The companions had been on the road from the unmarked fishing village for over a week, crossing the narrow stretch of land between the rivers and mountains to their north and south. Here the rugged wilderness of the valley lining the Fangtooth River to their backs gave way to wide, flat terrain lined in grass that often came to their waists. In the fresh air of spring, the grass was just beginning to regain its green tenor, and looked like a sea of rusted copper swaying in the still chill wind.
Celothel's mood had changed since their arrival back on land - though she retained that distant air about her, one of otherness and discomfort, there was a newfound warmth in her voice. When they shared stories by night, Celothel often contributed her own perspective where once she would sit in silence by her protector. And, much to Nathyen's delight and her chagrin, the locksmith had managed to rouse a laugh out of her on one occasion, which had been the subject of much ridicule in the following days.
During their breaks at midday and in the evening, Celothel and Niowyn would continue their informal instruction within shouting distance of their camp. Niowyn's curiosity was seconded only by her natural talent, and most evenings ended in long conversations sprouting from the roots of a ceaseless deluge of questions that beget even more questions.
On one such night, after they had reached the reach around the bend of the Groveland's Curtain Mountains and began the trek south along its eastern edges, Celothel sat by the fire she had constructed between her and Niowyn, basking in the brief silence before another question filled her student's mind. In her lap below was a map of Eladria, and marked in faint ink was the lengths around the Shroud by which she might travel safely. Another week perhaps, and then it was back to the lonely road with Deormund.
Celothel sighed softly, only dimly aware that Niowyn was awaiting for an answer to a question she could only half remember.
"What? No - drawing energy from your body is not the same as using the physical qualities of it to harness Essence," she said, words slow and uncertain at first as she was wrenched from her contemplations. "What I did with the Misshapen was to use my body heat in substitution of fire, for which you might have done the same with your blood though the results might have been far less pleasant."
Niowyn shuffled back, and Celothel collected herself, words forming just on the tip of her tongue. She hesitated. How would Niowyn react? Would she want to walk the path she had? Was she too old? Though she could not have been over thirty winters, the Order rarely took in students beyond five or six…Too late, the sentence was slipping past her lips.
"Niowyn," she said abruptly, realizing with a momentary delay that the ink was dry, the words would be said. "We are some time yet from when you and I must part ways, but, and forgive me if this is perhaps uncharacteristically forward of me, I believe you should seek to join the Order. Your talents are obvious, your bloodline is gifted, and your questions might be put to rest better by a library than the small contents of what I fit between these ears."
Celothel tapped her temple with a small, uncharacteristically rueful smile before continuing.
"I can see to it that you are given every advantage you might have in writing, and though that makes it far from a guarantee, I believe you might do the world some good if you hone your art."
Niowyn sat on the cool grass, her back pressed against a fallen tree whose bark was peeling away and giving up against the losing battle against decay. Her eyes watched the fire dance against the black backdrop of night as she listened to Celothel's proffer and thought back to her first meeting with the woman - to the first time she had ever heard someone speak of her tribe since leaving home. Home. It was only a stone's throw away over the mountain ridge, and yet, it felt impossibly far. But she could never have anticipated the feelings she had when she heard the Ta'Lassa name slip from Celothel's lips. It was wondrous, and shocking, and confusing all at the same time. What the Arcanist had shared with her so long ago still poked and prodded at her with curiosity. The Arcanist Order. A treasure trove of history. A place to hone her magical abilities. A link to her people. Niowyn told Celothel she would give her an answer about the Order before arriving at the Shroud and that time was quickly approaching.
Blue eyes wandered from the fire and fell on the sandy haired woman sitting across from her. "I would be lying if I said that I wasn't interested. Learning about my people's history was the reason that I left home so that I could bring back our lineage when I returned. But there are so many mysteries to this world that are intoxicating and not only do I want to know what happened to my people but I want to know what the world of old was."
She sighed lightly before allowing her head to fall back against the log so she could look up at the pin holes in the night sky. She had learned so much about magic since learning from Celothel and not only was she interested in the history of this place, but she was interested in learning more about the magic of the world. And what did she mean by 'doing the world good'? "Celothel." Niowyn's voice was uncharastically flat, "you told me one of your duties was to scout out talent. How did you find me? I remember feeling strange just moments before you approached me. Like something was pulling on me. Was that you?"
Celothel nodded with a hint of a rueful smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"It was - would you like me to teach you how I did it?" She asked with a small shrug of her shoulders. "It is nothing particularly different from how you feel out water, and is often one of the few ways to protect yourself from another mage."
Niowyn's head fell back down to look at Celothel. "Yes…" she began before drawing one more breath. "But before that I have another question. How did you know that I was from the Ta'Lassa tribe from
feeling me out? Do we have a unique feeling like how water feels unique to me?" The mage allowed her head to fall backward again as she gazed up at the stars in contemplation of everything Celothel had taught her thus far. "Or do we all have our own fingerprints in the very Essence of this world?"
"That is a question with a nuanced answer," Celothel said, hesitation clear in her voice as she pursed her lips. "Your bloodline - your tribe… it plays a pivotal role in a history we only barely comprehend. It is one of many familial lines whose Essence is not so much distinct from them, but is rather a part of them. Here - I will show you what I mean."
The Arcanist paused, gesturing to Niowyn with palms outstretched.
"I want you to reach into Essence as if you were to manipulate water, but before you Tether to an object, instead look for the Essence you are pulling and follow it to the Root."
Niowyn looked to Celothel with curiosity - a familial line whose Essence is a part of them? It went against everything she had learned from her thus far about Essence in the world - about how it existed in the realm and about how people drew on it to use their magic. "It seems bizarre… with what I have learned so far about Essence that there are those who Essence is inherently a part of. And some of those peoples were part of my bloodline.. It's just a lot to wrap my head around. Wouldn't those people be incredible mages?"
Her palms opened in front of her to examine and her eyes adopted the faintest glow. She listened for the call of water she had always known but before she whispered back to it, she looked beyond the physical world in front of her. A breath of astonishment drew from her lips as she watched streams of iridescent light pour out of her and grasp for the air and the nearby gourd at her side. Niowyn's moved to Celothel and she traced the same light from her to the fire between them. A twitch of her eye and a few raised fingers helped her concentrate on the Essence and she watched it spider from their clearing to where their companions were sitting not too far in the distance, reaching for Elyssia and Oryn.
Niowyn looked back to Celothel with a look that was both bewildered and enamoured. "What…" she began as she pushed herself forward to give the Arcanist more of her attention. "What is this?"
"All those gifted in Essence can instead invest a piece of themselves into its embrace, seeing where it is pulled in the physical realm. Without much thought at all, your body pulls on Essence, and so that makes it easy for other mages to track," Celothel explained. "You can sharpen your view by investing more energy into tracking specific connections, and doing so can also allow you to gauge the mood, status, and sometimes even thoughts of another person, provided they are doing the same to you. It is not as some texts have described as a perfect telepathy - anything more than general sensations are difficult to decipher, and it often takes years of such exposure to be able to read anyone with any skill."
Niowyn's eyes returned to normal and the webbing of light faded away. She rubbed her chin as she always did when she was thinking before she gave her attention back to Celothel. "I
could read minds…?" She chuckled lightly before continuing. "But that doesn't answer my question. How did you know I was from the Ta'Lassa tribe when you…" she paused, searching for the word, "looked for me?"
"When you see me, see my tether to the Essence, tell me - what do you see? Is it one seamless connection, or can you tell that I am separate from it?" Celothel asked with an amused smile. "Apologies for answering your question with a question, but I believe this might be more readily apparent from your perspective than from my words."
The faint glow returned to Niowyn's eyes as she looked at Celothel's tether to the Essence - it wasn't seamless like she described it. It was like the light lost its shine the closer it got to Celothel… it faded away into nothingness rather than grab a hold of the Arcanist. Her eyes wandered downward at herself and found the light grasping her, flowing into her, unlike what it was doing to Celothel. Niowyn looked back to Celothel with a confused expression - "it's part of me.. flowing into me like the river to the sea. But it doesn't do that for you.. That's how you could tell? Is it like this for all of those people with… with the bloodlines you described?"
"It is - though what might be causing this is yet unknown," Celothel said softly, hunching low to keep her voice from carrying. "What is known, however, is that you will surpass any other magic user without such a gift with the proper training. It is already clear to me, and perhaps as well to your companions here that you are no simple magic user."
"..how can you be so certain?" she asked, her head falling back again to look to the sky. Her eyes closed as a breeze swept across the clearing and kissed gently at her skin. ".. is it just because of my bloodline, or is there something you're not telling me?" Niowyn's eyes fell back on Celothel with a look that could cut through glass.
"Were we to both attempt to douse this fire with the same cup of water, you would do so simply quicker than I ever could," Celothel replied, nodding to the flames between them. "Were I to compare which of us could cast a larger blaze, your innate tie to Essence means you will always have a baseline upon which to draw. It might be exhaustive, and is useless around a Null, but once trained your stamina and raw power will dwarf mine tenfold. It is this connection - rather, this… this…"
The arcanist fumbled with her hand, as if grasping for the right word.
"...this
union between your flesh and the Essence, for whatever reason, runs in your line. We have tracked as many of such bloodlines as we can, and they are recorded in the Shroud, taken from historic texts, familial records, and even some documents from the elves describing which were to be exterminated."
Niowyn's shoulders rose and fell as she chuckled softly at Celothel fumbling around her words. It wasn't like the Arcanist but it made her seem more human. She grinned as she watched the embers of the fire between them escape into the night sky. "A union between flesh and Essence? Careful, it sounds like you're beginning to speak tribal nonsense, Celothel," she remarked, playful hints biting at her tongue and eliciting the smallest trace of a smile from the other woman.
"It's strange…" she began, her voice trailing for a moment. "I never thought that I would be sitting here, with an Arcanist
educated in magic, teaching me what she knows… to learn that my people played a role in the history of our Old World. I always knew that there was more to my family… but I never imagined it could be connected to Elves." She smirked before continuing, "and now I am about to seek membership in an Order to become a mage that will surpass any other mage out there. It's a lot to swallow and not at all what I had expected when I left home."
There was a silence between them for a moment, Celothel's eyes gazing into the flames. It was neither amicable nor awkward - rather, it was an extension of the unusual bond the two had forged along the road in its mercurial ability to remain so unremarkable that when at last Celothel did speak, it was if there had been no silence at all.
"What did you expect?" The arcanist inquired softly, eyes fluttering back to Niowyn. "If you do not mind my prying."
"I'm not really sure." The tribeswoman admitted. Her brow furrowed for a brief moment of confusion as she thought about the question. What did she actually expect? When she left home, she left with a mission to search for the history of her people and return it to them. But it became so much more than that in so little time. Niowyn's eyes gazed over in the direction of her companions - it really
did become so much more than what she first set out to do. "I guess I was expecting to find very little. But that hasn't been the case at all."
Niowyn looked back to Celothel with a small smile. "Not only have I started to regain what has been lost to the Ta'Lassa for so long.. But I've also started to unravel mysteries I never even realized existed. And on top of that, I've made
real bonds and ties with these people… I expected to find something, to learn something, but not to this scale."
"I never expected to be an arcanist," Celothel said after a brief pause, letting Niowyn's words sink in before carrying on the conversation. "I was to marry rich, produce children, and die fat and old in some tower by Aetherstone Keep. Life has an odd habit of upending what is
expected to happen, and though we all have our burdens to shoulder and dangers to face, I believe it is better this way."
"I am supposed to be Zah'Le…" Niowyn retorted with a sombre expression until a grin snuck through it. "Married rich, with children, huh? What happened to that?"
"I met Deormund, and he encouraged me to practice my gift," Celothel said with the ghost of a smile etched upon her face as she glanced back towards their camp. "He was a journeyman with the Order, bound to be a Shielder. When I was perhaps thirteen or fourteen I began learning under an arcanist who tutored me in his spare time, and earned this…"
A hand traced the burn scar along her face.
"Not so long after during a confrontation with my father," she exhaled softly. "The Order protected me by inducting me into their ranks, assigning me a Shielder, and sent me into the field to study and learn. I am not a skilled mage by their standards, but I am resourceful enough to survive and provide value where I can. It is far from the comfort and opulence I grew up enjoying, and I must admit on days like these spent wandering the road with a constant, paranoid glance cast over your shoulder I sometimes do wonder what it would be like to be beautiful again, unmarked with children to call my own and never having to lift a finger I wish not to. But, as I said, I believe it is better this way."
Niowyn's eyes shifted downward, like she was studying the soil which she sat upon. There was a silence that she let hang in the air for a moment but the bond that had forged between the two of them allowed for there to be a silence. Words were not needed, there was understanding there without having to speak. But a piece of what Celothel shared shocked her - that Celothel considered herself 'not a skilled mage' and somehow,
she was supposed to surpass Celothel without even trying.
"I see a beautiful and talented mage when I look at you, Celothel." Niowyn's eyes wandered back to Celothel and she let a gentle smile rest upon her face. "But I have to agree with you when you say it's better this way. I'm not ready to assume the mantle of Zah'le in my tribe… there's too much in this world that I haven't experienced yet."
"You are too kind, Niowyn," there was an edge to her tone that left no room for reproach despite its outward pleasantness. "I've heard mention of that word before from you - Zah'le. What does it mean?"
"It is the Chief Shaman of our tribe." Niowyn answered rather stoically. "It assumes leadership and protection over our peoples… and the title is reserved for the most powerful mage in our tribe. For the Ta'Lassa, the Zah'le is chosen by the water. It is not a title that is passed from family member to family member, like some royal or noble traditions do. However, that does not mean that the
child of the Zah'le is expected to assume the mantle." She took a breath, grinned, and continued. "My mother is the current Zah'le… and many many moons ago… the water chose me to be the next Zah'le. But I was too young to assume the mantle. And now it's just a matter of time."
Niowyn's voice carried a sombre undertone as she revealed her heritage and what she was to become. And the more she shared, the softer her face became.
"A curious tradition, and yet I think most would find any traditions to be curious when there is no shared culture anymore," Celothel said, mirroring Niowyn's smile. "I doubt all would be so accommodating of my nitpicking as you, though."
"I don't doubt you're wrong." she retorted as her cheerful disposition returned. "But I have to ask you about Deormund. You knew him before he became your… shielder? Did you ask him to be your shielder? What exactly is that anyway.."
"Shielders are from an aged tradition, going back to the first days of human settlement in this land and possibly further," Celothel began, vulnerable disposition replaced with her usual, scholarly air as she answered Niowyn's question. "The details are unclear, and I suspect they were before much of human history was lost in the Scouring, but there was a time when magic users were in the minority of humans unlike today with most able to harness Essence. They were feared and distrusted, and the role of Shielder was less one intended to protect the mage in question, but rather to protect others from the mage. How, then, it came to pass that the role became largely ceremonial is unknown, though I suspect at some crucial junction the magically inclined became the dominant force prior to the settlement of Eladria.
"Shielders now are bound to the mage they are sworn to protect - that process by which you examined yourself earlier, that is the basis for any bond between a Shielder and his or her charge. Deormund and I are linked by a small thread of Essence constantly, a bond that takes perhaps no more energy than lifting my pinky like so."
Celothel made the gesture to prove her point before continuing.
"After so long, we have a read for one another. Not to the level that I understand his thoughts perfectly, nor he mine, but pain registers across our link. Emotions, too. Sensations. Often we finish one another's sentences, and much of our communication need only be translated through gestures and facial expressions, and our bond fills in the rest. Newly forged partnerships are not quite so intimate, as each person reads differently, but neither is this bond between mage and Shielder particularly special. Any two such individuals sufficiently tutored could arrange this of their own accord, so I suppose this is my own strange tradition."
Niowyn couldn't help but laugh. It was a strange tradition, like Celothel had described the tradition of the Zah'le from her tribe. But what Celothel had explained made sense - a constant tether between two people. "I think you are more tribesperson than you know. Tonight you have talked about unions between Essence and people as though there is spirit calling to each other. And now, a tradition of the Old World passed from generation to generation which is largely ceremonial… That is in all rights, what the Zah'le has become. It was a tradition from our ancient history, one of the only traditions that remained intact after our peoples were lost. I imagine there is more to it than what we know currently but…" she stopped for a moment, to think perhaps, or maybe to add dramatic effect, "that's all it is now. A ceremonial tradition at best."
"If the two of you are constantly connected and share such a bond, including sharing pain. Does that mean your life force is connected to one and other?" Niowyn inquired, though she didn't come out and ask if one of them was to perish, would the other follow. Celothel would know what she had meant.
"No, nothing like that," Celothel said with a shrug. "Were I to drive my boot knife into my gut, Deormund would feel it until I bled out on the ground, but would live on. At the point we are, though, it is doubtful either of us would
fully recover. It would be as if one half of your being had simply been snuffed out like a candle, and for many whose Shielders or charges have perished, they live a half life from then on."
"I see.." Niowyn's response was meek as she contemplated the thought of feeling half of your person ripped from your very soul. The thought made her shiver. "Your fates are tied together beyond a world of our own."
"Do all Arcanists pick their shielders?" she asked, perking up again.
"Frequently they do, and often they are chosen for their prior connection - though I happened upon Deormund when he was still a soldier in my father's guard, taken from the ranks of to-be Shielders, the Order takes great steps to ensure that the bond is sufficiently likely to be lasting."
"...what kind of great steps do you mean?" Niowyn reluctantly asked.
"Oh that sounds far more sinister than I intended," Celothel said with a soft peal of laughter. "Nothing intricate - it is simply rooted into the culture of the educational institutions that used to dot these lands in their dozens that Shielders and acolytes should communicate frequently and in-depth whenever possible to suss out potential matches. Should one prove suitable, they may be bound as soon as both parties are ready."
Niowyn hummed as she rubbed her chin. If she became an Arcanist, she would need a Shielder. The idea of having a stranger appointed didn't appeal to her and the Order preferred Shielders to have a connection to their charges regardless. Her eyes wandered over toward where the others were camping and she thought about Oryn. Would it be selfish of her to ask him? It would mean giving up his life… but she couldn't imagine anyone else in the position.
Her attention fell back to Celothel "and if the Arcanist does not have someone to present as a possible Shielder?"
"Well, it is rather unfortunate, but they remain an acolyte. Perhaps in another time that would have stifled opportunity, but there are few enough of us already that often titles are but loose suggestions of one's talent," Celothel replied.
Niowyn sighed, her head hanging back against the log once more as she stared up at the night sky. "I can only think of one person. But how do you ask someone for their life?"
"It is not an easy thing," she said, shrugging softly. "Even when conducted by the Order it was an awkward experience. One that did not grow into any sort of normalcy for many years - some Shielders and their charges wind up romantically involved, though I've found the thought of any one person knowing me this intimately makes such connections fraught with unnecessary conflict and rather terrifying to consider. I love Deormund, but not in such a manner."
She hesitated.
"But to that end, I believe it is not so different from such requests as marriage. I suppose marriage exists largely to funnel political power, as it did before the Scouring, but… in its roots in the songs, it is a lifelong bond, though navigating the intricacies of such a bond is painfully difficult at times. Forgive me, Niowyn, I'm afraid I'm rambling without purpose now - have I helped answer your question?"
"I enjoy listening to your ramblings, Celothel" she added with a wry grin. "But yes, as always, you have managed to answer my never-ending questions. Thank you, for teaching me all you have, and for recommending me to the Order." Niowyn paused before continuing, "it will be different without you and Deormund with us" there was a hint of sadness to her voice.
L: Somewhere on the road I guess? | A collaboration with @ze_kraken