Chapter 1 – Lessons
“Pay attention now, Zaphyr, Zull,” Venn Gerok said primly. He turned slowly to face his two pupils, peering at them from above the rims of his enormous spectacles. “You are paying attention, I hope.”
“Yes, Teacher,” the twins said in unison. They sat at opposite ends of the single long wooden bench in Gerok’s workshop, a narrow, cramped space dominated by his enormous shelf full of ancient, dusty volumes of lore and hemomantic theory. What little space was left in the workshop was almost entirely taken up by the table standing across from it, the surface of which was covered with half-filled vials and sketched pictures of various parts of the human body. Squeezed between these two fixtures was the twins’ elderly instructor, as well as a clearly agitated horse behind him, stooping its neck and head so it did not strike the low wooden ceiling of the room.
“Hmph,” Gerok said, clearly doubting his students’ attentiveness. An ancient, wrinkled man, with a wrinkled face and long, deft fingers that constantly adjusted and shifted his glasses, Gerok moved with a frenetic energy uncharacteristic of his age. He wore a long, dirty brown robe, ragged and patched in many places from countless years of use. Arcane symbols were sewn across the robe seemingly without a pattern, many having faded so that they were almost indistinguishable from the robe itself. In a great many ways, Gerok was exactly what one expected a professional hemomancer to look like. “Tell me, then, Zaphyr, what have I been discussing for the past few minutes?”
Zaphyr Tyrill, the female twin, blinked in surprise. Like her brother, she had shoulder-length, bright red hair, and green eyes, the color of leaves in the heat of summer. Her pale, freckled face was often set in an aggressively welcoming smile, which contrasted with her brother’s often comedically serious expressions as he contemplated the problems set before him. At the present, her brother Zull was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and thoughtfulness as he, like Gerok, waited to hear her answer.
“Give me a minute,” Zaphyr said, biting her lip as she carefully considered the question. The twins weren’t children anymore, but still had several years yet to go before they finished their apprenticeships to Gerok. To denote their status as apprentices to Gerok, the twins wore matching beige robes, sinched by ropes at the waist. They wore sandals that, like everything else that a man as cheap as Gerok owned, was well-used to the point that a self-respecting cobbler would have had them destroyed on principle.
“Well?” their teacher said, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently. “Zaphyr? Do you have even a feeble approximation of an answer?”
“Well, Sir,” Zaphyr said, blinking rapidly as she tried to review what Gerok had talked about. “We’ve been discussing…hemomancy?”
Gerok sighed heavily, removing his spectacles to wipe the lenses clean on the edge of his sleeve before returning them to the well-worn perch on the tip of his nose. The lenses seemed to enlarge his eyes to an almost comical degree, as he peered through them down at his pupils. “That statement is technically correct, Zaphyr, but it is very, very far from a complete picture of the truth.” Gerok shook his head despondently. “When I took the two of you in after your parents were killed by the pox, so many years ago, I had hoped you would see the beauty and skill of hemomancy, appreciate it as I do. You both have the spark, the gift that makes the greatest of hemomancers, of that I am certain. And yet you seem steadfastly set on ignoring my teachings at every turn.” Gerok turned to his other apprentice. “And you, Zull? Do you know?”
Zull coughed once to clear his throat, then said, “You’ve been discussing the finer points of the ethics of using hemomancy, Sir.” Zaphyr scowled at her sibling, who pointedly ignored her glare.
“While a bit over-generalized, it is an adequate answer for the moment,” Gerok said, tapping the rims of his glasses with a finger as he did so. “Now, where did I leave off…ah, yes.” He raised a finger in the air, before continuing, his voice gradually getting more animated as he warmed to his topic, “Hemomancy is an ancient, poorly understood, and incredibly complicated art. Manipulating the blood and flesh of one’s own tissues is difficult enough to do, and impossible for those without the gift. Manipulating the blood and flesh of others? A ludicrous proposition, without proper training. And yet do it you must, if you are to serve as the healers that the people of Waed need. You must be able to bind their wounds, cleanse their blood of illnesses, and do whatever else you need to do to preserve their lives. As you can imagine, this is the kind of power which kings crave.”
Gerok waved a finger warningly before them. “Now, take note, both of you: the power that has already been entrusted with you is beyond what most can imagine. As I teach you even more, the responsibility to use that teaching wisely will rest on your shoulders alone. With the proper focus and some patience, you could reshape an entire person’s body into something else entirely. You could do just as much harm as you could do good.” Gerok steepled his fingers as he watched his students carefully. “Which is why we hemomancers have created the Three Unthinkables, things which you must never use your gift to do. What are they?”
Zaphyr spoke up eagerly, saying, “That’s easy: hemomancers aren’t supposed to take life, make life, or steal life.”
“Very good,” Gerok said. “Now, could you explain in detail what exactly those principles mean, Zaphyr?”
Zaphyr blinked once, then said, “Well, the First Unthinkable is to kill another person using hemomancy. The Second Unthinkable is to use hemomancy to create artificial living beings or alter existing ones, and the Third Unthinkable, is…is…,” She gave a pleading look to Zull, who sighed, shifting on the bench as he cleared his throat.
“The Third Unthinkable,” he said flatly, repeating something he had memorized, “is to use hemomancy to consume the life of another, extending one’s own life unnaturally in the process.”
“Indeed,” Gerok said darkly. “These things you must never, ever do, no matter the circumstances. They are a perversion of everything we stand for, of our duty as healers of all. Still, like all practicing hemomancers, you must be taught how to use your gift properly, which includes the very theories that would allow you to implement the Unthinkables. I do this so, when the temptation to violate these principles comes to you, you understand why these actions are so horribly wrong. I have spent three decades as the only hemomancer in Varin, and I have striven to do everything I can for the people of this city. Someday, either one or both of you will take over my business, and then it will be your task to continue that legacy, helping these people however you can with your gifts.” He stopped, seeing that once more his pupils were struggling to pay attention to his lecture. Gerok shrugged in defeat. “Very well, I can see that the topic of ethics and legacy is hardly interesting to your young minds.” He chuckled wryly. “I think I know what’s distracting you. It’s the Empress’ arrival, isn’t it?”
“Well, aren’t you just the littlest bit excited?” Zaphyr blurted out, tapping her feet on the floor with nervous energy all the while. Even the normally serious Zull seemed interested by the prospect. “The Empress of all Waed, the entire empire, is visiting our city, and she is hosting a grand parade later today! Doesn’t that sound just the littlest bit fun to you, as opposed to all this drab, boring lecturing?” Realizing what she had just said, she bit her lip and added, “No offense, teacher.”
Gerok laughed at that. “None taken. At my age, Zaphyr, a parade sounds like a lot of noise and a great deal of bothersome people in a very small space. However, despite what you and your brother no doubt think, I was indeed young once, and I do still vaguely recall the feelings that elicited.” He smiled warmly at his two pupils. “Therefore, I have a proposition for the two of you. No doubt, you are wondering why I brought this horse into my workshop in the first place.”
Zull shrugged. “I had more or less accepted it,” he said nonchalantly.
Zaphyr looked at the horse for the first time. “Is the poor thing hurt?”
“This fine steed belongs to one of our local fishmongers, a fellow you are familiar with named Zeid,” Gerok told the twins briskly. “Yesterday, while carrying a load of his fish to the market, this poor animal tripped on a pothole and broke two of its legs. Naturally, he brought the animal to me for healing. I have waited until this moment so that I can provide an object lesson.” Gerok stepped over to the horse, which whinnied nervously, trying to shy away from him but unable to do so in the confined space of the workshop. Putting out a soothing hand, Gerok whispered placating words to the frightened animal until it calmed down.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Slowly, Gerok knelt next to its front right leg, which, along with its rear right leg, was clearly and painfully swollen, with bloated, bruised purple skin forming a ring around its hoof.
Touching the swollen area with just the barest tips of his fingers, Gerok drew his eyebrows together, lips moving soundlessly as if in deep thought. As Zaphyr and Zull watched, the infected area began to slowly shrink and contract back to a normal, healthy size, the swelling vanishing almost entirely within the space of a few minutes. Opening his eyes again, Gerok looked over at his apprentices expectantly.
“Well? What did I just do?” he asked.
Zaphyr answered first, saying, “You used hemomancy to redirect the horse’s blood, clearing up the swelling so that the wound could heal faster.”
Gerok raised an eyebrow. “I am somewhat loathe to say this, Zaphyr, but I am both surprised and impressed.”
Zaphyr grinned confidently. “It’s not the hemomancy itself that bores me, teacher. It’s just the learning. The actual doing is easy.”
Gerok reached out a hand to Zull, who helped the elderly man get back to his feet. “Well, let’s put that to the test, shall we?” He tapped his fingers together, a mischievous grin crossing his features. “Heal the horse’s other injured leg to my satisfaction, and the two of you are free to depart and watch the parade. Understood?”
“Understood,” Zaphyr said with evident glee as she moved to where the horse stood. Her eagerness startled the creature, but her clearly friendly and outgoing attitude calmed it down almost instantly.
Imitating her teacher, Zaphyr bent down to better see the horse’s injured leg, looking it over carefully for a moment. This one, while not as badly swollen as the other, also had a wound along the horse’s knees where the skin was scraped and caked with dried blood. “This should be easy,” she muttered to herself, screwing one eye shut while she reached out with her other hand and gently poked the horse’s leg. She froze there for a moment, but nothing seemed to happen.
“Feel the rhythm and flow of the blood,” Gerok said encouragingly. “Bury yourself in it, feel it all around you, and then try to regulate it.”
Closing her other eye as well, Zaphyr steadied her breathing, reaching out with her senses. Sure enough, exactly as Gerok had predicted, she felt before her the horse’s pulsing blood, as well as her own within her system, eagerly awaiting her command, as well as, much more faintly, Zull and Gerok’s own blood. It was a heady feeling, the feeling of power as one could not only sense and feel something that most people could not, but command it as well, as easily as breathing. “Move,” she whispered as she mentally commanded the horse’s blood to cease bloating the injury. She wrinkled up her brows, then said more insistently, “Move.”
She sensed the blood resisting her, although why in particular she could not tell. She pushed harder, then harder still, with all the mental pressure she could add to her command. Slowly, and almost reluctantly, the injury seemed to collapse in on itself, flowing with fantastic pressure through the rest of the horse’s leg, in the process causing its other injury to break open and begin weeping blood once more. Agitated, the horse let out a pained cry, which broke Zaphyr’s concentration, causing the original wound to become bloated once more. Zaphyr rocked back and forth on her heels, unsure why she had failed.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked aloud, looking to Gerok in confusion.
Gerok pushed his spectacles further up his nose before answering. “While I cannot say for certain, if I had to guess, you failed to specify where you wanted the blood to move to, or in what quantity, or what speed, Zaphyr.”
Zaphyr opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Oh,” she said weakly after some consideration.
“Hemomancy is all about intent, and it is far from intuitive. Remember that, both of you,” Gerok instructed. “You must be very careful in every thought and directive you have, if you don’t want your patients to all end up as bloody pulp.”
“But I don’t have to be so specific when I am manipulating my own blood!” Zaphyr protested.
Gerok sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It is always easiest to manipulate one’s own blood, Zaphyr. It’s a part of yourself, after all. Many amateur hemomancers never progress beyond that stage, even. You need to improve your concentration and clarity of command.”
“Here, let me try,” Zull offered, kneeling next to his sister, who bit her lip petulantly.
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms, “But if you succeed, you better not say a word.”
Zull squinted as he looked the wound over, licking his lips as he carefully assessed his next move. He brushed the horse’s leg, which had returned to its previous levels of swelling, and began quietly concentrating. As he did so, the open wound stopped bleeding, developing a scab in moments as the bloating slowly and carefully decreased, just as Gerok had demonstrated. Once finished, Zull took his hand off the horse’s leg and looked at his sister with a smug grin.
“Not. A. Word,” Zaphyr told him.
“Zull, are you sure you finished?” Gerok asked.
Zull met his teacher’s gaze. “Yes, Sir, I’m sure.”
“Really?” Gerok insisted. “Check again.”
Zull did so, eyes slowly widening in surprise. While the injury around the hoof remained healed, the scab had disintegrated already, leaving the wound on the horse’s knee open to infection once more. Zaphyr folded her arms triumphantly, while Zull shook his head in bewilderment. “That doesn’t make any sense, Teacher,” he said. “I directed the blood to do exactly what I wanted.”
“You had the intention and clarity, Zull, but not the strength,” Gerok told him. “While you were able to guide the blood properly - showing that you, unlike someone else present, paid attention to at least some of my lectures - you lacked the mental fortitude to reinforce your command without the power of a blood binding, which is far beyond the skills of either of you at present. And so, once you took your attention of it, the blood returned to flowing as it would normally. Hemomancy is like a muscle, Zull: you must practice with it constantly if you wish to strengthen it.”
Zaphyr groaned and shook her head. “Is this a joke, Teacher? If I don’t know what I’m doing, and Zull doesn’t have the strength, then how are we supposed to heal this horse?”
Rather than answering, Gerok continued to stare attentively at his apprentices. Zaphyr threw up her hands in despair and shook her head, while Zull scratched at his chin, eyes narrowed, thinking carefully. “Wait,” he said, holding up his hand.
“What?” Zaphyr asked curiously.
“Perhaps you and I can’t do it alone…,” he said slowly, watching Gerok’s face carefully. When he saw a smile itching its way around the corners of his teacher’s mouth, he pressed on. “…But we might just be able to do it together.”
“And now we reach the true point of the lesson,” Gerok said with a satisfied nod. “The most valuable asset that you have is not your hemomancy, it is each other. Never underestimate that bond, and what you can accomplish when you work in tandem.”
Zull took Zaphyr’s hand and placed it on the horse’s leg once more, saying, “Here’s what we’ll do: you try to heal the leg, and I’ll use my hemomancy to guide yours, nudging it around the edges where it needs work.”
“Sounds good to me,” Zaphyr said. The twins closed their eyes, reaching out with their senses and manipulating the wounded horse’s blood once more. The process worked perfectly this time, with Zaphyr’s broad strokes of healing carefully corrected by Zull’s more minute, delicate changes, until the horse’s leg was entirely fixed. Opening their eyes once more, the twins stood up, only to be embraced violently by a broadly grinning Gerok.
“I’m so proud of the two of you,” their elderly mentor said. “I could never have accomplished something like that at your age! The future is bright for the two of you. Stay here for a minute, and I will fetch you some food and water for the parade. Go out and be careful: parades and the like always draw thugs and pickpockets. Be sure to make it back before it gets dark.”
“Yes, Teacher,” the twins said eagerly as Gerok hobbled out of the workshop and into one of the only two other rooms in the building: a space that served as living room, dining room, storefront for talking with customers, and even Gerok’s sleeping quarters at night. The twins slept in the third and final room, a narrow space behind the two main rooms that Gerok had mostly used as storage before taking in the two of them as apprentices.
“What do you think the Empress will be like?” Zaphyr asked excitedly as they waited. “I’m sure she’ll be just as beautiful, and majestic, and wise as everyone says she is.”
“I wonder if she brought any of her family with her,” Zull mused. “I would have thought Prince Blyth too ill to travel safely.”
“She’s the Empress, silly,” Zaphyr said. “If anyone could afford the greatest hemomancers in the land to help her son, it would be her. After all, didn’t Teacher once work for-”
At that moment, Gerok bustled back into the workshop, carrying a leather skin full of water under one arm and a sack containing half a loaf of bread and some salted meat. “Take these, and again, be safe,” Gerok told them.
“Thank you!” Zull and Zaphyr said simultaneously as they walked past the horse and out the workshop’s rear door into the narrow alleyway beyond. Gerok hobbled over to the open doorway, watching the twin’s departing backs as they raced through the city towards the main thoroughfare where the parade would be hosted shortly. He smiled warmly as they departed. “They are only young once, they deserve a chance to relax and have some fun,” Gerok told himself. “Gerok, old boy, you push those twins too hard and too far, and might just break them before they are ready.” He turned away from the alleyway and towards his workshop once more, placing a hand along the wall of his home to steady himself as he did so.
“And yet,” he muttered, “someday, they may need that extra strength.” He started to step into his house, then heard what sounded like a sandal slipping across the stone road outside. Turning around, Gerok looked across the street, but there was no one else to be seen. Shrugging to himself and dismissing the noise, Gerok entered his workshop, contented and looking forward to an evening of peaceful contemplation and study.