Chapter Four

She couldn’t go straight home and face her mother’s wondering stare. Instead she made her way to the village temple. It was a small stone building carved from the crumbling face of one of the foothills cut clean by the waters of the river Acheron.

It was accessible by a narrow path made of the same limestone that crumbled into the banks of the river. She’s traveled there many times, daily for the past few years to learn by Onatas’s side the simple tricks of magic he would share. Mostly she just laboured, weeding the garden, keeping the candles lit in the dark little space.

Asclepogenia hovered at the doorway listening to the sound of the wind howl up from the depths of the earth through the cracks in the temple’s wall. The alcoves were stuffed with crude statues to their pantheon. Arche in the act of self love which birthed the universe. Aetha represented by a swirling spiral of Aethyr. Erbus in his cube of polished stone. Urania’s alcove was empty, filled instead with candles, but her brother Odius’ statue still remained despite his crimes against the other pantheon. There were small idols throughout the temple, but Asclepogenia had never bothered much with the gods. They seemed to her merely ideas and ideals. In a roundabout way Onatas confirmed her suspicions although he would never say as much.

“The gods bring hope to the people, allowing them to structure their feelings and desires in accordance to the patterns of Arche.” he had told her.

“And what about people who blame the gods, for their odious deed.?” she had countered.

Was Kyros simply a pawn to Odius or his disappearance part to the patterns of Arche or had she set that in motion with her teasing? She paused by the alcove of candles to sweep the dead and shriveled petals of flowers from amongst the candles. Onatas could light them with a flick of his wrist to conjure flame but the girl had to do it by hand.

When they had stood in the tent of the elders just an hour ago, he had said that he nothing else to teach her. This didn’t make sense to her as he knew much magic that he never shared.

Something blocked the scant light that filtered in from the doorway at the opening of the temple and Asclepogenia turned to see the silhouette of the old man enter the sanctum.
He walked over to the alcove of the goddess of judgement and stood next to his student.

“I realize I never showed you how to light those properly.” She paused and the flame burned along the tiny stick she held. “I thought I’d have more time than this with you.” she felt the heat on her fingertips and moved to extinguish the flame. Onatas snatched the fire up into his palm before it could burn the girl. “There may still be time…” He said in that ponderous rhetorical tone she had once hated, but now realized she would terribly miss.

“There are two parts, evocation and manipulation. The simple tricks we use here in Trefos are mostly manipulation of parts of creation already in motion. You can encourage someone to sleep by exerting your will because it’s a function of their nature. It would be another thing entirely to conjure up a sleeping person from nothing!” He said as he turned the fire over in his hands. It collected in a little sphere, without source of the flame. Without warning he extinguished it with a flick of his wrist.

“Manipulation is always easiest. You already have the foundation of exerting your will upon creation. You can even create an avatar of light when there is none. It’s a similar process to create a flame a draw the heat from my own body, amplifying it from my will.”

“First create an avatar of light for me Asclepogenia.”

She did as she was told and in a moment before them hovered the luminous exertion of her will upon the darkness.

“You can imbue the same avatar with heat, think of what it feels like, that flame on your face, or looking up into the sky on a warm day and feeling the sun on your face.” She thought of those things and tried to harden her will into manifestation but the avatar grew no hotter and instead flickered her frustration simmered to the surface.

“It requires a great deal of passion, Asclepogenia, to channel pure force into form.” She stared into the candles that were already lit, as if to draw inspiration from their flickering and then just as she felt her concentration might break the avatar’s cool white light warmed, as it did it sunk as if weighted and as she reached for it she felt the familiar sting of pain from the heat. The searing heat was a realization as well as a distraction with jolted her from her work and caused the avatar to be extinguished.

“I should have mentioned it’s very difficult. The school in Thira will help you. Once you are trained you can return here and teach me a few things. You haven’t told your mother yet, have you?”

“No, I came here to seek some clarity,”
“And here I am filling your head with more mysteries. There is another reason why I have not taught you certain things.”
“My mother?”
“Yes, she forbid it. She did not want you to go off and be trained and conscripted into the Holy order and die in one of their wars.”
“Isn’t that the very plan you’ve designed for me?”
Onatas took a step back and held up a finger towards the sky. “Not, I but the gods designed your plan.” and Asclepogenia was reminded that above all her was still a priest of the order.
“The gods however did not suggest to the elders that I should be on the to take the Zro to the capital.
“Can’t I use them to pass a little bit of blame. After all, in doing so I broke my pledge to your mother.”
“Why do it? You could take the Zro yourself.” She said, realizing that she was trying to escape the sudden burden placed upon her young shoulders.
“I decided that to keep your mother happy I would need to deny you your destiny. You remember the way the stones called to you. Were I to keep you here for her or my pleasure of your company, I would be committing a great crime against the will of Arche.”
“Will you tell her for me?” She asked.
Onatas laughed and shook his head. “No but I will comfort her after you leave and celebrate with her your return.”
Asclepogenia sighed and resigned herself to her task.

“Wake up.”
“Daughter, you’ve come home.”
“I’ve not been away”
“They told me you were out all night.”
“That was yesterday, mother.”
“Why did you wake me, I was having such a nice dream?”
“I have to tell you something important.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’ve been asked to take something important to the capital. Onatas wants me to stay and be trained.”
Her mother’s face that had been slack from sleep, now bunched up in anger.
“You can’t leave me.”
“It’s for the good of the village.I’ll return as soon as I can.”
“This is all your odious Uncle’s doing. You’ll leave just like your father and never come back.”
Asclepogenia certainly hoped not. Her father had died in a battle to retake the Northern Lands from the human barbarians.
“It’s important that I go. All our lives are in danger here. The village to the west was raided and everyone was…” she minced her words “everyone was taken away.”
“Yes, everyone that I love is taken away.” she said reaching for the Poppy’s milk.
“Please mother, listen. We don’t have much time. Don’t go to sleep. There will be a trade caravan arriving soon.”
Asclepogenia’s words fell on deaf ears as her mother swallowed the milk-white sap.
“Don’t go.” said the daughter to her mother who momentarily fell into a dreamless sleep.

She performed as best she could for the next two days. She moved as if underwater, her interactions weighted down by the knowledge that soon all she knew would be a memory. At the same time her mood was lifted with the unexpected mysteries of what awaited her accompanying the sound of every horse’s whinny, or ever well-wishers farewell advice.

By the time the caravan arrived she’d been seen off twice by everyone she’d ever knew when they passed her on the street or came to pray at the Sanctum.

The day before the caravan pulled into the town with it’s many riders and ornate wagons her Uncle had requested her company on a ride. She saddled the mare that had carried her to the doomed village and rode with him into Arenth forest. He was quiet, made no jokes simply walked his horse beside hers until they were in front of the Torquetum.

The device lost none of it’s splendor when viewed by daylight. The blue fire was subdued, secluded in the artful carvings that covered the visible surfaces of the stone rings. The largest spun slow enough to catch the hint of an ancient script, and a few symbols while the inner rings were nothing but a grey blur that was occluded almost instantly by the orbit of another slower moving ring. 9 in all.

“Your mother is angry at me.” Bolus said.
“Nothing new there.” Asclepogenia quipped.
“Not like this. Or maybe exactly like this, but that hatred and fear she’s held inside since you were a child, now she doesn’t have the sense to restrain.”
“What she doesn’t understand is that you didn’t bring me here the first time. It lead me here.” She motioned to the Torqetum. Although the rhythmic beating that had plagued her no longer haunted her ears, she was reminded of its pace and felt her heart match the silent orbit of the carved stones.
“I was so surprised to see you come out of those bushes.” His face softened in reflection.
“Hardly as surprised as I was to see you in your robes, and to think that you could make such a thing.”
Bolus scoffed and pretended to be wounded.
“I wish I could go with you to the capital, but that truly would be the end of your mother, better to stay and be hated.”
“They’ll need you here.”
“How so?” He studied his niece's face, oblivious her eyes locked on the spinning as they always were when she was in the presence of the Torquetum. “You think whatever happened in Naxos will happen here?”
“I couldn't say, but that’s certainly what is on the hearts of everyone in Trefos.”
They were quiet for a few moment, the acknowledgement of the uncertainty hung around them like a fog.
Bolus broke it with a cheery tone. “The elders have a gift for you. Not a gift really, a tool. You have to return it one day.”
He reached into his satchel and withdrew something bound in white cloth handing it gentle to his niece who began to unwrap it as he spoke. “There aren’t many of these left in the village. The people from across the ocean of sand call it the ilm al-raml, but it goes by the name of rhamplion in the capital. She peeled away the fabric to reveal two small and squat square boxes made of wood. Once the lid was lifted on the first she could see a shard of crystal encircled by a metal ring.
“The mate of that shard is in the other box. I’ll keep that one with me.” It will allow us to communicate. Once you get your answers from the Augurs rather than sending a messenger you can just speak into this box and whatever you say will be transmitted through the aeyther to that crystals mate. That hoop receives power from a Torquetum so don’t separate the two”
“This makes me feel less lonely.”
“As I hoped it would. I shall listen for you at the rising of the next new moon. If the augers are as good as they claim, perhaps they’ll have our answer by then.”

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Writing Journal: Oh my gosh, this is getting hard. Magical systems are tricky to write, enough for me to want to throw my hands up or throw in the towel or something. I'm not use to writing by the seat of my pants, or posting work before it's been edited. This is an exercise for the perfectionist part of me that wants all her ducks in a row and heavily outlined!

I feel like the plot is progressing pretty smoothly. As I mentioned to some of people this is a prequel for a book that I haven't quiet finished yet. I have a climax and an end result in mind that is referenced in book 1, (is this book one or book zero!?)a little bit. The joy of sitting on the original story is that I can tweak details to better weave them together, but I feel like I have a lot of threads I can hold on to at the moment.

I'm happy. Almost satisfied with my work. Let's see if the momentum and the feeling persists through the rest of the month!