On the whole, things were actually looking up for Efrain at least as far as he could reckon. It was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one that Naia had reached out to him. Adding on top of it that at least one of the children had fallen right into his lap, he might come away from this trip with more than near-death experiences.
The trio was sitting on the wooden floor of the waggon, the morning light rapidly brightening. It wouldn’t be long before the paladin’s awoke, by Efrain’s reckoning, so they’d best be quick.
“Well,” Efrain began, “I’ll let you ask three questions. That’s all we have time for today.”
Having a student, a proper student, was a prospect that he enjoyed more than he cared to admit. Aya took her time, drumming her fingers on the floor as she tried to come up with whatever her mind demanded of him.
“What is magic? What’s the difference between magic and miracles? And… what am I?”
Three, concise. Innie stirred at the first two, and Efrai guessed that Aya had already asked them before.
“‘What is magic’ is a matter of some debate. In the most practical sense, it’s a way of manipulating the world. Some have worshipped it as divine or spiritual. Some haven’t,” Efrain answered, “though, if you want my personal opinion, magic is a process of discovery, just as mathematics or philosophy is. It requires skill, or talent, most of all, dedication and practice.”
She nodded, this definition perhaps striking a cord with her.
“The difference between magic and miracles?” he said, “Well, I’m not entirely sure what miracles you’re referring to, but I can certainly attest that there are those that pass off magic as miracles.”
Aya stiffed slightly as it, and Efrain guessed from where the questions had sprung.
“Ah. I would’ve imagined the paladins said something like that. Self-aggrandizing hogwash - they use magic, I use magic. It’s fundamentally the same thing.”
He left out the part about how radically inefficient their methods likely were - that was for a later time.
“But the church says-”
“That magic is a sin. Something used by people in dark places?” snorted Efrain, “Angorrah used to be a centre of magical education, though the church would never admit that. I myself used to dwell there, many years ago.”
“The madame said that you would know about the night of the Burning Tree,” said Aya, looking at the cat, “that you lived through it.”
Efrain, at the usage of the word ‘madame’, also looked at the cat, significantly less impressed than his young charge. He indeed had lived through it, although he couldn’t recall it.
“It was over three centuries ago,” he said, “complete chaos. Partisans from the lands conquered during the Helgacite expansion. Angry youths from the Academies who felt betrayed by the church, mixing with other factions. Worst of all was the portion of the military that wanted to overthrow the ruling authority. The Night of the Burning Tree was a poorly thought out riot.”
Once more, the hypocrisy of the unknown haunted his assertion.
“I left the city not long after,” he said, “the writing was on the wall at that point. The church was preparing for decades to destroy the Academy, and that night was the perfect excuse for them to do so. Sometimes I wonder…”
Aya leaned forwards, clearly interested in this history he recounted.
“But that’s not relevant to your questions, nice try,” he said, leaving his suspicions on who exactly had set fire to the sacred tree to himself, “as for your third question - what are you.”
Out of habit, a long finger reached up to scratch at his temple.
“You are an enigma, a mystery. I don’t think I’ve encountered anything quite like you, and, believe me, between books and my own travels, that is not a low bar. It’s rare to stumble on someone so unique.”
Efrain was conscious of how bright it was beginning to get.
“Perhaps we’ll find some answers as we continue to explore magic together,” he put together quickly, “but alas, that’ll have to wait for another time. Best that you get back to your fellows. Quick now.”
Satisfied, at least for the moment, Aya thanked him, and with a little bow to Innie, quickly got out of the wagon and departed.
“A bow?” he said to his long-time companion.
“I was never going to get it from you,” she said, snorted, “besides, how long will it be before you get her calling you ‘teacher’?”
Efrain decided that was fair and not to press the point.
“I’m going to find Tykhon, I’d rather ride him than be in this rickety thing on a forest path,” he said, “also, have you see Clarallel?”
“She seems to be having a ball,” Innie said, “There’s no shortage of injuries for her to treat.”
“Oh, goodie,” he said, “at least she’s been keeping busy I’m sure.”
Efrain made his way around the camp, not taking long before finding another class taking place. Claralelle was inscribing lines in the dirt with a stick, depicting this muscle and that, while a collection of mostly shirtless men and women stood around her. As she explained its shape and what connected into what, she indicated so on her model - a vaguely embarrassed looking young soldier in the middle.
Efrain leaned against a tree, studying the reactions of the soldiers as Claralle launched into a fairly in depth explanation of the forces involved in a sword swing. To their credit, most of them seemed fascinated, and one was even scribbling hasty notes on a piece of parchment. As the lesson wrapped up, and the soldiers departed speaking in hushed tones, Efrain walked up behind Clara.
“My. Seems you’re gaining a following,” he said.
“Something like that?” she said in her customary joyous tone, “they’re interested. I’m interested. I might as well share!”
“Indeed,” he said, “keep in mind not to complain about the church too heavily, lest you land in hot water with some.”
She gave him a blank look, and it occurred to Efrain that she might not even know the slightest about the church, other than it existed.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Anyways,” he continued, “I wanted to know what your plans were. Now that we’re out of both frying pan and fire.”
“Oh, I have no idea,” she said.
“...really?”
“I suppose I should go find another flesh lord, and complete my training. Or set up my own practice and… practice. Oh, and I like to read, and there are a lot of books. And there are a lot of people to treat as well!”
“Uh-huh,” Efrain murmured, “well, I don’t know about any others, but I can certainly introduce you to Carnes. Whether or not they’d be willing to take you on as a student is another story.”
“Also, I should find the skull of my master, if it hasn’t been crushed to dust by now,” she said, “we used to joke that I would strip it of the flesh and boil it. Then I’d put a little hat on it, or maybe use it to drink wine from. I don’t entirely remember.”
“They may have been joking.”
“No, I don’t think so. Either way, he’s dead, so he doesn’t have the luxury of choice.”
“Well, then,” Efrain said, clearing his throat to change the subject, “is it on to Angorrah, then? That’s where Carnes is, if you’re interested in meeting them.”
She nodded in a manner that was akin to a shrug, hoisting one of her many tool belts onto her pleated skirts.
“I’ve never been in a big city, I would like to see one,” she said.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, deciding not to mention the kind of reception she might receive there.
“Well, then, what about you? Are you going to the city? Seems like as bad an idea for me as it is for you.”
“Granted,” he said, “I’m not sure yet. We’ll be in Karkos in a few days, and we’ll see what happens. By the way, you don’t happen to have a pair of cups that you could spare, do you?”
“You could just take one or two from the ground. They leave them around all the time. I don’t think they’ll notice if they go missing.”
“And you know that because… you’ve done it before,” he said.
She nodded vigorously, before turning and walking away.
Efrain began to walk to the outskirts of the camp, looking for an unaccompanied piece of dishware or two. Clara was soon proven right, as he found that there were quite a few, enough for him to select a set of shallow wooden constructs between a plate and bowl. Perfect for what he was planning, or so he hoped. With his objective secured, he passed between the trees, and once he was a significant distance from the camp, he whistled.
The physical impossibility of the sound amused him, especially since he managed to do it perfectly every time.
Tykhon came through the trees, loping along on his six limbs, swivelling his head this way and that. Efrain wondered if that was for vision, or if he was scenting the air. The mount did not seem worse for ware, despite the danger they’d passed through. Efrain supposed there was no lack of food and water in the woods, and he’d been more than happy to wander along in them.
“I’m glad to see you,” he said, rubbing the creature’s long snout.
The creature nuzzled at him, leaving Efrain to wonder if Carnes had built some fondness for him in the creature’s very blood. He turned back and looked through the trees, seeing the soldiers beginning to pack their tents and tools.
“I don’t entirely know what I’m doing,” he said to his mount, “feels like I might’ve really stepped in it this time, Tykhon. I might end up headless, or with a new friend.”
Tykhon offered no response, other than to lay its massive head on his shoulder.
“Trying to get some blood on me?” he said, noticing the red flecks near the slit of its mouth, “rascal.”
He led Tykhon through the trees and back towards the wagon circle where Innie waited. Oddly enough, the mounts being hitched didn’t bolt or grow agitated at the approach of the much larger creature. Efrain wasn’t sure how Carnes had managed that either, but he supposed it was just another example of the skill of the flesh lord.
Soon, he and Innie were heading to the top of the line, but they stopped before they reached where the men were forming up. Damafelce was washing some clothes in a creek, leaving a trail of red-purple water.
“Don’t you have a page to do that for you?” he said from the back of his mount.
“I do,” she said, “but I prefer to do it myself. It’s what I used to do while my mother composed.”
“A bit of home then?” he said.
She nodded as she withdrew the shirt from the stream, its pale surface still stuffed with a red-brown stain.
“That being said,” she said, “I think this one is beyond my aid. I see you found your mount, lord Efrain. He’d been trailing the caravan for a while, some of the soldiers were getting nervous.”
“Well, I’m glad they didn’t shoot him. I would’ve been quite upset, though I doubt they would’ve harmed him much.”
“What is he exactly?” she said, wringing out the shirt before throwing it over her well muscled shoulder, “I’ve never seen nor heard of a beast like him.”
“A chimera of some description,” Efrain said, “actually I don’t even know if it's a he. It was a gift from a friend.”
“A… what?” Damafelce said, trying to sound out ‘chimera’.
“A mixture of animals, modified and merged. Flesh lords dabble in such things occasionally.”
“And is that… blood around his muzzle?” she said, looking concerned.
“Yes. He’s… well, I think he eats both plants and flesh, given the chance. I’ve seen him eating berries, and also… an eagle. I’m not sure how he managed to catch it,” Efrain said.
Damafelce looked more impressed than frightened, but Efrain noticed how her eyes drifted down to the claws on the forelimbs of the creature.
“He’s not particularly aggressive,” Efrain said, “but I think he can get skittish.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Is there anything you wanted to speak to me about?”
“No, no,” Efrain said, “I just saw you in the clearing and wanted to say hello.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting him.
“Although, there’s one question I would like to ask if you wouldn’t mind.”
“There it is,” said the captain, “well, then, ask away.”
“This seems like a less than desirable post for you, so far away from home. Why did you come?”
Her eyebrows furrowed at the question, almost as if she was insulted that he’d even asked her.
“I volunteered, we all did. Even the commander. He needed good men, so he had us.”
“Well then, that wraps some lingering questions I had,” Efrain said, nodding, “I’ll see you on the road, captain.”
Now that was interesting, Efrain thought, so was Naia put forward, or did he volunteer on his own?
Efrain rode on to where the men were massing, and waited patiently for the line to form up properly. Tykhon shifted his weight to the side and began to rub himself on the bark of a nearby tree, snuffling and grunting as he did so. Efrain absent-mindedly rubbed behind his ears as he thought about the day’s lesson.
It didn’t take long for the men to get moving along the old road, though it was more a foot path than anything else. Efrain didn’t have much time or desire to speak beyond common courtesy as he and Innie rode alongside the soldiers, and most were too unnerved by Tykhon to press any conversation. They’d made a distance of perhaps twenty or thirty miles before the day had darkened. The trees were beginning to thin out just slightly, and the balance was shifting definitely to deciduous.
As the men broke for camp, Efrain took up a position on a small rise, where a young birch stuck out from the ground. Tykhon had curled up, chewing on some of the fresh grass as he snorted and twitched, Innie asleep on his back. Efrain set out the two bowls before him, filled from a nearby stream, a fresh picked bundle of herbs, and waited.
Innie awoke at one point, flicking one amber eye over to his assembly.
“Getting prepared for your covert lesson?”
Efrain nodded as he sat, leaning against Tykhon's massive flank.
“I could wake you if you’re interested in aiding in my instruction.”
“Correcting your mistakes, you mean,” she said, “no thank you, I’ll be happy to sleep through your instruction.”
“Charming. At least I’ll be among friends,” Efrain said.
“You’re counting the beast-creature?”
“I take what I can get, including mouthy cats.”
That earned him a little laugh from the wisp-mother.
“And what exactly are you planning to do with those bowls, Efrain?”
“I was planning on making tea,” he said, “though it will be exceedingly poor quality with what fare I have.”
Innie’s laugh was not little this time as she rolled over and settled.
“Never change, Efrain,” she said, as she drifted back to sleep.
The moon was well-risen before Aya crept out from between the trees.
“Sorry,” she said, “they were a little more watchful this time. I had to wait until they were by the fire.”
“I have all the time in the world,” Efrain said, “besides, I don’t intend to keep you for very long.”
“They say we’re going to be coming to Karkos soon,” Aya said, “we might see it as early as tomorrow, the commander says.”
“That might be optimistic,” Efrain said, “maybe if we push ourselves, we could get to the hinterlands. As for actually getting into the city, that’s taking a night ride, which I’m not sure the soldiers would be happy about.”
Aya sat and processed the information in silence.
“Well, in any case, we will soon be in Karkos, barring any misfortune on the road. And we both have had quite enough of that, I think.”
The laughter was brittle, but good-natured regardless.
“So, then, magic. I haven’t done this in a very long time,” he said, “teaching, that is. As with anything, it’s best to understand the fundamentals of what we call magic. Under normal circumstances, this would take a few weeks, and we’d have lots of practical examples. Oh well, we’ll have to make do.”
He gestured to the various pieces in front of him.
“I teach in a more specific way than I imagine the paladins would, Three bedrock principles, which, while seemingly simple, take time to truly grasp. Memory, intent, emotion. A goal to find, the method to find it, and something to drive at. Do you understand?”
“I- I guess.”
“They seem a bit abstract, don’t they?” Efrain said, “don’t stress over the literal meanings of the words. They are flexible concepts, meant to capture a larger process. That is, the process of making magic.”
He held up his hand, and tried to envision the sparks of a blacksmith’s hammer. What he found instead, was a different explosion of colour and sound. The memory was surprising, and he couldn’t place it, but he remembered a name.
‘Fireworks’.
From his hand, a little stream of multicoloured tracers and dots of light flowed out into the night, vanishing into the dark. Aya gave a little gasp of delight as they floated above her head. He let his hand fall, pushing a dish of water towards the young girl.
“Do you want to take a guess at what your first actual act of magic will be?”
“Uh…” she said, looking down at the assorted plates and herbs, “are you asking me to make… tea?”
Efrain Belacore, behind his mask, smiled wider than he ever had in death.