| The next night, Seer, Jenya and Dharin sat around a coran'hai, eating cold Shriedhan. Dharin had found the shrieking carrion eaters snuffling around the not-yet incinerated bodies early that morning. Once dried, and stored, the meat from the large beast would feed to convoy for weeks. The light from the coran'hai - a pale, peacefully flickering blue - caught on Seer's hair, giving the strands an eerily refractive, iridescent quality. The stars above them winked. "Who sent us out here?" Jenya complained. "It took me hours to clean all the blood from my hair and skin. The acid etchings on my blades are never going to be clean again." "The Acharya himself needed us here," Seer answered. Occasionally they received orders from supporters of the Acharya, but this time had been different. "One of his Magi was careless, got captured. We were the closest, so he sent us to find her. Sorry about all the blood," she sighed. "They all put up more of a fight than usual..." "I'm sorry, Seer." Dharin spoke, focusing his eyes on the coran'hai. "It doesn't look as if these missions are going to get any easier." Seer laughed softly. "Worry not, Dharin. I can handle these missions, and much more. Besides, if they were easier, then any Mage could do this and there would be no need for me." She smiled grimly. It was a strange expression for her face to wear. "Acharya would find a reason to need you," Dharin reassured her. "You’ve served him faithfully in the past." "Can you tell us about the Acharya?" Jenya, like most Trackers, did not like talking about the past. All it held was death, but the thought occurred to him that death was all the future held as well. "What do you want to know?" Seer smiled again, at Jenya this time. A small, meaningless smile to tell him his curiosity was appreciated. "Whatever you know," Jenya shrugged. "There's a lot that I know about Acharya. And just as much that nobody knows," she said, peering at the stars. "He is powerful, extremely powerful. That much anyone knows." "How did he come to be here? That is what I don't understand." Jenya spoke with a mouthful of food. Training in the Bastion of Shanra, the origins of the Acharya were never questioned. It was well known that the Acharya was unrivaled in his skill with a blade, unmatched in his power with a Jihann, and fearsome to match wits against; that had been all one needed to know in the Bastion, but it was a Sun-Chylde’s nature to question when given the chance. "It seems to be that Acharya is the being that has been since this world began. Not a single living person can recall the world being without him, and even the oldest writings we have mention him." "How old are the oldest writings we have?" Jenya could have been a history scholar; with his attention to detail and the way his mind put together very abstract concepts to formulate complex strategies. "Not very. The best guess the Svearin have is that it was composed as the Rift was opening, near the death of the Old World. The Svearin found it a few decades ago, written in an odd ink on stone." Seer swallowed the last pieces of dinner and washed it down with some strong Qu'elba she kept stored with her belongings. Oddly, every Jihann Mage had an unexplainable tolerance for strong drink. What Seer drank in a day would have killed a normal woman. The best explanation any Mage could offer was that the powers they mastered refused to let them die by such a trifling thing as alcohol poisoning. "What does it say? What does it talk about?" Jenya's eyes focused on Seer's flask, but he knew better than to ask for a drink. The last time he had tried to share a flask with the Seer, he had ended up unconscious for the better part of a day. "The Svearin scholars have not all reached the same conclusion, but the majority agree that it pertains to the end of the Old World, the state of the world, flying beasts and demons that very few of this world have heard of." "The Old World? I’m not sure I understand." Dharin questioned softly. Unlike Jenya, history had never truly been his strong suit. "Do they teach you nothing save how to use a blade?" Seer almost snapped. She would have snapped at anyone else for such insolence and ignorance. It seemed that even the smallest child knew the irreparable sadness attached to the whisperings of the Old World; a world that might have been peaceful for all the legends could remember; a world that should have been saved - a world that had been lost. "All I know now is how to kill, Seer." The Then’kael’s eyes found something interesting in the dirt to focus on, cowed by the coldness of the Magi before him. "I sincerely doubt that that is all you know." Her face and voice turned serious, which was a drastic change from the flippant tone she used to recount legends. Jenya, sensing the direction in which the conversation was headed, interjected. "It is all we have really been taught. But, we are willing to learn other things, if you are willing to teach us." Seer nodded, accepting the unspoken apology. "Time is cyclical. The last world proved this, that our concept of time stretches on into the infinite, whether we are here to witness it or not. A great Svearin - well, they were called by other names in the last world, but they served the same function - a man with a name something like 'Stone', had numerous theories about time, and 'space.' Of course, we've lost almost all of his ideas about space, whatever it was." The word was foreign to her tongue. "And we have lost almost all of the other knowledge from the last world as well, so I can not give you any facts." "That's tragic," Jenya said sarcastically. "But what happened to the last world anyways?" "There are so many different stories," Seer sighed. "Some say that we were punished, others say that the Rift never opened, but I won't waste my time, or yours, telling you all of those conjectures." Dharin laughed. "Then tell us the right one." Seer nodded at Dharin. "The oldest document, the one that the Svearin found, tells about it in great detail. I believe they're referring to the stone as Cerdaiya, literally the Great Stone. They aren’t very original with names," she smirked. Jenya interrupted her. "But you said they couldn't agree on what it said." Seer smiled. "I did say that, yes. They can't agree on what it says, because they can't decipher it all. There are so many words they do not understand, because none of the scholars speak fluent Magi-tongue, and the Svearin are too petty to work together for long to translate it in its entirety. It's a pity." "How do you know what it says, then?" Dharin was fairly certain he knew the answer already. "With the Acharya's blessing sometimes comes the gift of sight. I've seen the Cerdaiya Stone. It is quite impressive; taller and wider than the both of you combined, completely covered in a type of ink that refuses to fade." "Why don't you share this knowledge with the Svearin, Seer? It could prove invaluable, it could change the world we know." "Yes, Dharin. It could change the world, though probably not for the better. The Svearin would misuse the Cerdaiya. They would try to manipulate its words for their own gain. They tire of being kept in line by the Acharya. Do you understand this?" Dharin and Jenya nodded, seeing the truth of it. "So what does the Se-" Jenya's tongue tripped over the word. "What does it actually say?" "Simplified," Seer began, "it says that millions of years ago all was chaos. There were, essentially, two categories of beings. One category was unnaturally violent. The humanoids of this category all possessed Magi like powers, and incredible intellect. The other category, while their numbers were much larger, was in almost every way inferior. The humanoids especially tended towards peace, and weakness. There was no balance between the two, and the inferiors were quickly dying out. Somehow, a small, more compassionate group of the predators perceived the injustice in this, and erected a sort of planar barrier. The Rites they performed separated the weak from the strong, for the most part, and the Inferiors were given a better chance at survival. Order was brought to the world, and the struggle before the barriers, and eventually the barriers themselves, were both forgotten. The forgetful, weaker side of the world; the illuminated, orderly plane squandered what had been given to them - peace." Seer spoke disdainfully. "When the barriers fell millennia later, as they were destined to do, only a handful of people - six, to be exact - had the ability to handle the disaster. All others who could have helped were killed when the barriers first fell. This group of six banded together to face the Rift that had opened, pouring out all manner of horrific beings. The Six, whose names are lost to us now, were referred to as the Brave, who led the Six; the Philosoph; the Jesting Warrior; the Strong Artisan; and two others who didn't belong before the Rift: The Glory-Seeker, and the Uncalled." She paused to take another drink. "In the beginning of the journey, however, the two who didn't belong both went to support their comrades. So the Cerdaiya says," she scoffed. "They were of no help, in the end." "What became of them?" Jenya asked eagerly, entranced in the legend like a small child. "They failed, for reasons not recorded. The style of the scrawlings changes after the account of the Six before they faced the Rift. This is obviously because the original author perished, and someone felt it necessary to finish the story. All seemed lost once the six fell, and the world began to turn dark as new beasts emerged from the Rift." Seer did not bother to give them the descriptions of the Rift Beasts she had seen in her dreams, massive screeching abominations covered in scales that seemed to fold any light around them. There was a new silence. Not even insects made any sound; they had all perished in the battle earlier that day. "And the Acharya," Dharin prompted. "The Cerdaiya says that he appeared after the last of the Six fell. Too late to save any of them, or the world they knew." "Tragic," Jenya said again, but sincerely this time. "The Six really wanted to save the world?" Seer nodded; a twinge of sadness touched her eyes. "They probably could have. The Cerdaiya describes them as being more than capable. Though, I suspect it may be biased, in the beginning, at least." "Why?" That complex idea was Jenya’s favorite question. "The way it is written, I believe it was recorded by one of the Six, however, I cannot be sure which. One of the Six would not have spoken ill of the only group brave enough to stand against the end of time, I would assume." Silence fell again, and the group remained pensive for several moments. A shriedhan shrieked in the distance. Jenya became bored with the story, and left the two for his blankets and unconsciousness. "So, the Acharya shows up just in time to find the Six dead? Some supreme being." Dharin scoffed. He had the utmost respect for the Acharya, but the legend seemed slightly absurd. Giving Dharin a cold glance, Seer countered, "Acharya's powers were not realized in time for him to save the Six. Yet he alone faced the Rift - and defeated it. Within a matter of weeks, he found a way to close the Rift, and rebuild the barriers. He then founded the Order of the Jihann Magi to ensure that barriers would never fall again." Seer spoke defensively and proudly. She had paid attention closely in Trinlayra, when she was not struck deaf and dumb by painful visions of other worlds. "But how did he find the other Magi? Blind luck?" Skeptical, constantly questioning - Dharin was a typical Moon-Chylde. "He looked for people who possessed the potential to harness and use Cair’leih; the energy of which all things is composed. He passed a part of himself onto these potentials, and eventually they became full-fledged Magi." "Yet, people have become Magi without needing the Acharya's gift. How can this be?" Seer smiled, contented that Dharin knew much more about the world than he gave away. "There are two possible explanations. Some say that the reason is that the new Magi have Magi ancestors, and that is how they gained the Acharya's gift." "And what is the real reason?" Seer laughed. "You see so much more than you let on. The real reason is that something is stirring in the masses, awakening powers that have slept since the closing of the Rift. Energies are waking up and lending their strength and wisdom to those willing to wield Cair’leih." She sighed, looking at the landscape, not bothering to mention the other theory that had been wandering around the continents: the gods of the old world, thought long dead or at least long apathetic were waking up, discontent with the way their world had been treated. It seemed foolish to Seer, not worth mentioning. "Why do you think this is happening?" Dharin's eyes shone more from curiosity than from the light of the coran'hai. "Something is coming," Seer answered without hesitation. "Something horrible, that we must be ready for. Whatever is coming, it is going to change this world. It could be an evil from the Rift, perhaps something new. There is always new evil." She turned her eyes to the stars, and smirked. "How do you know all of this?" Dharin noticed the smirk, and made a note to inquire as to why a Magi would smile at the stars. "The Acharya himself told me his story. I spent three long years in Trinlayra, and he often visited me to ensure that I was still alive. I often went through the healing rites to the sound of his voice." She shuddered at the memory of the visions she saw there, and the fear that she would be forced to see them all again. Seeing the shudder, and feeling the sudden coldness from Seer, Dharin changed the subject. "Why did you smile at the stars?" Seer cocked her head at Dharin, not recognizing that she had smirked at first. "Oh. I remembered something Acharya said, long ago. He spoke of the last world, and it's great symbols. 'The people of that world knew hope,' he would say. One of their symbols for hope was the dark sky, filled with stars. When the night was at it's darkest, there are still stars. There is still light, still hope. I just thought to myself that, while there may be immeasurable, incomprehensible evil awakening, there is still hope. There are still stars." She smiled another small, sad smile. "Oh," Dharin didn't quite understand. Symbols were of no use to him. His belief was that a person should say what they meant, and not allow their minds to be clouded by euphemisms. "But hope may not always be enough, "Dharin muttered. "You're right," Seer agreed. After a moment, she said, "Stars were also a symbol for destiny, Acharya told me. When people felt lost, one way or another, they could look to the stars and find guidance. What a pity," she sighed, "that there is no such sense of security in this world. All we have is war, and those lucky enough to survive get to burn the bodies of the dead." "Speaking of which, Jenya and I finished piling up all the corpses today. They should be incinerated tomorrow morning, before we depart. I'm not sure if the wards against the Shriedhan and other carrion will hold out until then, but I'm hoping." "Are you certain you got all of them? There were so many screams, it sounded like there would be thousands of bodies. Not that I would know one way or the other," she laughed. She had passed out from extreme exhaustion shortly after the last screams had stopped ringing on the hills. When she regained consciousness, Dharin and Jenya berated her for pushing herself so far while Kelnai only snickered. Seer didn't even bother to try to explain to the three of them that the only way to become stronger was to push yourself so far that if you couldn't become any stronger, then you would die. Faced with that decision, the body rarely chooses death. "Yes, we got them all," Dharin grimaced. "All of the whole bodies, anyways. I'm not sure what you did to them, but most of those corpses out there looked as if they had been completely shredded." Seer grinned a slight, deadly, morbid grin. "My newest Rite. My pride. Kehredhanai," she laughed, wondering if Dharin knew enough of the Magi tongue to recognize the word. "Something of death," Dharin muttered, sensing the sadistic energy that accompanied the name of Seer's new Rite. "How does it work?" He had a feeling he might regret asking. "Kehred means ecstasy," Seer began explaining. "Kehredhanai overloads the senses of the target with Cair’leih, so their minds don't register that they are being torn apart by all the energies running rampant through their fragile bodies." She smiled. "Ugh, that is sick." Dharin groaned, recalling all the slush he was forced to wade through to gather the bodies of the resistance. Seer shrugged. "At least they died screaming from happiness. I envy them." Letting out a final sigh, she gathered the soiled feindahn they had eaten from, and set them next to the cart for Kelnai to wash tomorrow. "Sleep well," Dharin called to her, staring up at the stars. Maybe one day he would understand the woman who managed to hold his attention, his interest with every breath she took. |