LIGHTNOVELONLINE 2. Saying the Words
An excerpt from Master Eladri’s ‘Modern Magic - A Study of the Modern Mage.’
“In the world of arcane students and researchers, there has long been considered a divide between those who understand the moving parts of a magic spell and those who merely ‘say the words’. Where a student of the arcane could define the formulas that brought them to a spell, or extrapolate from given aetheric conditions to adapt to a new situation, the majority of people who actually use arcane magic merely learn by rote singular, general purpose phrases and gestures to call forth their roughly desired effect. While my colleagues scoff at such low-brow methods of spellcasting, I would like to remind them of how generations of research have enabled the uninitiated to live such a life of modern luxuries—Such innovations as the flameless light or the copying pen would not exist without the insights of those who don’t have to concern themselves with the question of ‘why’.”
Clearly, it seemed that Yenna’s interpretation of ‘morning’ differed from that of the captain’s, as by the time the kesh mage had arrived, the expedition had nearly completed preparations with only minutes to spare. Even as the captain greeted Yenna, nearby hands were calling out to report they were ready to head off.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Mage Yenna!” Captain Eone’s grin was extraordinary, though the aura of enthusiasm was somewhat dulled by the icy glare her mereu companion levelled in Yenna’s direction. “I was worried we were going to have to turn back towards Sumadre in search of another like yourself.”
Sumadre, the capital of the state of Aulpre, was a few days' travel from Ulumaya for an expedition of significant size. The colleges in the capital were almost certain to have someone more eager for adventure, but Yenna understood the reluctance to spend more time searching for a single person, especially for what seemed like a costly endeavour. While Yenna was certainly relieved to hear she had saved them the trouble, a part of her still pondered whether her decision had been a mistake. The mage couldn’t help but glance towards the direction of her home, considering turning tail and running back into the comfortable confines no matter how rude it would seem to others.
“A mage of few words?” Eone raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem offended.
Yenna gave a choked squeaking noise as she attempted to apologise. Got lost in my own thoughts, there. Focus, Yenna!
The captain had a bemused expression, but continued all the same. “Come, let me introduce you to everyone. This is Mysilia, my messenger.”
The captain gestured towards the mereu on her shoulder. The woman was not much larger than the hand pointing towards her, though to be fair Eone’s hands were rather unusually large. Mysilia did not dignify her introduction with a response—she crossed her legs, straightened out her dark green dress and turned her head away, suddenly interested in the distant hills. Her wings were feathered, coloured like a sparrow, as was the flowing hair on her head, in both respects. The captain ignored her companion’s coldness and carried on.
“Over here is Chime, our porter.”
The next subject of interest was the massive millipede-like silupker. Now in a position to see, Yenna noted that the person’s head was nothing more than a smooth, spherical surface from which a pair of antennae jutted. However, someone had painted a rather pleasant face with fantastic skill—a soft, motherly smile paired with serenely closed eyes made for a very beatific visage.
Several chiming sounds emanated from that painted expression, which waited patiently as Yenna recalled the little she knew of the silupker language¹. With a few repeats and a request to slow down, she managed to muddle through a ‘hello’. Chime seemed an impossibly patient and welcoming sort, and Yenna looked forward to getting to know them better.
“Over there is our cook, Hirihiri, and the little lad is Tirk. Ah, and you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my second-in-command, Muut.”
Eone gestured over to a nearby group, who waved back in turn. Hirihiri was the elderly yolm Yenna had seen earlier, her long white hair and hunched back contrasting with an impressive strength and vigour for one of her age. Lifting an immense box, she was receiving ‘help’ from a young boy of maybe seven or eight years old². Tirk seemed to personally contribute to at least half of the expedition’s supply of enthusiasm, and Yenna couldn’t help but instantly grow a soft spot for the boy. Nearby, actually helping, was Muut—the yolm that had escorted her and her students to the captain the previous day. The man shoved the box he was holding into its place on Chime’s back and turned to address Eone.
“Captain. Should we not be off? If ye are to depart, ye should do so shortly.”³ Muut looked Yenna over in an open display of assessment—now that the kesh was part of the crew, it seemed Muut wanted to know what he was dealing with.
“Oh! Quite right! Whatever would I do without you, Muut? Mage Yenna, my apologies, but we must cut our introductions short for the time being. I’m sure you’ll get to know everyone in due time.”
With a slight bow of the head, a movement that made Yenna worry that the sword-blade horn was coming down on her, the captain turned on her heel and walked off. Eone hopped onto a boulder and shouted to everyone to prepare for departure, her voice cutting clean through any chatter nearby. The nearby crowd of onlooking kesh were thoroughly silenced by Eone’s booming voice and Yenna could have sworn a few of them fled at the shock of the sound. With the command given, the crew began to clamber onto cushions installed onto Chime’s back. Concerned that everyone would leave her behind if she dallied too long, Yenna did her best to find an empty spot to sit, a slightly troublesome task as she took up twice as much sitting space due to her shape.
As Yenna turned her gaze onto an empty set of cushions close to the front, she felt a sudden twang in her heart. Dreadful roots of anxiety and fear grasped her as the weight of her decision finally began to weigh upon Yenna’s mind. Looking around at the peaceful town of Ulumaya, with all its familiar people and places, she knew the moment she hopped up onto the silupker’s back she would be leaving it all behind. Her front legs began to quiver as she tried to raise them up, some primal urge deep within her screaming Run! Run away, far away! Go to safety, go to warmth! Don’t leave this world for the unknown!
Yenna was slow to notice that her brow was dripping with sweat and that she had taken several steps back. An incredible number of eyes had suddenly focused in on her with murmurs from both the expedition crew and the kesh townsfolk seeming to wonder if she would flee here and now. While the majority of the crew looked merely confused, the captain’s messenger Mysilia bore a distinct ‘I told you so’ smirk. Yenna couldn’t hear the mereu’s voice, but she could read the diminutive woman’s lips—knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.
A whimper escaped Yenna’s throat and she turned away to stop herself from crying. It was for naught, however, as what she saw before her caused the tears to flow regardless, though not from fear or sorrow. Every single member of her former class had pressed their way to the front of the crowd, the troublesome pair who had pressed her into this front-and-centre. They all looked between each other with a mischievous grin and, with an almighty cheer, threw a cloud of enchanted confetti into the air. Each of them cast a small spell to influence their own handful of colourful paper until they formed a phrase: GOOD LUCK MASTER YENNA!
As the pieces of paper began to drift apart, they began to shout.
“Good luck on your trip, Master!”
“You can do it, Master! Teach us lots when you get back!”
“We’ll miss you!”
“We’re all cheering for you!”
Yenna gave a heaving sob and covered her face with an arm. How could she give up now, when so many people were cheering for her? The enthusiasm of her former students spread like wildfire, and before she knew it half the town was cheering for her. She felt the shaking in her legs subside and jumped up to her seat. Carefully turning around to face the crowd, she gave a tear-soaked farewell to everyone as the silupker stood and smoothly began to walk away. The crowd of people followed up to the edge of town, though Chime soon outpaced many of the onlookers. That is, with the exception of two familiar girls, who raced onwards.
“Master Yenna! We’ve got something for you!” Myell bounced after Chime, waving excitedly as she struggled to keep up.
“Catch!”
Sanri, the closer of the two, held up a small, brown package and incanted a spell to launch it towards Yenna. The teacher knew the appropriate catching spell off by heart—After all, she had taught the launching spell to the pair in the first place. By the time she had torn the parcel open and got a look at its contents, the pair of newly minted mages were starting to recede into the distance. Taking one last look back at the town she had spent most of her life in, Yenna looked down at the gift in her hands. A simple, leatherbound journal full of blank pages, its cover inscribed with a simple statement: For a Travelling Mage.
—
For a few hours, Yenna simply enjoyed the ride. Chime was travelling at a pace evidently beyond even a kesh’s running speed, and doing so quite comfortably. Their many legs made a kind of undulating wave marked by a quiet tok-tok-tok sound of feet hitting the ground. The cushions too were set up on the same boards that most of the cargo was strapped to, making it more like riding in an open wagon than on the back of a living creature. From this vantage, Yenna was able to fully appreciate the passing landscape.
Aulpre was a largely temperate climate, leaning towards the cooler end of the comfort zone of most living beings. Brush-filled forests and dense grasslands punctuated a fairly hilly terrain, though Eone seemed to be navigating the group along the more tame paths between towns. Wind blew through Yenna’s hair from the speed and she was immensely thankful for the enchantment that kept her hat from blowing away. Unfortunately, she possessed no enchantments that protected her from being surprised.
“Hello!” A small figure tumbled down from the top of the cargo crate behind Yenna, landing triumphantly on the opposite set of cushions. The boy, Tirk, dropped himself rather carelessly down onto his backside, taking a seat and staring wide-eyed at the mage.
“Oh. Um. Hello?” Yenna had never been much for dealing with small children—her students were typically a lot closer to adulthood, if not already grown adults in their own right. With a white, spiral nub of a horn parting his messy, straw-blonde hair, he had all the charm of a tiny angel, though the effect was somewhat lost thanks to his jet black eyes and grubby overalls.
“Why were you crying before? Did you stub your toes? Oh, you don’t have any toes. Why don’t you have any toes?” Tirk seemed to take being acknowledged as some kind of permission to unload as many questions as possible. Before Yenna could even begin to address one question, he had another, and another, and another. He bounced between awfully mundane topics like “What’s that hat for?”, and woefully complicated ones like “Why did you want to come with us?”
“Tiiiirk!” A raspy voice cried out from further up Chime’s back. “Let the mage speak!”
“Ye-es, Granny Hiri!” Tirk’s sing-song reply elicited a grumble from the elderly yolm cook, but he did as he was told and sat wide-eyed and silent. Assured he would listen, Yenna got to answering his questions as best she could.
“Now, let’s see…the hat!” Reaching up, Yenna ran a finger along the wide brim. “Mages such as myself wear them for lots of reasons. To keep the sun off our heads, to protect us from inclement weather…You know, some say that the origin of the mage’s hat comes from demon summoners, who would protect their eyes from enchanting gazes.”
“Wooow! Where’d the demon summoners get the hat from, then?”
“Ah, excellent question…”
Yenna got to answering as many questions as she could. The mage fell into old habits and began to answer the questions in the manner that she would in her own classroom, treating Tirk with the kind of respect that one would give an equal—Yenna was not in the habit of being condescending with her speech. The boy listened with all the solemnity of a very serious businessman, only occasionally fidgeting or being distracted by a passing bird.
Speaking to Tirk entirely quashed Yenna’s nagging anxieties and the boy seemed to enjoy listening to each and every detail. The two were in a world of their own until Captain Eone’s booming voice shattered this small peace—neither had realised that Chime had stopped their constant striding nor that the crew were all disembarking.
“Lunch break, everyone! Tirk! Where are you, lad?”
Eone’s shouting caused the boy to leap up and begin to run, not waiting to hear the end of Yenna’s explanation on why exactly the sky was blue. Suddenly reminded she had skipped dinner and breakfast, the mage carefully hopped down from Chime’s back and made her way over to where the group was congregating. They had paused quite simply on the side of the road, where the grass was short and an old well enticed travellers to rest. Yenna watched as Tirk scampered over towards the massive Yolm captain, who scooped him up in her arms, whirled him about, and placed him down dizzied.
As Yenna wandered over, a pair of young yolm women, hand in hand, approached to greet her. The shorter of the pair had a slightly muscular build and a small horn that curled upwards slightly to part messy brown hair. Her friend, ever so slightly taller, had a softer appearance—a friendly, round face framed by short black hair was punctuated with a pointy triangular white horn. The former of the two spoke up, and Yenna was surprised by the roughness of her accent.
“Hi there!” She had a distinct twang that the mage couldn’t place—is she from somewhere in Aulpre’s north, maybe? “M’names Jiin. Did’ja enjoy the ride?”
“Did I…? Ah, yes, erm.” Yenna’s eyes flicked over to Chime for a moment. “It was quite interesting, to be going so fast.”
“I think she meant, did you enjoy entertaining Tirk?” The other woman spoke up, a curious teasing quality to her voice. Jiin cackled with laughter. “I’m Mayi, by the way. Don’t let us keep you—food will be ready soon, once Hirihiri gets the soup warmed up. What’s the problem, I wonder…?”
Mayi pointed nearby at the old cook, who had squatted down to fiddle with something on the underside of a massive metal pot. Holding a small wand to a stone disc affixed to the bottom of the pot, the cook had been trying, and failing, to complete a simple spell of heating. At first, Yenna was confused as to why anyone would struggle with such an easy spell. Then, she recalled that she was the only actual mage with the expedition—Hirihiri had been doing something many mages referred to as ‘saying the words’. It was a slightly rude term to describe someone using magic without understanding the intricacies at play, and Yenna assumed that Hirihiri had been simply speaking an activation phrase to an unreliable heating element.
As Yenna approached, she found her curiosity piqued. The amount of tries, to say nothing of the murmured cursing, implied that something was either wrong with the enchantment, the person activating it, or the local environment. Willing to give the benefit of the doubt to Hirihiri on the first two counts, Yenna began to analyse the situation within her head.
Yenna rubbed a particular ring’s band with her thumb before making an ‘O’ with her thumb and forefinger. A crude but extremely quick way to see the flow of magic itself, a glowing ring of light was captured in the shape of a soap bubble allowing her to translate magical energies into an approximate visual. Magic was constantly shifting, sometimes being described as a liquid, or a woven fabric, or a collection of motes that clumped and jostled about. The truth was, no one was really sure why or how magic moved as it did, nor could anyone predict with certainty what it would do at any given time—such perfect prediction of magic was the metaphorical holy grail of Arcane research.
However, mere observation could lead to educated guesses, hypotheses, predictions and theories. It was the ability to understand magic’s movements to a certain tolerance that made Arcane magic what it was. From her observations, Yenna could see that a particularly strong ‘wind’ was influencing the flow of magic away in a particular direction. The severity of the pull wasn’t great enough to stop a mage from casting their spells, as all mages instinctively adjusted their spells based on local conditions, but it was causing no shortage of havoc on such a simple thing as Hirihiri’s heating element. Let’s see if I can’t fix that.
Eager to solve the problem, Yenna sat herself down beside the pot and quite literally worked her magic. The problem was the activation command. As the device was intended for all to use, it took the tiniest sliver of magic from its user to kickstart a mana-gathering circle. However, every time Hirihiri tried to activate it, the circle failed to fight the pull of the magic wind and simply petered out. To solve the issue, Yenna wove a simple spell to bypass the activation command entirely, allowing it to work with the wind instead of against it.
When Yenna finally looked up, she saw that the eyes of everyone around were transfixed upon her. She realised belatedly that she had simply walked over and wordlessly cast a spell on the cookpot with no explanation. A blush crept to her face as she attempted to stammer out an explanation, but she was cut short by Hirihiri’s toothy grin. The old woman’s weathered face curled up into a smile, followed by a short laugh.
“Guess it pays to have a mage around, eh? Say,” the old cook began to fill the pot with food for the party’s lunch, “Just what was wrong with it, then?”
“A nearby magical focus of some kind is causing an unusual aetheric pull, disturbing the trigger enchantment that powers the whole system.”
The explanation seemed to earn her only blank stares, so Yenna attempted a simpler version. “Erm. Something nearby is drawing a fair bit of magic away, so the spell in your cookpot couldn’t start.”
“Something’s drawing magic away?” Captain Eone seemed rather more interested with this part of the explanation. “Could you give any more details? Is it some old ruin? A sacred site? A mysterious artefact, perhaps?!”
Yenna frowned at the captain’s evidently overexcited imagination, but she didn’t want to dismiss her out of hand. It was likely some old shrine or discarded enchantment, though there was always the possibility of it being some particularly magical creature’s leavings. Eager to avoid finding such a thing the old-fashioned way, Yenna renewed her finger-and-thumb circle of magical sight and followed the trail of magic with her eye.
The normal ebb and flow of magic proceeded like a stream in one determined direction, cascading down towards some destination that seemed bigger with every passing moment. What she had thought an unusual wind was merely the edge of something greater. As Yenna turned her eyes towards a nearby copse of trees, she sensed something awaiting within.
To her surprise, the ‘something’ within seemed to sense her in return. A wave of dread shuddered down Yenna’s spine—they were not alone.
¹ - The silupker do not possess the kind of fleshy bits most living creatures use to create speech, instead relying on a kind of chiming, gonging or echoing that they produce through poorly-understood means. As it is largely impossible to replicate the sounds when one does not possess an enchanted chamber of earthenware as part of one’s body, communication between fleshy creatures and silupker is often difficult.
² - Adjusted for your time reference, dear reader. Coincidentally, years are roughly as long on Yenna’s world as they are on your Earth, though yolm grow slightly faster than humans.
³ - As far as research can tell, Muut’s accented speech is a product of his upbringing in a particularly remote locale. In the original work, Yenna refers to the strangeness of his speech on many occasions and gives us the vaguest of descriptions for the longest time. It is perhaps a blessing by some deity of chance that eventually she tells us the name of said locale. For you, dear reader, I will not deprive you of the discovery.