010 – Legends

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“In the age of legends, the gods walked with mortal men.

“A thousand lunar deities sailed forth in fabulous, silver ships. They crossed the sky and descended to our lower realm. The human race lived in a primal state at that time, no different than the animals that grazed in the fields or hunted in the forests. That was until the gods bestowed their wisdom upon us. They blessed mankind with two fires: an outer fire that lights the darkness and an inner fire that illuminates the soul. Then the gods taught us many divine arts, but especially the proper way to worship and make offerings.

“With their task complete, the thousand deities wished us well and returned to their lunar paradise.

“For countless ages after, the Ancient race of man lived in perfect wisdom and harmony. They possessed great power and the secret of immortality. But the Ancients slowly grew prideful of their works and neglectful of their benefactors. In time, they no longer offered prayers to the moon or made the twice daily sacrifices.

“The most arrogant of the Ancients, one named King Yorghen, endeavored to build a tower that would reach all the way the moon. It would be mankind’s greatest work and triumph. He wished to trespass into the holy realm of the gods and walk among them as an equal. Stone by stone, the workers of his kingdom raised the tower to the sky. It took a thousand years.

“The lunar gods were patient, but when the tower reached exactly halfway to paradise, they released their anger on the blasphemous construction. A storm of lightning struck Yorghen’s Tower, and an earthquake shook the land. The tower crumbled. It was so tall it took seven days for the highest stone to fall all the way back to the earth. The collapsing tower formed a deep pit from which erupted countless daemons. Rampaging titans and monsters spilled forth to eat up all the crops and livestock.

“As punishment for their sins, the gods laid curses on mankind. They extinguished their fires, leaving them in darkness. To prevent humans from repeating their crime, they confused their tongues. Mankind split into separate tribes who could no longer understand each other.

“A hundred of the lunar gods, regretful of their harsh punishment, intervened to save mankind from total destruction. These benevolent deities guided the fleeing tribes into the sea and raised up islands from the waters as sanctuaries. They hid sparks of fire in their souls, so the light of wisdom would not go out. Upon the many tribes they bestowed holy idols, so that mankind could always hear the voices of the gods and never again forget the proper prayers and sacrifices.

“But the new tribes lost much of their ancient knowledge in the sea crossing. They could no longer build wonders. They had to live humbly thereafter in a world plagued by evil spirits and monsters.”

I rowed the raft as Malisent told her story.

“And you believe all that garbage?” I asked.

“Legends are just legends. I’ve never thought much about them. You were there, ghost. Tell me what’s true.”

“Not a word of it. There’s no god-people from outer space. The moon is a lifeless ball of sand and rock. The only things up there are daemons, and they aren’t exactly physical things.”

“You speak a rare blasphemy. I’ve heard many people curse and defy the gods, but I’ve never known one to deny their existence. And most hold the moon to be a holy paradise, free of foul daemons and human sin.”

“It’s all wrong. Well, the part about everyone sailing to the islands might be true. Is that where people hang out nowadays?”

“The civilized nations occupy the islands to the east and west of the continent. No monsters dwell there, and those fertile lands bring forth untainted crops. In recent centuries, many have tried to reclaim small portions of the continent. The colonies are half wild frontiers beset with strife, war, monsters, hauntings, plagues, and famines. That’s where we’re headed, the colony of Sandgrave.”

“Great. Do these places have cities?”

“Of course. I’m originally from the city of Gargléon.”

“What’s the tallest building there?”

“Five stories.”

“I want to cry.”

“Sorry, Ancient One. We don’t build things as impressive as the citadel.” Malisent said “But explain to me how the Ancients could create their wonders if they possessed no god-given magics.”

“Those wonders were just machines. A flying airship is no different from this raft. That citadel is no different from a goblin’s hut. You just have to know how to put them together.”

“Tell me. Could you craft a wonder like the guardian of the labyrinth?” She gave me an unusually intense stare as she asked this question.

“Me personally? No. I’m an aetherics and daemonics expert. I build the brains that go in the golems.”

“Could you fix the guardian? Bind its daemon to your will?”

“Sure. If I took out the core and replaced it with a new one. But I don’t think that thing would sit still while I worked on it.”

“I see. Your magical arts may not be divine, ghost, but they are valuable—and unknown to even to the wisest of our era. That makes you an interesting person. Very interesting. I now wish to keep you alive until we get back to civilization.”

“You mean you didn’t before?”

She skipped over that question. “You’re much too weak as you are. To survive in the wastes, you must learn the basics of our modern magics. Fortunately, we have nothing to do but float down the river for several days. That will give us time for your training.”

“This doesn’t involve swords does it?”

“Of course it does. But there’s no room to practice fighting on this raft, so we’ll skip those lessons for now. You should feel honored, novice. Normally, the cult’s fightmaster would see to your training. But you are lucky enough to receive direct guidance from a senior officer. I will be your tutelary deity and graciously accept your groveling praise.”

“Is there a book I could read instead?”

“No. Not everything can be learned from books. Did you learn to swim from a book? It’s the same with magic and swordplay. You learn by doing. Usually I would start your first lesson with a lumestone, because its easier for beginners to understand when they have something to see with their eyes.”

“I have one. I stole it from Browsk’s room when you were in jail.”

“You have a light? Why didn’t you bring it out earlier when we were fumbling in the dark?”

“Because it’s broken. See for yourself.” I retrieved the lumestone from my bag and handed it over.

“It works fine,” Malisent said. The small crystal glowed brightly in her palm. “To make it glow, you must channel a bit of mana from your body into the stone. The lumestone will show when you succeed, yes, but the goal is to learn how the flow of mana feels without other senses. We will set it aside after you accomplish this.”

“I, um… Uh. I’m gonna need a minute here…”

People did not have mana. Or at least they didn’t back in my day. Mana didn’t interact much with most forms matter; it just sort of floated around. Only specially made crystals and metals could distort its flow, and it took aetheric arrays to convert its energy into more useful effects. A squishy organic body should not be capable of that. Malisent’s demonstration left me dumbfounded.

“Uh… But why would… Just… Okay. First thing. Let’s get it out of the way. Why wasn’t the lumestone glowing before?”

“Because why would it? It only glows when fed mana. There was none before I channeled my own into it.”

“Wow. I need to lay down for a minute.” I laid on the raft with my feet dangling over the edge. I reached up into the Spitpoison and dribbled some cold water across my scalp to keep my brain from overheating.

Lumestones were made to light up in the presence of mana. That’s their purpose. Lume-ing. This lumestone was not broken. Therefore it was not in the presence of mana. No energy source, no light. Simple. But where did the mana go? That was the complicated part of the problem. The stone showed no sign of mana out here on the river, or back at Power Station Thirteen, which sat on a natural well. There could be trace amounts of ambient mana, but not the minimum to produce a light.

Civilization ran on mana. Without it all the airships would fall from the sky, the factories would go dark, the machines would stop running. Without a free and abundant source of energy, mankind would definitely fall into a primitive state. Even most of our books and records would become unreadable without rune tablets. A near total lack of mana would explain why no one in the present era could comprehend or build ‘wonders.’

I wondered if the manaquake at the power station was even more serious than it seemed. It could have been the event that destroyed the world. That would mean I belonged to the last generation of the Ancients.

How could so much mana disappear? It would be like the ocean disappearing. Did a cosmic event, such as an asteroid strike, destroy it. Or did some natural cycle cause it, similar to the passing of ice ages.

No matter what happened or how, it complicated my own situation. With no mana to use, my wondrous knowledge from the ancient world amounted to nothing. My skills were no good here. If I explained that to Malisent, she might toss me in the river.

“Novice. We haven’t even started the first lesson yet, and you’re already lying down to take a nap. I expect more from my pupils.”

“I have a question, teach. Where does mana come from?”

“Mana is generated by the Heart of the World. Living things also generate their own mana; it cycles continuously through their bodies. And we magi generate far more than normal people, which allows us to perform great feats of magic.”

“Like starting a fire by snapping your fingers?”

“That is not a great feat. That’s a child’s trick. And it will be one of your lessons after this one. Now sit up and pay attention.”

Malisent again showed me how to light up the stone. She wanted to me to channel mana from the center of my body, up my arm, and out through the palm of my hand. Her explanations all boiled down to ‘try to feel it.’ Any description would be metaphorical, because feeling mana made use of an entirely new sense. It would be like explaining color to a man who had previously been blind his whole life. The only useful thing you could tell him would be to open his eyes.

She instructed me on exercises to breathe properly and clear my mind of stray thoughts. I wasn’t very good at it. This was the sort of thing Strythe the minion had spent years training for so that he would be ready when he finally advanced to this stage. But his latent skill didn’t help me much this time.

“You’re awful. A monkey should be able to do something this simple.” Malisent wasn’t a great teacher. She lacked patience with any mistakes. “All right then. We’ll resort to stronger measures to help you along. I have my own techniques for teaching lazy disciples.”

As she said that, Orma, her black viper, shot out and bit me on the forearm.

“Gah! What did you do to me?” I said through clenched teeth. My muscles seized up so I could barely move.

“I’ve given you a minute dose of venom. Don’t worry. It won’t harm you. It’s just a tiny drop. This will help you feel the flow of mana. Close your eyes and concentrate.”

“It hurts. I feel it. Now make it stop.” The poison numbed my nerves and caused jolts of electric pain at the same time. My ears were ringing.

“Ignore the pain. That’s your physical body suffering. This venom causes paralysis, but that is only half its effect. More importantly, it throws a person’s mana circulation out of balance so they cannot use magic techniques. It paralyzes body and soul. A mage-slaying venom.” She sounded proud of herself. “If the flow of mana through a healthy body is too mild for you to detect, perhaps these toxic convulsions will stimulate you.”

I tried to do what she said. The pain was distracting but not overwhelming. It did feel strange in a way that I couldn’t perfectly explain. In a way, it felt like the dizziness of vertigo when looking down from a great height. I recalled that I had experienced something like this before. It happened just before my death, during the manaquake. The mana transmitter had blasted me with waves so intense it started to have physical effects. Orma’s poison felt similar.

“Very good. Your mana is wavering. That causes your inner fire to burn unsteadily, flaring up and dying down. Your soul fire is what allows you to feel spiritual things and to affect them. It resides in your body, but with practice you can project it outside. For example, into a lumestone or the blade of a sword.”

Malisent slid her hand under my shirt up to my chest. She laid her palm on my sternum. I could feel icy tendrils reaching into me.

“You have enkindled a very strong fire, Ancient Ariman. That’s good. It will grant you more power. But it has a drawback too. A strong fire burns hotter and consumes fuel faster. You will need a great store of mana to feed this flame, because when it runs out, your life will burn away instead.

“You must learn two things quickly. First, you must learn to cycle mana. This generates and traps it in your body. The more you can produce, the stronger you will become. Second, you must learn to control your fire. By cooling the flame, it will burn less of your mana. On a calm day rafting down a river that will help recover your strength. And by stoking the fire, you can fight against extreme odds.

“We saw this with the chieftain Browsk. His fires burned too hot as he chased us. It let him do incredible things for a short time, but would have killed him thereafter even if the fall had not.

“A strong fire combined with ignorance could bring you to a similar end, which is why it’s vital you learn quickly. The first step is to feel mana and push a bit to your hand. Once you can feel it, we will move on to the real work of cycling mana.”

I lay on the logs of the raft unable to respond. The venom froze my lips and tongue. My whole body tingled with pins and needles. If this was the sort of thing it took to become a magical swordsman, I wanted nothing to do with it.