The newly made man awoke on the cold stone tiles, a familiar pair of boots next to him. The owner of the boots, Longtooth was the man’s name, said something. Then the toe of one of the boots nudged him. The world spun for a moment, and then everything fell back. He was Wallace, also Crawler, and he was now considered fully grown again. Chuckling slightly, he coughed as his body began complaining quite loudly about his activities over the past three days. No food, only water, and that horrific cleansing tea. A marathon two-day session under the strong hands of Blackfinger, and what was sleep? Had he slept?
“I’m okay, Spirit Talker.” The young man said as he rolled onto his back to let the rain fall upon his face. His smile was large despite the wealth of pain and depth of utter exhaustion that sat on his chest. Spirit Talker offered a hand to help the young man up. He took it and stood slowly, accepting the strength his mentor provided.
“So, six glyphs, four bound totems, and a fifth unbound at the age of sixteen. You are truly a gifted person; I fear for what the world brings to balance you.” Longtooth said solemnly. “Since you no longer crawl in the mud, you need a new name. What do we call you?”
“Wali. My name is Wali.” Said the young man that had once been Crawler. He noticed the look Longtooth gave him, “It’s not my true name. I’m not that dumb.”
Nodding and clapping the young man on the back, Longtooth guided him back toward the village. Pain lanced through Wali as the very fresh tattoo across his shoulders was abused. Wali shuddered and winced; Longtooth looked guilty for a moment. He passed Wali a strip of jerky. “Eat it slowly. It will take you a few days to recover from your ordeal.”
Wali took a small bite, and the smoky, slightly oily flavor washed through his mouth, sending shivers of joy through his body. He resisted the urge to gobble it down as his stomach grumbled its emptiness. He proceeded to eat slowly as his body greedily took in the food.
Longtooth walked Wali to the inn in the center of town. The hub for traders and other visitors to the town from across the river. It was late evening, and the inn was lit by magical lamps from within but quiet. The inn looked warm and welcoming, both Longtooth and Wali touched a stone set into the door frame, and their rain-soaked clothing dried instantly. Six tables sat in a rough circle in the middle of the large room, wooden stairs led upstairs on the left, and a counter stood to the right. The innkeeper was a large man, Brownbell. Bearded and dressed in the simple linen common to the area, he nodded to Spirit Talker and Wali as they sat at the one empty table. A few other customers sat at the other tables in pairs or alone. Each had a clay mug, and some had plates of food.
As Brownbell approached the table, Spirit Talker nodded to the innkeeper. “Two mugs of ale and one plate piled high for Wali here.”
The innkeeper chuckled, recognizing the Spirit Talker and seeing the tattoos on the boy who was once called Crawler but now sported several Totemic Bindings. Every week or two, someone would escort a new adult in here. “And what do we call our newest member of the community?” Brownbell asked Wali.
“You can call me Wali. Thank you.” Wali said with a huge smile.
“One mug for old Longtooth and one mug and a plate for Wali. Got it.” Brownbell smiled broadly. He moved past the counter into the kitchen. The smell of old ale and lingering scents of food made Wali’s mouth water. The strip of jerky had helped his stomach remember its job but was nowhere near enough food. Wali had lost about eight kilos of his not quite seventy kilos, and he felt every gram. Wali’s mind was still reeling a bit from everything that had happened. Three more glyphs, three! Their initial flash of understanding and effects had passed, but some residual effects were propping him up. Brownbell returned with two large mugs in one hand and a large plate in the other. He deposited the mugs and placed the plate in front of Wali. It was piled high with roasted vegetables and tubers, half of a roasted chicken, and a pair of warmed honey rolls. Brownbell placed the utensils down, and Wali almost snatched them out of the innkeeper’s hand.
Before anything else could be said, Wali began to shovel food into his mouth. The herbs mixed into the roasted vegetables elevated them from simple to divine. The chicken fell off the bone and was accented with a salty brown gravy. He gulped food for a moment, then washed it down with a gulp of the local dark ale. The thick, sweet, and bitter ale matched the food, and Wali’s body shivered in delight. Longtooth and Brownbell chuckled at the sight they had seen many times over. The first meal as an adult was a part of the traditions of the Colri. Foundlings and those who did not already have a house to go into would come to the inn, sometimes with a mentor, sometimes not. All of them were served by Brownbell himself. The two men watched the young man eat and drink, Brownbell bringing over a mug of water to accompany the single mug of ale.
Wali ate and drank until he could hold no more. He sat back, wiped his mouth, and took a deep breath, barely getting out a worn “Thank you” before falling asleep at the table. Brownbell’s strong hands caught Wali’s shoulders before his head bounced off the table and pulled the exhausted young man to his feet. Easily carrying him upstairs to an open room and unceremoniously dumping him on the bed. Laughing to himself, Brownbell left the room and went back to work.
Wali woke slowly, hunger in his belly and a full bladder. He wiped his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. He was still clothed from the night before, and smells of roasting meat crept in under the door. He stood and washed his face before stepping out into the hallway, his brain tugging at vague memories of the previous night. He went downstairs, and Brownbell was waiting for him. “Good afternoon Wali. You sure slept in today.” The big innkeeper said with a smile. “Bathhouse out back,” he said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction.
Recognizing where he was and whom he was speaking with, Wali replied, “Good morning Brownbell. Thank you for letting me stay.” He hurried out the back to wash up.
Once back inside, Brownbell had a hot cup of tea with a plate of eggs, boar belly peppered bacon, and a small lump of hard cheese waiting for Wali. “You’re entitled to spend three days here following your Passage Ceremony. Last night doesn’t count toward your three days. Meals are included with the first three days, but after that, it’s two silvers for the room and one for each meal.”
Nodding understanding and mumbling thanks between mouthfuls, Wali already knew that he would not need to pay for the room past the first three days. He felt refreshed and like new. The spirits of his totems were a warm comfort. He was not alone, nor would he ever be. Once finished with his breakfast, he headed toward Trouble House for the last time.
Ancient Sandvine was sitting in his chair as per usual when Wali arrived. The Ancient got to his feet and shook Wali’s hand. “Well, what do we call you now?”
“Honored Ancient, please call me Wali. I am grateful to you and the other Ancients. Thank you for caring for me for the past six years.” Wali replied respectfully.
“You were no trouble at all, Wali. It has been a pleasure to see you grow.” Ancient Sandvine said. He continued in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Six glyphs and four totems? Boy, you are destined for something big I bet.” Chagrined and a bit embarrassed, Wali simply nodded. “Well, get your things, then come back to me. I have some things for you before you go.”
Wali went into the Trouble House, which was empty at this time of day, and gathered his belongings. He left the exact count of clothes and things he had begun with except for the leather pack he took as was right by the customs of the Trouble House. When he returned to the front porch, Sandvine was waiting for him with a small stack of things on the chair next to him. Sandvine looked at Wali and said, “You impressed every elder you have interacted with for the last six years. Each group has sent me something to give you for your time with them. I have kept these aside for you until now.” He handed Wali first a wooden token. “Bring that to the Gardeners today; that will get you a week’s worth of rations for your Long Walk.” Everyone knowing that Wali was going on a Long Walk was not surprising. Someone like Wali was not fit to sit in one place for long. Next was a wicker box about the size of his fist, “This is from Scalewalker and the Rivers. It’s a bunch of hooks and a length of fishing line.” He indicated a set of fine leathers folded neatly on the seat. “The Herders and Crafters sent this along.” The fine thin leathers fit his size and would be long-lasting travel wear. He could feel a minor bit of magic in them, and he realized it was a self-cleaning and self-repair magic that had been woven invisibly into the seams. Little magics like this were pretty typical for those who traveled, not so much for those who could do laundry. Not cheap to make or buy, Wali could appreciate that the community elders had come together for him. A waterproof leather satchel was next, filled with dried herbs and bandages from the herbalists. Lastly, Sandvine handed him a steel hatchet, balanced for throwing but meant for more mundane uses. It sat in a leather sheath with loops to be hung from his belt. “There ya go, stop by Spirit Talker’s place before you go. He’s got something for you too. Oh yeah, your accumulated pays for six years of working for the community.” Another leather pouch was added, this one clinking with coin.
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Wali was dumbfounded. This was far beyond any expectation he had. “Umm, please tell the elders that I am very grateful.” He stammered out. Few elders sent gifts to the charges of Trouble House.
“I will, now run along before the other kids get home. I’ve got to clean out your cubicle. You’ve been a good kid to have around, and I am sure you will be an even better man when you return from your Long Walk. Go on now.” Sandvine said gruffly.
Wali turned with arms laden and called back thanks as he returned to the inn. He deposited his stuff on the bed and immediately headed back out. He arrived at the door to the house of the Spirit Talker. He paused before the door, the door frame was heavily carved, and the blue glow of the totems was visible in the daylight. He knew he did not need to knock, having been in this exact spot once every nine days for the last six years. The door slid open, revealing Longtooth, who waved him inside.
“Welcome Wali. How are you feeling?” Longtooth asked him as they walked through the entryway, past the bone bead curtain, and into Longtooth’s workshop. Wali knew the man lived deeper into the residence but had never been past this room. It was a large room, ten meters on a side with a high domed roof, easily six meters at its peak. Herbs and taxidermied birds hung from the rafters. One wall was a grid of shelves holding a wide assortment of parchment scrolls, some books, crystals, animal bones, and skulls. A few potted herbs and several pots and jars are marked clearly in the Longtooth’s neat script. The opposite wall was a collection of maps woven into tapestries and a large window overlooking the river. The back wall was dominated by a large workbench where Wali knew Longtooth spent much of his day. The center of the room was a large meeting table, with seats enough for ten. A pall of smoke swirled through the air above their heads, pipesmoke from Longtooth’s ivory pipe, and a pair of totem spirit weasels moved about the smoke chasing each other around the room.
“I am feeling much better than yesterday, still a bit tired and sore but well enough.” Wali knew Longtooth preferred to be informal inside his sanctum. In this place, the Revered Spirit Talker was simply Longtooth.
“You should take a few days and rest. Blackfinger told me what you went through, and then you had to go and do your Passage Ceremony immediately after.” The man shook his head. He was one of the few people in town older than Wali’s compound age of 98, which was by a century or more. Longtooth did not talk much about his longevity, but Wali had pieced together that he was closer to three centuries old than he let on.
“I’m excited to go and see the world, Longtooth. It’s what I’ve been preparing for since I can remember.” Wali said.
“I know that. I also know the Wily One won’t let you sit still for too long,” Longtooth said with a smile. The Trickster mumbled something in response to that comment in the back of Wali’s mind, but he could not understand what the spirit had said.
“I appreciate all you have taught me these past years, Longtooth,” Wali said earnestly.
“I know, you tell me almost every day. But that’s not why we are here. First, we need to go over your new glyphs. Then I have a journeyman’s gift and a direction for you to travel. This is a wide world with many dangers, and the world does not mark someone like it has marked you without reason.” Wali could only gulp in response. He had wanted action and adventure, high fantasy stuff. However, he had not necessarily wanted to be the hero of the journey. He was here now, and these were the cards he had been dealt. Longtooth laughed, “You can only play with the hand of cards you have.” He paused, taking a puff off of his pipe.
“Let's get started on your new glyphs and what they mean. I am sure you already know the base meaning of each, but I can share a bit more. Maybe some hints on how to use them in conjunction with your totems. The easiest is the Glyph of Senses. You can amplify your senses in several ways, or by matching your spirit glyph with this and one of your totems, you would be able to use them as a scrying tool. Seeing with the Nighthawk owl’s eyes from afar could be very useful. Of course, it will take practice, and several spells do similar things, but you have an in-built knack for that.”
Wali nodded understanding, his mind already a whirl of ideas with this information. While he knew all of the glyphs and their base meanings, how to empower each of them individually and in some few combinations, he was no Sorcerer Supreme. He also knew that asking questions at this point would drag Longtooth down a long side path that may not answer Wali’s questions in the end.
“Next is the Magic Glyph. This one, as you know, is more about the base manipulation of mana. Adding this glyph to a set will allow you to empower far greater magical energy into an effect. I have heard there is a way to use this glyph to store mana within yourself or a prepared object which could be very handy. The lands of the Colri are naturally low on ambient mana; that’s why we see so few real monsters here. Spirit beasts do pop up, but our hunters quickly cull them. In lands with higher ambient mana, you should be able to pack yourself full of mana very quickly, enabling you to cast more powerful spells quickly. As for the last glyph of Void, I do not know much. I know that this glyph is often matched with the magic glyph to unbind effects that others have cast. You already know that spell. Void is also a part of many spells of hiding and invisibility. It is a powerful glyph if used correctly but also very dangerous, be careful with that.”
Wali nodded and considered the possibilities. An untalented person could string together the glyphs in specific ways to achieve the desired effect. The only limits were that person’s ability to generate or manipulate raw mana and the mental skill necessary to build that mental construct to frame the spell. The more letters, the more complex the effect; creating candlelight at the tip of a finger was one rune with a tiny amount of power needed. Creating a spear of flame that you could shoot at someone combined the Fire, Air, and Distance glyphs required a hundred times the mana the candle flame did. More complex things, more significant effects, longer ranges, all exponentially multiplied mana cost and effort required. Whole universities in major cities worldwide were devoted to studying magic and how it worked. Every culture had different mediums to help ameliorate this mana cost, however. The Colri had Totems. One could bind a bird spirit, bind the flame glyph to it, and cast it for a fraction of the cost as a standard flame spear to the same effect. Some used long incantations to frame the glyphs better and build the mana for a spell over time. Others used complex ritual diagrams or music.
When someone had an affinity to a glyph like Wali now had six, using those glyphs made this process even easier. One could instinctually use the power of the glyph they held instead of holding it in their mind making it far easier to use those sorts of spells and effects. These natural talents were a part of everyone in the world, but few pursued higher forms of it like Longtooth and Wali.
“I can see you thinking about all of that.” Longtooth smiled, watching his journeyman mentee and recognizing the wheels spinning in Wali’s head. “I have a meeting with the Elder Council shortly. Before that, I want to give you something.” The older man stood, walked to the corner, and picked up a spear. The shaft was a jet black wood that Wali recognized as Black Ironwood, a rare, slow-growing tree that was as strong and light as the finest steel. The head was a long piece of black volcanic glass that had not been knapped but shaped with magic into an elongated blade as long as Wali’s forearm. Behind the head was a cross piece of white ivory boar tusk, each of the two spikes about fifteen centimeters long. Each tusk stuck out perpendicular to the shaft and curved forward, also having been magically shaped. There was no twine or gut binding the three materials together. It seemed to be all of a single piece. Longtooth handed the spear to Wali. “I have been working on this spear for five years. One year and a day after you first started coming to me. I knew you would travel far and wide away from here. I also know that you will often return to us, your people. I want you to be safe. I know you are strong and destined for great things, and you will need the proper tools.”
Wali stood, accepting the magnificent weapon. “You know I have a hard time accepting this, but to refuse would be to refuse you and your teachings. I cannot do that. It is a magnificent piece.” It was taller than Wali by a third, almost too long for him to wield comfortably. As he gripped it, he felt the power residing inside of it. There was a spirit bound inside.
Longtooth saw Wali’s eyes widen in realization, “It is an elemental of the storm. A wild thing that I bound into a piece of obsidian many years ago. You will need to tame it before it is truly yours; until then will be not much more than a pointy stick to you.” Wali smiled, stepped back a few paces, and carefully moved into the first few steps of the war dance that every Colri learned. The balance was perfect, despite its length. The weight felt natural to Wali. “That elemental is bound unwillingly. It will not be a partner to you like your totems at first. But I have heard of magi who have elementals as pets, and your strength of character tells me that you might just be able to make it yours.”
“You have done so much for me over the years. How can I ever repay you?” Wali asked.
“I am sure you will someday. Think of it as me investing in you. One day you will come home to this little town and want to settle. By that time, I will be ready to pass along the mantle of Spirit Talker of the Colri tribes. I also think of it as repaying the woman who trained me, founded this town, and brought the Colri together. She invested in me, and she passed the mantle on to me when she was done babysitting the Elder Council. That was a long time ago, and I enjoy having an apprentice every few decades.” Longtooth said, some memories of the long past creeping into his voice.
A knock at the door interrupted Wali, who was going to respond. Longtooth said, “They cannot even wait for an old man to say goodbye to his apprentice. Regardless Wali, go on your Long Walk and head inland and through the Harvest Kingdom. Head to the city of Belge and then south to the Forest Kingdom. At the border, tell them to direct you to the home of Marsai. The Forest Kingdom is one of the elven lands, so be mindful of respecting them; they are all your elders.” Someone knocked on the door again. “Bah, go and let those geezers in and run along.”
“South at Belge, Marsai, got it.” Wali said as he took the spear and opened the door. Outside were two of the Elders of the Council. After greeting them appropriately, he held the door for them and departed after they had entered. As he moved through the town back to the inn, the spear was weighty in his hand. Back at the inn, he simply lay on the bed and looked at the gifts he had been given. He would not need to buy anything before he departed. He sorted things out and counted out his coins. Six years of a child’s wage was almost enough to build a house or rent a room for a year.
The next couple of days went by quickly. After making his goodbyes, purchasing some other tools and traveling equipment, and gathering whatever consumables he could think of, he was ready to go.
Well rested and fed, he stepped off the canoe Scalewalker piloted, thanked the Elder, and stepped into the Harvest Kingdom.