“What kind of help do you need exactly?”
The old woman shuffled around under her desk, “I rely on a few individuals to acquire stock for my shop. One of them is overdue by about a month, and he has a tendency to end up in… unfortunate circumstances.” She grunted and produced from under the counter, a small crystal octahedron made of blue topaz and gold edge caps. Unfurling a map of the region, she lightly dropped the crystal on the map where it slowly levitated to a spot on the map and stopped long edge down.
“This is a beacon crystal, hold it in your palm and it should lead you to him or put it on a map like so. Once you find him give him the crystal and tell him that he’s overdue. If he’s in trouble then extricate him.”
Markus thought for a moment, “What if he’s dead?”
“Oh that man’s a cockroach, he’s survived against all sorts of odds. Also, the beacon still responds so it’s proof he’s alive.” Was the nonchalant response.
“Alright, I’ll do what I can but I’m not going to risk lives of others unwittingly.”
The old woman smiled, “See! I knew you’d come around.”
“And how was that?” Markus questioned as he tied the sword off on his belt.
“No one finds my shop unless they’re looking for something.” She asserted as he walked to the door, “And no one leaves my door empty handed.”
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The sun painted the sky purple and orange when the pair met back up. Laden in bags and carrying boxes they relaxed on the rim of a tall fountain in the center of a wide promenade. Ellianora leaned back and dipped a finger in the water (water > form > touch). Her finger drew back up into the air, trailing a strand of liquid water like a ribbon. A small boy who was playing with several other children stopped in his tracks and stared causing a smile to creep onto her face. Ellianora folded the water stream in on itself making pulling and pinching motions until she had a semi-solid bird sitting on her fingertips. The children watched entranced as she lightly tossed the bird, its wings “flapping” as she guided it through the air like a puppeteer with invisible strings. Bystanders joined the children and watched as the bird twisted in the air, diving and swooping over the heads of the growing crowd.
After a while of Ellianora playing with her magic Markus remembered they still didn’t have rooms for the night. Standing up and dusting his seat off, he got her attention “Ms. Ecksin we still have to sort out our lodgings and we’re running out of daylight.”
Ellianora gave him a nod then turned back to her spell. The bird turned flying upward at an impossible angle, slowing until it seemed to run out of momentum. The bird then burst into several bubbles of crystal water, catching the last vestiges of evening sun as they gently floated toward the fountain. Each bubble floating over the center a moment before popping in an orange and purple burst until all of them were gone, and so was she.
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“We’re not using two rooms?”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“It’s significantly cheaper to stay in a room with two beds than to find two separate rooms.”
Markus groaned and pressed the bridge of his nose, “If you’re fine with it then.”
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Raw power. It flowed around her in a pattern too big to comprehend. She held out her hands and felt the world twist, contorting its natural flows into six massive rings, each one filled with innumerable symbols. They were letters, words, a law. The fabric itself was at her figure tips, yet she couldn’t comprehend it. Like trying to follow every thread in a carpet, it was too much at once. She couldn’t follow it, her singular concentration wasn’t enough. The rings seemed to stretch to the heavens and penetrate the deepest depths of the void below yet sat at the ends of her fingers. Then one ring spun, then another in a different direction on a different axis. Each one: a different direction or rotation or speed or ….. purpose. She pushed the rings, not with force but the desire to move them away. They seemed smaller, just a bit, but smaller nonetheless. She pushed and pushed until she could grab them on each side. She pressed her hands as hard as she could, until she could finally see it, in its entirety. A symbol like many others she’d learned before, one she’d never seen.
“what are you?” It gave no indication of an answer. “What is your purpose?” She asked the universe hoping for an answer in the absence of one. “Are you what I’m trying to find?” Still no answer, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She never did.
“You know that power only comes from understanding. If the answer was given to you it wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway.” She turned, the old man was sat on a tree stump atop the grass hill like always, he’d turned from absently watching the distant city to observe her efforts. “In order to understand, you must seek to do so, because…”
“It is in seeking answers we find the power to understand.” She finished. He nodded as she continued, “I Know that, but if the value of the answer is based on what I have to give to find it… what happens when I can’t afford to reach it?”
“Then you will have found an answer to a more important question.”
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Voices, grumbling and low they turned to fear and screams, shouting and panting among a drowning sound of rapid footfalls. Markus flicked his eyes open, clutching his revolver with heavy breaths. Started awake, he found his surroundings as he tilted himself up out of bed a slight amount. It was late, the curtains smothered all but the faint vestiges of moonlight, and the wooden floor gave no sound in the room. A faint mumbling gently emanated from the far wall, Ellianora was laying with her back to him, clutching her pillow and muttering in her sleep. He couldn’t make it out what she was saying aside from “… are you?” and the word “purpose”. Silently he stood up and slowly drew the curtains open, revealing the moon Lua and the dark city, silent and still. Lua was the largest moon of the seven and tonight it was full, casting the world a gentle silver and grey. His nerves finally settling he let out a few deep breaths before he noticed it. A gentle chime like ringing sound, barely audible but pleasant and calming. He followed it next to his pack at the foot of his bed and lifted the sword with both hands.
Drawing the blade in a slow smooth fashion it seemed almost eager, the moons rays dancing and reflecting on its surface like they were meant to be there. Like the blade had been forged with the moonlight as part of the final vision, it was wreathed in it and the light caught the characters on its spine illuminating its name proudly.
“Silver Light”, he muttered to himself, the name made sense. I wonder, was the name picked first? It seems to perfect to have been named afterward but then again, what other name could you give a blade like this?
Taking a few practice swings he found the blade just as incredible as he had the first time. The blade seemed to trail moonlight behind, and the symbols on its spine remained illuminated regardless of how he moved it. Taking a curious, closer look at the symbols revealed the light was not just reflecting inside the letters but physically trapped within.
Ooook… now how do I use that?