a Finer Magician of darker magics, possessing mastery of Shadow and Light. She often challenges me to perfect my Light skills.

“At least he kept her from bashing her head on the wall,” Bathini’s silken voice glides across my ears. “Although he did leave quite a few deep gashes.”

“What h-happened?” I am acutely aware of my weakness and fear appearing foolish.

“It was nothing,” Bathini soothes. “Why are you not out with your friends?”

“I seek to speak with the Elders. My indecision puzzles me, and vexes me with a grievous burden,” I intently reply, hopeful that the wisdom of the Turnings Bathini enjoys over me will prompt her to deliver some solution of her own accord.

“Go, find your friends outside,” admonishes Bathini. “Enjoy the CalmSea.”

“Where is Holden?” I shudder involuntarily as I ask.

Ordoc snorts. “I have run him outside as well, to frolic with the young. If he doesn’t apologize when he sees you then let me know. We’ll develop my Strike skills some more.”

I exit the green room and the Great Hall knowing full well that Holden will not apologize.
**

The second morning of the CalmSea opens with a wonderful feast. Succulent greens from the sea people complement finely roasted meats from the people of the Mainland. My friends and I talk, laugh, and eat until we feel ready to burst. My mood is greatly lighter today. The Council of Thinkers sits near the entrance of the Great Hall of Elders. A solemn bell ringing draws our attention their way.

“A Great Knowledge lies far past the Known Realm,” begins an elder with a wiry, hoary beard. “This knowledge holds much desire for the Thinkers of Diasis. Without this Great Knowledge we fear for the future of our people.”

I listen with rapt interest. My friends with the adventuresome natures of youth hear only quest and danger. I hear an opportunity to finally make my mark, to become an asset to the people and the home I honor. Although I possess few skills and mastery of no magic, the chosen Thinker names me as the first member of her escort. Ironically, this Thinker is the Wise White Witch, and her single, spiraled horn speaks inside my mind.

“Who should join us?” the spiral horn asks me. “Who should lead us and who should protect us on our fantastic journey? The responsibility is yours to decide. Choose well.”

My mind reels. Why does this wise one seek the opinion of a waif that can barely cast a magic defense? Despite my patent anxiety, all the people of Diasis look to me. My people await my decision.

Chapter 4 The Escort is Named

All of Diasis quivers with life on this second day of CalmSea. The odd announcement from this morning that wrenches away my every comfort and fills me with anxiety, little affects the celebrations of this moment. The people return to their festivities directly after finishing the morning meal. Throughout the five seasons the MotherSea rages, magnificent in her fury and driven with power from the murky fathoms. During the FairWeather season the sons of Oekarakos toil in the depths, quieting the surface waters. Many master magicians from Diasis accompany the Oekarakonians, aiding them with magical skills. The gentle beast Levos encases each magician in an enchanted bubble creating a remarkable sight beneath the waves. FairWeather lasts for such a short time, and with its passing ends the CalmSea. The DryWeather follows; then GailWeather, ColdWeather and RainWeather unfold in their seasons to complete the Turning.

I stare at the Wise White Witch, who returns my uncouth gaze with vapid eyes. Soon the courtyard in front of the Great Hall empties, but still the Thinker and I sit in silence. As I attempt to form an intelligent query my mouth falls open and one word tumbles out. Why?

The Thinker laughs, a dusty crackling sound that I am sure she seldom uses. She suddenly appears authoritative. Again the horn speaks inside my head.

“Do not question why, child. You have no time to hear the answer. The CalmSea draws too quickly to a close, and much needs to be done if we are to leave before the waves rise.”

I leave the Thinker, her frail wingless form slight and stooped, and set out to confront my friends. Oddly I face little difficulty deciding who should embark on this quest to the Great Knowledge. For someone who stumbles at every crossroad, my decisions on this matter remain firm. I only regret saying good-bye to those we leave behind.

With purpose and urgency I search for my friends. I discover Veronici and Asher in a copse, too involved in their passion to acknowledge my approach. I sit on a mossy rock and watch their bodies move together, the muted sounds of their pleasure calming my haste. As my eyes lose focus their blurred forms dance in harmony to a soundless tune. Slowly Veronici’s glowing face comes into sharper focus, and I watch as she and Asher emerge from the Garden of Rainbows. Her belly is swollen with child, and Asher’s strong hand rests lovingly on the protruding abdomen. The couple smiles naively as a darkening sky forms above them, a preposterous shadow of evil threatening to push Diasis into the sea. The Elders and Thinkers gather atop the Pinnacle, hands outstretched in a futile effort to support the falling sky. My mind spins as I slowly realize that I hear Veronici speaking. She rolls playfully into a ball and smiles my way.

“You look pale Chakra. Come join us and warm your flesh.”

I shake off my disturbing vision of the destruction of Diasis, and politely decline to join them. Timidly I broach the subject of the Thinker’s journey. I do not want my friends to know the burden that the White Witch placed on me. Adopting the persona of messenger, I deliver the news as if the Thinker chose her own escort.

After informing Asher of his inclusion on this journey, I appoint him to his leadership position. He feels most honored that the White Witch chooses him to lead our party, and with patriotic purpose busies himself with preparations. To my great relief Asher and Veronici propose to seek out Holden, Seani, and Ordoc, leaving me in charge of packing for the White Witch. I fear Holden and his powerful skills, although for some strange reason I feel compelled to include him on this journey. My relief is palpable when Asher excuses himself to find Holden. This spares me the anxiety of facing him myself. Veronici heads to the Great Hall and the green room, where Bathini and Ordoc may usually be found, poring over old books or enjoying the relative privacy that the green room offers.

A bird chirps noisily as I make my way to the Grand Room where our people sleep. I recall stories from childhood lessons about ancient Diasis, where our numerous peoples held back the sea from the entire island throughout all the season’s turnings, and individual families lived in separate houses constructed on the island’s surface. The Evil Plague struck our ancient ancestors, killing many and forcing others far from our home to escape death. The survivors built into the earth, depending on the strength of the island to assist them in protecting our people from the savage waves. Presently our people remain few, and we continue to sleep in the Grand Room built by our ancestors long ago. I find the Wise White Witch sitting on her pallet, staring placidly at the wooden supports standing solidly against the earthen walls.

“Come, Wise One,” I gently beckon. “We must ready for the voyage into the Unknown Realm.”

Her face lights up with wonder like a child. Sounds exciting! I heard her horn say. It would not occur to me until later to wonder why I was able to hear her horn speak this way. Again her demeanor changes, with the authoritative figure replacing the childlike one.

“You have chosen well for one so young,” the White Witch rattles in her high-pitched, aged voice. “I do not agree with the Council, however. We shall take five others with us, rather than four. Diasis can spare one more. Seek out the younger brother of Ordoc, the youth known as Knute. He shall accompany us along with Ordoc, Asher, Holden and Seani. I sense we might value his strength.”
I wonder how the White Witch knows those whom I have chosen to travel with us. I do not recall discussing the matter with her at any time. In fact, she seems to have foisted the entire responsibility upon me, without any intent to council me until now. After packing her things I seek out Knute and advise him to prepare for our journey.

With the escort duly informed of their duty, we ready for the journey ahead. Tender good-byes punctuate flurries of activity over the next few days of CalmSea. By the morning of the twenty-first day our troupe announces our departure. Our small island home supports us quite well, yet Asher decides we must visit Oekarakos and the camps of the Mainland before striking out for the Unknown Realm.

Chapter 5 City of Oekarakos

“We should travel in separate vessels,” Asher observes, standing at the sea’s edge and peering with concern at the choppy waters.
Even while the labors continue in the deep, the efforts to control the MotherSea lose effectiveness. CalmSea ends in two days time. The craft that carry us to Oekarakos consist of large hollow pods from the titane vines, towed by the heresey creature. Smaller pods offer easier maneuverability but our entire escort proves too large to fit in one small pod. The larger pod creates a greater demand on the heresey and the Oekarakonian driver, especially in choppier waters.

“No,” the Wise White Witch emphasizes. “Our strength rests in our unity.”

We enter the larger pod. Wedged between Ordoc and Knute, I grow self-conscious about my smallness of frame. Holden sits directly opposite me, and I expend a fair amount of effort avoiding his gaze. Crossing the distance to Oekarakos commands a lengthy time, and we while away its passing with discussion of our upcoming travels. The White Witch dozes, her head falling onto Asher’s chest.

A wayward demon had escaped past the sons of Oekarakos, releasing an ill current from the deep. Our craft rocks in the current, which seems to gather strength from our discomfort. The driver employs all his skill, and the heresey at the reigns struggles uneasily. Despite the efforts of driver and beast, the submersible pitches violently. Seani focuses her Water magic, but the current proves too strong for one magician. The strength of the current increases, pushing our craft off course. Seani concentrates on an opposing current to keep our pod from drifting too far into the open sea.

The pod begins to tumble repeatedly, tossing its passengers about like fluff seeds in the wind. Both Ordoc and Knute shift in their seats, their combined bulks crashing together and squeezing me outward with force. Like a smooth stone launched from a sling, I soar across the tight space of the craft to land ungracefully in Holden’s lap. He grasps the seat with one hand and clutches me against his chest with the other. I curl up into his lap and cling to his fur in an effort to prevent my tumbling about the pod even more.

Over the smell of my own fear I catch his scent, a dark and masculine odor exuding confidence in this adversity. This calms the racing of my mind, and I start to hear the quick flutters of my own heartbeat. With my ear pressed to his chest, I hear Holden’s strong and steady heart and the measured intake of his breaths. I see a door inside my mind, and slowly push it open. Inside a vision of the child Holden stands, appearing as I remember him from our childhood days as best friends. This vision boy smiles at me.

I look up and focus my eyes on Holden’s face now. It is a face I barely recognize and somewhat fear. He looks about the pod as we tumble in the sea, concern creasing his brow. Then he looks at me, his deep red eyes only a hand’s breadth from my upturned face. Those lucid eyes draw me in, and I hear Holden speaking in my mind but can not understand the words. After what seems like an interminable time, the heresey pulls our pod from the errant current, and the driver steers us back on course.

“If we had been in the smaller pods,” Seani gasps, “that strange current would have carried us indefinitely.”

With flushed cheeks I murmur my thanks to Holden and slip back into my seat. I hide my burning pink cheeks behind Knute’s big shoulder. The Wise White Witch snores loudly, snuggling back onto Asher’s chest as if he was a pillow. Drool escapes from the corners of her mouth. She had slept through the entire incident.
**
A series of large structures looms ahead of us, sprouting from the ocean floor like an underwater grove of trees. Uusela sits prettily outside the city, playing a sad melody to the water deity the sea people worship. The unusual sound travels far underwater. Uusela holds her breath for the entirety of the song’s rendering. The sea people hold their breath for long spans of time. Despite many adaptations suitable for ocean life, the sea people require air to breathe just as the Diasinians.

Oekarakos represents a marvel of ingenuity and engineering. Long ago the sea people struggled at the surface of the MotherSea, enduring many hardships as she unleashed her fury upon them. A mammoth carcass of some great sea creature housed the sea people in those times, until an inspired chemist envisioned a protected city sunk beneath the waves to the quieter waters below. The chemist fashioned a charm that encapsulated the mammoth carcass, and the sea people moved to the protection of the deep. Many new improvements and expansions to the site over the Turnings created the impressive city of Oekarakos.

We exit our protective vessel into the Welcoming Chamber of Oekarakos, and step onto a dry platform to await our welcoming party. Water completely surrounds the platform, including the ceiling above. I feel as if I stand inside a small box of air. Ookran and Iisis swim in the waters above us, speaking in the complex sign language the sea people use to communicate underwater. Iisis swims gracefully away, while Ookran pops his head into the airspace creating an unnerving sight on the ceiling.

“Can you swim into the next chamber unassisted, or do you prefer a balloon of air?”

At her insistence, Holden stays behind with the White Witch to await a balloon, while Ookran pulls the rest of us into the ceiling. We move into a larger, more accommodating chamber. There we talk quietly and snack on the delicious trays of food our gracious hosts provide for us, until the Royal Elect arrives. She smiles broadly as she pulls herself up into a carved stone chair cushioned with comfortable pillows.

“Welcome to Oekarakos,” she begins. “I am Yyete, Royal Elect of the sea people.”

She could have spared us this formality, but the sea people observe many rituals. We all turn as Holden and the White Witch emerge from the water with much bubbling and a loud whoosh from the balloon. The White Witch gazes rudely about, the curiosity of a tourist marking her brow. This is her first time off the island and into the murky depths. Holden appears even moodier and more withdrawn. He casts a furtive look my way, then quickly stares at the platform floor. I wonder what conversation had taken place between him and the White Witch as they waited for Iisis to return with a balloon.

With traditional pomp and formality, Yyete ushers in a host of supplies. The sea people support our journey since our societies often trade knowledge between the Thinkers and the wise scholars of Oekarakos. Any Great Knowledge we seek could also prove valuable to them. Asher crosses his arms with a speculative look at a large sack of potions and charms.

“We thank the sea people for your generous assistance. Unfortunately we do not have time to study the use of these items. If you have a book of instructions to take with us as we journey maybe…”

A wiry old chemist interrupts Asher at this point with a pitiful moan. Yyete casts a punitive glance at him, and with the silent sign language she issues a command. Two of the sea people slip into the water on some mission.

“We have considered that as well,” Yyete speaks. “It is important to us that you meet with success on your journey. To this end, Aanira, the daughter of our wise chemist Iicon,” she indicates the wiry old chemist with a wave of her hand, “Has agreed to wear the Charm of Transformation so that she might accompany you into the Unknown Realm.”

I gasp. Aanira is my friend. I have heard of the damage that the Charm of Transformation might do. The short-term effects are reversible. After remaining transformed for extended periods, however, the change becomes permanent. We watch silently as Aanira steps through a watery wall and onto the platform, standing on shaky legs. She takes a few brave steps our way.

“I have practiced this walking activity. It is very different from swimming. I grow better as my fins shrink more.” She indicates her flippered feet.

She strides confidently about, stumbling very little, as Yyete lauds her knowledge in the crafting and use of potions and charms. Aanira studiously avoids the pained expression on her father’s face. She stands in front of me, and grasps my hand in hers. Her skin no longer feels oily like the skin of the sea people. I smooth her hair and stroke the unusual scaly legs. Her lower torso no longer reminds me of touching the slick scales of a fish, but feels much like the smooth covering of a lizard or serpent.

“I want to go with you Chakra. Please tell the Wise White Witch what a valuable asset I’ll make.” Her green eyes plead with me sincerely.

Above the eruptions of discussion amidst everyone present, I hear the horn of the White Witch speak. It occurs to me then that I might be the only one who hears her horn speak.

“What do you say,” she asks me. “Should we allow this water-dweller to walk with us on unknown lands?”

I tear my eyes from Aanira’s intense emerald gaze and look in the direction of the White Witch. She skips playfully about the platform, sticking her fingers into the liquid walls and forming delighted O’s with her mouth.

Chapter 6 Camps of the Mainland

“Aanira, you mustn’t,” I begin, but she silences me with a soft kiss.

“Do not say no,” she pleads. “Please speak with the Wise White Witch. It is very urgent that I go.”

“But why?”

She looks down at the platform momentarily, but quickly raises her head toward the ceiling in an effort to restrain her tears. “Father is old and s-sick,” she stammers. “He is too frail to work and our family goes hungry. Uusela serves at the temple, which is proper for her. I intended to give up my training with the scholars in order to provide for us. But then the Royal Elect asked me to go with you, and promised great care for Father in return.”

I was speechless. I looked at Aanira’s worried face, and could not imagine an Elder in Diasis going hungry at any time for any reason. I could also not picture the daughter of an Elder being forced to stop following the Path of the Thinker just to provide food for her family. Amidst my own confused thoughts I overheard Asher and Yyete in a serious debate.

“No one from Oekarakos should be asked to make such a sacrifice,” Asher reasoned.

Yyete interrupts him gruffly. “Oekarakos supports the quest for the Great Knowledge, and such valuable information will not prove easy to acquire. Diasis shall not make the sole sacrifice by sending its young people into the Unknown Realm alone. Our contribution shall be equal, just as our benefit shall be.”

After much tense debating, heated arguing, and petty bickering, no resolution seemed forthcoming. The Wise White Witch finally spoke. “The Great Knowledge belongs to all of the Peoples, and shall be fairly shared regardless of and despite political machinations. The choice lies in the heart of the one asked to carry such a grievous burden.”

The chamber grows quiet, Iicon’s wheezing, sobbing breaths the only audible sound. The spiral horn speaks to me, “You know the heart of your friend. Again, I ask, should she come? Encourage her to speak the appropriate answer.”

I remained unsure of what I should do. Still grasping my hand, Aanira spoke, “If she shall have me, I will accompany the Wise White Witch on the quest for the Great Knowledge.”

With that announcement the decision set. Our hosts showed us to our accommodations for the night. After a final tearful evening with Iicon and Uusela, Aanira returned with us to Diasis. We lingered at home for one last time before our journey to the Unknown Realm. I slept restlessly on my last night in the Grand Room, anticipating our trip over the Sheer Mountains to the Mainland in the morning.
**
The Elders step forward to bless our journey to the Mainland. Many Turnings ago our people devised a method to pass the steep rock face of the Sheer Mountains in order to reach the camps of the Mainland. They created a big hot-air balloon by strapping the air-filled bladder of the enormous Utan sea mammal onto a sturdy wooden craft, so that the Diasinians may safely sail the ship into the sky and over the mountains. Today as we prepare to depart, a master magician casts Fire into the stove on our craft, and Bathini skillfully lifts us into the windy sky. We watch as Diasis shrinks below us, becoming tinier and appearing more vulnerable as the growing waves of the furious sea lash onto her shores.

Clambering aboard the shaky airborne craft, we settle in for the ride over the Sheer Mountains to the Mainland. Past the peaks a vast forest covers the ground, offering very few clearings to land the bulky ship. I enjoy my maiden voyage into the crisp air. The cover of greens and yellows brightens the land and I whoop with excitement, abandoning all reserve. Bathini pilots the balloon smoothly as we scan the ground for a convenient landing spot.

The piercing squall of a darrow cuts through the air. The darrow, a ferocious winged monster, presents the greatest hazard in the clouds above the Mainland. Many darrow darken the skies in sweeping formations, preying on the beasts dwelling in the trees below. We had hoped to avoid an encounter, and were naively unprepared to face an attack. I begin to concentrate, despite my fear of the approaching hungry jaws. A small glowing ball forms in my hand, the best that I can muster. I fling this toward the darrow with every effort of my being, landing a dazzling sphere of Light into the nearest savage eye. Stunned, the darrow recoils from its impending attack and shakes its horny head.

Seizing her opportunity Veronici impales the beast through the snout with a gigantic dagger of ice that she conjures from the frigid moist air, temporarily locking the jaws closed. Hovering slightly above the deck, Veronici calls a whirlwind with the circling of her arms. Her hair stands on end and her skin gleams with perspiration. The Wind moves from Veronici, whipping her hair and bracelets. Clear of our craft, the Wind advances toward the struggling predator. It grows into a heathen force focused in one great swirling column. The darrow’s outstretched wings buckle, and it wails as the tornado spins the creature haplessly. The force slams the struggling beast with power into the treetops below, and after a long whine the darrow is heard no more.

“Bravo!” the White Witch shouts, clapping her hands with glee as if this all were a jolly sport.

Bathini lands the craft in an available clearing. She embraces Ordoc in an uncharacteristic display of affection, and showers his rough face with a sprinkling of kisses. Asher takes Veronici into his arms, and the couple wraps their wings around each other. The rest of us unload a sturdy wooden cart and stack our supplies and items for trade on top.

After more farewells, we watch silently as Bathini pilots the craft into the air once more. Veronici waves heartily while Choice keeps a watchful eye on the sky for any signs of more danger. We follow the course of their departure until the ship disappears from view over the top of the Sheer Mountains.

The scorching sun shines hotly on the treetops, creating a humid sauna on the forest floor. We follow Ordoc into the dark forest towards the last known location of the del-Nordes pack. After much struggling through thorny undergrowth, we stumble upon the empty campsites. With a weary sigh Ordoc leads us deeper into the darkness of the trees.

Ahead we hear a heavy crashing through the foliage, but we are too late to avoid an encounter. Knute and Seani unhook from the wooden cart, and we prepare to confront whatever beast emerges from the tangled growth. The huge head of some scaly land predator parts the leaves in front of us. Its hot breath blows across our group as it sniffs the air. We remain completely motionless as the massive body of the beast slides partially into view. The broad chest spans a distance larger than the opening to the Great Hall. It’s clear that most of the monster remains hidden from view in the forest. The animal targets Holden with its hunting eyes, and opens its great mouth to reveal long, hideous fangs. A sinister hiss erupts from the hungry mouth.

Holden does not hesitate. His sinuous arms outstretched, he gathers the negative energy around him. A whirling shadow forms in front of his chest, contained between his outstretched arms. Lines crease his face and his muscles tighten. With a grunt he pulls his arms together releasing his Curse magic. The black sphere whistles through the air, abruptly stops upon reaching its target, and then hovers momentarily in the gaping maw of the beast. The whirling shadow pulsates for only the blink of the eye, poised between the serpent’s vile dripping teeth, and finally explodes in a billowing cloud of darkness.

The creature recoils from its attack, blood oozing from the angry mouth. It heaves its body further into our midst, bellowing with pain and rage. I quickly guide the White Witch behind a large tree. She strains in my grasp, eager to witness the struggle taking place. Everyone scrambles, assaulting the mammoth animal in a fight for our lives. Knute readies a Strike against one enraged eye, intending to blind our foe. His heavy claws rend flesh and bone, ripping the organ from its socket. With a lash from its long, barbed tongue the monster knocks Knute to the ground. Asher hits the beast’s vile head with a powerful Pounce, but the flailing monster lashes out and continues advancing on our group.

Ordoc retreats to the safety of the tree line, and busily heals Knute’s wounds. With increasing fervor, Asher and Holden slash the beast with their claws. Seani concentrates, her gathering of Water energy aided by the thick humidity. Her entire person appears to liquefy and a glowing light hums around her. A remarkable wave issues forth from her body, increasing in magnitude as it swells toward the intended target. The waters part and then rejoin, sparing Holden and Asher from its deluge. With a savagery like the MotherSea’s the wave crashes into the monster’s face, enveloping the mouth and nose.

Choking and sputtering, the injured beast continues to struggle against the onslaught. With horror I watch as the beast’s mate slithers from the trees behind it. I step forward and raise my right hand, palm upward, and form a ball of Light. I stun the mate long enough for the others to notice its presence, and Aanira steps forward to douse the ugly face with an acidic potion.

The first monster expires with a long bloody wail, and my companions turn to face its mate. Asher moves to the tree line and casts Health on Seani, crumpled to the ground after a powerful swing from the second creature’s tail. Ordoc jumps forward with a Strike, the heavy blow opening the fleshy side of the monster. Its thick green blood pours from the wound. Holden casts another Curse, but fatigue clearly slows the group. Above the din of battle, a loud long howl echoes through the forest around us.

A blurred flash of snarling jaws and ferocious teeth ushers in Honros-del-Nordes, wielding a heavy spear. The pack leader charges into the melee, plunging the weapon into the monster’s chest. Knute finishes the beast with a well-placed Strike that almost removes the savage head.

“Come,” Honros-del-Nordes commands. “Others from the brood surely follow.”

Weary and worn, we quickly reassemble and follow the pack leader to the safety of his camps.
**
Honros-del-Nordes shares his campsite with his littermates, Sice-del-Nordes and Suza-del-Nordes. Honros, Ordoc and Asher disappeared into a tanned hide tent to discuss the business of trading for supplies. The rest of us sat and watched as Sice challenged Welf-del-Duces, a member from another pack. Their savage, bloody battle enthralled the White Witch, who vocally encouraged the gladiatorial Sice.

Emerging from the tent, Honros ends Sice’s loud contest with a ferocious display of snarling and growling. The camp grows quiet. Honros-del-Nordes speaks. “The del-Nordes pack welcomes the Diasinians to our camps. We will fairly trade with you. First you must rest and share my campfire for this night.”

He studies Knute’s strong body and Holden’s wiry strength. He contemplates Seani, Asher and Ordoc momentarily, as if categorizing their individual abilities. Then he regards me with clear disdain.

“If you all will honor us in a sporting battle, then we will honor you with gifts for your journey.”

We quietly discuss this matter while Honros waits impatiently for our answer.

“The White Witch will be excused due to her advanced age,” Ordoc explains, “and Aanira garners an exception due to her... deformity.”

The White Witch feels a little cheated by her exclusion. Aanira feels relief rather than insult. I feel abject terror.

Images retrieved online and may be altered from the artists’ original works.
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