It was the fifth day of the procession, and Enalla’s eyes drooped from boredom. She was tired of having the Channelers carry her out in the palanquin and present her to the crowds of onlookers. Had she known that she would have so little time for herself, she might have tried to conceal her mark, rather than allow her Ascended state to be known and therefore dictate her future.
She didn't really feel any different with the mark than she had without it, and secretly she thought the entire process of ascension to be a little far fetched. But then, as her teachers had always told her, tradition was tradition. She could only guess that tradition made people feel safe, though she wished the way she was expected to present herself wasn't so ridiculous. Every day, she was bathed and her dark hair was washed by the Channelers. Then, she was anointed with sacred oils, had the calendar patterns painted onto her olive hands with red ochre and charcoal, and finally she was clothed in fine silk and rings of glittering metals and jewels were placed on her toes.
This was all done before her first bite of breakfast. By then, her stomach was usually rumbling, but to add to the absurdity of it all, when her food was brought before her, she wasn't allowed to taste anything until her food tester, another Channeler, had come in to try it and be sure it was safe to eat. Then finally she could eat, but only if she did so gracefully, for shovelling food into one's face is not Godly, no matter how hungry one is.
Enalla shifted position on her stack of cushions. Today marked the midpoint of the ascension celebration. Five more days of this, and she at least could return to her lessons, though she would now have a constant entourage of Channelers with her. The other Mystic students might not treat her the same as they once did, but at least she could focus on her studies.
Today, she was being presented to the crowds outside the library of Paliathese. The tall structure was the pride of the city, not only for its beautiful architecture but for the astounding collection of knowledge held under its roof. Perhaps she could convince one of the Channelers to fetch her a book to keep her from falling asleep during the proceedings.
Enalla raised her hand to signal through the almost sheer curtain at Dremos, a member of her personal guard, and leaning forward slightly to be heard better, she spoke quietly, as was expected. A soft voice that still commands attention was required of her.
“Dremos. I have an important task for you when we arrive. If you are up to it, I would like you to bring me a book from the library. It doesn't matter what it is about. Even something educational or about local history is fine. Are you willing?”
“Without question, I live to serve, Your Radiance.” Dremos spoke with conviction, but without daring to make eye contact with her. Of all the differences since her elevation, this was perhaps the strangest. The Channelers had respected her well enough before (as they did all Mystics), but now they would grovel and bow and scrape at her feet, and nobody other than the other Ascended would ever look her in the eye. Even stranger, she was now expected to look them in the eye, and consider herself as one of them, equal to them.
Enalla shifted her weight again, trying to get comfortable on the pillows and blankets that had been scattered inside of the palanquin for her to sit on. The Channelers that were carrying her were bare chested, so that the wood of the palanquin would touch their skin directly. Any normal person would find this unbearably uncomfortable, but these were Wood Channelers, and so in fact they gained strength from the wood that was touching their skin. The Wood Channelers were given the honour of carrying Ascended when they were outside of the Celestial palaces. They were given this role because of their increased strength, endurance, and speed when carrying the palanquin. They also possessed a unique ability that proved useful when travelling for long periods of time. As long as they touched the wood, they did not need to eat. They instead took all the sustenance they needed to survive from sunlight.
Enalla wasn't sure she would have been so happy if the tables were turned and it was her that had that task, but Channelers spent their whole lives in training and service to the Gods. It was all they knew, and all they strove for. The greatest honour for a Channeler was to become a member of a God's personal guard, but not all Channelers were successful, nor skilful or powerful enough for the task. It was possible that carrying her today would be the closest to interacting with a God that some of them would ever reach. Enalla touched each of their minds gently, and saw their pride and their hope. Perhaps the honour bestowed upon them today would gain them some renown.
The palanquin lurched slightly as the Channelers slowed their pace. They were drawing closer to the Great Library. Enalla could hear the crowds of citizens cheering, music being played, and street performers clamouring for attention. Through the gauzy fabric hanging around her, Enalla could make out hundreds of figures. Most of them wore various styles of Erimosian national dress, but she could also see many foreigners in the crowd.
These people fascinated Enalla. Why would they wear such heavy clothing on such a sweltering day? Enalla could spot three foreigners nearby, and watched them in awe. There was a tall man, with pinkish skin and shaggy hair the colour of straw. He looked as though he had travelled a long way, with the dust of the road staining his thick woollen trousers. Standing beside him were two women, each wearing long, wide skirts of dark wool, the fabric sometimes used in rugs and carpets. Their blouses were tight and buttoned up to the neck, and had sleeves that reached the wrists. Enalla thought they must be boiling in the strange garb, and so wondered whether it was a cultural requirement that they cover their skin. She had heard of places within the Erimosian Empire where covering the face was required of all those who were married. They would only show their faces in private to their spouses and their children. She surmised it must be something like that, as in this heat, nobody would choose to dress that way if they didn't have to.
The Channelers bearing Enalla's palanquin slowed further, to climb the steps to the Great library without shaking or bumping her around too much. Ascending the stairs, Enalla had a better view of the vast crowds assembled before the pillars of the stone building. The city was alive and teeming with people, and the sounds, scents and colours were overwhelming in their variety. Decorative silks in many colours were draped overhead from the roofs to give the crowds some shade in the sweltering heat. Braziers dotted around the square burned various types of incense, the fragrant and intoxicating smoke from these wafting over to Enalla. She longed to climb out from her bundle of cushions and down to get lost in that crowd, to experience it as one of the other people enjoying the celebrations.
The moment had arrived, however, when she would be presented to the clamouring masses who had congregated there. She wouldn't address them, she would merely have the curtains pulled back on the palanquin, and her face would be revealed to all. She wondered if she should pull a face when they did it, but then remembered that none of the crowd would be brave or stupid enough to dare look her in the eye anyway, regardless of whether or not her face was visible. On the previous days, when she had been revealed to the citizens below, she looked down on a sea of bowed heads, and a few of them had even bowed themselves over so much that they were crouched, prostrating on the ground before her. She quite suspected that she would never get used to any of this.
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A figure drew up in front of the crowds, and with arms raised, stilled the music and the voices of all who gathered in the square below. It was one of the more influential Channelers, Hereon. Often, he would be the one to make declarations on the behalf of Mystics, and Ascended Mystics in particular, at gatherings such as this. Hereon was an Air Channeler, and so he was blessed with the ability to raise his voice much louder than the average person. He wore loose, billowing clothes, in order to facilitate the ease of movement of the air around him.
“People of Erimos. Paliathese citizens and visitors to our great and bountiful Empire!” Hereon called out over the heads of the gathered crowd. “It is my great honour to present before you the most recent addition to the pantheon of Ascended. She was trained here in this eminent city since her skills as a Mystic were discovered, and recently her true power has been revealed.”
He paused for effect and then swept his arm towards the palanquin dramatically. At his direction, Dremos pulled back the curtains of the palanquin and stood to one side, giving Enalla an unobstructed view of the amassed people. Hereon's voice, augmented with his magic, thundered around the square, “Her Radiance, Enalla the Gentle!”
Enalla tried to push away her distaste for the title she had been given. Due to her young age, and the manner in which her Ascension had been discovered, she had been named “the Gentle”. That name would belong to her forever, but she may gain more later as she undertook various deeds throughout her life. She only hoped that the name would not give other Gods the idea that she was a pushover.
A sudden lurch in Enalla's stomach told her that it was about to happen. This was exactly the wrong timing, but there was no controlling it once it started. She was aware of the cushions beneath her, and could faintly hear the cheers of the masses as a whisper, as though from far away. Her eyes no longer saw the fluttering banners, or the multitude of people she knew stood before her. She raised her hand towards Dremos, outstretching her hand in a sign that she had taught him to recognise as a signal that she was receiving a vision.
She looked down from the palanquin. Strangely, in the vision, she was also sitting within one. The similarities between the vision and reality ended there, however. She was looking down from her perch at the top of the scruffy brown head of an adolescent boy. He looked unkempt, but had a muscular build and seemed to be full of health and vigour. He wore a plain, thin leather belt, indicating his youth, and the warmer clothing which was common to northern Erimos. His sandal clad feet were dirty.
Enalla's palanquin appeared to be in an entirely different climate, and from the boy's attire she surmised she must be somewhere in the North, near the coast. There was a slight chill in the air, and the wind smelled of salt. They stood in what seemed to be some backwater town, and there was a crowd of commoners surrounding her palanquin.
The boy was shaking, clearly visibly afraid, and wouldn't raise his eyes to hers. She heard her own voice speaking. “Lift your head, boy. I wish to look at your face... But perhaps you are afraid. Fear not. You will not be punished. I wish for you to look at me, so that is what you must do.”
How strange. She sounded older. More self-assured. Cold. Enalla wondered how far into the future this vision must be, and what the relevance of this meeting was. It was surely important, especially for her to receive it on such an auspicious day. She wished that this future version of her would raise her hands so that she could clearly read the calendar marks, but no luck.
The youth raised his head and trembled before her. He was physically large and powerful looking, yet there was something else, something fragile about him. Inwardly, Enalla groaned. This would be so much easier if she could read his mind. But that was not possible through a vision. She would have to wait until this chance meeting to see what he was all about.
“Yes, I thought it was you. I have waited a long time to see this face in person. You are important... Perhaps you will win us the war. We shall see if you were worth the wait. You will-”
The vision abruptly stopped, and the sound of her own voice vanished, replaced by the uproar of the surrounding crowds. She had the presence of mind to close her eyes while she adjusted to being fully aware once again. Visions could leave even those marked as Gods disorientated. The heat of the midday sun beat down on her through the open curtains of the palanquin. She felt Dremos nearby, and the other Channelers tasked with her protection and conveyance. She focused on her own breath, as she had been trained to. A slow breath in. The air held still inside her for a few moments. A slow breath out. Enalla repeated this until her mind was not swirling. She always hated the “overlap” following a vision. It could sometimes be hours before she felt like herself again.
“Close the curtain, please Dremos.” Enalla waited until she heard the quiet rustle of the gauzy fabric falling into place, and then opened her eyes. “I need paper and a p- ...oh, I see you have anticipated my needs. Very good.”
The requested items were being proffered to her by one of the other Channelers who had been assigned to guard her. Enalla could not remember if his name had been given to her. She took the paper and pen, and hastily scribbled down as much of the vision as she could recall. She tried to recount every word she had spoken exactly as she had heard her say them, noting the inflection, the tone. She sketched out the visible parts of the calendar marks on her hands in the vision. She noted every detail about the boy she had been speaking with, and each part of the landscape that she could remember.
The part that she found the most unusual was the mention of a war. Which war? There hadn't been any war predicted by anyone else's visions, and they had been in peacetime for several lifetimes. Erimos had diplomatic treaties with its neighbours, even if they did not always agree on all matters. Which country were they going to be warring with? What would the other Gods make of such a prediction so early in her ascended life?
Steeling herself for the inevitable dangers of announcing such a controversial prophecy, Enalla told Dremos, “Please let Hereon know that I have just had a vision which the other Gods must be informed upon. The celebrations can continue, but I must adjourn for a short time while I speak with my... family. About what I have seen.”
Dremos was gone from her side for a few moments, and when he returned to his post, Enalla could see Hereon again addressing the people.
“We are blessed today, for our most recently ascended, Her Radiance Enalla the Gentle has received a vision before us! You have all this day borne witness to a sign of divinity. Praise her! Praise her name, Glory be to Enalla the Gentle!”
Hereon's booming voice and commanding charisma seemed to echo through the crowd, rousing their spirits into rapture and delight. Soon, the air was filled with ecstatic prayer and applause. The street performers took this as a cue to begin dancing, juggling and playing music once again.
Enalla placed the image of her mentor's abode into the minds of each of the Channelers who were carrying her palanquin, or marching beside it. Usually she loathed to give instructions in this way but she had been told she must get used to wielding her powers lest she risk the other Gods seeing her as weak. She felt no discomfort from the Channelers at her invading their minds, only obedience and pride at being used as the tools of a God.