Pirin crossed his legs and adjusted himself into a comfortable position. He continued to cycle his Essence around his body, then pushed it out in a stream towards Gray. Her core took it, and with an extra push, Pirin began to cycle it around her body as well.
She had Essence channels, the same as any living creature. They didn’t have a physical presence at such a low stage, but the life-auras of the world still flowed through them, interacted with them.
But now, she and Pirin could use them.
If she was going to be his Familiar, her whole body would need to become a part of his Essence cycling loop as well. But, with so much added distance to push, Pirin’s lungs had to work twice—no, thrice as hard—if he wanted to keep his current pace of cycling. And if he broke pace, the Ichor in his blood would fall out of place, and the advancement would fail.
It would be easier if Gray was awake and breathing consciously, but she wasn’t, so Pirin had to make do on his own.
While he waited for Brealtod’s instructions, he practiced manipulating his Essence. He practiced moving it in sections and mastering his will over it. He sent swirls of it around his core in different directions, not just a crude inward push. Most of all, he practiced the subtle changes in breath required to make it happen. A shuddering, shaky inhale, and the Essence rolled. A constricted exhale, and the Essence formed into a ring around his core.
Brealtod spoke in his dragonfolk language of hisses and clicks, and Alyus translated. “Think of your core as a hole, and instead of randomly pushing Essence down, start pushing it down the hole. Imagine you’re scooping your Essence inward, causing the core to start folding in on itself.” Alyus paused. “Did I say it right?”
A few hisses.
“Close enough,” Alyus said. “Give it a go, elfy. And don’t mess up, or you’ll ruin yourself more than you already are.”
Pirin would’ve sighed if it wouldn’t have interrupted his breathing pattern. But this new strategy was worth a try.
Clamping his eyes shut, he analyzed his core. He tried to push a hole deep into its center, like he was driving his thumb into a snowball—except with just his mind. The edge of the core bulged inward a touch, but otherwise, it didn’t move.
“Think of the process as…condensing,” Alyus added, translating. “You can’t pour steam, or a mysterious energy force into a hole, but you can pour water.”
And how was supposed to condense the Essence?
“Tighten it, constrict it, hold it tight in your channels and call it back to your core,” Alyus continued, translating Brealtod’s hisses, as if reading Pirin’s mind. “If you hold it tight for long enough, it will condense, and you will be able to pour it into the hole.”
Brealtod gave a set of especially forceful and deep hisses.
“Do I have to say that spiritual mumbo-jumbo…?” Alyus asked. “...Alright, fine, fine. Brealtod says the wizard of his hometown always used to say, ‘Walking the Arcane Paths is like looking at a bottomless pit and deciding to fill it bit by bit.’ Well, the same goes here—fill the hole until you have no more Essence left to fill it with, and if you’ve assessed your situation correctly, you will advance.”
Pirin slowed his breaths as smoothly as he could, increment-by-increment, forcing his heartbeat to slow with them. The slower he breathed, the better control he had. He drew his Essence closer to his core, then held it in a small, swirling loop around the spinning orb.
The longer he held it close, the thicker the Essence became, until it was almost a slurry. He didn’t know how long the process took, nor did he dare to try to find out. His mind fell into a deep trance, where the outer world faded entirely
He clenched his fists, imagining an invisible finger intending a hole in the center of his core. Then he poured the Essence—the clean, sky-blue pure Essence—into it. He kept pouring and pouring, until the edges of the core began to constrict and fold inwards.
Instead of just digging a hole, he imagined that he was constricting and compressing the core. He visualized energy folding in, growing tighter and tighter until it felt like a solid marble of energy at the center of his gut. When he loosened his breaths and released his hand, the marble stayed in place.
There was very little pure Essence left around his core now—only a few dregs of gnatsnapper-bent Essence. But there wasn’t just one core that he had to advance. Gray had an orb of energy inside her as well, now, and it was brimming with energy, ready to advance a stage—or five. He just had to pour a touch of gnatsnapper Essence into it.
Guiding the Essence with his breaths, he willed it over to Gray, pushing it closer and closer to her. Then, with his control over the entire Familiar circuit, he dug a hole in the center of her core and began pouring the new Gnatsnapper Essence into the center of the core.
The process was largely the same, although it was faster, and it consumed almost all of the Gnatsnapper Essence he’d made. In an instant, her new core compressed and squished inward.
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If Pirin concentrated close enough, he could hear a faint, airy howl. The dragon’s voice, perhaps. If he pushed his concentration to its peak, he sensed a faint, unusual hint to the gnatsnapper Essence. It was mostly gnatsnapper-bent, but there was another aspect to it—a reptilian, green, and foreign aspect. No doubt the fault of the dragon.
As soon as the last sliver of gnatsnapper-bent Essence dribbled into the center of Gray’s core, another forceful but warm-sounding boom shot out from both Pirin’s and Gray’s bodies in perfect harmony.
Pirin didn’t know when, but sometime after both of the cores had been compressed into small orbs, he drifted out of consciousness. When he opened his eyes again, he laid on a blanket in the cargo hold with a cushion under his head—Alyus’s rolled-up gambeson. His mask was still firmly affixed to his face, and the runes still glowed.
Pirin sat up. Only Brealtod remained in the room. The dragonfolk knelt beside him with a calm, peaceful expression—as much as the reptilian race could manage. With great effort, Brealtod hissed, “Itsss…isss…a…greatsss…honour…to…wit—witnesss…the…advanssssmentsss…of…a…wisssard.”
Pirin expected to find himself completely worn out and beaten, but his limbs told him otherwise. He hopped to his feet with a spring of energy, with his body somewhat refreshed, and spun in a circle. Gray stirred, opening her eyes and hobbling to her feet.
Pirin raised his arm and looked down at his chest and leg. No longer did he feel the sting of his wounds. When he lifted the bandages, only minor scars remained. The advancement had repaired his body, slightly.
Alyus descended down the ladder into the cargo hold and stepped into Pirin’s view. “So, you did it, elfy?”
“I think so…” Pirin shut his eyes just one more time and examined his core. His body was completely empty of Essence, and his core was still marbled with ember-like cracks, but it glowed brighter and it pulsed stronger.
Spark stage. He smiled. “Yes, Alyus, I did it.”
“Great, then,” the ostal said, nodding. “Brealtod tells me it’s not wise for Familiars who are just forming their sapient mind to spend much time around their bonded wizard. We should move you…”
“I wouldn’t mind…not thinking about my magic for a little bit, yeah…” Pirin said.
“To the gondola, then.” Alyus turned back to the ladder and began to climb, and Brealtod followed close behind him.
After one last look at Gray, Pirin whispered, “I’ll see you in a little while, Gray. Thank you.” Then, he climbed up the ladder and out of the hold with the two smugglers.
“So, any idea where we’re heading next, elfy?” asked Alyus once they reached the axial catwalk. “Bring you back north and drop you at the Sirdian border?”
“I…I’m not sure about that,” Pirin said. Sirdia had no wizards to train him, and they had no resources to help him advance. If he returned home now, they might herald him as an anomaly, a hero who had overcome an Embercore. They’d be slightly less disappointed in him, sure, but that wouldn’t save Sirdia from its inevitable doom.
It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.
Sure, he could meditate for decades, now able to harvest the Eane from the energy fields around the world, and maybe he’d strengthen a little, but there were better ways of growing stronger. Meditating wouldn’t teach him new magical techniques. Meditating wouldn’t reforge his body.
Hir Venias had suggested that Pirin found a teacher. “I…I need to learn stronger, better magic,” he told Alyus. “I need a master.”
“Good luck finding one in Aerdia.”
“Hir Venias told me to search in Greanewash for an old friend. A sprite, by the looks of it, and she was a wizard. She’ll help me.”
Greanewash was a port city. Pirin couldn’t recall much else about it, aside from seeing it on a map.
Brealtod hissed as well, three sharp whistles through his teeth that sounded enough like agreement.
“He’s right,” Alyus added. “Be prepared to travel further than Greanewash. You might find her, and she might be a wizard, but what if she can’t help?”
“Then I’ll go beyond,” Pirin said. “There have to be masters on the Dominion’s Mainland, yes?”
“Plenty of wizards, yes,” Alyus said. “One willing to teach the king of their enemies how to use a type of magic that—rightfully so—strikes fear into their hearts? Far less.”
Pirin bit his lip. “It’s a better shot than any…”
“Sure, but a chance doesn’t mean it’s a high chance.”
“Could you make the crossing?” Pirin asked.
“It’s possible. The Featherflight could fly across the Adryss ocean and make it to the Mainland—I’ve done it once before, to get over here. We had to stop a few times, but we did it.”
“Could you do it again?”
“I could, but I don’t want to. No matter how much you decide to pay me this time.”
Pirin tilted his head. “Why?”
They reached the ladder down to the airship’s control gondola, and they all began to descend. “Because I’m a traitor to the Dominion, and, in case you’ve forgotten, they conquered all of the Mainland. Because I’ve no interest in this power-crusade of yours, and I’ve no desire to get myself killed flying you in and out of danger. You’ve paid me enough silver to settle down somewhere in back-country Aerdia. I’ll have peace.”
They slid down the last section of the ladder into the crew quarters. Pirin said, “I could unite the Elven Continent. Once I get a teacher and master my magic, I’d have the strength to save Sirdia and pull our continent together as one.”
Pirin gulped. The memory of Mr. Regos flashed through his mind—his old master teaching him the ways of the healer. We help people.
This was the only way.
“I’m not convinced that you’re convinced.”
“Alyus, please, I thought you wanted—”
“You don’t understand the first thing about me, elfy. We’ll stop in Vēl Tallomn to patch the envelope and top up the ballast and liftgas. Then I’ll drop you in Greanewash, and that’ll be it for us.”