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Authors: William Thrash
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whale.”
Talin's face went from annoyed, to shocked, to thoughtful.
Melaki turned towards them. “I can maintain this longer.”
The wizard nodded at the explanation and appeared satisfied.
“The captain will tell you when to stop.”
“Aye,” said the man.
Melaki maintained the charm easily for the next several
hours. He released the oily pattern shortly after Talin disappeared belowdecks.
It was risky to do so, but he breathed easier not having to concentrate on two
patterns and there really was little reason for anyone to delve his magic
unless one was testing or learning.
“You can stop now, wizard,” the captain said.
He released the pattern and the ship began to slow. The
whale went swimming off back the way it had come.
The captain called out in that quiet voice. “One and two
down. Anchor out. Nightwatch.”
The ship floated on serene waters, moving gently.
Belowdecks he was handed a bowl of stew. It looked edible.
He sat next to Talin and spooned some. Finding it quite spicy, he spooned until
it was gone.
And that is when the vision hit him.
He groaned, dreading the onset.
“Something wrong with your stew?” a sailor said.
Melaki placed the bowl down carefully and leaned over it,
hunching his shoulders.
“There's a bucket for that, wizard.”
He was not listening. He did not feel sick, despite the
impressions he gave to those around him. Talin was speaking to him with an
admonishing tone. He gripped his bowl tighter.
Maybe I could throw up on him.
The room spun. He did not know if he fell or stayed upright.
Was the boat tipping or was he? The roar of waters surged into his hearing.
Then he was looking at the sky, at the waters above. There had not always been
water in the sky. Sometime in the distant past something devastating had
happened to the ocean, throwing water into the sky with the fury of the gods.
The ancient text called it a punishment, a curse. The anger of the gods against
man. But whatever it had been, it had changed things. Insects grew larger over
time – some heretics claiming more air pressure allowed more growth. Other
changes had been written he could scarcely believe.
He saw the sky in his vision. An enormous light appeared up
in the waters above, wavering, growing brighter. It was almost blinding. Then
it split into dozens of smaller lights and the water reflected broad flashes
where those smaller lights grew. The lights winked out, then but the waters
above churned as if boiling. Several somethings fell from the water. Dark
objects trailing smoke.
Water began to fall with them. More water than the usual
mist that hung in the air and kept things moist. He felt the water hitting his
face in small drops, more and more, and harder.
What manner of thing is this?
He was being lifted.
The vision fled as rapidly as darkness from light. He was
being carried. His ears were ringing but returning to normal. Sounds came to
him. He was deposited on a bunk. His bunk, he realized. His face was wet, not
with water from above, but with tears.
CHAPTER 4
Melaki put his quill down. He blew on the parchment to help
the ink dry. They would be docking soon, he had heard the captain above him on
the upperdecks say “Northlands.” He had barely heard it.
He began putting away his writing tools. He had been making notes
on his ideas about the differences between what he had been taught by the Rukha
and their spirit usage and Nihtu with his musings on giant magic. Over the past
few days he had come to realize that spirit magic was certainly stronger. Using
the spirits used their power rather than one's own. Spirit magic was a caster
harnessing the spirit as a farmer would harness a plow to a horse. Using the
magic of the giants was like the farmer pulling the plow without a horse.
Spirit magic was not just stronger, but could be maintained
longer. Melaki's magic drew heavily on himself, draining and exhausting him.
His magic could not last the length of time as a spirit-working.
Talin's face went from annoyed, to shocked, to thoughtful.
Melaki turned towards them. “I can maintain this longer.”
The wizard nodded at the explanation and appeared satisfied.
“The captain will tell you when to stop.”
“Aye,” said the man.
Melaki maintained the charm easily for the next several
hours. He released the oily pattern shortly after Talin disappeared belowdecks.
It was risky to do so, but he breathed easier not having to concentrate on two
patterns and there really was little reason for anyone to delve his magic
unless one was testing or learning.
“You can stop now, wizard,” the captain said.
He released the pattern and the ship began to slow. The
whale went swimming off back the way it had come.
The captain called out in that quiet voice. “One and two
down. Anchor out. Nightwatch.”
The ship floated on serene waters, moving gently.
Belowdecks he was handed a bowl of stew. It looked edible.
He sat next to Talin and spooned some. Finding it quite spicy, he spooned until
it was gone.
And that is when the vision hit him.
He groaned, dreading the onset.
“Something wrong with your stew?” a sailor said.
Melaki placed the bowl down carefully and leaned over it,
hunching his shoulders.
“There's a bucket for that, wizard.”
He was not listening. He did not feel sick, despite the
impressions he gave to those around him. Talin was speaking to him with an
admonishing tone. He gripped his bowl tighter.
Maybe I could throw up on him.
The room spun. He did not know if he fell or stayed upright.
Was the boat tipping or was he? The roar of waters surged into his hearing.
Then he was looking at the sky, at the waters above. There had not always been
water in the sky. Sometime in the distant past something devastating had
happened to the ocean, throwing water into the sky with the fury of the gods.
The ancient text called it a punishment, a curse. The anger of the gods against
man. But whatever it had been, it had changed things. Insects grew larger over
time – some heretics claiming more air pressure allowed more growth. Other
changes had been written he could scarcely believe.
He saw the sky in his vision. An enormous light appeared up
in the waters above, wavering, growing brighter. It was almost blinding. Then
it split into dozens of smaller lights and the water reflected broad flashes
where those smaller lights grew. The lights winked out, then but the waters
above churned as if boiling. Several somethings fell from the water. Dark
objects trailing smoke.
Water began to fall with them. More water than the usual
mist that hung in the air and kept things moist. He felt the water hitting his
face in small drops, more and more, and harder.
What manner of thing is this?
He was being lifted.
The vision fled as rapidly as darkness from light. He was
being carried. His ears were ringing but returning to normal. Sounds came to
him. He was deposited on a bunk. His bunk, he realized. His face was wet, not
with water from above, but with tears.
CHAPTER 4
Melaki put his quill down. He blew on the parchment to help
the ink dry. They would be docking soon, he had heard the captain above him on
the upperdecks say “Northlands.” He had barely heard it.
He began putting away his writing tools. He had been making notes
on his ideas about the differences between what he had been taught by the Rukha
and their spirit usage and Nihtu with his musings on giant magic. Over the past
few days he had come to realize that spirit magic was certainly stronger. Using
the spirits used their power rather than one's own. Spirit magic was a caster
harnessing the spirit as a farmer would harness a plow to a horse. Using the
magic of the giants was like the farmer pulling the plow without a horse.
Spirit magic was not just stronger, but could be maintained
longer. Melaki's magic drew heavily on himself, draining and exhausting him.
His magic could not last the length of time as a spirit-working.
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