Eden

Year 1, Month 2, Week 3, Day 9

The wagon rolled along, headed north on the trade route that would inevitably lead to Thor’s Threshold. The past few days on the road hadn’t been bad. They weren’t in any hurry; they could stop to get out and stretch whenever they felt restless and Ichabod had a bag of food and a canteen of water that seemed to never run out.

Eden thought that it would be weird, traveling alone with an old man, but so far it had been fine. Ichabod, true to his word, not only didn’t try any funny business, but also seemed to have rules for conducting himself that Eden noticed. For one, with the exception of the front of the wagon where both sat, he would never position himself within three feet of her, unless she closed the distance herself, and two, he always kept his hands occupied, whether it was holding the reins, writing in a notebook, or playing an instrument. She couldn’t tell if he was doing this to make her feel comfortable or if that was just how he was. Either way, he never mentioned it.

The wagon itself was fairly interesting to Eden, as it was pulled by two skeleton horses, but the skelly horses themselves had some sort of magical illusion cast on them that made them look like normal horses to people not on the wagon, and the wagon itself had some sort of magic cast on it that averted prying eyes. The back of the wagon was filled with ceramic pots that had red lavender planted in them, plus a big bag of what Eden initially thought was soil for the lavender, was, in fact, a bag of human remains–bones, mostly. It turns out the lavender that grew in the graveyards of Almaz was not the only thing Ichabod was there for, but seeing the horses, it made a lot more sense to Eden.

It wasn’t Eden’s first time seeing undead creatures, as a brief visit to the Unseelie Court in the Twilightlands gave her the chance to see a Dionean Corpse, which was an undead plant that held together and operated a skeleton as a means of transportation. The plant that operated the corpse was definitely carnivorous, but since it was undead, it was sustained by a Green Necromancer’s power, so feeding it was not necessary, but starvation also ensured it was always in a bad mood. The horses didn’t seem as frightening as a Dionean Corpse to Eden. They were possibly kind of cute. But any inhibitions she might have formed against traveling with animated bones were offset by Ichabod’s lessons; he was teaching her magic.

It was mid morning, and they were stopped at the side of the road to continue in her lessons; Ichabod positioned himself seven feet away from Eden and instructed her to face him.

“Let us start at the beginning.” Ichabod said in his deep, musical voice. “Piece together what you understand from what I have explained to you.”

“Magic is everywhere.” Eden, a bright shade of orange, began. “It not only permeates our world, but is inherent in it, down to the building blocks that make up the elements, like earth, air, fire, and water. Manipulating the inherent magic is how elemental magic is performed.”

“So far so good. But let’s not broach elemental theory just yet. How is magic arrayed?”

“Magic is a web. It connects the bones of the horses that pull the wagon, but they also connect, more subtly, things like this rock,” she bent down and picked up a good-sized pebble with her right hand, “to my left shoulder, though, through no tangible effect.”

“Yes, Eden. What comes after that?”

“We’re all held aloft by a web, like marionette puppets, but each thread is only connected to another thread, which is connected to another thread, and so on and so forth.”

“You’re almost there. Remember the moth.”

Eden nodded. “So, threads of the web of magic are connected to the wings of a moth like they are my arms, and when a moth beats its wings, it tugs on a thread which will tug on another thread to hoist the butterfly into the air. This effect reverberates throughout the entire web, sometimes tugging on important threads that are attached to wind, which can trigger a storm.”

“Theoretically. Finish the base theory. Know it in your heart as you say it.” Sael smiled briefly; it was nice having a teacher that was a little dramatic, like her.

“So, if a moth can tug on the threads to cause a storm, it’s possible for me to reach out and pull threads that will cause other effects–effects of my choosing.”

“Correct.” Ichabod said with an approving smile. “This theory, the generally-accepted theory of magic, is one that wizards use, however, they conduct much more in-depth studies of the magic web, that allow them to be very specific with their magic, and understand exactly what ramifications their magic will have. Mostly, anyway.”

“But our use of the web is different?”

“Quite. We don’t study magic in that sense, so our ability to manipulate the threads by understanding its intricacies is diminished. Our use of the threads comes through feeling which strings to pull to achieve the effect we desire. So, in short, you don’t need to have this visualization when casting magic, but you do need to understand the base theory. Whenever I cast magic, it’s not like I know the web is there, but I can choose what effect I want to have and feel whether it’s achievable, or what other effects my grasp on the web will get me.”

“That makes sense…I think.”

“Be aware, though, you will have diminishing returns if you use magic too much. It’ll feel like there is no more magic to use, or that there’s an emptiness where the web used to be. That’s not the case, but your ability to interact with the web will need to recharge. For some, it’s a drain on their emotions, as their emotions are part of what is used to grasp the web.”

“So we use emotions? We get mad and things happen?”

“No.” Ichabod shook his head. “Spontaneity and emotion-activation in magic is not possible for people who practice like us. Emotions are what we feel the web with, like a blind man with his hands. Our tools to use the web are instruments–mostly of the musical sort.”

“Mostly?”

“Some of our kind work their magic by art other than music, whether it’s storytelling, tumbling, acting, or painting. Music occupies the majority, though, as music is a form of art that most of the world accepts as inspiring or beautiful, whereas something like fencing is an art that reaches niche audiences yet neglects the masses.”

“I could take up storytelling, then?” Eden asked excitedly, turning green.

“You could, but my practice is music. You can always tell stories through song, though. Many a war story has been put to music to great effect.”

Eden nodded. That made sense. He was the one willing to teach her, after all. “Are you going to teach me how to use a flute?”

“No, you will be using a lute. Many bards use a flute, it’s true, and I also keep one on me, but only as a matter of convenience, as it’s quite portable; if I were to go to war, I’d want my mouth free to communicate or sing. Now, let’s start your breathing exercises.”

“Breathing exercises? You haven’t introduced those, yet.”

“No? Well, then, we begin today. This is something I want you to do at the beginning and end of every day. Now, clasp your hands just below your belly button, above your hips; bend at the elbow, bowing your shoulders forward as a bulldog does.”

Eden tried. “Like this?”

“No, you’re putting only your shoulders forward. Hm… try broadening your shoulders out, as if you’re making them wider and puffing out your chest while keeping your arms stationary. Yes, you’ve got it. Now, I’m going to clap at eighty beats per minute. On the fourth beat, exhale for four beats, making sure that on the fourth beat you have no more air in your lungs, then immediately inhale for four beats, making sure by beat four that your chest is filled to maximum capacity. I will keep the beat, and you will do this three times.”

He began clapping and Eden followed his instructions, feeling a bit dizzy at the end.

“Again.” Ichabod said. “But this time you will do each for eight beats, three times. There’s a space just inside the bottom of your ribcage, right above your belly; I want you to focus on that as the center of your breathing. Pay attention to it and you will understand what I mean.”

Eden did this same exercise again, but with eight beats, and when she was done and feeling a little light-headed, she was instructed to do it again for twelve beats, after which she nearly fell over. Not giving her more than a couple moments of rest, Ichabod reduced the exercise to eight beats, and then four, which Eden suddenly found much more manageable than she had before, but he threw her for a loop when he reduced the exercise from four beats to two, requiring that she empty her chest completely, then fill it completely in two claps, which brought the dizziness back, and then she did fall over when he reduced the time to one beat.

“This is an important exercise, Eden. It is absolutely imperative that you do this exercise at the beginning and end of each day. It wouldn’t hurt for you to do it more, but twice a day minimum.”

Eden coughed for good measure, looking a sickly shade of yellow. “So what does this have to do with magic?”

“Magic? Eventually, it will have much to do with it, but before you get there, I want your air prepared.”

“Ooookay. So, can you teach me any magic, yet? You’ve kept me waiting a week.” She complained.

“It took you at least half of that before you were capable of doing more than dealing with your grief, Eden. Not to put too fine a point on it.” Eden’s color shifted to blue.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Breaking the momentary dive into sadness, Ichabod asked, “Do you know how to play a lute, or was there another stringed instrument you played?”

Eden brightened up to a soft yellow-green. “The lute, for sure.” Ichabod nodded, his wizened face crinkled in thought.

“Then there’s no reason not to teach you magic today, then.” Eden was a bright shade of green at hearing this. Ichabod walked over to the wagon, reached into the bag that he usually pulled food from and produced from it a weathered-looking lute that was, despite its appearance, well strung.

“Here.” he said, handing the lute to Eden. “I wish I could say that this was the lute that I learned on when I was a boy, but, alas, that one is surely dust, by now. I found this one at a rummage sale in Thor’s Threshold some years back.”

Eden grinned. “It’ll do.” When she received the old lute, she started the process of tuning it only to find it was most of the way there already.

“Are you ready?” Ichabod asked when Eden had finished examining and warming up her instrument. She nodded, eagerly. “Very well.” He pulled his flute out of his robes, pressed it to his lips, and played a somber melody. It was clear to Eden that Ichabod had not lied when he stated that he was very good. Every bit of every single note he played was perfect and enough to elicit an emotional response from everyone around him, which, in this case, was just Eden. That quickly changed when a fully formed skeleton stood up from the bag in the back and clamored out of the wagon to join the two on the ground. Ichabod stopped playing the flute and Eden shot him a concerned look.

“Relax. The spell is already cast and I don’t have to continue playing to command the skeleton.”

“Okie dokie.” Eden stated nervously. The skeleton, which was humanoid, to be sure, seemed somehow creepier than the horse skeletons did. The horse skeletons never seemed to look anywhere; they just walked, and as that was their only function, nothing beyond that really mattered about them. The humanoid skeleton, on the other hand, though standing absolutely still, seemed to look at Eden, as if it was not just a creation, but something that could see her and understand things about her, like whether or not she had a weapon or posed a threat at all. Naturally, Eden had no way of knowing for sure what was going on, but the feeling she got when she looked into the empty eye sockets set her ill at ease.

Ichabod noticed her turning blue again and reassured her,

“Really, relax. Hijinx, here, is a verified emotional support skeleton.” Eden turned to look at him incredulously. “Yeah, he’s the support and backbone of those wishing to train with magic.” Eden turned an earthy green and began to frown at him. Ichabod smiled. “There we go. Don’t think about the skeleton as a creature; think about it as a punching bag. You’re going to test your magic on him.”

“You’re sure that’s safe?” She asked, still eying the skeleton.

“Perfectly, my young ward. And don’t worry about him breaking if we end up covering any sort of destructive magic–he can take it, I assure you.”

“And you named him Hijinx?”

“Er–no. I came up with that name on the spot to bring about a bit of levity. It’s only a skeleton I raised just now.” Eden smiled. It was a nice thought. Ichabod continued, “Moving on, your assignment is to create the illusion of a chair, using as little magic as possible. Most spells will drain your ability to cast more spells for a short period of time. ‘Short period’ meaning about twelve hours or so. For some it’s less, for some, it’s more. But some spells have a negligible drain on your magic. These kinds of spells are the kind that you’ll rely on the most, as you perform, your audience will often want to see magic if they know you have it. You’ll want to remember those spells whenever you come across them.”

Eden held up her hand. “Okay, that’s a lot to unpack. So I won’t just be able to craft new spells from the web of magic on the fly? I won’t be able to learn every spell in existence?”

Ichabod shook his head. “You’re misunderstanding. Reaching out into the web and not only finding the effect you want, but being able to actually cast it is a colossal feat in and of itself. There will be times that you will reach out into the web and find the effect, but as you find it, you’ll also find that it takes more magic from you than you have in your entire body; sometimes the web itself will pull an effect just out of your reach.”

“That sounds incredibly complex. How does anyone cast spells, then?”

“There will be some spells that you can reach and cast, and those that you are successful with, will leave you with a feeling. More often than not, bards will associate a song with this feeling, and so they’ll cast their spells by performing.”

“That actually explains a lot of things I’ve been curious about…” Eden muttered, stroking her chin.

“Really?” Ichabod asked, surprised.

“No. This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard.” Ichabod’s mouth opened for a couple moments, then it shut and he spluttered for a moment more before regaining his composure.

“Hm. Anyway, it’s for this reason that building your repertoire is important.”

“I need a song for each spell, then?”

“For all practical points and purposes. That’s all most bards are able to do. If you really apply yourself, however, you’ll be able to teach yourself to flawlessly shift from song to song, casting different spells as needed for the ebb and flow of any battle you may find yourself embroiled in. The most exceptional bards are able to simply channel the feeling itself and cast a spell using any song they decide to play. They are in the minority. For most bards, it’ll take a few seconds of playing a specific song before the spell is cast.”

“And you can cast a spell from any song?”

“Yes, and I can do it from the first beat of the song.” Ichabod said with a wry smile. Eden whistled appreciatively. Not that she really had a working frame of reference, but it seemed appropriate to act impressed. “Once you learn how to cast a few spells, you’ll find that you will gain other magical abilities that are not properly spells. They’re often fairly different for each bard, but when you realize it’s occurring, you can recall this discussion and not panic.”

Eden nodded. “That’s good to know. It also sounds like there’s a bit of personal experience there, in that statement."

“Another conversation for another time.” Ichabod said in a voice that sounded almost amused.

“So, if we’re limited on the spells we can cast, based off what we can recall by linking them to the memory of how we felt, how can we keep up with wizards, who can just understand how magic works and do whatever?”

“Ah, no, no,” the old man rebuffed, “you misunderstand the relationship they have to magic. As far as being users of magic, we are comparable to wizards, if for no other reason than the fact that wizards spend much more time than you would think trying to understand in its entirety one spell. A wizard has to understand exactly how the spell works and what web motions can bring about the spell before it becomes possible for the wizard to use the spell at all. Our way is somewhat more intuitive, though I wouldn’t say necessarily better. It’s definitely more fun, though, I will say. Anyway, let’s get on with it. Summon an illusory chair with as little magic use as possible.”

“Uh, sure. Just one problem, Ichabod. How?”

“It’s simple!” Ichabod spread his hands wide. “Play music. I’ll walk you through it as best I can, but connecting your feelings for magic is a jump you will have to make for yourself. Is there any song you know that reminds you about illusory things? Songs about time or the passing of seasons are popular ones.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Eden began to play on her lute. The song she played was called “Rites in Mist,” which was one that she had learned from a particularly spacey satyr.

“Close your eyes. Just focus on the music and search the darkness. Sometimes a spell will come to you like an idea. Other times it will be on the tip of your tongue before you can even start singing.”

Eden plucked her song. She plucked through it once, twice, and a third time, she focused on singing the lyrics. She was about to give up, practically bored to tears, when she finally felt something. It felt like… it felt like when she was ready to use her short-ranged teleportation magic, and– oh. OH! DUH. She already knew what magic felt like! If Eden had a hand free, she would have smacked herself. She opened her eyes and focused on the skeleton and recalled that feeling she felt right at the edge of boredom, when she knew the magic was opening up to her, and… there it was. She spent some of her magic and the spell fell on the skeleton like a sack of potatoes. … … The skeleton knelt down, laid down, curled up, and a snoring sound started sounding at an obnoxiously loud volume..

What? What??

Ichabod chuckled, amused. “Remember that feeling, Eden, because you just learned how to put people to sleep with magic.”

Eden turned a sulky shade of red-orange. “Stop laughing at me, Ichabod.”

“I said to conjure a chair, but perhaps you should have conjured a bed instead!” the old man said, laughing still. Eden stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, Eden, do you think you’ll be able to do that again? And if so, then how many more times do you think you could?”

Eden paused to consider it for a moment and replied, “No more than one more time.”

Ichabod nodded sagely. “That’s about right. Save that last spell; I want you to do what you just did, but try for an illusion, but make sure you aren’t pulling at the magic available to you. Or you will just cast something else you didn’t intend to. Here–I’ll wake Hijinx up. Now, a word of warning: if you come across any other undead, a sleep spell likely won’t work on it; it only worked on this one because I designed it to.” He shook awake the skeleton, who stopped snoring, and stood up.

“Good to know.”

“Now, do it again, try to feel the effect you want, but when you feel the magic, try to hold back. The drain on your magic will be negligible, and you’ll have a spell that you can use multiple times without it draining your major magic reserves.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“And you haven’t cast the spell yet. Go on. You’ll likely have to choose a different song. Do you have one?”

“Yeah, I think so.”. She mentally went through the songs she knew from her time in the twilightlands. There was another that her mother had taught her about a ring that granted wishes, but the wishes each turned sour by the third day after they had been made. It had a slightly mystical feel to it, so it should work for an illusion spell. Eden plucked the strings for a couple seconds, reaching out to the web, but making sure not to “pull” hard at the magic, and, sure enough a chair appeared beside Hijinx. She knew it was illusory, but, for all the world, it looked like a rickety, wooden chair. The skeleton looked at it, walked in front of it, and sat down, falling down through the chair, and onto the ground.

“Good, Eden! That’s it! And you didn’t use any of your remaining magic reserves, did you?”

Grinning, Eden replied, “That’s a useful spell. I get the feeling I can make illusory sounds with it, too. Give me one more challenge, though–something I can use the last of my magic on.” Ichabod gave her a funny look, turned to the skeleton, pulled out his flute, and started playing a tumultuous tune with frightening lilts. As he did so, Hijinx was lifted off of the ground and floated almost a hundred feet into the air.

He stopped playing the flute and turned to Eden. “Think fast.” he said, and the Skeleton dropped. Time didn’t slow down for Eden, her mind didn’t speed up for the event, but what she did do, all in a moment was reach her hand out towards the falling skeleton and pull on the magic available to her. Nothing happened in that moment and she remembered that she needed to be playing her instrument to cast the spell, so in the next moment, she reached down and strummed on her lute, selecting a song that seemed appropriate by the name. It wasn’t a stellar or well-performed few notes that emitted from the lute, but it was a song about a knight who strove to catch a princess who was leaping from her tower to her death–a song called “The fall of Tyrin”–and not ten feet before the skeleton hit the ground, suddenly the descent slowed, and instead of falling, it sort of floated the rest of the way, swaying back and forth like a leaf falling from a tree until it was harmlessly set on the ground.

“Good thinking on your feet, Eden!” Ichabod praised. “Often you won’t be given an opportunity to ready a performance. Your first instinct was to reach out to Hijinks, which was a mistake, but you covered marvelously for it. You got five notes out before the magic took hold, if I’m not mistaken, which is close to par for established bards, but I want you to bear in mind that it only means anything if you can reliably replicate it.”

Eden was shaky. Apparently reacting as she did released adrenaline, and it felt the need to linger for a bit.

“I think that’s it, for me, Ichabod. I’m out of magic for a while. You said that it’ll be tomorrow before it comes back?”

“By this time or earlier. Most of the time it’ll be ready when you wake, but that is not always the case. Either way, let us resume our journey. While you are bereft of your more powerful magic, you can practice your lesser illusion spell you learned and see if you can increase its versatility. Also, we can go over your repertoire and see if we can add a bit of variety to it. You’re from the twilightlands, so your songs tend to all have that same timbre to it. If you’re going to be performing in front of other people, you need to have enough different kind of songs that you can reach your audience, no matter who they are.”

The teacher and pupil got back on the wagon and continued their journey.