A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands - Book 2: Chapter 32: The Call of Water

Ancient lore tells of a being beyond reckoning, a figure of myth and legend. Am embodiment of humanity itself, forged in the crucible of our darkest moments to guide us into the light. A beacon of hope, he carries with him the knowledge and wisdom of our forebears, that we may chart a course to a brighter tomorrow.

– On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC.

Slightly annoyed at the dismissal, but grateful for my new equipment, I cut through a gaggle of people going about their business on my way to Ankhset’s wagon. I overheard snippets of conversation amidst the throng, revealing that a certain Gelgor was trailing us by only a few days. Rumor had it that one of the boys had sighted his caravan from atop one of our large wagons. From my understanding of the fragments of information, this Gelgor person was another caravan master who was also leading his group across the Whispering Wastes. Was this to be yet another threat, or perhaps an opportunity?

As I thought upon this, my feet led me to the wagon of the Water Mage. This time, to my surprise, there was no one guarding the entrance. Shrugging to myself, I walked up to the wooden door and rapped my knuckles upon it.

The door swung open to reveal a hunching Aizere, or perhaps it was Erasyl – the twins were nearly indistinguishable. “Please, do come in. Our mother has been expecting you,” said the brother, gesturing for me to enter.

Mindful of the dirt on my boots, I kicked them off by the steps and followed him inside. Elwin and Kidu followed suit, removing their footwear before they came in.

As we entered, we beheld Larynda seated cross-legged at a low wooden table. Opposite her was the willowy old woman sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, the Water Mage of the caravan. Her name, according to my Identify, was Ankhset, and she was the mother of the twins. She looked up, registering our appearance through smoke-gray eyes that were still clear and bright. From up close, and despite the ravages of time, I could discern that she must have once been comely in her youth, unlike her monstrously large offspring.

The old woman nodded to me once before she gestured for my companions and me to sit. “Have tea and be at ease,” the woman said in a matronly voice as she poured out some tea for us.

We sat cross-legged at the table. The three larger members of this gathering’s bulk were in stark juxtaposition to the almost jokingly small tea set displayed before us. Raising a small white cup to my lips, a perfumed hint of jasmine graced my senses for a moment, bringing with it a ghost of a memory. Another place, another life. I tasted the golden brown liquid and found the tea clean to the palette, yet having a full and rounded muscatel flavor.

Our host, judging that we had passed some sort of mysterious test, deigned to grace us with an introduction, “I have been told that you already have met my son and daughter, Erasyl and Aizere. Forgive them, they are a little overprotective of me in my old age. I am Ankhset Ulgen, Water Seeker of the Company of the Ravens, and I wish to thank you for your gracious actions.”

With a conscious effort, I stopped a smug grin from crossing my face. Just as I had predicted, an event, in this case defending the caravan, had unlocked access to this new character and started this scripted piece. Instead of a sneer, I decided my most-pleasant smile would serve me better, followed of course, by the expected humble heroic tripe. Also, it was a good thing that Cordelia was not with us, as I had a feeling that if she were present things might be a little more complicated.

“I did nothing more than what was expected. The caravan master had hired me to protect the people of this train, and that is all that I did,” I replied as cordially as possible.

“Some say that it is you who also brings the scrutiny of the fates upon us – that Laes has been coerced by the result of his foolish honor,” the sister added to the conversation rudely, her annoyed expression mirrored by her twin. I was glad that Cordelia was not with us.

“Only those who say that honor is foolish are the ones who have no honor themselves,” countered Kidu, his voice a rumbling warning.

Ankhset sighed at this. “I did not invite Master Gilgamesh to gossip like old wives at the festival,” she chided her unruly spawn. Turning to me, she offered in a conciliatory tone, “Peace. I invited you to offer a small gift in thanks, and a humble word of warning, if you would listen to this old woman.”

“Our boss, Gil, likes his presents. Now what he doesn’t like however is surprises. There was this time…” Elwin started before he was silenced by a warning look from Kidu. Luckily, the Rogue held his tongue.

“You have my ear, speak on,” I cut in a little sharply, giving up the pretense of acting the part of the quiet and humble hero. It was never within me anyway, and I just wanted the old woman to get to the point.

“Very well then. Though I am no oracle, I can sense Fate’s heavy hand about you and the young one’s path,” the old Water Mage explained while looking in Larynda’s direction, causing her to fidget uneasily.

Why did ‘wise’ people always have to speak in such strange roundabout terms? Only a few words had been spoken, and yet this exchange was already grating on my nerves. Perhaps it was the recent stress, from just about everything, but I was already getting tired of the mystic mumbo-jumbo. I found myself fighting an urge to simply wring the information out of the old biddy. Under the table, my hands had formed into fists, but I was able to keep the irritation and strain from showing on my face. A quick glance to my left showed Elwin rolling his eyes. My thoughts exactly.

“They say you are chosen, beloved of the Goddess of the Twin Blades, and there are many here who have witnessed you work her will. You brought some measure of balance to the world. That no one can deny. But there is also something about you,” she paused for a moment as if considering her next words very carefully, only for Elwin to cut in.

“Yes, he is rather attractive,” the Rogue quipped.

Ignoring him, and utterly unfazed, Ankhset continued seriously, “Something almost ominous. I do not know the word in Trade, but young master Gilgamesh, you bear a heavy Ma’at,” she intoned the last with dramatic portent while fingering a large black feather at her side.

‘Ma’at.’ The word was important. I knew it in the depths of my bones, and my curiosity demanded to be sated. Thus, I had only one recourse.

“What is this Ma’at that you speak of?” I asked, not expecting a decent answer from the old witch. Even as I spoke, I used the magic of Identify on the word. The concept.

Dao. The word lay heavy in my mind, like a fat sow, as my spell made her meaning clear to me. It meant way, or path, in the misguided Chinese philosophy of Taoism. It was an affront to my rational mind. From my limited knowledge, it was all about some spiritual nonsense involving becoming one with nature, meridians, and dantians. Was it my fate to be spiked full of thin needles in the name of enlightenment? Was that the best translation that the spell could give? Had I just wasted more of my Mana? Smile, I told myself, smile.

“Ma’at – it means way or path. To bear the blessing of the Divine is no easy thing,” she ended dramatically, and, with no small effort, I was able to keep my face neutral. The one problem with going to a fantasy world was that everyone, for the most part, was backward and primitive in their thinking.

I almost slapped myself in annoyance. A waste of Mana it truly had been. Get to the bloody point, I thought to myself as the old mage finally resumed her bit of exposition, “And that is a burden you will have to bear. No aid can I give you. It is not my place to meddle with the Divine, but if I may offer this one small piece of wisdom. Seek balance within yourself. However, it is not you who is the object of my worry, for you are a man full-grown. Larynda, child, you have my thanks. Through your actions, you have saved many lives. But, do you know of the powers you are trying to harness?”, she asked with a soft smile, to which the half-elf just mutely shook her head.

Now, this was just taking the biscuit. Mumbo-jumbo and a lecture that helped not one whit. It should be me who should be being praised. I controlled myself, draining my cup. At least the tea was half-pleasant. Luckily, the barbarians were not completely without manners, and the brother poured me another serving from an elegant white china teapot, his large heavy hands surprisingly dexterous and delicate.

“I say this not to admonish, but that is a power you must not use under any circumstance. It is a thing more ancient than the gods. And I fear that such a power is not to be used, for it is a power that also uses you, and will bring nothing but despair. It is a thing stronger than even the call of my water,” she went on to advise, and her voice was heavy with portent.

“No,” said Larynda in a small voice, before she repeated in a stronger voice, “No.”

The old thin woman, probably unused to being denied, looked perplexed, “Why child, do you not see the dangers of such power?” she asked incredulously.

“It’s like a knife. Ain’t gonna give it up ‘cos someone just told me to. That’s what people with power like to do. Say smart words to make you think you’re weak, then you become weak. No, ain’t happening, Lady Ankshet miss,” the girl said defiantly.

Hah! I thought to myself. Take that dose of truth, you old hag. I expected the woman to burst into anger, but instead, she merely sighed in exasperation.

“Since I was just a girl of your age, before I first heard the first whisper of the Call, before it became the song that rings in my ears, I started to make this,” intoned the Water Mage reverently as she took out a small scroll from a chest next to the table. Almost lovingly, she spread it across the wooden surface of the table. Once fully unfurled, the designs on its vellum sprang to life with flowing, blossoming magic. Blue script ran in chaotic, shifting patterns, teasing me with their meaning. It was the very essence of water, the root meaning of the element.

In front of my very eyes was an item probably worth more than the lives of the entire train. My very being greedily lusted for it.

“I made this for my children, long ago, if none of them heard the call of sister Water. Luckily for you, both Erasyl and Aizere show promising Control and can hear the Water’s song. If you will not be dissuaded from your course, I owe it to you to at least attempt to divert you from a thorny path. And you, Gilgamesh, I thought to offer this first to you, but I fear your soul is too burdened by your own great Dao,” She half-whispered the last, and shook her head in regret. I, too, felt no small amount of regret at not being gifted the scroll, and was surprise when I noticed that the game had decided to automatically translate Ma’at into Dao. How odd.

The old mage’s face creased into a kindly smile, “Come child, it is time to listen with your heart. If you wish to continue down the path of magic, Water is a good pairing for you. It has greater depths to it than just providing the needs for a caravan, child. Also, though the Call of Water will not be able to stop you from following your Dao, perhaps it will help divert the attention of the First Havoc. To give you balance in the years to come,” pronounced the old hag, “Come now, touch the Manzaza Shiptu, the words of knowledge, and know a new path that you might take.”

Doing my best to keep my face neutral, “A moment, Larynda. The wise woman speaks of Dao. I would know more of what she speaks of. And, why must Larynda not use the power that she has been gifted? I mean no insult, but why do you wish to shackle this girl’s potential?” I inquired in as much of a neutral tone as I could.

Ankhset’s face grew dark and serious, “I mean no such thing, Gilgamesh. The magic she unleashed, the Forest of Crystal, Naspu Surahu, is known to us. And, like the Black Flame, Nara Sakullu, we know the root of such magic. The power that came before the gods of man. So, it is recorded and spoken. Though I know that her birth parent’s people are skilled in Control, it is not a thing for adults to wield, let alone a child. I am not so foolish to tell a curious child to not use the gift Mana, only that she does so with a different, less-dangerous, element, and with some measure of guidance,” she paused for a moment to take a deep breath, “Perhaps this will help give you some understanding. Come here, child. Give me your hand,” she gestured kindly to Larynda, and I nodded to the small girl giving her my permission.

“This ain’t gonna hurt, is it? Or taste like medicine?” mumbled the half-elven child.

Ankhset merely smiled at this and took Larynda’s hand in her own, her old fingers looking like withered branches from a tree. In a casual display of power, she summoned a few droplets of water that hovered in the air just above the table. Whatever this old woman was planning, I thought it better that Larynda be the recipient. Still, it would be best to at least give a token of objection.

“What is this now?” I asked in what I hoped came across as a stern and protective tone.

“Just a small demonstration of one of the fundamentals of existence. Fear not, I would never harm the child,” the old woman replied calmly. I made a show of being barely assuaged by crossing my arms.

The old woman turned to Larynda and instructed, in a kind voice, “Now, stay as still as you can and watch.” I noticed that she had Larynda’s full and undivided attention.

One of the droplets fell gently on the back of the child’s hand, coursing down in a random pattern across her skin. Another droplet fell in the exact same spot, and like the last droplet, it plotted a random and different course. This was repeated again and again until the light of understanding dawned in Larynda’s eyes. In everything there is an element of the uncontrollable, the untameable. The tiniest of changes could result in a myriad of different outcomes that rebelled against the order of the universe. Yet even within this, there was a pattern only visible to the gifted and the mad. Although the crone thought that she had schooled the girl in one of the deeper mysteries, revealing to the child the source of her magic, I had known all along. The obvious clue had been in the name of Larynda’s class. Chaos Mage. Chaos.

While the little girl looked suitably impressed, I, on the other hand, was merely annoyed at the cheap theatrics. Seeing the woman occupied, I surreptitiously cast an Identify on the scroll.

Scroll of Water Ball [Magic]

Durability 9/10

As I thought, a magical scroll. Like my Identify spell, one would, no doubt, be able to learn a new magical ability by touching and absorbing the knowledge and power held within the words of the scroll.

Ankhset wore a satisfied expression on her face, like she had just imparted the wisdom of the gods to us. Little did she know that such ‘wisdom’ was well within the purview of the common school child in my world. Also, in my opinion, a few words would have gotten the point across just as well. All in all, it was a rather primitive and overly-reductive way of demonstrating Chaos Theory.

“Please, let the water guide her. I do not wish to see such beautiful potential cut so short before its time” the old woman begged of me.

I could not stop smiling in smug superiority, for I had known the source of Larynda’s power long ago. It was time to indulge the child, and a part of me feared what taking the scroll for my own selfish desires entailed. She did mention that it would add extra strain upon my soul. Did a strain upon my soul limit me in some mystical way, or was it possibly dangerous to push myself so? Was she lying, or simply mistaken? Did this mean I would no longer be able to learn new magic spells in the same manner as my Identify?

“Touch the magic scroll, child,” I commanded, hoping that I had made the right decision.

With hands trembling and hesitant, the child of half-elven blood reached out for the magic scroll. As the girl’s fingers brushed against the parchment, lines of arcane script surged with an azure crystalline light, before flowing like a swift mountain stream toward her. And with a shudder, the power of the words infused the child, filling her with mystical energy. Then, for the briefest of moments, there was the roar of the ocean, the tinkling of gentle rain, and the cacophony of the storm.

Almost as if reacting to being challenged, my Entropic Aura roared to life. I tried to hold it back, but it was too late. Reaching completion, it burst from me in an invisible wave, and Ankhset and her children gasped in surprise. However, I could not tell whether this was from reacting to Larynda’s absorption of the esoteric script or the effects of my own spell. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I quickly reined in the spell and silenced the fury of the voices.

Despite the overwhelming power that filled her, the girl smiled serenely, with a calm that belied her youth and rambunctious nature. It was a picture of acceptance, of a prophet that had found her god.

“Now, truly you are a Windspeaker, little one!” celebrated Kidu in a voice that boomed louder than any storm.