Read Online Twixt Heaven And Hell by Tristan Gregory - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tristan Gregory
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referred to the Archangel Gabriel, chief of the Cherubim. Angels of Gabriel's order were the guardians of the secrets of magic, and had taught its use to men when first the Choirs came to earth.
“And the runes? The frog? How?”
“I have been examining that scrap of cloth for months, Darius. Since before you left Bastion this most recent time. Before that I’d been studying this tome.” Balkan produced a thin leather-bound book from elsewhere on the table. “I’m not the first wizard to take interest in these runes, it seems. I can find no name for the book’s author, but it was written soon after the Forging, judging by some of the notes.
“The runes are a language, Darius. You have heard the Angels speak when using magic, yes? Of course you have. Their greatest magics are always accompanied by words. That is what caught my attention. The Cherubim have been teaching us magic for three hundred years, and none of it is vocal. By the Sword, any soldier can tell you that the Angels sing in battle…”
That much was true. Darius had heard it many times, in the scramble to avoid the area where the Aeonians fought. Whenever a Demon exploded into the world to assault the men of Bastion, an Angel was never far behind, streaking to earth to confront it and rescue the soldiers from the other-worldly wrath. Around the terrible cacophony of battle – the shrieks of men both wounded and well, the clash of steel upon steel from all directions, and the roars of the Demon itself as it confronted its ancient foe – one could always discern a hauntingly beautiful voice risen in song.
Darius let Balkan go on for awhile before finally stopping him – his friend became quite absorbed in sharing his work with others, despite the fact that he was often trying to explain a year or more of research in a few moments.
“Hold, Balkan. Hold!” Darius held up a hand to halt the flow of words. “You’re saying you’ve learned the Angelic runes? You’ve learned their language?”
“Oh Heaven! No, not remotely. But here, look at this symbol,” Balkan said, pointing to a single rune upon the cloth. “Most of the symbols on that wooden frog match this one. It signifies movement. That alone. Movement. Not any particular kind of movement, just movement itself – the concept, the idea.
“This symbol represents ‘life.’ This one: ‘order,’ or ‘nature,’ or some combination of the two, a representation of the proper order of things, whatever those things may be. In this case, the proper order of a jumping river frog.”
“Balkan, slow down,” Darius said, still overwhelmed with the idea. Just as he’d managed to work magic in a new way only a handful of days before, it seemed that Balkan had discovered a new path of his own.
“I’ve been experimenting with these for months, as I’ve said. Most of the time I would inscribe a rune upon a piece of leather or wood and then let magic flow into it. From the way it reacted I could get a sense of what it meant.”
Balkan took a deep breath. “This frog was supposed to be a gift for Kaylie’s birthday, but it took me far longer than I’d thought to turn all the meanings into something useful. Plus, as you’ve said,” Balkan said with a rueful grin, “It’s ugly. I’m not much of a wood carver, but you have to admit – I’m quite a wizard.”
“That you are, my friend. The possibilities behind this are… beyond endless. How many symbols are there on that cloth?”
“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Balkan replied immediately. “- on this strip alone. I’ve discerned the meaning of fourteen, and have some idea on another five.”
“Wait,” Darius said. “You said this was meant for Kaylie? She could make it jump as well?”
“Yes. You see, it requires no magic from us. The symbols are capable of drawing power from all around themselves.”
Darius leaned towards his friend and speared him with an earnest stare. He spoke his next words slowly and
“And the runes? The frog? How?”
“I have been examining that scrap of cloth for months, Darius. Since before you left Bastion this most recent time. Before that I’d been studying this tome.” Balkan produced a thin leather-bound book from elsewhere on the table. “I’m not the first wizard to take interest in these runes, it seems. I can find no name for the book’s author, but it was written soon after the Forging, judging by some of the notes.
“The runes are a language, Darius. You have heard the Angels speak when using magic, yes? Of course you have. Their greatest magics are always accompanied by words. That is what caught my attention. The Cherubim have been teaching us magic for three hundred years, and none of it is vocal. By the Sword, any soldier can tell you that the Angels sing in battle…”
That much was true. Darius had heard it many times, in the scramble to avoid the area where the Aeonians fought. Whenever a Demon exploded into the world to assault the men of Bastion, an Angel was never far behind, streaking to earth to confront it and rescue the soldiers from the other-worldly wrath. Around the terrible cacophony of battle – the shrieks of men both wounded and well, the clash of steel upon steel from all directions, and the roars of the Demon itself as it confronted its ancient foe – one could always discern a hauntingly beautiful voice risen in song.
Darius let Balkan go on for awhile before finally stopping him – his friend became quite absorbed in sharing his work with others, despite the fact that he was often trying to explain a year or more of research in a few moments.
“Hold, Balkan. Hold!” Darius held up a hand to halt the flow of words. “You’re saying you’ve learned the Angelic runes? You’ve learned their language?”
“Oh Heaven! No, not remotely. But here, look at this symbol,” Balkan said, pointing to a single rune upon the cloth. “Most of the symbols on that wooden frog match this one. It signifies movement. That alone. Movement. Not any particular kind of movement, just movement itself – the concept, the idea.
“This symbol represents ‘life.’ This one: ‘order,’ or ‘nature,’ or some combination of the two, a representation of the proper order of things, whatever those things may be. In this case, the proper order of a jumping river frog.”
“Balkan, slow down,” Darius said, still overwhelmed with the idea. Just as he’d managed to work magic in a new way only a handful of days before, it seemed that Balkan had discovered a new path of his own.
“I’ve been experimenting with these for months, as I’ve said. Most of the time I would inscribe a rune upon a piece of leather or wood and then let magic flow into it. From the way it reacted I could get a sense of what it meant.”
Balkan took a deep breath. “This frog was supposed to be a gift for Kaylie’s birthday, but it took me far longer than I’d thought to turn all the meanings into something useful. Plus, as you’ve said,” Balkan said with a rueful grin, “It’s ugly. I’m not much of a wood carver, but you have to admit – I’m quite a wizard.”
“That you are, my friend. The possibilities behind this are… beyond endless. How many symbols are there on that cloth?”
“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Balkan replied immediately. “- on this strip alone. I’ve discerned the meaning of fourteen, and have some idea on another five.”
“Wait,” Darius said. “You said this was meant for Kaylie? She could make it jump as well?”
“Yes. You see, it requires no magic from us. The symbols are capable of drawing power from all around themselves.”
Darius leaned towards his friend and speared him with an earnest stare. He spoke his next words slowly and
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