Declaria was my "wild nation." The nation's original concept revolved more along the lines of a mix of rain forest and rolling savanna-like plains. However, the concept changed as the world did; rain forests became somewhat implausible in a world where the water was "fed" to other countries and oceans don't exist. When I decided that the Root of Creation, of life and chaos, would be coming up through it as well, it took another twist.
The country turned into a dense forest of deciduous trees, thinner at the edges where most of the larger towns were located. The closer one came to the middle of nation, the wilder the area would get, with great trees and the most barbaric of villages closer to the middle. At the very center of the world is a vast, half-sphere crater; all of the water that comes into the country, regardless of its point of origin, ends here, filling most of the five-mile-wide hole and turning it into a deep lake dozens of feet below the closest edge of land. Most people do not know what is actually right next to root; although legends tell about people disappearing or abducted to other worlds, those who know of these things know that the Fae make their home near the base of the root itself, and venturing to those lands means one may never come back; if they do, they will most likely not come back the same as they once were.
Since the country was centered around the idea of chaos, I decided that a singular ruling body was unrealistic. Any centered power-seat would be immediately rooted out by not only the anarchistic forces of the land, but also by those who lived here and considered themselves part of such a chaotic land. As such, I decided that any governing body would only meet periodically, and often in secret. It would be composed of defacto or informal leaders from any and all settlements, gathered by some of the greatest Terrestrial Mages who were capable of detecting colonies of living, thinking bodies throughout the country, as well as creating vast nets of communication lines between them through various means.
The immediate problem that tends to come from creating separate nations within a world (unless, of course, this is something you're intending to do from the beginning) is the tendency for some of them to be perceived as "good" and others as "bad." The tyrannical oppression of an empire versus the freedoms represented by the conglomerate of states run by the people. It's ingrained in many of us, to be honest, as it's how many of us were raised.
So when I first decided I wanted to create a nation that consisted of a large number of independent cities and villages, I was afraid most anything I wrote would be construed as some sort of allegory either for or against democracy. I wasn't entirely comfortable with construction, and I definitely wasn't ok with the idea of a back-woods society I was trying to create being compared to any sort of modern-day political construction.
As such, I decided I would make the "ruling body" consist of two things that would separate it from modern political schemes. First, I made it a shadow organization: although each member would do their best to represent the interests of their home, most did not make any within their home aware that meetings were happening, what they were discussing or where they were being held. Second, I added an illogical hierarchy, where villages with their own mages in the organization were given priority over those that were not, and that priority amongst the mages were given not by their power or strength, but actually the distance and area of effect a mage could control or influence at once.
After also removing the ability to create any legislature of any kind, restricting the body into a role where it could do little aside from setting up trade or evaluating threats, I was a bit more comfortable with the nation. To be honest, it's still my least favorite of the nations I created. At the same time, I think that's driven me to keep working on it.
Deciduoh: the Dragons
I absolutely love dragons. I'm pretty sure this is abundantly obvious to anyone who has had any sort of extended interaction with me: "Oh, him? Yeah, he's obsessed about cartoons, swords and dragons." I'm sure conversations about me are much more colorful than that, but I like to imagine that something so innocuous has happened at least once.
Still, I've never been happy with the whole good vs. evil, colored vs. metallic, and a lot of other fantasy aspects of draconic sub-systems. Then again, modern/urban fantasy tends to categorize them as either some feral beast, or some old man on a mountain type of meme. Both of these bothered me.
And then I stumbled upon Temeraire and Naomi Novik. To say her stories were inspiring would be an understatement. The idea itself was absolutely amazing (The Napoleonic Wars with dragons as an air force?? That's just made of win!!), but more so than that, I fell in love with the dragons, and how they had grown in the human culture. It wasn't the question of what they were, but how they came to be that way, a question that I had not thought to ask at this point in the development.
And so I looked at dragons from a different point of view. Why are they in the world? Not only why am I including them, but also why are they a part of the world. As I began to answer these questions, the dragons themselves started to take shape on their own.
I started with the original question, of why I wanted dragons in the world. In my case, I wanted to include them as a sort of living embodiment of misunderstood prophecies. Dragons, I had decided, were often included in both end-of-world predictions, as well as saviors, and these legends/beliefs shaped the very societies in which they were found. As I wrote some more notes, I included more and more superstitions in with myths and religious texts. Eventually, something as simple as having a white dragon licking your hands could mean you would lose money that day, while a dark dragon rubbing against your back meant you would have unexpected support.
Then I began to approach their origins. A few days of brainstorming put them as not a creation of the gods but of the guardians, a balance to the humanoid races that is neither truly immortal or mortal. At first, I considered scrapping this, considering making their origins as enigmatic as the animals or monsters within the world. Eventually, though, I didn't want to make an intelligent (well, mostly intelligent) race quite so forgotten, especially when some of them might have lived long enough to remember when it happened.
Eventually, the dragons began to form themselves, the notes defining them far better than I could have if I stated from this end first: a race of creatures that share pieces of one soul that resides on a parallel plane, one that maintains the balance between life and death (the Veil). Some, gifted with a large part of the unnamed soul (ok, it has a name, but at this point it didn't), would have great power and intelligence, and even rule over humanoids in their domain; in others, it would be akin to a dog or cat, with its own personality but far from intelligible.
It was a strange concept, but one I really enjoyed in the stories for the world. My favorite plot with it involved a strange magic that was preventing pieces of the soul from rejoining the unnamed one. As such, the number of dragons in the world slowly began to dwindle as they were unable to return to the world in a new body (which doesn't seem to be a bad thing until the Veil was removed, causing life and death to run rampant around the world).
All in all, though, it was a fun jaunt through discovery, that actually managed to start with the story. My favorite way to start.
Still, I've never been happy with the whole good vs. evil, colored vs. metallic, and a lot of other fantasy aspects of draconic sub-systems. Then again, modern/urban fantasy tends to categorize them as either some feral beast, or some old man on a mountain type of meme. Both of these bothered me.
And then I stumbled upon Temeraire and Naomi Novik. To say her stories were inspiring would be an understatement. The idea itself was absolutely amazing (The Napoleonic Wars with dragons as an air force?? That's just made of win!!), but more so than that, I fell in love with the dragons, and how they had grown in the human culture. It wasn't the question of what they were, but how they came to be that way, a question that I had not thought to ask at this point in the development.
And so I looked at dragons from a different point of view. Why are they in the world? Not only why am I including them, but also why are they a part of the world. As I began to answer these questions, the dragons themselves started to take shape on their own.
I started with the original question, of why I wanted dragons in the world. In my case, I wanted to include them as a sort of living embodiment of misunderstood prophecies. Dragons, I had decided, were often included in both end-of-world predictions, as well as saviors, and these legends/beliefs shaped the very societies in which they were found. As I wrote some more notes, I included more and more superstitions in with myths and religious texts. Eventually, something as simple as having a white dragon licking your hands could mean you would lose money that day, while a dark dragon rubbing against your back meant you would have unexpected support.
Then I began to approach their origins. A few days of brainstorming put them as not a creation of the gods but of the guardians, a balance to the humanoid races that is neither truly immortal or mortal. At first, I considered scrapping this, considering making their origins as enigmatic as the animals or monsters within the world. Eventually, though, I didn't want to make an intelligent (well, mostly intelligent) race quite so forgotten, especially when some of them might have lived long enough to remember when it happened.
Eventually, the dragons began to form themselves, the notes defining them far better than I could have if I stated from this end first: a race of creatures that share pieces of one soul that resides on a parallel plane, one that maintains the balance between life and death (the Veil). Some, gifted with a large part of the unnamed soul (ok, it has a name, but at this point it didn't), would have great power and intelligence, and even rule over humanoids in their domain; in others, it would be akin to a dog or cat, with its own personality but far from intelligible.
It was a strange concept, but one I really enjoyed in the stories for the world. My favorite plot with it involved a strange magic that was preventing pieces of the soul from rejoining the unnamed one. As such, the number of dragons in the world slowly began to dwindle as they were unable to return to the world in a new body (which doesn't seem to be a bad thing until the Veil was removed, causing life and death to run rampant around the world).
All in all, though, it was a fun jaunt through discovery, that actually managed to start with the story. My favorite way to start.
The Precipitous Bar, part 3
For part 1, click here.
For part 2, click here.
The splashing stopped. A new sound rose in its place, a rushing sound Harriet didn't recognize at first. The water at her feet began to pick up more speed, as if in anticipation. It didn't take long for Harriet to figure out what the sound was; she hadn't heard the sound of a waterfall from the top in some time, and she wasn't exactly happy to hear it now. There wasn't much she could do, so she slowed down to make sure she didn't lose her footing.
Vicky followed suit. She took the opportunity to look over the edge; it was immediately apparent that she wished she hadn't. She paled visibly and returned to the center of the stream, walking closer to Harriet.
"Grab on to my shirt," Harriet said over her shoulder, "if it'll help you." Vicky harrumphed at the suggestion, but did not hesitated long before gripping the cloth tightly in her fist.
It wasn't long before she could make out the figure of Evan standing against a bright blue sky. The water had picked up to the point that Harriet had to place each foot carefully. She felt Vicky take a few stumbles, but she was strong and managed to keep herself standing through her grip on her teacher. Harriet called out Evan's name one more time; the dark silhouette turned to face them and waved.
Harriet tried not to stare as she approached, but without somewhere else to look it was proving difficult. On either side, there only sky, a sky that simply reminded her how high they were. Looking down only made keeping her footing that much harder, as she tried to think about every step instead of relying on instinct. Up only held a blank sky and vertigo. So she locked her eyes on the madly grinning boy down stream.
Long before she caught up, he turned his attention to a strange stone formation next to him. All Harriet noticed, though, was that he was standing only five feet from the edge of the water, right before it tumbled down to... Well, hopefully, she'd be able to drag him away before she found out where the water ended.
"Evan--" Harriet began as she came within a few strides.
"Before you go," he interrupted, "look. You're going to want to see this."
Harriet opened her mouth to yell and paused. She reminded herself she was standing before a waterfall, on some sort of stream that seemed to ascend into the sky, chasing a boy who seemed to stand on edge of the world without a care. Regardless of the reason, this was not a good place to start yelling. Instead, she looked down at where Evan was pointing.
Three large, semi-circular stones jutted out of the water, arranged to reveal strange characters carved along the curve. One of them was well out of the water, but the other two sat below the surface of the almost waist-high water. Despite the rushing water, the strange characters were still easy to make out.
Wait, waist high, rushing water? Harriet thought suddenly. Hold on, why--
"Can you read what it says?"
Harriet looked back up at Evan as she was pulled from her thoughts. "No," she said in response to his question. What was she thinking about? She couldn't place it. Her thoughts seemed slow, like they were coming through thick syrup.
Evan laughed, gesturing back to the strange statue. "Just follow along, I'm sure you'll get it." Before she could say anything, he began to chant in a deep rhythm.
"The climb was steep, the journey was long,
But no matter our pace,
We're late.
But we took the steps, and tried our best,
Is it luck? Ambition?
Or fate?"
Harriet was beginning to follow along. She knew he finished the first semicircle, and could almost make out the words on the next row. It was almost like the words were changing to something more recognizable as Evan continued his strange song.
"The door forbidden, found unbidden,
Can be found for one year, so
Fleeting.
Yet we come so far, for the Precipitous Bar
Patient and Driven.
Needing."
It all made sense. Before she realized it, Harriet found herself adding her own voice to Evan's. It wasn't long before Vicky's voice joined as well.
"Our emotions come real, our minds become steel,
The only true strengths are
Choices.
Now we stand before, and call for the door,
With our hearts, our souls and
Voices!"
A huge wave of air and sound pushed suddenly against Harriet, almost destroying her equilibrium. She closed her for only a moment and adjusted her stance, widening slightly bending more at the knees. The first boom was quickly followed by another, but they were no longer threatening. She opened her eyes.
A ring of thick rock, almost like a cave-mouth, hung in the air, some distance in front and above them. Stairs descended from it, and a strong flow of water poured out. The stairs and water came to meet the waterfall about ten feet down from the edge on which they stood, the two flows creating a thick downpour into the empty space below. The stairs continued to ascend through the strange, hanging rock formation, going into... nothing. And yet the water continued to flow down them, endlessly produced from whatever invisible source fed it.
Harriet gaped; from the gasp behind her, she imagined Vicky was doing the same. It took a moment to realize that Evan had stepped off the edge into the waterfall.
"Evan!" she cried, grasping for the place where he was just standing. Her mind was reeling, trying to keep up with a reality that wasn't obeying the rules any more. She grasped for anything that she could onto, a hand, a rock, a thought...
"Miss Stanford!"
She turned her head as fast as it would respond towards the sound. Although even that felt sluggish, she managed to do so quickly. Evan was standing at the mouth of cave, waving once again as if he did not have a concern in the world. He smiled at her as soon as he knew he had her attention, and then turned around once more, jogging up the steps and through the opening.
She looked back at Vicky, concern and anxiety filling her gaze. They did not say a word, but Vicky swallowed hard once and nodded. Turning back to the precipice, taking a deep breath and flattening her arms against her sides, Harriet jumped.
To Be Continued
For part 2, click here.
The splashing stopped. A new sound rose in its place, a rushing sound Harriet didn't recognize at first. The water at her feet began to pick up more speed, as if in anticipation. It didn't take long for Harriet to figure out what the sound was; she hadn't heard the sound of a waterfall from the top in some time, and she wasn't exactly happy to hear it now. There wasn't much she could do, so she slowed down to make sure she didn't lose her footing.
Vicky followed suit. She took the opportunity to look over the edge; it was immediately apparent that she wished she hadn't. She paled visibly and returned to the center of the stream, walking closer to Harriet.
"Grab on to my shirt," Harriet said over her shoulder, "if it'll help you." Vicky harrumphed at the suggestion, but did not hesitated long before gripping the cloth tightly in her fist.
It wasn't long before she could make out the figure of Evan standing against a bright blue sky. The water had picked up to the point that Harriet had to place each foot carefully. She felt Vicky take a few stumbles, but she was strong and managed to keep herself standing through her grip on her teacher. Harriet called out Evan's name one more time; the dark silhouette turned to face them and waved.
Harriet tried not to stare as she approached, but without somewhere else to look it was proving difficult. On either side, there only sky, a sky that simply reminded her how high they were. Looking down only made keeping her footing that much harder, as she tried to think about every step instead of relying on instinct. Up only held a blank sky and vertigo. So she locked her eyes on the madly grinning boy down stream.
Long before she caught up, he turned his attention to a strange stone formation next to him. All Harriet noticed, though, was that he was standing only five feet from the edge of the water, right before it tumbled down to... Well, hopefully, she'd be able to drag him away before she found out where the water ended.
"Evan--" Harriet began as she came within a few strides.
"Before you go," he interrupted, "look. You're going to want to see this."
Harriet opened her mouth to yell and paused. She reminded herself she was standing before a waterfall, on some sort of stream that seemed to ascend into the sky, chasing a boy who seemed to stand on edge of the world without a care. Regardless of the reason, this was not a good place to start yelling. Instead, she looked down at where Evan was pointing.
Three large, semi-circular stones jutted out of the water, arranged to reveal strange characters carved along the curve. One of them was well out of the water, but the other two sat below the surface of the almost waist-high water. Despite the rushing water, the strange characters were still easy to make out.
Wait, waist high, rushing water? Harriet thought suddenly. Hold on, why--
"Can you read what it says?"
Harriet looked back up at Evan as she was pulled from her thoughts. "No," she said in response to his question. What was she thinking about? She couldn't place it. Her thoughts seemed slow, like they were coming through thick syrup.
Evan laughed, gesturing back to the strange statue. "Just follow along, I'm sure you'll get it." Before she could say anything, he began to chant in a deep rhythm.
"The climb was steep, the journey was long,
But no matter our pace,
We're late.
But we took the steps, and tried our best,
Is it luck? Ambition?
Or fate?"
Harriet was beginning to follow along. She knew he finished the first semicircle, and could almost make out the words on the next row. It was almost like the words were changing to something more recognizable as Evan continued his strange song.
"The door forbidden, found unbidden,
Can be found for one year, so
Fleeting.
Yet we come so far, for the Precipitous Bar
Patient and Driven.
Needing."
It all made sense. Before she realized it, Harriet found herself adding her own voice to Evan's. It wasn't long before Vicky's voice joined as well.
"Our emotions come real, our minds become steel,
The only true strengths are
Choices.
Now we stand before, and call for the door,
With our hearts, our souls and
Voices!"
A huge wave of air and sound pushed suddenly against Harriet, almost destroying her equilibrium. She closed her for only a moment and adjusted her stance, widening slightly bending more at the knees. The first boom was quickly followed by another, but they were no longer threatening. She opened her eyes.
A ring of thick rock, almost like a cave-mouth, hung in the air, some distance in front and above them. Stairs descended from it, and a strong flow of water poured out. The stairs and water came to meet the waterfall about ten feet down from the edge on which they stood, the two flows creating a thick downpour into the empty space below. The stairs continued to ascend through the strange, hanging rock formation, going into... nothing. And yet the water continued to flow down them, endlessly produced from whatever invisible source fed it.
Harriet gaped; from the gasp behind her, she imagined Vicky was doing the same. It took a moment to realize that Evan had stepped off the edge into the waterfall.
"Evan!" she cried, grasping for the place where he was just standing. Her mind was reeling, trying to keep up with a reality that wasn't obeying the rules any more. She grasped for anything that she could onto, a hand, a rock, a thought...
"Miss Stanford!"
She turned her head as fast as it would respond towards the sound. Although even that felt sluggish, she managed to do so quickly. Evan was standing at the mouth of cave, waving once again as if he did not have a concern in the world. He smiled at her as soon as he knew he had her attention, and then turned around once more, jogging up the steps and through the opening.
She looked back at Vicky, concern and anxiety filling her gaze. They did not say a word, but Vicky swallowed hard once and nodded. Turning back to the precipice, taking a deep breath and flattening her arms against her sides, Harriet jumped.
To Be Continued
Radix: Magic Within the World
Originally, I had stuck with the traditional "magic" within the world, but more and more I was having issues with the traditional ideals within the setting itself. The deeper I delved into the stories that I was developing in the world, the more I realized that I needed a more defined line between the various "systems" of magic within the world. And so, in the end, I divided magic into three greater categories and two lesser ones. So, for those interested, here they are in the "Hey, this looks good" order of my choosing: Elemental, Terrestrial, Celestial, Divination and Enchantment.
Elemental, or "high" magic, is what normally comes to mind when one thinks of wizards and warlocks. Generally, within the world, if someone says "magic," this is what they're referring. Although it's called elemental, it actually covers much more than just the "elements" so to speak, although many wizards would simply argue that there are more elements than a non-practioner realizes. Most of high magic revolves around calling something into being, removing something that was already there, or changing the make-up of something. For instance, a powerful wizard can remove water from a plant, turn it into ash or turn it into a raccoon, although they cannot directly kill or grow one.
Terrestrial, or "natural" magic, is often considered the opposite of high-magic; practitioners are often called mages. In truth, it is more a practice that is a sort of tangential to high magic, related but not directly, a yin to Elemental magic's more aggressive yang. Terrestrial magic is the ability to "coerce" something in one's surrounding: calling up the rock in the earth, forcing a plant to grow, removing the air from an area, etc. In a way, it's both more restricting and much more freeing than high magic. Whereas you cannot call a fire into being where there was not one before, you can cause a fire to smolder, erupt or flash brightly, or even go out completely, effects that a wizard could only do by adding something else to the equation. Where a high wizard can attempt to add a memory to one's mind in order to approach them as a friend (a very delicate process), a natural mage can simply adjust the person's feelings directly, allowing for a friendly approach regardless of predisposition. And although a wizard can create a new organ for injured person, only a mage can cause a person's wounds to heal; it takes them both working together to heal the most grievous of injuries.
Celestial, or "divine" magic, is the most practiced of the various magics but the least mastered. There are huge numbers of various priests and miracle-workers, but very few can really claim "mastery" over the magic due to its naturally restrictive nature. Celestial magic, as a force on its own, is capable of most anything elemental or terrestial magic can do, with few exceptions; however, the magic itself is considered a gift from the Thrones themselves, and the "gifts" given can be very restrictive. This particular practitioner may have gained the favor of a throne of health, and thus can only use his powers to heal the sick, while another who worships the Throne of Domination can control the minds of the faithful (or the unfaithful, depending on how much favor he has gained). In order to truly master divine magic, one must gain favor from many thrones, which of itself can come with a steep price.
Each of the three countries tends more towards one type of greater magic or another, but there is a "presence" at each. Still, most practitioners of one type of magic tend to have their own stereotypes about the others, and for the most part they do not get along. For instance, many natural mages think that celestial magic does not actually exist, and most miracle workers are just weak spell-casters who don't realize what they're doing. Elemental wizards tend towards the belief that terrestrial magic is child's play, and is best left for those too lazy to actually invest into the "real" practice of wizardry. Most of the high priests of Hydranatos believe that high magic goes against the natural order of the universe; as such, wizards aren't allowed entrance to most of the holy temples within the city.
As one can expect, this rivalry tends to ensure that practitioners more than one of the greater magics is a very rare occurrence. In fact, there are some that believe that much of the rivalry was intentional, that some great tragedy had happened long ago when someone had mastered all three of the greater magic arts and destroyed the world. The argument usually doesn't go very far, however, as eventually some smartass will mention they're still standing on the world or ask what hallucinogens they're working with in the lab that are making the theorists that paranoid.
The two lesser magics, called so because no one is sure they are actually related to magic or something else entirely, are Divination and Enchantment. Divination, also called the Second Sight, tends to be an almost uncontrollable series of visions that often tell about the past or possible future, but also can simply allow one to become aware of a distant place. Most diviners are unable to control their gift; however, many diviners who also practice terrestrial or celestial magic often can teach themselves to control their gift, giving them a range of power that can affect the future, distant places and sometimes even the dead.
Enchantment is the ability to take items and invest them with power, whether it's to make a blade more deadly, a vial that can erupt with fire or ship able to float through the Nebula with the crew intact. Normally, this type of magic lies solely within the purview of a few, gifted Elemental wizards; however, the "gift" has been shown to appear more and more often amongst the "common crafters," especially in Aracanoc. Most discover accidentally that they have the ability to forge latent magic into an item as they pursue their craft, although a few, most notably the Lightsmith family, have the techniques passed down through the generations. Although many wizards first thought this was a sign of the high-magic gift within the individual, this was unfortunately (and quickly) proven false, forcing them to classify enchantment as its own type of magic.
Elemental, or "high" magic, is what normally comes to mind when one thinks of wizards and warlocks. Generally, within the world, if someone says "magic," this is what they're referring. Although it's called elemental, it actually covers much more than just the "elements" so to speak, although many wizards would simply argue that there are more elements than a non-practioner realizes. Most of high magic revolves around calling something into being, removing something that was already there, or changing the make-up of something. For instance, a powerful wizard can remove water from a plant, turn it into ash or turn it into a raccoon, although they cannot directly kill or grow one.
Terrestrial, or "natural" magic, is often considered the opposite of high-magic; practitioners are often called mages. In truth, it is more a practice that is a sort of tangential to high magic, related but not directly, a yin to Elemental magic's more aggressive yang. Terrestrial magic is the ability to "coerce" something in one's surrounding: calling up the rock in the earth, forcing a plant to grow, removing the air from an area, etc. In a way, it's both more restricting and much more freeing than high magic. Whereas you cannot call a fire into being where there was not one before, you can cause a fire to smolder, erupt or flash brightly, or even go out completely, effects that a wizard could only do by adding something else to the equation. Where a high wizard can attempt to add a memory to one's mind in order to approach them as a friend (a very delicate process), a natural mage can simply adjust the person's feelings directly, allowing for a friendly approach regardless of predisposition. And although a wizard can create a new organ for injured person, only a mage can cause a person's wounds to heal; it takes them both working together to heal the most grievous of injuries.
Celestial, or "divine" magic, is the most practiced of the various magics but the least mastered. There are huge numbers of various priests and miracle-workers, but very few can really claim "mastery" over the magic due to its naturally restrictive nature. Celestial magic, as a force on its own, is capable of most anything elemental or terrestial magic can do, with few exceptions; however, the magic itself is considered a gift from the Thrones themselves, and the "gifts" given can be very restrictive. This particular practitioner may have gained the favor of a throne of health, and thus can only use his powers to heal the sick, while another who worships the Throne of Domination can control the minds of the faithful (or the unfaithful, depending on how much favor he has gained). In order to truly master divine magic, one must gain favor from many thrones, which of itself can come with a steep price.
Each of the three countries tends more towards one type of greater magic or another, but there is a "presence" at each. Still, most practitioners of one type of magic tend to have their own stereotypes about the others, and for the most part they do not get along. For instance, many natural mages think that celestial magic does not actually exist, and most miracle workers are just weak spell-casters who don't realize what they're doing. Elemental wizards tend towards the belief that terrestrial magic is child's play, and is best left for those too lazy to actually invest into the "real" practice of wizardry. Most of the high priests of Hydranatos believe that high magic goes against the natural order of the universe; as such, wizards aren't allowed entrance to most of the holy temples within the city.
As one can expect, this rivalry tends to ensure that practitioners more than one of the greater magics is a very rare occurrence. In fact, there are some that believe that much of the rivalry was intentional, that some great tragedy had happened long ago when someone had mastered all three of the greater magic arts and destroyed the world. The argument usually doesn't go very far, however, as eventually some smartass will mention they're still standing on the world or ask what hallucinogens they're working with in the lab that are making the theorists that paranoid.
The two lesser magics, called so because no one is sure they are actually related to magic or something else entirely, are Divination and Enchantment. Divination, also called the Second Sight, tends to be an almost uncontrollable series of visions that often tell about the past or possible future, but also can simply allow one to become aware of a distant place. Most diviners are unable to control their gift; however, many diviners who also practice terrestrial or celestial magic often can teach themselves to control their gift, giving them a range of power that can affect the future, distant places and sometimes even the dead.
Enchantment is the ability to take items and invest them with power, whether it's to make a blade more deadly, a vial that can erupt with fire or ship able to float through the Nebula with the crew intact. Normally, this type of magic lies solely within the purview of a few, gifted Elemental wizards; however, the "gift" has been shown to appear more and more often amongst the "common crafters," especially in Aracanoc. Most discover accidentally that they have the ability to forge latent magic into an item as they pursue their craft, although a few, most notably the Lightsmith family, have the techniques passed down through the generations. Although many wizards first thought this was a sign of the high-magic gift within the individual, this was unfortunately (and quickly) proven false, forcing them to classify enchantment as its own type of magic.
The Precipitous Bar, part 2
For Part 1, click here
Harriet raced after Evan, barely noticing the branches whipping across her face and arms. In fact, if it wasn't for Vicky's muffled but repeated complaints coming from behind her, Harriet doubted she would have noticed at all. All she noticed was Evan's crunching footfalls had stopped a bit ago, which meant one of two things: either he had stopped at the stream, or he somehow managed to disguise his footfalls.
Skidding to a stop at the water's edge, Harriet looked frantically back and forth. There was no sign of Evan. The stream wasn't very wide; Harriet was fairly confident she could jump it with a running start, but it was flowing fairly fast. It didn't appear deep, but sight wasn't necessarily a reliable witness with water that was travelling this fast.
Vicky, her exposed arm red from not only the branches they hadn't managed to dodge but also on her wrist where she had been dragged bodily through the woods, shivered while looking up and down the banks. "What's going on, Miss Stanf--"
"Harriet."
Vicky's eyes went wide. "I... I can't called you that, Miss Stanford."
"Yes you can. At least for now. We've got to continue running through the woods, and something might happen. I'm more likely to hear you if you call me Harriet than Miss Stanford, and you can yell Harriet faster if you're hurt. Now be quiet for a moment, so I can listen for Evan."
Vicky swallowed loudly and nodded. Harriet was suddenly hit by a pang of guilt. She was probably making more out of this than she should have; Evan only recently ran away, and for some reason Harriet had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. But she couldn't stop; the mere possibility of losing a child in woods filled her with equal parts of fear and anger.
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind. Getting lost back in that train of thought could only make things worse. She listened closely to the sounds around her. One by one, she blocked out the background noise: the bugs chirping, the stream trickling, Vicky's labored breathing...
There it was: heavy steps splashing downstream. It sounded like someone running through the water.
Odd, Harriet thought. She's heard of people running through a stream to avoid dogs or something else tracking them, but it normally doesn't help if someone is following on your heels. The only thing it'd do is slow him down. What was he doing?
She looked over to the younger girl, at her red wrist and arm, and stopped herself from grabbing her once again. "Ok, Vicky, stay close." She nodded once quickly. They took off along the stream's edge; thankfully, Vicky kept active in enough sports and activities to be able to prevent falling too far behind.
Evan's footfalls started sounding distant. Trying to run through ankle-deep water should have slowed him down, but somehow she was losing ground. She shook her head and slowed down, putting her hands on her hips to fight a stitch that started to form in her side. Vicky stopped short behind her, bending over and putting her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Harriet took her water flask from her hip and handed it to her; Vicky muttered a thanks between breaths and gulped a bit down.
Harriet took a step towards the stream. How was the boy not tired? Unlike Vicky, he wasn't involved in any sports or hobbies. In fact, he seemed to do what he could to avoid anything associated with "extracurricular" or "exercise." Still, he wasn't over-weight, nor was he one of the naturally pencil-thin kids. Maybe these trips he took to woodlands were just the tip of the iceberg; perhaps it was the school he avoided, and not the exercise.
Suddenly, there it was again: Evan's splashing footfalls. She leaned towards the stream. Were they closer?
The stitch left her side finally. Vicky was no longer gasping for air. She came to stand beside her teacher, handing back her water bottle. "Is that him?" she said, leaning towards the water. "He sounds close."
Harriet nodded. Well, if he was getting farther ahead by running the stream...
"C'mon," Harriet said as she stepped into the stream and started jogging with the water. Vicky hesitated, looking down at her new shoes and expensive jeans. The hesitation didn't last long; as soon as she seemed to realize that her teacher was gaining distance, she took her first few tentative steps into the cool, ankle-deep running water, gasped, and started running to catch up with her teacher.
"Don't do that!" she exclaimed as she came closer to her teacher.
"We've got to catch up with him, Vicky," she stated, looking over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but we've got to keep moving."
"That doesn't mean you should just disappear like that! I thought I lost track of you for a moment!"
Harriet blinked at her. Disappear? What does that mean?
"Where are we, anyway? I don't didn't see anything like this from the shore..."
Harriet looked up and came to a sudden stop. The banks of the stream simply disappeared on either side. Thick rocks were on either side, but other than that it was open sky. Harriet looked back behind her and saw the same thing in either direction. The stream was still flowing quickly, but they seemed to be standing on the only area where there wasn't open sky.
She walked over the edge and looked down. The cliff face was impossible to see without leaning over, a risk she wasn't willing to take; it almost looked like they were floating in the sky. She could see land down below, but it was impossibly far. It was like she was standing on the edge of the roof of a sky-scraper; she had to be about thirty stories up.
"What is going on?" she whispered under her breath.
Vicky started to take a few cautious steps towards her, but Harriet put up her hand, stopping her. "What is it?"
Harriet shook her head. No point in making her worry yet. "I'm not sure." She heard Evan's splashing steps once again, even closer than before. "Let's just keep going; he's not far now."
The Precipitous Bar, he had said. Well, if it's to be taken literally, Harriet thought to herself, then we're definitely heading the right direction.
To Be Continued
Harriet raced after Evan, barely noticing the branches whipping across her face and arms. In fact, if it wasn't for Vicky's muffled but repeated complaints coming from behind her, Harriet doubted she would have noticed at all. All she noticed was Evan's crunching footfalls had stopped a bit ago, which meant one of two things: either he had stopped at the stream, or he somehow managed to disguise his footfalls.
Skidding to a stop at the water's edge, Harriet looked frantically back and forth. There was no sign of Evan. The stream wasn't very wide; Harriet was fairly confident she could jump it with a running start, but it was flowing fairly fast. It didn't appear deep, but sight wasn't necessarily a reliable witness with water that was travelling this fast.
Vicky, her exposed arm red from not only the branches they hadn't managed to dodge but also on her wrist where she had been dragged bodily through the woods, shivered while looking up and down the banks. "What's going on, Miss Stanf--"
"Harriet."
Vicky's eyes went wide. "I... I can't called you that, Miss Stanford."
"Yes you can. At least for now. We've got to continue running through the woods, and something might happen. I'm more likely to hear you if you call me Harriet than Miss Stanford, and you can yell Harriet faster if you're hurt. Now be quiet for a moment, so I can listen for Evan."
Vicky swallowed loudly and nodded. Harriet was suddenly hit by a pang of guilt. She was probably making more out of this than she should have; Evan only recently ran away, and for some reason Harriet had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. But she couldn't stop; the mere possibility of losing a child in woods filled her with equal parts of fear and anger.
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind. Getting lost back in that train of thought could only make things worse. She listened closely to the sounds around her. One by one, she blocked out the background noise: the bugs chirping, the stream trickling, Vicky's labored breathing...
There it was: heavy steps splashing downstream. It sounded like someone running through the water.
Odd, Harriet thought. She's heard of people running through a stream to avoid dogs or something else tracking them, but it normally doesn't help if someone is following on your heels. The only thing it'd do is slow him down. What was he doing?
She looked over to the younger girl, at her red wrist and arm, and stopped herself from grabbing her once again. "Ok, Vicky, stay close." She nodded once quickly. They took off along the stream's edge; thankfully, Vicky kept active in enough sports and activities to be able to prevent falling too far behind.
Evan's footfalls started sounding distant. Trying to run through ankle-deep water should have slowed him down, but somehow she was losing ground. She shook her head and slowed down, putting her hands on her hips to fight a stitch that started to form in her side. Vicky stopped short behind her, bending over and putting her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Harriet took her water flask from her hip and handed it to her; Vicky muttered a thanks between breaths and gulped a bit down.
Harriet took a step towards the stream. How was the boy not tired? Unlike Vicky, he wasn't involved in any sports or hobbies. In fact, he seemed to do what he could to avoid anything associated with "extracurricular" or "exercise." Still, he wasn't over-weight, nor was he one of the naturally pencil-thin kids. Maybe these trips he took to woodlands were just the tip of the iceberg; perhaps it was the school he avoided, and not the exercise.
Suddenly, there it was again: Evan's splashing footfalls. She leaned towards the stream. Were they closer?
The stitch left her side finally. Vicky was no longer gasping for air. She came to stand beside her teacher, handing back her water bottle. "Is that him?" she said, leaning towards the water. "He sounds close."
Harriet nodded. Well, if he was getting farther ahead by running the stream...
"C'mon," Harriet said as she stepped into the stream and started jogging with the water. Vicky hesitated, looking down at her new shoes and expensive jeans. The hesitation didn't last long; as soon as she seemed to realize that her teacher was gaining distance, she took her first few tentative steps into the cool, ankle-deep running water, gasped, and started running to catch up with her teacher.
"Don't do that!" she exclaimed as she came closer to her teacher.
"We've got to catch up with him, Vicky," she stated, looking over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but we've got to keep moving."
"That doesn't mean you should just disappear like that! I thought I lost track of you for a moment!"
Harriet blinked at her. Disappear? What does that mean?
"Where are we, anyway? I don't didn't see anything like this from the shore..."
Harriet looked up and came to a sudden stop. The banks of the stream simply disappeared on either side. Thick rocks were on either side, but other than that it was open sky. Harriet looked back behind her and saw the same thing in either direction. The stream was still flowing quickly, but they seemed to be standing on the only area where there wasn't open sky.
She walked over the edge and looked down. The cliff face was impossible to see without leaning over, a risk she wasn't willing to take; it almost looked like they were floating in the sky. She could see land down below, but it was impossibly far. It was like she was standing on the edge of the roof of a sky-scraper; she had to be about thirty stories up.
"What is going on?" she whispered under her breath.
Vicky started to take a few cautious steps towards her, but Harriet put up her hand, stopping her. "What is it?"
Harriet shook her head. No point in making her worry yet. "I'm not sure." She heard Evan's splashing steps once again, even closer than before. "Let's just keep going; he's not far now."
The Precipitous Bar, he had said. Well, if it's to be taken literally, Harriet thought to herself, then we're definitely heading the right direction.
To Be Continued
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