Chapter 440: The Shamans of Evenfall Part 1
Stryg followed the Elect’s herald back to the Silver Hall Keep, though instead of leading him back to the tribunal chamber, she led him down a different path, past half a dozen hallways and up several flights of stairs. All the while, they passed by guards and servants who stiffened to a halt and bowed profusely to Stryg, much to his surprise.
It had only been two nights ago he had walked through this hall as a pariah with every goblin looking at him and his kin with distrust in their eyes.
Finally, the herald stopped in front of a stone door and placed her hand on an oval impression at the door’s center. Small brown magestones and linked arcane sigils lit up around the doorway and the stone door slid open.
Inside was a large open smooth marble room, with only the occasional stone pillar as the only markings to the otherwise empty floor. The eastern wall was non-existent —save for the guard railings— and gave a wide view of the city of Evenhall sprawled below.
The whole place reminded Stryg of his private training courtyard back in Hollow Shade, except this place was several times the size. The marble room had to have taken up the entire southern wing of the castle’s fifth floor.
A group of about 30 mages sat in meditation at the center of the empty room. Three goblins, all dressed in cloaks of rich deep blues, stood watching over them. The three of them turned at the sound of the stone door opening. Stryg recognized the one in the center; despite her makeup, the dark bags under Lumi’s eyes were clear. It seemed as if she hadn’t slept for days. The two made eye contact and Lumi broke away from the others and made her way to him.
The gilded strings interwoven in her grey and black hair caught in the light and flickered across the room with each step she took. She stopped a few paces from Stryg and slowly bowed her head. “The Shaman Elect greets the Moon’s Chosen,” she said respectfully.
“Shaman Elect, I have done as you instructed and brought the War Master,” the herald said.
“Yes, I can see that. You are excused,” Lumi said off-handedly, her yellow eyes focused on Stryg.
The herald bowed once more and silently left the room.
As soon as the door closed Lumi broke into a smile, “Forgive me for the abrupt summons, War Master. I imagine you are a busy man.”
“It’s alright,” Stryg said cautiously. The last he had seen her she had seemed frustrated at the sudden change of dynamics, but now… He had never seen her seem so— nice. It was unnerving. “Why did you call for me?”
“Ah, as promised, I have gathered the esteemed shamans and mageborns of the tribes for your inspection.” She raised her arm and gestured to the meditating goblins.
Stryg furrowed his brow, “Those… are all of them?”
“Only the most promising and skilled of our mageborns; the ones whom I believe are most suited to lead the mageborn teams,” she explained.
“I see… How many mages will be assigned to each team?”
“3-4, depending on how many mageborns are left.”
Stryg looked at her in surprise.
3-4?
That meant there were at most only 150 some mageborns in all of Evenfall. He was aware that shamans were scarce among the tribes, but this was worse than he thought. Even Hollow Shade had close to a thousand mages.
Lumi noticed the look in his eyes and she cleared her throat indignantly, “What we lack in numbers we make up in skills.”
“...Is that so?” Stryg muttered thoughtfully.
Lumi fiddled with the gilded strings in her hair. “If I may…”
“Hm?”
“Before we go over there, I’d like to just take a moment to clear the air; regarding the events in the tribunal chamber.”
Stryg slowly narrowed his eyes, “You mean when you forced me to engage in a duel on the Midnight Mirror? Or when you questioned my honor in front of the leaders of all the tribes? Or perhaps when you voted against my petition?”
Lumi winced playfully at his words. “I assure you I had nothing against you personally, Stryg. I apologize if my actions caused you any harm, truly.”
He stared at her fickle expression, uncertain of what to make of her words. She seemed to be telling the truth, and even though he held resentment towards the council, he understood the need to try and make peace with the Sylvan leaders if there was any hope of moving forward.
“Very well, I accept your apology,” he answered carefully.
“Wonderful,” she clapped her hands. “Honestly, I regret causing you trouble. I seek no quarrel with the Moon’s Chosen. My dispute is with your First Mother and her alone. As you no doubt are aware by now, she abandoned her duties many years ago and has caused quite a ruckus ever since her return. As an Elect, it is my duty to bring her crimes to justice, nothing more.”
Stryg growled and stepped menacingly towards her, Lumi backed away in confusion until her back was against the wall and he was looking straight down at her. “Do not threaten my mother. If you come after her again, you will have your quarrel, and I will not be so quick to forgive.”
“I understand.” Lumi laughed shakily, “I didn’t realize you were so— protective, of your First Mother.”
Stryg blinked and stepped back. “I’m not, it’s just…”
“Is everything alright over there?” one of the two blue-robed shamans called out.
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“We’re fine, Greznok,” Lumi answered lightly. She turned to Stryg and smiled, “They are waiting for us.”
“Right… Lead the way,” Stryg answered.
Lumi and him walked over to the waiting shamans. The mageborns sitting on the ground meditating were now wide-opened, staring at Stryg as he neared. Their gazes were full of curiosity, some of mistrust, others questioning, a few in awe.
Stryg recognized some of the faces from the tribunal chamber. They were the shamans who had been in the crowd during his petition. They had been quick to throw insults and jeers that night, now they were quiet and as skeptical as ever.
Lumi gestured to the two shamans dressed in deep blues, a middle-aged woman and man. “Stryg, allow me to introduce you to Greznok, son of Storm Howler, and Vexia, daughter of Iron Spine. They are the shamans of their respective tribes and the only arch-mages of Evenfall, beside me, of course— and Aurelia, I suppose,” she added as an afterthought.
“Four arch-mages…” Stryg muttered. His suspicions were becoming more evident.
“This must be the Mother Moon’s Chosen, hm? This is our War Master? The one who will lead us to victory?” Vexia asked doubtfully.
“I thought he’d be bigger,” Greznok stroked his beard. “Perhaps, the other stories about him are also false.”
“Neither of you were at the trial?” Stryg asked.
“We are the shamans of the largest and most powerful tribes among the Sylvan. Our paths require us to prepare the rituals of our people, we do not have time to watch every little petition,” said Vexia as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.
“Though I must admit, I wish I had been there. We could have put an end to these rumors,” Greznok smiled coldly.
Stryg stared at them and mulled over what he had seen so far. Pride and hubris were common among the powerful, there was no surprise there. In fact, the two of them reminded him of how Lumi had behaved in the past. Particularly, that they weren’t simply being rude, they were goading him; they wanted him to become angry, to lose control of his emotions, and to appear unfit to lead in front of every mage in the training hall. And judging by Lumi’s nonchalant appearance, this was her plan all along.
Greznok took his silence for insecurity and quickly rushed to speak, “I meant no offense, War Master. Surely, the goddess chose you for your…” he waved his hand at Stryg’s appearance, “Talents. Someone with such a beautiful face must surely be favored among the women, hm?”
“Are you implying I was chosen by the goddess for my looks?” Stryg asked quietly.
“No, of course not! I hear you’re quite the skilled brawler as well,” Greznok smiled.
“Unfortunately, this is not a brawling pit,” Vexia said sympathetically. “Here we weave the intricacies of ethereal energies into the material plane. It requires an essence of finesse, the kind which takes decades of diligent practice.”
“They are right, of course,” Lumi whispered in Stryg’s ear. “If you feel overwhelmed at all, inspecting our mageborns, I can always arrange a smaller meeting at a later point. I’m certain Warrior Elect Lykos would be more than happy to have you go over your martial arts with his soldiers.”
Stryg shook his head and smiled softly, “No, that’s alright.” He turned to the other archmages, “You are right. Spellcasting is a discipline that takes decades of diligent training to truly master. I would be honored if powerful masters such as yourselves could give me and the others a demonstration.”
Greznok raised his eyebrow, “Are you actually suggesting a duel?”
“Certainly not. You both are archmages, it wouldn’t be much of a duel, and surely not very fair,” Stryg admitted bashfully.
“So a lesson then? On the art of spellcasting?” Vexia surmised.
“A lesson, yes, that would be wonderful,” Stryg nodded with a smile.
“Very well, I think we can oblige, don’t you, Grez?” Vexia smirked.
“Yes, but I warn you, War Master, stand back, otherwise you may be burned,” Greznok said.
Stryg took several steps back without hesitation. The other mageborns, familiar with Greznok’s magic, hurriedly stepped back as well.
Vexia stretched her fingers wide open, searing white light flowing through her hands. Greznok raised his arms to the ceiling and orange flames roared out from his palms, forming several rings of flames pulsing outwards.
Even from a distance, the others could clearly feel the sweltering heat. It was quickly becoming difficult to breathe.
Stryg sighed. There was no doubt about it, they were archmages.
“Now then, class,” Greznok grinned, “The first lesson of being a mageborn, is to understand the true power behind mana.”
Vexia turned to the younger mageborns all watching in admiration and fear, “Never forget, if you do not respect power, it will burn you. That is a promis—”
Stryg dashed forward with blinding speed and struck both the archmages in their chests with an open-palm strike. The flame rings went up in smoke and the swirls of light sputtered out as Greznok and Vexia flew backwards and crashed into the ground.
“What the blazes are you doing!?” Lumi screamed in outrage.
Stryg ignored her and addressed the class, “The first and most important lesson of being a mageborn, is that you are just like everyone else. You are not special in the ways that truly count. You are just flesh and blood.” Stryg pointed at the two archmages on the ground gasping for breath in a painful fit, “Your elders have graciously volunteered to demonstrate this lesson.”
“You… bastard!” Greznok said between coughs.
Vexia glared at Stryg and pointed her hand at him. Her fingers trembled, but no beam of light burst forth.
“What’s the matter? Having trouble casting a spell?” Stryg asked innocently. “I struck you both in your hearts. Your lungs may be having difficulty breathing, but your hearts are in shock. You see, class, mana is stored in the heart, and the flow of that mana is very delicate. If something like a powerful strike slams into the heart it completely disrupts that flow and your heart can fall into shock from the pain and mana disruption. It can take several minutes to regain control of the mana flow.”
Stryg walked around the prone archmages and stamped his foot on Vexia’s back, slamming her face into the cold hard ground. “Being a mageborn doesn’t make you invincible. Whether you wield the power of a novice or that of an archmage, a single arrow to the chest and you still die like any man. Remember that lesson well when you think about the ‘power’ you wield in those fragile fingers.”
Lumi glared at him and her lips formed a thin line, “I think that is enough of a lesson for today.”
“Wrong,” Stryg said calmly. “We have very few days before the army is ready to march and if I’ve learned anything by coming here it’s that all my suspicions about the Sylvan’s shamans are correct.”
Lumi crossed her arms, “And what might those be?”
“The Sylvan people have spent their lives in Vulture Woods, they grow up in hardship, fighting every step of the way. And they survive. Why? Because they are taught to be warriors from birth. But shamans? Shamans are placed apart, they are special, mageborns blessed by the goddess. They do not fight, they do not struggle, and so they become complacent with their powers, just like these two.” Stryg glanced at the Greznok and Vexia, “The archmages back in Hollow Shade would have never fallen for such an attack. I would have been blasted away before getting five paces near you.”
“You played dirty and backstabbed us, that’s it, nothing more,” Greznok grunted angrily. “We were surprised, it won’t happen again.”
“Do you think the enemy will not surprise us? Do you think they won’t use underhanded tactics?” Stryg asked coldly. “No matter how much we plan, we can never fully account for all of their tactics or attacks. We will be surprised, we will be caught out, and if this is your response to such an attack, then you are right, it won’t happen again, because you will be dead in the mud.”
Stryg glanced at the group of wide-eyed goblins staring up at him. “Any questions?”