Damn Doran, when will you ever learn restraint? Doran quietly thought to himself as he tended to Rygart’s many injuries. Of all the wards to forget to deactivate…
Doran thought back to the events of the previous night. The events that had put Rygart on the very brink of dying. That last attack truly was impressive, Doran thought as he recalled Rygart’s last ditch effort to win their little game. Rygart had moved as fast as lightning, maybe a step or two faster. The force of the blow had been equally as impressive. In fact, if it had been anyone else on the receiving end they would have been the one’s on the brink of death, not Rygart.
Impressive is a word I find often used with this kid, he thought. He clearly has some control over Green Ruha. Such speed would be beyond anyone with purely mundane skills. Doran leaned closer to Rygart, inspecting him with a keen eye, It isn’t just an increase to speed and strength. Most people would have been killed by my ward’s counterattack. Doran had realized rather quickly that Rygart’s body was different. His strength was disproportionate to his size and his recovery time had also been above the norm. Even now, his muscles knit themselves back together, repairing damage that would leave any normal person lame.
Doran had been enthralled by the phenomenon when he’d approached the young man, after having blasted him through the forest. Doran was no master mage. He could not begin to perceive just what was happening to Rygart’s body. It had been subtle at first. Doran found him, assured that the boy was dead, and had knelt on the ground next to him. He was just about to lift what he thought was a lifeless body, when he noticed something odd. This dead kid was breathing. After being taken aback, Doran came to his senses and checked Rygart’s vital signs. Much to Doran’s shock he found a heartbeat. And not a weak and dying heartbeat, but a strong and vibrant one.
After the revelation that Rygart was still alive, Doran had done all he could to help Rygart’s body heal. After all these years of being a warrior Doran possessed many skills in the art of prolonging life. Most mundane, but more than a few were a bit….arcane. Doran set to work, setting bone, cleaning and dressing open wounds. There was much that could be done, but so much more that was beyond even Doran’s abilities. There was no way to know what kind of damage lie beneath the surface of Rygart’s skin. Doran chose to hope the boy’s natural, yet impressive, healing abilities would be enough to repair the damage that Doran’s neglect had wrought. And so, he waited. In the very spot Rygart had landed after their encounter.
Many hours passed, yet Doran was confident in Rygart’s recovery. It was dusk before Rygart finally moved. It was faint. Just a slight shift in his position. But, it was confirmation that Doran hadn’t killed the kid. Once it was no longer a question about if Rygart woke up, and more about when, Doran’s body released a bit of his pent up tension. He finally relaxed, if only a little. Now he had to prepare for what he was going to say to the boy, once he finally did wake up. Doran was certain there would be questions, and he deserved answers.
Rygart could feel himself falling. It felt like he’d been falling for an eternity. Wait, something changed. He isn’t falling. Is he...flying? That’s different. At least it's a change in pace. I wonder how long I’ll be flying. It certainly can’t be for as long as I was falling. Something else had changed. Now he was hot. Unbearably hot. What is with this heat. Am I flying through the surface of the sun? I still can’t see anything, no, wait. What was… For a brief instant there was light. But it went by so fast, there was no telling what it was.
I just want to see where I am! I hate this feeling. I know someone one is watching me. I can feel their eyes on me, but I can’t see who it is! Who’s there? Another flash of light. Wait, was that Draghiem? Ugh, why can’t I see!? Now, there were many flashes. It was as though Rygart could only perceive the world as a picture book. The flashing image was the same each time. Draghiem, as if seen from a great distance. Wait, no, there are subtle differences each time. It’s as though he is being told a story, but through pictures. Something is happening. It isn’t just Draghiem. Now there are people approaching the base of the Tower. Lots of people. Now there is…. something coming from the Tower’s entrance. Is it a man? It’s all so far away. The people are but tiny black dots. The multitude of people stopped before the lone figure. Then, the figure changed. The figure was no longer shaped like a man. No, now it was something much more. Something unmistakeable. A dragon. Those that had stood before the dragon charged, and in an instant the monstrosity was among them. Monstrous is the only way to describe it. The size was baffling. The power tremendous. Even at this distance Rygart new just how terrifying of a force it was.
The skirmish didn’t last long. It couldn’t be called a battle, yet calling it a skirmish when tens of thousands of people just died seems...misrepresentative. Rygart watched on. Not sure of what he was seeing. In yet another instant, the dragon was again shaped like a man. Now, Rygart’s view was changing. After each flash he was closer to the carnage. Closer, and closer. He could now see that the man was the lone survivor. One creature to kill so many. And now, he could see the man was on his knees. Still closer. Rygart could now make out the man’s appearance. Long, silver hair. Hefty, ornate armor adorned his body. A white cape hung from his back. And as he grew closer, Rygart could begin to make out the face. Was that….remorse? Yes, he was certain of it. Guilt radiated from the man.
The man just knelt there, among the countless lives that he had taken. His eyes cast down at his hands, no doubt covered in blood. Rygart grew closer still. The flashes came faster, and faster. Before long, it was as if Rygart truly were there. Standing among destruction the likes of which he had never witnessed. He was standing just to the side of the orchestrator of all this death. So close he could reach out and touch this lone figure.
“Who are you?” Rygart was startled by his own voice. Had I meant to say that out loud? Well, doesn’t matter now. I just hope he doesn’t tear me in half.
“Who am I?” The man’s voice was so deep, and rich. It hardly seemed human at all. “I am the Bringer of Cataclysm. Death’s Disciple. Or am I...something else.”
“You don’t know?” Why did the man seem so uncertain? Rygart could feel the sorrow emanating from this man. No, this creature, for he has most certainly been broken, like one would break a wild horse.
“Sometimes, it is best not to know.” The man still knelt on the ground, his eyes covered by shadows.
“Only for cowards” Rygart was surprised by his response. Who was he to judge this man?
“Hahahahaha!” The man’s laugh seemed only half genuine. The other half seemed...mischievous? “If only you knew the irony of your remarks. When all is said and done, irony is all we will have left.” Rygart hadn’t liked the sound of that.
“We?” His voice had tightened. For some reason, he knew he wouldn’t like the answers to his questions.
“Ah, yes. We. As in you and I.” Now, for the first time since Rygart’s arrival, the man began to lift his head.
“WHO ARE YOU!?” Rygart was feeling desperate. Afraid.
“Don’t you know, boy?” And with that last word the man’s face turned to face Rygart.
Tears of blood ran from his eyes, leaving crimson streaks down each cheek. The man’s piercing green eyes bore into Rygart’s soul, and as Rygart looked back at the man, his eyes widened ever more. Rygart knew those eyes. Yes, there, just above his left eye. A small scar, running from the edge of his brow to the corner of his eye. Rygart knew that scar. He still remembered how much it had hurt when his cousin, Reina, had thrown a stone at him for picking on her. Rygart was certain. The face staring back at him was, unmistakably, his own.
“NO!” Rygart screamed, and flung himself upright. Doran had, unfortunately, been leaning over him, and as Rygart had sat up the two collided.
“Dammit Rygart! Your head is thicker than stone!” The man bellowed as he rubbed his forehead, the site of their unfortunate impact.
“Aghh, damn! My head?! Yours is like a damned steel beam!” Wait, what was I just doing? Rygart was certain something had just happened. Something important. Dammit all, what was it? That head-on collision with sir brick-for-brains certainly didn’t help. No matter how hard he tried, Rygart just couldn’t recall what was so important.
“I’m suddenly wishing you had died. I would certainly have less of a headache right now”, Doran said, as he sat back on an old stump.
“Wait, died?” Rygart was so confused. He hadn’t been dying, had he? Was that the something important he couldn’t remember? Then, he suddenly recalled where he was and what had transpired just before he’d lost consciousness. “Ohhh, right! You killed me, you old bastard!”
“If I killed you, then how exactly are we having this conversation?” That got Rygart to calm down a bit. “I’m afraid not even I can reverse death, though, you did a pretty good job of it.”
“What does that mean? What the hell happened? I remember attacking you, then some seriously weird nonsense, and then flying through the forest, literally through several trees.” Rygart was getting irritated again.
“Well first, let me explain the ‘seriously weird nonsense’, as you called it. That was a defensive ward.” Doran could tell by Rygart’s quizzical look that he didn’t quite understand. “Think of it as a kind of magical counterattack. It activates under certain conditions, like when attacked with a sufficient amount of force. You were able to bypass all my physical defences, but by doing so you got hit by that particular magical one.” Now Doran could see a bit of understanding in Rygart’s eyes.
“Fantastic. Would have been nice to know that any successful attack was likely to get me killed.” Rygart lied back down, still very sore.
“The fault is entirely mine. I should have deactivated it before we started sparring. Although, the fact that you managed to attack with enough force to meet its requirements is impressive. You should take it as a sign of progress.” Doran had hoped that by telling him this, Rygart would be appeased.
“Well, have you deactivated the damn thing now?”
“To be honest, I thought you were dead for sure. I didn’t see the need to, until just now.” Doran was lying of course. He had long ago deactivated the ward, but he was trying to lift Rygart’s spirits. Having a near brush with death can really leave a person shaken.
“Well I’m not so much as poking you with a stick until you make sure all of your damnable….whatevers… won’t kill me.”
“Wards. They are common enough among those of us that fight for a living.” Doran was only half telling the truth. There were any number of different types of wards that could be found throughout the world. Some were constructed by spells, woven together by a mage. Others were instilled into objects by enchanters. It just so happens that Doran’s is of the latter variety, however his was far from common.
A moment or two passed without either saying a word. Doran knew what it was like to come so close to death. He himself had more than his fair share of near death experiences. So he was content to wait. Eventually Rygart would ask his questions. And then they would be able to move on.
“So,” Rygart had finally collected his wits and was eager for some answers. “Just how the hell am I still alive? You said I did it?”
“Yes. In a manner of speaking. Tell me Rygart, have you ever noticed anything, different, about yourself?”
“I’m not certain what you mean.” Rygart had always felt normal. He was just another member of the family. He did his chores, worked in the smithy. He would eat, drink, and sleep, just like everyone else. He’d never had much of an exciting life. Before he’d left for Draghiem anyway.
“Well, I’m not sure where to begin. How much do you know about magic?”
“Not much. Brekt is known for its dense Ruha, but because it is so unstable mages and the like steer clear of the area. Magic isn’t much a part of life back home.” Rygart felt a pang of loneliness when thinking about his hometown. How long had it been since he left? Nearly six months now, right?
“You know of Ruha, and that there are different types that allow a mage to perform different tasks, correct?”
“Yeah. I learned them as the colors though.” Again Rygart thought back to his hometown, and growing up there. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.
“Yes, the naming of Ruha as a color is a very old tradition. I suppose, the best place to start with anything is the beginning. I apologize, but in order to fully understand I think it best to work on a strong...foundational knowledge.”
“Magic has never really interested me. It feels almost like cheating. And I don’t quite understand how this has anything to do with me. I’ve told you, I don’t know any magic.”
“Well Rygart, the only reason you are alive right now is because of magic.” Doran paused a moment while he collected his thoughts. “You see, Rygart, you have an enormous gift. Your body, without your own knowledge, can draw in and manipulate Green Ruha. To be honest, I’ve never known of any individual who can instinctively use magic. Yet, here you are. It is undoubtedly the reason you not only survived my counterattack, but also why you are so much stronger than you would appear to be. Certainly, you’ve realized that much by now?”
“I….” Rygart had always shocked people with his strength. But how is this possible? “I don’t understand how that is even possible. I’ve always been told that magic is a...scholarly pursuit. That without knowledge, magic is impossible.”
“Well, I believe growing up in Brekt had a lot to do with it. I don’t believe you truly understand just how dense the Ruha there is. The air there contains several magnitudes more Ruha than what is found here.”
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“But lots of people live in Brekt. They don’t all...do whatever it is that I do.” Rygart hated trying to understand magic. It has no rules, no order. Thinking about it always made Rygart’s head hurt.
“Well, you can’t be certain of that, can you? You didn’t even know yourself that there was anything different about you. There very well could be others.” Rygart hadn’t thought about it like that. “Look, your gift may never be explainable. Even after a lifetime of study. I am no great mage. I look at magic through a more practical point of view. It is merely a means to an end for me. There are many much more enthralled by the underlying works of magic.”
“I see. So, my achievements are not my own.” Rygart was truly disheartened. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was prideful in his abilities. He always thought he had worked to achieve his speed and strength, and now he is learning that it was only a twisted chance of fate that he is able to do what he does.
“No, not at all. Rygart, many people are born with advantages. Some are born smarter, some swifter, and others are born into rich families. The circumstances of our birth hold no sway in who we are, but rather, it is what we do with our lives that will define us.” Doran’s words did comfort Rygart, but only a little. “Listen closely Rygart.” Hearing the sincerity in Doran’s voice, Rygart looked Doran in the eye. “You are wrong to think that magic is cheating, or that by using magic you are bending the laws of nature. Ruha exists everywhere. Every man, woman, and child in this world has access to magic. If they choose not to pursue it, then that is their decision. It does not lessen those that do. If anything, only a fool would choose to reject the use of magic. I guarantee you, every fighter of a certain caliber uses magic. Nearly all those in the Assault guild will, undoubtedly.” Doran could tell that his last few words finally started easing Rygart’s mind.
“Is that true? I thought there were many that fought like I do. With sword skill, and not with magic.” Doran sighed a little bit. He’s just not getting it.
“Rygart, magic is so much more than conjuring flames or lightning bolts. What you can do, instinctively, others learn to do by will. Without a knowledge of manipulating Ruha, especially Green Ruha, no one could possibly survive in a place like Draghiem.”
For a few moments Doran and Rygart both sat in silence. Rygart had a lot to take in, and Doran was willing to give him the time he needed. There was no need to rush, yet.
“If it means getting me closer to my goals, then I will do whatever it takes.” Doran looked back at Rygart, locking gazes. The steel in his eyes had finally returned. That same steel that had so impressed him when they first met.
“Magic is a lifelong endeavor. There are basics which you can learn here, of course. Which I had always intended to teach you. However, if you want a true understanding of magic, and of Ruha, then you will need a much better teacher than I. And many more years.” Doran might be downplaying his knowledge of the arcane, but he had never been a good teacher. Sword technique, and proper form, sure, those things came easy enough. But magic is deeply rooted in the world, and consists of ideas not so simple to convey to others.
“The basics will be fine. Whatever it takes to succeed at the Festival.” Rygart was eager to get started. He knew his body wasn’t quite up for the physical exertion of training, but magic was more of a mental exercise, than it was physical.
“Well, first of all, we will focus on Green Ruha. You can already instinctively gather and manipulate the Green, but with some training you will be able to do so much more than run a little faster and hit a little harder.” Doran made himself comfortable, knowing they would likely be going at this for a while, seeing as how Rygart was in no condition to continue his other training.
“You see, Green Ruha is also referred to as Life Ruha. It can be used to give life where before there was none, well, to an extent. One cannot create life, per se, but one can…”
“Um… I have a question?”
“Oh, already? Alright, let’s hear it.” If there were already questions Doran wouldn’t be quite as eager as Rygart.
“Well, why is Ruha given a color? Isn’t that kind of...ambiguous? Why not just call it Life Ruha?”
“Hmmmm, well, perhaps I should have started there to begin with. You see, when man first discovered Ruha the easiest way for them to identify it was to associate it with a color.” Doran saw that look in Rygart’s eyes again. “Question?”
“Well, you said ‘when man first discovered Ruha’. Have we not always known about it?”
“Actually, thousands upon thousands of years ago, Ruha did not exist in this world. Most believe that it has been about two thousand years since Ruha first came to our world. And no, I don’t know where it came from or how it got here.” Doran had sensed that question coming.
“Back then, the world was very different. Not only was the world devoid of magic, so too was it lacking in monsters. When this world was exposed to Ruha for the first time, it caused a great shift. Most call it The Changing. Nobody knows for sure what caused it, though there are many theories.” Doran leaned back a little and looked up into the sky, recalling what he himself had learned.
“Some suppose it might have been man-made, while others believe it was a gift from some God, or Gods. Still others maintain that some otherworldly creature came to our world, and with it came Ruha. My mentor, however, believed that the veil, between this world and the next, weakened, or was altogether destroyed, which allowed the monsters, and Ruha, that lived there to escape to our world. At any rate, the ‘how’ doesn’t truly matter, not for our purposes.”
“So,” Rygart was trying to internalize all of this new information. “The world was entirely magicless? And suddenly there were monsters roaming around? That couldn’t have been fun.”
“That would be quite the understatement. After The Changing, our world went through a very dark time. It was truly a terrifying time to live. However, with the introduction of nightmarish creatures, so to was there the advent of magic. To be more specific, this was when man first learned to manipulate Ruha to perform great feats. Where there is darkness, there is also light, and so, after a time of great darkness and despair, came a great time of light, and innovation. Now, this is when the tradition of naming Ruha after a color began. At first, mankind only knew of three types of Ruha: Red, Blue, and Brown. Or, Heat, Water, and Stone.”
“But, there are many more, aren’t there?” Rygart truly was doing his best to be a good student. Perhaps asking questions helps him learn? Doran was happy to indulge Rygart’s need to ask questions.
“Yes, there are many, many more. You see, there may be a fundamental difference between the Ruha, but it is slight. Describing them as colors doesn’t quite fit, if you ask me. They are more like, smells.” That got a chuckle out of Rygart. “No, really. Imagine you walk into the kitchen while food is being prepared. You find yourself surrounded by smells, do you not? Unable pick out any but the most potent? Well, that is very much the same with Ruha. As it turns out, Fire, Water, and Stone Ruha are the easiest to distinguish from the rest.”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense. It's certainly an easy enough image to understand.” Rygart was still grinning. See, this is why I’m a terrible teacher.
“Well,” Doran continued, “as time went on mages learned that there were many different types of Ruha, and many have spent their entire lives dedicated to exposing these new types. And thus, we have the current classifications of Ruha: Red, Blue, Brown, Silver, Cyan, White, Black, Green, Onyx, and Obsidian. Or, Heat, Water, Stone, Air, Lightning, Life, Light, Death, Space, and Destruction, respectively.”
“That’s...a lot.”
“Yes, but, we will only be focusing on Green Ruha. The power of Life.” Finally, some progress. Oh, maybe I spoke too soon…. Doran thought, as he saw Rygart’s expression. “Let me guess. You have a question?”
“Um, I was just going to ask, what is Ruha?” Rygart had never truly understood the concept of Ruha, and how it was different from the concept of magic.
“That, is a good question.” Doran paused, trying to think of the best explanation for Rygart. “Well, you could think of it as fuel. You see, Ruha is the fuel for all magic. Now, certain kinds of magic can only be fueled by certain kind of Ruha. Some magic takes more than one type of Ruha. Actually, most do. But it is easiest to think of Ruha as some, invisible substance that exists...mostly everywhere, and which flows through the air, like wind, and can even pass through solid objects. Also, it is important to know that using Ruha to fuel magic ‘burns’ it up.”
“Okay, so, it’s like a giant river? One that flows everywhere, even through things likes walls and mountains?”
“Yes, actually. That is a decent way to look at it. Just know that this river has no shore. Meaning that the flow sweeps across our entire world, mostly.”
“So, how does one, ‘use’, Ruha?”
“First, you must sense it. Most have this sense. You can probably sense it right now, only, you don’t know that’s what it is. You must first learn to identify your Ruha Sense, then, you will focus on drawing in Ruha, and finally, filtering out only the Ruha needed. It really isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Again, the smell analogy I used earlier quite aptly describes what it will be like. You, in particular, are not only able to instinctively sense Ruha, like most, but you can also draw in and filter the Ruha instinctively. How you do it I couldn’t even guess at, but, we can most certainly take advantage of that fact and, hopefully, it will make learning all the easier for you. Now, let’s talk a bit about Ruha Sickness. Everyone exploring magic needs at least a basic understanding of what happens when someone comes into contact with too much Ruha.”
“Well, I saw plenty of that growing up in Brekt. I’ve had many friends suffer from it, but mostly when we were kids.”
“Yes, that doesn’t surprise me. Children are more susceptible to it, as their bodies haven’t quite built up the tolerance. What about you? When was the last time you came down with Ruha Sickness?”
“Well, actually, I don’t think I ever have. I don’t recall anyone in my family ever having had suffered from it.” Rygart thought back, certain there must have been at least once. “Oh, actually, when I was younger, my aunt was often sick, but she’s the only one in our family that I can recall ever having come down with Ruha Sickness.”
“That is very surprising. I’ve mentioned just how dense the Ruha is there. The fact that people even live there is astonishing, but to hear that there are those that don’t deal with Ruha Sickness at that level of concentration is truly remarkable. You see, the more concentrated the Ruha in a given area, the more likely it is that one will succumb to Ruha Sickness. Though, each person does have a different level of tolerance.”
“I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest. I’ve never suffered from it, so I guess I’ve just put it out of my mind. What’s it like? Ruha Sickness, I mean.”
“Well, first, you get fatigued, then your hands and feet...tingle. They might even go numb. Then there’s the headache, followed by nausea, and, finally, loss of consciousness.”
“All of that from just being around too much Ruha?”
“Yes. Ruha Sickness is a mage’s worst enemy. You must have a good indication of your own tolerance, as well as how much you’ve been exposed to. Reaching that threshold is never good. Not only does Ruha Sickness generally mean you’ve lost the fight, but in extreme cases you can even suffer from Ruha Poison, if the concentration is high enough.”
“Ruha Poison? What is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing” Rygart didn’t know what it was, but he was certain it wasn’t something he wanted to experience.
“Ruha Poison is an extreme reaction to Ruha. It truly is as if you’ve been poisoned. You start to sweat, your whole body aches. You can’t think clearly, and your veins turn black. You lose your eyesight, and then your body just fails. Eventually, you die.”
“Whoa. So, not fun. How do you cure someone of Ruha Poison? Is it even possible?”
“Well, it is possible, but not easy. You have to isolate the afflicted from all Ruha. Create an area with absolutely no Ruha, which is very difficult, given the nature of Ruha. Once you have them isolated, you wait. It isn’t easy, and it doesn’t always work. You don’t ever want to find yourself in the position of having Ruha Poison.”
“No, I would imagine not.” The conversation had taken a dark turn, and now Rygart realized that magic was a double-edge sword. It could cut both ways. If you weren’t careful, your own attempts at victory will be the very thing that brings you down. “Is it even possible to create an area with no Ruha? Didn’t you say that it’s everywhere?”
“Well, I said it was mostly everywhere. Much like how Brekt has immensely dense and concentrated Ruha, there are other places that have extremely thin Ruha, and some that are completely devoid of any Ruha. Though, these are rare, and probably won’t do you any good if you ever come down with Ruha Poison. Your only hope then would be to have an exceptionally capable mage nearby that can erect a barrier to expel all Ruha. It is immeasurably complicated, and is far outside the scope of our lessons.”
“Okay, well then, I have another question.” Of course he does. Doran smiled. Rygart is really taking to this well. All he ever needed was someone to teach him.
“Go on.”
“How is it that we can manipulate something that has no physical form. At least, that’s what I’ve come to understand about Ruha.”
“You are correct in saying that Ruha has no physical form. You can’t see it, you can’t even touch it. However, you can feel it. Again, that will come later. Today we are only going over theory. Tomorrow we will begin practical application. The why of it is very much a mystery, at least to me, but the how of it I can elaborate on at least a little bit. You see, Ruha reacts to human will, and the expression of human will is speech. Mages use Commands to manipulate Ruha. When one combines Commands, with the force of will, you get magic. Alright? Now, Commands are simply words combined with intent. Of course, the sensing of Ruha, as well as the ‘filtering’, is done internally, but gathering and ‘activating’ the Ruha is done through Commands.”
“So, is there some kind of ‘command language’ that I’m gonna have to learn?” That thought was particularly disheartening. Rygart was not eager to attempt that.
“Actually, no. The language the Command is given in doesn’t matter. Remember, words are just an expression of will, and intent further defines that will. Some can even cast great magic without the use of words.”
“Huh”, Rygart paused for a second, going through some of his own thoughts. “So, how does enchanting work? Do they have to write out these Commands word for word?”
“Ah, enchanting is one of two special branches of magic. Enchanting is relatively new, only in the past, say, thousand years have we begun to use enchanted items. The second of the two is summoning. This technique has only been around for the past several hundred years. Both are well outside the scope of our lessons, however I can try to answer your question. The short answer is, no, they do not have to write out word for word what they want the enchantment to do. That would be impossible. You see, some complex spells can take upwards of a hundred commands. Some, thousands. You couldn’t possibly ‘write’ that onto an object. Instead, enchanters use a system of Runes. Runes are a difficult subject, but think of it like this: Each Rune is like a shape, or symbol, that is representative of an idea. By combining these Runes, which are etched onto the object, with Commands spoken over the item during its creation, we get enchanted items. There a dozen different Rune systems, each prevalent in a different part of the world. Interestingly, many, if not all, Rune systems predate The Changing.”
“Wait, so Ruha can be manipulated by something that existed before Ruha? How is that even possible?” Rygart might be learning more about magic than he ever intended, but the more he learned the more questions he had.
“I really don’t know. I’m certain it ties into what exactly Ruha is, and the nature of its existence and its origin. But, all of those things are a mystery.”
Rygart truly was ignorant of the world. He always knew there would be things he didn’t, or even couldn’t, understand, but this went so much deeper than he’d ever realized. Rygart couldn’t possibly ever know everything there is to know about magic. How could he ever be effective with magic if there is still so much he doesn’t know? Doran saw the look Rygart had, and he could guess why Rygart was feeling demoralized. Doran himself had to come to grips with feeling inadequate when he first began training.
“Magic is vast. Incredibly so. There are things about magic that I will never know, but that doesn’t mean I cannot use it. I told you, I look at magic for practicality. I see it as just another tool. Theory and supposition is all well and good for a scholar, but I do not care about scholarly pursuits. I think of a way to use magic, and then I find a way to accomplish that task. Understanding the innermost nuances of magic is not necessary to actually use magic. Think of it like this, you and I both have lungs, but neither of us know how they work, right? We inhale and exhale, and that’s all we’ll ever need to know. We can use our lungs without ever needing to know more than that. Don’t let what you don’t know deter you from your goals. Only focus on what you do know.”
Doran and Rygart both sat in silence for a while. Doran knew that this was only the first such conversation the two will have. The first of many, no doubt. Rygart’s reaction is not unlike Doran’s own. He knows what it’s like to be sitting where Rygart is, and that will help him get through to his young friend.
Time passed as the two sat in the forest, neither saying as much as a word. Doran sat on his stump, while Rygart lay across from the titanic man. The sun disappeared beneath the horizon, and still there was silence, all except for the noises of the forest. After a while it was Rygart that finally broke the silence.
“So, where do we go now? I might be able to use Ruha without meaning to, but will that really help me learn any faster? I have no idea how I do it.”
“Well, it might be difficult at first. But, once you discover for yourself just what Ruha feels like you will catch on very quick. It will be like teaching a child to blow their nose. It will be a strange concept at first, but once you get a feel for it you will be able to do it with ease.”
“And you’re confident I can do it?”
“Rygart, you are a natural. I promise you, once I’m done with you, you will be a force to be reckoned with”