Davinya was not happy. Her father had said no when she asked to study magic under Jor Bashi, her father’s court mage. So, she was going to do it anyway. Jor Bashi knew how to be discreet, and he agreed that it was in her best interests to be able to protect herself with magic. Protecting herself with martial skills was out of the question. She was never going to be as strong as Wolfryn, or as sly as Ulfnar, so magic was her only recourse.
Jor Bashi’s study was in a building as far away from the palace as it could be. It stood near the back gate, a few feet from the wall. It was a stout stone tower, if it could be called such a thing considering its short height, unadorned with anything that might resemble opulence. The stone walls were bare, not covered with any plaster, nor were they covered with decorations that might give the building an artistic look. It was strictly functional and meant to be repaired in the event of any sort of magical mishap.
The interior was just as spartan as the exterior. It opened up to an antechamber that consisted of a simple table and two doors. One door led to the basement where Jor Bashi’s research took place. The other led to the study where she and the magician were seated. To the side of the study was a circular staircase that rose to the second floor where Jor Bashi’s private quarters were.
The study consisted of three or four tables filled with all sorts of arcane devices, including books open to random pages, with half-filled glass vials and notes sitting on top of them. Added to this was a assortment of magical artifacts, statuary, random bits of animal parts and other stuff Davinya didn’t want to try to identify.
It was difficult to know the exact number of tables because there was so much clutter everywhere. Jor Bashi was like a magical packrat. Every available space was filled with magical objects or components used for spells or strange objects she couldn’t identify. The only places that weren’t filled were passageways to the entrance and the staircase up to the second floor. Even the steps on the stairs themselves had magical junk stored on them like some bookcase that had been twisted around itself.
Davinya stood in the only open area in the room that wasn’t cluttered with books, glass tubes, paper notes, vials, or other materials that Bashi used for his studies. The place was a disaster and smelled like one. The floor had a surprising amount of creepy crawlies moving around. If she kicked a pile of junk over and found a body, she doubted she would be surprised.
“Now, Princess Davinya, can you tell from where Laryndor’s magic derives?”
Davinya sighed. Her childhood tutors had hammered this knowledge into her since she had been old enough to understand language. “Magic is derived from the goddess Laryn who sends her power through her four children,” she intoned by rote. “Her four children then pass that magic onto us. The names of these four children give us the names of our schools of magic.”
Jor Bashi cackled. “Spoken like a studious little schoolgirl,” he said. “And so completely wrong.”
Wrong? She wasn’t wrong. She had taken a particular interest in magic from a young age. She had even snuck out to the library in the middle of the night to get into the sections on magic that were off-limits. She read all the books on magic that she could, and everyone one of them said that the god Laryn was the source of all magic.
And even if she were wrong, did he have to be so damned smug about it?
She wanted to slap the huge grin right off his face. There were a number of reasons why she wouldn’t try though, besides the fact that he would refuse to teach her after. The first would be that he was a grandmaster of magic. She wouldn’t be able to get within an arm’s reach of him before he would have her tied up in knots. Even if she could get close enough to strike, he was extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat. The second her arm reached for his face, he would twist her hand up around her and fling her across the room, heedless of the glasses and experiments he would shatter.
His bald head and blue robe belied someone with such impressive skills. He looked more like an ascetic monk than one of the most preeminent magicians in all of Laryndor. Unlike other mages, he didn’t believe it was appropriate to dress in fancy, flashy clothes. Despite his attitude towards her scholarship, he believed it was important to be humble when one possessed such power.
“But the theology of magic is a lesson for another time. For now, we shall study the more practical applications of Laryn’s gift. Would you like me to explain how the magic from Laryn are expressed as spells?”
“Yes,” she said. She already knew, but if he thought her explanation of where magic comes from was wrong, perhaps she was going to be wrong about how a magician uses that magic as well. She didn’t want him to embarrass her again.
He nodded, and a knowing look flashed across his face. He knew why she wanted him to tell her. She fought down the embarrassment as she felt her face starting to flush.
“As you say, all magic comes from the god Laryn. This magic travels through her four children and from them it travels to us. The personalities of her children influence the magical energy as it flows through them and into the world. We call this energy The Essences. By combining each Essence in different ratios, recipes if you will, you will get different effects. We call those effects spells.”
While it wasn’t word-for-word, that was the exact explanation given in On Magic and Spellcraft by Joannes Thrnshoven. She wasn’t wrong. Still, it was better to hear him explain it to her than for her to try to explain it and for him to tell her she was wrong again.
Bashi continued, “Even when using a single Essence in a different ratio with non-essence you can get a different effect. That’s a mistake many beginners make. They assume that a single essence will always net you the same spell, which is wrong.”
She’d never heard a mention of non-essence before. “What is non-essence?” she asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like, girl. The lack of Essence. A nothingness of spell energy, if you will.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said.
He frowned, “You must let go of what you have read,” he said. “There is knowledge that you have gained from a book, and there is knowledge from what you’ve experienced. Until you’ve experienced the Essences flowing through you, what you’ve learned from the books is useless.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“How is studying books useless? You have them all around you.”
His frown turned to a scowl. She suspected he didn’t like this line of questioning. She could tell he was irritated, but the tone of his voice didn’t change. He still sounded like he was lecturing a child.
“From your readings, do you know what it feels like when the Essences are flowing through you? Can you tell, by feel which one you are manipulating?”
The books described the Essences and how they flowed through the magic user as they used them, but he was right. None of them described how they felt. She suspected that was an important distinction.
“No,” she admitted.
He smiled. “Exactly so, so forget those books. First things first, I am going to teach you how to open yourself up to the Essenses. Close your eyes, take a few quiet breaths, and listen.”
She did as he instructed, closing her eyes, breathing, and listening. For five minutes she waited for him to say something, but he said nothing. “Are you going to say something?” she finally asked.
“Did I say to listen to me?” he snapped back. “No. I said to just listen.”
“What am I listening to?” she asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
“The voices of the gods,” he whispered.
***
Aeolwyn was gone, and everyone blamed Ulfnar, no matter how many times he denied it. How could he have been with Aeolwyn going to the Star Children’s outpost when he was in the docks gambling with Fasadina?
He left out the part about Fasadina. His punishment would be worse if they had known he was carousing with a commoner. Despite the difference in station, she didn’t seem any different from any of them. In fact, he liked her better than any of his siblings. She was more real, more down to earth. She had to work for everything she had, and her humility reflected that.
He wasn’t in love with her, though they had shared a bed on a number of occasions. She wasn’t beautiful, though she was very comely. There was something about her rugged, sunburnt appearance that appealed to him. She wasn’t a porcelain doll like the women on the hill, the slang Fasadina used to refer to the nobility who lived near the palace.
As part of his punishment, he wasn’t allowed out of the palace. His father had posted extra sentries at every entrance and exit to ensure none of the royal family was able to leave the grounds. He was sure that his brothers were excepted to that rule, particularly the crown prince. Alfyn always got special treatment.
It was clear to Ulfnar that hos brother had something to do with Aeolwyn’s exile. Especially considering that Alfyn’s friend Egnever was also caught. As far as Ulfnar knew, He and Aeolwyn weren’t friends, and why would they be? Aeolwyn was 12, and Egnever was nearing 20. 8 years was a large age gap when you were young.
The caravan had left nearly a week ago. He wondered how his little brother was handling the journey. It couldn’t be easy for him, considering he’d never ridden a horse for longer than an hour, and hadn’t traveled out of the city before.
Discomfort was the least of his worries though. There were plenty of dangers on the road, from highwaymen to goblins, to all sorts of other unspeakable monsters. He was bound to face dangers closer to home as well. If Alfyn did have something to do with it and wanted Aeolwyn out of the way for some reason, an assassination on the way to Fort Camulan was the perfect opportunity.
He opened the window to the palace grounds and shimmied down the wall. No guard was going to keep him away from the bars on the docks. They were his favorite place. He loved being around real people who weren’t scheming and maneuvering to get more influence with the king.
As he ran quietly towards the outer wall he wondered if he should just forget this whole thing and chase after the caravan. For all he knew Aeolwyn could already be in danger.
***
“Why are you doing this, girl?” Jor Bashi said, spittle flowing from his lips as he shouted. He was as red-faced as she had ever seen. His hands, clenched tightly at his sides, prevented him from doing something that both of them would regret.
Davinya had stood there listening for the better part of an hour, and she still couldn’t hear them. It would help if she knew what to listen for, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise, and she knew it. The point was for her to experience something she had only read about.
Her father had said no to studying magic, despite knowing how Alfyn acted around her. He said that it was natural for a handsome man like the crown prince to be attracted to such a beautiful woman as Davinya. A little experimentation was harmless.
She didn’t think it was harmless. It was disgusting. There was something wrong with Alfyn, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Being around him made her feel slimy. Like taking a bath in an oily pond.
She knew he lusted after her. He wasn’t an ugly man, but he was her brother! There were some boundaries that could not be crossed. He was a strong man, and he could force her if he wanted to. An event that she suspected would come along sooner or later, and she meant to protect herself when it did. She did not want to end up like Aeolwyn did.
Her poor little brother. He had been caught up in a scheme of Alfyn’s making. Though he hadn’t come outright and said it, he didn’t have to. His confession was in the smug way he walked the halls. The happiness in his face as Aeolwyn’s horse rode out of the palace with the rest of the column. She would not be a victim of Alfyn’s scheming.
Then she heard something. Very soft whispers, but as she was able to focus on them, she heard them better. How had she missed them before? They were clear as day! At first, they were all jumbled on top of each other, but listening carefully, she could make out individual voices, not their words, but the emotions behind them.
“I hear them,” she said softly.
The first voice she could make out was filled with rage. That had to be Agyassa the Violent, the god of war. The angry voice spoke loudest, just like in real life. His magic was the magic of attacks, of injury, of fire.
The next voice she picked out filled her with love. Utashu the Blessed then, her magic was that of life, of restoration, of healing. Listening to her voice felt restful, like a quiet day lounging in the palace, feeling a cool breeze across her skin.
Then came a beautiful melody. Like someone humming a song quietly to themselves. It rose and fell in crescendos and decrescendos. It was loud and harsh at times, and then at other times it was soft and warm. This was the voice of Jakitradius the Harmonious. The magic of balance.
She kept listening, but the last voice eluded her. She knew who it would be: Samahdin the Illumed, the magic of enlightenment. It was hard to filter out the other three voices to hear, but she knew it was there. It was like trying to hear a whisper in a loud room.
With great difficulty, she tuned out loudest voice, Agyassa the Violent. Then Utashu and Jakitradus faded into the background. She bent her ear to hear it but could not.
“Quiet your mind, Daryna,” Jor Bashi said softly.
She did as he instructed. She let the voices, and her thoughts float away like tiny clouds floating on the wind. As new thoughts popped into her mind, she watched them go by, but did not acknowledge them.
Her body relaxed and her mind got calmer. As the real world faded from her perception, she could make out the faintest whisper of a whisper. If she got too excited or tried to focus on it, it would fade away again. She had to put any attempt out of her mind. It was like a skittish deer. She had to wait for it to come to her.
And it did. Peace, Samahdin whispered in her ear. She had done it! She heard the voices. As her body flooded with excitement of the accomplishment, the peace collapased. Agyassa’s rage came flooding back into her ear, and then his voice faded back into a whisper.
She could hear the soft breeze of the wind sound like a maelstrom, before fading into the background. She felt like she was climbing out of a deep hole and seeing sunlight for the first time.
She opened her eyes, and Jor Bashi was smiling.