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 Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2008 8:10 am
On reaching the summit, the tall Katilenuck paused to get his breath back and to toss his curly mane out of his face; he never had been very fit and the climb had tired him. Before long however, he was moving forward again, eyes and ears trained for some sign of the Nequus he was here to find. It was not long before his vivid eyes found the small shape, and once more the brindled Jala halted. “Illusionist?” he called to the grey colt, dipping his head respectfully, “might I beg a few minutes of your time? I... I need your help.” Hum, poorly put but never mind; it would have to do.
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Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2008 8:22 am
Until today.
The moment the tri-coloured stallion stepped into his field of vision Mordre could feel it. He could almost see it. Magic gave one a sixth sense of sorts, one that can best be described as a mixture of seeing, feeling and inexplicable knowing, and it was this sense that came alive when Dahak the tactician's son set hoof upon the plateau. The power echoed in his voice, too, new and untamed. At this rate the young stallion would do himself more harm than good - perhaps this was why he had come seeking help, Mordre thought to himself as he looked up. His illusion looked up with him. Together, visible colt and invisible stallion watched Dahak's approach with calm, inscrutable eyes.
"So," said Mordre, his deep adult voice set at odds with his youthful appearance. "It's you. ...I'm glad you came to me."
By offering Dahak a glimpse of one of his own secrets, Mordre hoped he could forge a bond between them from the start: what he hoped to foster, if the Katilenuck were capable of such things any longer, was trust.
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Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2008 8:34 am
As the colt spoke, Dahak had to work hard at not letting his jaw drop. That was no foal’s voice; those were definitely the tones of a grown stallion... Obviously it made more sense for the Illusionist to be an adult behind, well, an illusion, than for him to be forever young but still, it was a shock to hear a boy speak like a tall strong warrior. “Umm... Yes well I... You can... tell?” He hadn’t expected that... yet when he’d first seen the Illusionist, he hadn’t needed to be told that the grey colt was Mordre. “I think I can too,” the blue-eyed Jala said after a moment with a thoughtful frown. Then, realizing that he was probably making a bit of a fool of himself, he scuffed at the ground self consciously with a hoof and tried to think of something else to say.
After a moment or two, he raised his head to look back into the other magic user’s unreadable green eyes. “I haven’t been getting anywhere by myself... I wondered if... I don’t know, if you could give me any advice?” He really hoped so, if not it was going to be a horribly long time before he could let anyone else know what he was capable of, and he was very keen to let his powers be known. The other young stallions who had teased him for his feminine frame would sorely regret their words, it would be interesting to see if they were keener to grovel to him or to avoid him. Still, that was in the future and, if Mordre couldn’t help him, it was in the far future. Trying to ignore the dryness of his mouth, the youthful Katilenuck awaited an answer.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 2:33 am
"You have made a wise choice in asking for advice, Dahak son of Xla'lanan," Mordre said with a small smile. "Without guidance, the learning of magic is mostly trial and error - and with magic, those errors can be costly indeed. Untrained magical aptitude is often more of a hindrance than a help. Let me explain."
He detached himself from the colt illusion, letting it stand where it was and make only the small movements of a living creature at rest, and cloaked his body in a semi-translucent version of his adult self. When he began to walk, making a wide circle around Dahak, it was as though the colt's soul had left its body and was taking a wander alone. This illusion had taken many years of practice to perfect - it required a very good knowledge of the current lighting conditions, and sensing those magically had been extremely difficult at first.
"Magic is a part of you now," he began, still using his adult voice. "If kept in good balance, it will support and sustain you long beyond the normal lifespan of a stallion. I speak from experience, for it has done as much for me. However, I also speak from experience when I say that a lack of balance can be highly detrimental to your health. Not enough magic, and you will feel weak and faint as though from hunger or thirst. Too much, and it can burn your skin like fire. I still have some scars from that: unlike you, I had no teacher."
The thought of having an apprentice was a delightful one.
"In order to gain more magic, you should seek out magical areas in which to eat, drink and relax. Your instincts will tell you where these places lie: if it feels right to be in a place, if a location feels inspiring or dramatic in some way, if you see beauty in something that would otherwise be unremarkable, the chances are you will find magic there. I can also show you some of the places I have found that replenish my reserves. Magic does not always return to the same spot, but there are locations which seem to attract it more often than others. If you find yourself with the opposite problem, the best way to lose magic is to cast your spells. And at this point, I shall need some information from you."
By now he had returned to the colt illusion. Stepping inside it, he cloaked himself with it and dissipated the ghost-adult.
"You may begin by telling me the forms in which your power has thus far manifested. Worry not, we are alone - save for my boy 'Cai, and he is loyal to me. I sent for him with a spell on your arrival, and he is nearby keeping watch. None shall approach."
Now it was up to Dahak to be open with him, Mordre thought to himself as he awaited a response. Without the information he had requested, he could not help much more. Of course, even with it he might not be able to do much - it all depended upon what kind of magic Dahak was developing.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 7:15 am
Dahak watched the tall apparition move about him with unconcealed fascination. Certainly Mordre’s powers were far more showy than his own. As the old Jala spoke, the tri-coloured stallion nodded along, a frown of concentration creasing his face as he did his best to absorb all the new knowledge being thrust at him. The grulla’s words on aging surprised him, he had to admit... but what else about the Illusionist was different and could have given him his long life? It made sense, all of it made an odd kind of sense as though the words he was being given were words he had been told long, long ago and had forgotten.
As the illusion vanished, or possibly as Mordre vanished behind the illusion, Dahak frowned again and scuffed at the rock under his hooves. “I think what I can do, well sort of do, would be described as shamanism.” Here went, he’d never really thought about where he would begin describing his magic to another being. “When I was young and still living in Shrilal,” he said eventually, “I went one day to the crystal lands to explore. There six Bae colts there, tree siblings I would guess. They recognized my brindled coat, I assume their parents had told them of us, and they chased me. I fell into a river and was swept away towards D’ob.”
Dahak shivered at the memory of icy water churning about him, of struggling every moment to grab another lungful of air; he didn’t think he’d ever been as frightened as those desperate hours. “Some way downstream, I felt a rock tear my leg open,” he went on eventually with another shiver, “I didn’t have time for it then, too busy trying to breath so I ignored it. When I finally managed to get out of the river somewhere in D’ob, I checked it and... well the injury was gone leaving just some pinkness on my leg from the blood. I haven’t been able to replicate that kind of thing since though. Either whatever I’m trying to do just doesn’t happen, or my work almost completely undoes itself after a few minutes... So, there you have it. That’s what I can, or rather can’t, do.”
He hoped the green-eyed creature before him would be able to help. Somehow the image of the old creature scowling and sending him away saying he was unworthy of his gifts if he could not command them played through his mind. The young stallion quashed such foolish notions a moment later, Mordre had said that it was trial and error without a teacher; that meant that failure at first was only to be expected. No. The Illusionist would not send him away. All that remained to be seen was how and if the brindled creature could help him.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 8:36 am
Mordre smiled to himself. "You are a lucky soul indeed, Dahak son of Xla'lanan," he said. "I could only have given you more assistance if your magic and mine were alike. I know much of a shaman's power, and I assure you your diagnosis is correct. You are a shaman. Or, as you so correctly point out, you will be. ...And now that you have told me your secret, I shall show you mine..."
He dissipated the colt illusion. The air shimmered, and he stood before Dahak in his true form - tall, strong, more like a soldier than a mage, eyes twinkling with life.
"I am sure I do not have to tell you that this must remain a secret," he said. "The longer the herd thinks I am small and weak, the longer I can maintain the element of surprise. Those with our kind of power are as often feared and hated as they are worshipped. Assassins have tried to take my life in the past, and I warn you they may do the same to you. Maintain your mystique, and you will always have something in reserve that nobody will expect."
He stretched his neck, sighing when it clicked, and shook his head rapidly. His bone earring rattled. "...ah, that's better. Now, about your power. Can you describe to me how you have attempted to cast spells in the past? What did it...feel like? Were you trying to force something outwards, press something down?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 8:54 am
For a few moments the brightly coloured young stallion just stared at the old creature before him. Well there you had it then; he’d been right. Eventually however, he recalled himself to the present and nodded. “Right, yes, I understand that...” He didn’t like the idea of people being out to get him, but he would rather that than a life of obscurity as the nothing son of important parents. He would make a name for himself in his own right, or he would die trying. He would be somebody, he had sworn that to himself long long ago.
Pushing or pressing? Err... “Well...” Dahak frowned bemusedly; he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he should just try to describe it to the older stallion. Yes, that seemed best. “The first time... I don’t really know what happened but since then it’s been... Umm...” Damn, he was clever and normally very good with words but... but he wasn’t sure how to put this. “It’s like... I close my eyes and then open them again and there’s this... this wrongness in front of me. Sort of like a red thing floating in blackness and if I... I don’t know I sort of... sort of chant at it, it starts to move and pulse and I move with it and then this wind comes down and swirls around the red thing and it sort of... it sort of blows away. Umm... Did that make any sense at all?”
He wasn’t sure it even made sense to him and he was the one that had said it, experienced it. “I think...” Would Mordre want his opinion on the problem? Perhaps. “I think that... that there’s something I’m not doing at the end like I’m not... not sealing it? It all feels fine for a while but then the cut just opens up again... I’m getting quite a reputation for clumsiness the amount of scrapes and bruises I end up with,” the tri-coloured stallion muttered with a frown and a shake of his head. “When it won’t work at all though... I don’t know. Either I can’t make myself see the redness in the first place, I can’t get it to start moving or the wind doesn’t come to pull it apart. I don’t know why that could be, though... I suppose I feel... feel sort of... blocked in when that happens, again if that makes any sense to you.”
He hoped so. Mordre said that he could help. Surely the old Jala was right.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 9:16 am
Mordre frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm. You're doing well, thinking about it in metaphorical terms. It's the closest we Nequus can usually come to understanding magic, or at least to describing it. I'm not too concerned about the times when it doesn't work at all: it takes time to learn how your magic flows, what paths it has to take to get to the outside world and then to where you want it to be. With time, patience, careful thought and plenty of practice, you will learn what it feels like to be doing it right. And I don't just mean seeing the results. Reliability is difficult, but it will come to you. As for the sealing problem...hmm. Think of it this way. When you cast your spell, you attempt to change something in the world without physically manipulating it. In effect, your "wrongness" is a part of the state of the world. There must be a certain amount of inertia involved. To put it as simply as I can, it seems that you are suffering from the world's unwillingness to bend to your will: once you remove your concentration from the problem, it simply snaps back to the way it was."
As he came to the end of his sentence, he began to build up a simple flat illusion beside them. He started with a black space in the air, and then placed a glowing red circle in the centre of it.
"Right, there's your wrong thing - I know it probably doesn't look anything like that, but it'll do for now. Okay, so now you start your chanting..." The circle wavered and pulsed. "...and then the wind comes down..." The wind was represented by a swirling set of grey-white lines. "...and it blows away." The circle and the wind swept out of the sides of the black space and vanished. "Now, if I'm right, this is what happens once you turn your metaphorical back..."
The circle peeped back in from one side of the black space, turned itself this way and that as if looking around for Dahak, then zipped back to the middle and plonked itself down with an air of satisfaction.
"So what you need to do," Mordre finished, "is find some way to stop that dreadful little bugger from creeping back in when you're not looking. ...Does that make sense?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 9:29 am
Dahak couldn’t help but laugh at the illusionary red blob. It was quite a childish thing, he supposed, and normally he might well have rolled his eyes and kept his amusement hidden but... Well, Mordre was like him, wasn’t he? More like him than anyone he’d ever met. It was probably alright to be amused by silly little things like that around the grulla Illusionist.
After a few moments however, the young Katilenuck returned his attention to the problem before him and gave a nod. “Yeesss,” he said slowly, “that makes sense. You can stop water flowing downhill by putting a dam there, but when you take the dam away water still goes downhill. Or something like that, anyway... maybe pushing a rock uphill would be a better analogy because... if you stop part way through it rolls back, but if you can get it all the way to the top it should stay there.” And those words were all very well, but though he might have got his head around the concept easily enough he still had no idea how to fix the problem.
“So... would working out how to stop it coming back be trial and error?” he couldn’t think of anything he could do to keep it gone. Perhaps Mordre would have an idea... Hu, odd how quickly he’d come to hope Mordre had all the answers. Still, the elder Jala was the only one he knew of who could have the answers, so it was probably alright for him to look to the well-built stallion again and again. That was what teachers were for, wasn’t it?
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 10:20 am
And he'd laughed. Mordre felt better for that - he'd been hoping that Dahak would find the illusion amusing. Doubtless the poor soul had been worried for a while, so he'd attempted to make his explanation as lighthearted and undaunting as possible.
"Trial and error, yes," he agreed. "You'll find, if you're anything like me, that it's mostly about finding the right metaphor." As he spoke, he sketched out a few illusions in the air one after the other: the red blob as a rock, being pushed up a hill by a little caricature of Dahak; the red blob as a river with little Dahak attempting to dam it, the red blob as a caricature of a Reya fighting little Dahak, and finally the blob as a Katilenuck caricature stealing from little Dahak's store of apples. He fixed upon this last one. "Take this for example: if this is the right metaphor, here's what I'd do..."
Little Dahak preceded to chant at the intruder, making him wobble on his feet and stumble. A strong gust of wind, again indicated by lines (and this time by dust and leaves as well), swirled around the red Katilenuck and flung him to land some distance away. After a moment, once little Dahak's back was turned, the thief picked himself up and sneaked back towards the apple store.
And then, quite suddenly, a prickly hedge sprang up around the store of apples. The intruder yelped as the thorns jabbed him and scurried away.
"See?" Mordre said with a smile. "With this metaphor, build a fence around the place your wrongness wants to be. It'll realise it can't get in and it'll go away."
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 10:30 am
Though he didn’t say so, he loved the one of him fighting the Reya. He’d never been strong or brave or in any way competent in a fight, but part of him had wanted to be. He didn’t know if liking it made it the right one, or if it was just the dregs of colthood longing to be tougher but either way he couldn’t help but gaze at it a little more intently than the others. At Mordre’s demonstration of the bush barricade, he nodded.
“Yes, that makes sense.” If it was the Reya image that was right, perhaps he usually just knocked it down and when he stepped away it got back up. It needed to be finished off, obviously.
“Is there any way to telling which one is right, or is it guesswork?” the blue-eyed stallion asked, pulling his mind from his own musings before they got too far. He didn’t want to get too enthused by the idea of himself as some kind of mental warrior fighting off badness if he was no more than a shover of rocks or protector of mental apples.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 10:46 am
"The one that feels right at the time is usually the right one," Mordre said thoughtfully. "That's not always the same one - for one thing it might be more like the rock, for another it might be more like fighting the Reya. When the time comes, you'll know how you feel and you'll decide. With practice you'll discover which metaphors are best in each situation: sometimes you'll need more than one to cover a single task, or at least I have in the past."
The illusionist took a deep breath and sighed, letting his images dissipate. "I hope I've been of some use at least," he said. "Until you've tried a few things out I don't think there's much more I can do for you - unless you've any other questions you think I might be able to answer."
It was a long time since he'd directly wished to be useful to anyone except the Queen and his children. Perhaps the fact that he did now was a good sign.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 10:56 am
That was pleasing; that sometimes, in his own mind at least, he could be a fighter. Not that he’d ever tell anyone of course; they’d laugh. At the old stallion’s question, Dahak gave a shake of his head. “No, I can’t really think of anything else I can ask before I’ve tried some more... When would you like to see me again?” The young Katilenuck quirked a slight smile. “I’m just your average citizen, for now, so any time that suits you I can work around.”
He wasn’t used to being obliging like this, but it didn’t feel like a bad thing. Usually he felt as though he knew as much or more than another Nequus, that or the knowledge that they had didn’t matter. Now though he was very much aware that he was pupil to Mordre’s role as master. The Illusionist had knowledge that he needed, so he would do as suited the old Jala not just to get into his good books but out of true gratitude. He didn’t feel like he had very many friends, probably because he had isolated himself so much since coming here and because he didn’t care for their inane gossip but perhaps, just perhaps, Mordre would come to be one of those few in time. He hoped so at any rate.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 11:13 am
"I would like to see you again," Mordre said, his eyes twinkling as he smiled back, "when you feel you are in need of my assistance. With anything, mind you - I'm no great thinker, no great fighter and not even the world's best illusionist, but I've been around a good while. I know the world. Not to mention I've had time to get a backlog of favours I never called in." He became more solemn then, but there was still a quiet warmth in his gaze. "You're the only other Katilenuck mage I've seen in all my years, and as far as I'm concerned it's my Jala-given duty to look out for you. From this moment on consider yourself my apprentice: I shall provide you with whatever support and guidance is within my power to give, and all I ask in return is that you work hard. Make something of yourself, Dahak son of Xla'lanan. You have the power - all you need to do now is learn how to use it."
This, Mordre decided, was probably the most pleasant duty Jala had ever given him.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2008 11:24 am
Dahak wasn’t really sure what to make of the Illusionist’s words; it was something of an alien concept. He loved his parents, of course, and they him so far as he knew but... but they were both very busy people. His mother was always caught up with her plans, or with helping Zara learn to be a heavily capitalized Tactician, because just being a tactician would never been good enough for either of the blue and white mares. His father... Well, Xla’lanan was Xla’lanan and that was about all there was to be said on the matter.
“Thank you,” the tri-coloured Jala said after a decidedly drawn out pause, offering the dignified stallion before him a slightly uncertain smile. “I’ll do my best, always, I’ve no intention of being lazy or complacent about this talent of mine and I have always been determined to be something and someone too so you needn’t worry on that score.” Still slightly thrown by the offer, the usually deceitful Katilenuck gave his mentor a sincere smile of thanks. “I won’t let you down,” he promised with a respectful bob of his head.
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