Many Meetings

[Horizon's End]

Closed to INDK (though if someone is interested please PM, takes place after Forgotten Magic
The wait was interminable. The Aeratic Spine loomed in the distance plainly visible through the window facing the center yet everything else seemed vague. He had become permanently primed and so alert he had been commended for the notable improvement in his promptness and attentiveness to the clients’ needs. The library saw Thalassos rushing from one section to the other without a moment’s pause where normally he would linger, perhaps crack open a book for a simple peek only to have it join his mental library hours later but he could not afford to. He had to be ready for Salyn’s return.

In his free time he had taken to studying the texts which the mage had given him and had become proficient in advanced calculus and differential equations. The symbols which had once fostered numbers rarely saw them anymore being instead filled with even more symbols; symbols no longer meaningless but vital. Within those symbols and those numbers lay the key to magic for those ungifted, unlike the myriad mages which populated the world outside his kingdom’s walls he would have to strive to even reach the Tap but once he did it would be math which would save him.

He didn’t have the instinctual buffering which prevented most mages from being burned to a cinder which he had been told was a blessing and a curse, there was, or rather would be, no layer of subconscious defenses to shield him from the magnitude of his source. He could be immensely powerful if he did the calculations correctly which was why he had attempted to do them mentally only to find he needed the crutch of pen and paper. Eventually he would need to stop relying on them as a mistake in a manipulation of the source would cost him dearly yet he had some time to learn, he did not know how long, though, which made the wait interminable.

In addition to that problem the library had become busier in the recent days, he was unsure why though the government was surely at fault; some festival perhaps or some assembly or meeting. He did not know nor did he care, he was simply happy he was not in a more central library and thus was spared the likely brunt of the influx. This was not to say the library he worked in was small by most standards, it was decent and quite comfortable, he found, with lush seating and good lighting; all in all a good place to work in. The newfound busyness, however, was a chore, most new clients were foreign and spoke no or pathetic, even by the city’s low standards, Salvic which made communication difficult; all he had learned with Salyn was a few choice curses and interjections in Raiaeran, his Tradespeak was still terrible.

Helping an old woman and what looked like her daughter find The Ancients, Thalassos was pleased with himself; he had finally helped find a reasonably good book unlike the ill-written trashy novels most people requested. Without a pause, he kept moving and greeted the next costumer, a man around his age with eyes the same ashen grey. The man wore a garish yellow outfit and spoke in the terrible Salvic of the outer provinces, degenerate beyond repair it was a miracle he understood the man and pointed him to a book on agricultural developments. He surmised the man must have found him hard to understand as well, his own tongue was archaic even to the most educated of people, yet he could but blame the others; his home’s isolation had protected their dialect against the decays of the world.

The day was not nearly done though he could see grey clouds in the distance, none near the city as a force kept them at bay, plainly notable by the radius of clouds whose center was the spine. Every person entering made his heart jump thinking it would be time to leave even though he knew a wait of months was likely, even though he needed the time to study more but like a child awaiting his name day Thalassos hoped to the see the old man’s face walk through the threshold every time the door opened. The time will come, he thought, and as he tried futilely to relax he started to blissfully lose himself in the manipulation of a complex system in a multivariate equation. Magic would be his.

[INDK]

For this thread, take it that normal font means Tradespeak, green means Salvic and red means Raiaeran

The Slayer Songbook had more pages than Damon expected to be able to read in an entire lifetime. He had often wondered about its creation for that reason. Had it been just one scribe who’d sat down and done it? If so, where had this person found the time to learn all the spells, let alone write them down? If it had been a group of people, how was it that with the exception of the newer pages written in Tradespeak and Salvic, the handwriting was identical. Those were mysteries that Damon never expected to be able to answer, and the fact was that he didn’t particularly care to answer them anyways. The boy wasn’t particularly enamored with the songbook itself. He felt it was a bit too bulky to carry around with him everywhere, and the satchel that Sevviel had given him for it made it particularly cumbersome for him to reach his machete.

More importantly, the spellbook made Damon feel inadequate. While Sevviel had informed him to the contrary, the boy truly believed that his former self had mastered every last spell that the book had to offer. The fact that all that he had relearned was one of the book’s many spells meant that he was still far behind his old self. Catching up with a legend felt like a race that the boy could never win, and the more Damon thought about it, the less interested he grew in running that race at all.

However, he had no choice. Sevviel seemed keen that he learn the spells inside it, and the boy had to admit that learning to Quicken his body around Althanas had brought him a great number of advantages. Thus, he sat mumbling the lyrics to a spell that would have allowed him to see deep into the hearts of men to know their inner most secrets, as he thumbed through the book to look for something more interesting. Eventually, he found it. It was a short spell, written in Salvic, and only consisted of one verses. The song, when loosely translated into Tradespeak, carried the name “Sun’s Lie.”

The sun beats down with blinding light,
To abandon us in the dead of night,
To win the battle and reclaim a nation,
Seek another form of salvation,
The stars glow strong, the stars glow true,
The stars are there me and you.
With mother faith and father song,
This spell will help you carry along.

The boy read on. There were a few notes he had written below the song, and they were ones that made his eyes shine widely with excitement. Written in Salvic, Damon had bemoaned his own ability not to master the song, and had written a note to himself that only the journals in Knife’s Edge might offer some help as to how he could harness the stars both by night and day. He knew enough about his past life to know what “reclaim a nation” meant. It meant that if he figured out this spell, he would be able to reclaim Surat.

With a wide smile on his face, the boy licked his lips. “If I do that, I’ll have done what I couldn’t have done in the past.” With no intention of waiting for Sevviel, the boy grabbed a loose piece of parchment and then wrote the angel a note. He then grabbed a coat that would allow him to brave the cold weather and quickened himself to the library marked on the map he had drawn before in the Slayer Songbook.

-x-

Soon, Damon found himself in the library. It was fairly busy, at least by the boy’s standards. However, as far as Damon was concerned, no one would really choose to ever spend their time among this many books when there were so many other interesting things out there in the world. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a note saying that he should come there, he wouldn’t have bothered.

However, the boy didn’t want to spend all that much time there, so he went over to the first person who looked like an authority he could find and held the book open. “I want the journal that’ll help me finish this spell” he demanded.

[Horizon's End]

The math had gotten irritating, his inability to fully master it was new; usually one read through of any material guaranteed a complete understanding yet this was hard. His mind struggled to create the abstract structures required even though he did recognize he was getting better at it albeit slowly. Besides that he had started pacing again, he had grown too restless for his work, too anxious.

“That’ll be in the fiction aisle, follow the aide,” he said without thinking to a man inquiring about a novel whose name he knew but remembered only for as long as it took to answer.

He returned to the main desk while other librarians tended to those already there. He noted two new returns The Greatest Love Stories of the Last Millenium which brought the expected gag reflex and a historical tome, new and barely used, The Rise and Death of The Prodigal Son whose nature eluded him. Thalassos could not sit down as he felt the need to stand, no, he realized, he felt the need to embark on an adventure the results of his previous one notwithstanding. The Salvarian tundra was huge for a single man alone and exiled.

Shaking his head a little to rid himself of the memory the young man wearily stared at the book he had subconsciously brought. Salyn’s On the Nature of Magic was not a thick book and Thalassos must have physically read it more than once, a rarity considering his perfect recall yet it was too fascinating. It was what he had wanted, his bible, his reference and suited to any level. He put it down near, but not on, the recent returns opening it to a particular page which displayed equations describing the turbulence of the Tap. All of this would help once he pierced through to the Tap itself linking it with his mind; it would become like a limb, a very powerful limb that required pinpoint precision in its control.

Looking up from his page, he noticed the oddest sight. A young man, much younger than those that usually entered alone, pale and somehow off came in. As the boy neared Thalassos noticed why he felt something was off: the eyes, pale and black, threw him more than Salyn’s colorful ones. He began to feel scared, black was the color of death, a color no one would dare wear back home and now he saw all black in what many referred to as windows to the soul. He was not superstitious, no, of course not, but this was beyond the scope of irrational fears, this was wrong somehow.

Then, then it spoke. He understood, if barely, the Salvic was worse than most’s as if learned somewhere beyond the outskirts. Ready to answer in the most condescending of manners, he realized what book the other held. He did not recognize it, of course, it was not that well known but he recognized the feel of authenticity. The spell was written in the style of Raiaeran song magic if the books he had read spoke truly though in Salvic. He was still a little off-put by the concept of Song Magic, how did simple words and tune call magic forth? It baffled him where once all magic had.

“Well, let’s see now. It’s good you know what you want but I don’t. What exactly do you want? I could show you a good selection of books on magic theory but we don’t have that many that deal directly with Raiaeran Song Magic, least of all journals,” he mused, “Perhaps Radzin’s Spellcrafting would help you? No? I could get you some general magic journals though I don’t think you could cope with their level…” The boy didn’t click with Thalassos, perhaps it was the arrogant demand by someone younger or the need to cover his fear of the too black eyes but he saw no reason to be terribly helpful.

[INDK]

Damon found the answer very unsatisfying. The library was huge, with mountains of books. As he could see on a nearby shelf, there were fourteen different editions of Radzin’s Spellcrafting alone. With all those books out there, Damon figured that there would have had to have been one that was dedicated just to answering his question. Turning spells for sunlight into starlight as well couldn’t have been all that difficult, surely there had been books written about greater challenges than that. “It’s just light,” Damon figured. “Really, how hard could it be?”

He sighed. “Perhaps Radzin’s Spellcrafting would help me, but I need to know if it’s long” Damon replied, in a voice that showed absolutely no hints of sarcasm. “I would rather you just told me what book, and what page. I don’t want to have to read any more than I have to.” The library was full of books, some of which were twice as wide as the Slayer Songbook. Given how many pages the Raiaeran spellbook had, Damon was concerned that if he didn’t get any better advice, then he would be stuck in the library all day.

“No wonder I never came here earlier,” the boy thought with a scowl. “He probably didn’t want to have to read all this stuff.” With that, Damon set the Slayer Songbook back into his satchel, and took another exhale. He was about ready to go ask someone else in the library for assistance, when he saw a book that had a big ‘B’ on the cover.

The boy smiled. It was the Brotherhood symbol. Someone had decided to write a book about the Brotherhood, and that meant that the book would contain some of the history about his past. “I want that book too…” the boy said, pointing to one of the new returns. It was the Tome labeled The Rise and Death of The Prodigal Son. From the subtext below the title, the boy now saw that it’s subject was none other than Damon Kaosi.

“Whoever wrote that book probably knows what book it was that Damon wanted to read in the first place,” the boy assumed. “If I read that, I’ll be able to get through the magic journals much faster.”

Damon was aware at the somewhat specious logic of attempting to read one book just to get out of reading another, but he thought this would be much faster anyways. His own history was a story that at least held some interest to him. The boy had seen a magical journal before, and he knew just how incredibly dry and dull they could be. For all their talk about eternal taps and sonic vibrations, they seemed to always forget to talk about stuff that normal people like Damon cared about. All he ever wanted from these books were to know where ancient weapons were located and how to perform powerful spells that took little effort to learn.

He didn’t see why it had to be so hard.

[Horizon's End]

“This book?” was all Thalassos could mutter quizzically, it was a history book he was sure. He had never read it but the idea of solving a magic problem with a history book was…not so foolish he realized. He doubted the boy would have reasoned that, though, it had been too much of an impulse question for that. However it was not for Thalassos to judge whether someone had the right to a book whatever he felt, he quickly logged that it had been returned and picked it up while giving it a once-over to see if he noticed something special, he didn’t.

“Take it, boy, I hope it will help you,” he said somewhat sincerely, he did not much care for the other’s attitude but matters of magic did interest him, Raiaeran Magic being special in that its source was said not to be the Tap. He wanted to learn about it, after all a wizard needed to know all there is to know. “If you need help interpreting some of the language simply ask,” he continued knowing the pathetic state of literacy certain Salvic residents exhibited coupled with the odd accent the boy showed while sliding the book over, “history books are usually somewhat dense.”

“As for Spellcrafting, I can tell you he has… let me see here,” Thalassos said pausing for a second while he opened his mental index, “a whole section on Song Magic starting on page 452 running through 687 in the standard Salvic format, if you told me what school the spell belonged to I could narrow down the selection. Besides this he elaborates on commonly encountered issues in the second appendix.” Though most of the books in the library he had never read, he had combed through most of the indices of those that had them.

Of course a book like Radzin’s had deserved some reading, he had skimmed through in awe at the things there described but it was not a book meant for a starting mage. The concepts there were high-level and used technical language no amount of logic would help him with. The equations had been unassailable then as well, even now rereading mentally he found most were still beyond his grasp which thrilled him; it meant the world of magic was vaster and deeper than he could conceive.

This only served to remind him of the journey homewards Thalassos would undertake when Salyn’s preparations were completed; the idea of it still shook him to his core. His home, Ead’Nith, a place where magic could not enter. It explained a lot, his ignorance about magic until his exile, of the outside world in general, so much that he still found the fact hard to believe. Simply because magic was unknown inside the walls didn’t mean it was somehow blocked off, how would one even do that? How could magic block magic? He knew how little he knew yet that seemed preposterous.

“Oh, I almost forgot, if you want me to get the book for you let me know. We also have the book in most other languages if you prefer. I’ll be here reading up on my own magic,” he finished almost smiling, he was simply not a man who could avoid helping others, “though I will try and help with any questions you have.” He resumed reading his own book which was detailing equations helpful in the transmutation of energy between different forms, it was a difficult chapter though in general the level of the book was none-too-simple. It’s all fascinating though, he thought idly, anyone should find this elegance, simplicity and power almost too much to grasp. How beautiful the Universe’s mysteries were spelt out in so succinct a tongue, how beautiful.

[INDK]

Damon nodded a quick thank you and took Razlin’s Spellcrafting. The book about history could wait now that he’d been provided with the necessary pages. He sat down promptly at a desk and began to pour over elaborate equations, the kinds of which he had never seen before. Most of them contained symbols that the boy had never seen. “I can speak most of Salvic, so why not these words,” the boy thought irritably. Clearing his throat, he thought of asking for help, but decided against it.

He didn’t want the librarian to think that he was unsuited to read the bigger books.

Thus, Damon thumbed through about fifteen pages rather mindlessly, making it abundantly clear he was doing little more than glancing over the pages for things that were specifically relevant to him and not filled with pages on pages of symbols that he didn’t understand.

“To think I once understood all of this,” marveled the boy. He really hoped no one had noticed his discomfort with the advanced tome. It was particularly embarrassing for him, for even though he had identified himself as Glen Lambert on arrival, he still expected people to treat him as they would a famous legend.

Eventually, he stumbled upon a page that talked about sunlight, though it used a whole bunch of words that Damon was largely unfamiliar with. However, there was enough of it that the boy could be certain that this was the information he had come to Salvar to receive. The boy quickly began to transcribe the part he could read, writing it very rapidly onto a piece of parchment he had snatched off of the desk.


Light is a pure substance that remains undiluted. However, the strength of light varies. The more distance an object is from its light source, the more likely it is that other objects are going to absorb the needed light. Performing song spells that call on natural elements always have these difficulties, but light spells can be congenitally flawed at night due to their particularly capricious nature. While light exists at night, it is quite unreliable, and not particularly useable by all but the most experienced light mages.

Many have sought for, a transfiguration spell by with which one is able to fundamentally alter the color of their skin so as to absorb light with a much higher propensity than the average human being. This spell needs to be performed in an all white background around noon, so as to maximize absorption. Mages seeking to perform this spell often come to Salvar for that reason. Areas north of Knife’s Edge, particularly close to Sirsulay, are best, especially during the summer months.

The late Damon Kaosi submitted a journal article in a Turlin’s annual publication shortly before his death suggesting that he had come close to finding this formula. Numerous mages had pointed out the flaws of actual applicability, and suggest to be successful, the spell crafter must be able to temporarily exist in a liquid state of being. Needless to say, no one has entertained General Kaosi’s suggestion seriously, even in the Turlin school where it was published.

Everything after that dealt with fractions relating to proportion of mass change in the body and correct body temperature and a whole bunch of details that Damon thought were going to be exceptionally tedious. The boy was excited by the idea though. Now, not only was he going to be able to outperform his past self, he was also going to be able to outdo everyone else who had written in these journals.

There was still one problem. Damon was going to need someone who could help him with all of the more technical stuff that bored him. Someone like the librarian.

“I’ll just promise him adventure,” the boy thought. “He’s probably really bored being stuck in a library like this all day.”

“I’m going to take these two books,” Damon announced, slamming Razlin’s Spellcrafting shut and putting the history tome on top of it. “I’m also going to perform a spell at noon tomorrow near Sirsulay. If you want to come, I could use an assistant.”

Damon used the word assistant intentionally. He wanted to make sure the librarian knew who was in charge.

[Horizon's End]

Smiling, the older man had been reading in rapt attention a paragraph so dense a more common man would have thought it gibberish. To him it was the most natural thing too, he still found it hard to believe other people thought the pursuit of the absolute truth of the Universe, through whatever means, was not the most captivating one. Even if it was nigh incomprehensible in the jargon of its researchers, every now and then, though, came a man who synthesized the truth into words anyone could understand. That was one of his newest goals, a goal he could more easily achieve than some of the others.

To do that, though, he needed to first learn and experience magic to its fullest which was why it was such a surprise the boy asked him to come along. Wrapped up in his own book Thalassos thought the boy had combed through Radszin’s book easily which impressed him, it meant something he already suspected from the eyes, there was something more to this boy.

“Sure I’ll go along, b---young man,” he managed, barely strangling the ‘boy’ from his words, “I’m Thalassos.”

This would be an interesting experience, to see a Raiaeran spell performed by one who so fully grasped its theory, most didn’t, he knew, relying instead on their instinct and subconscious mechanisms, but that did not interest him anymore than talk of colors would interest the color blind. He could not say he did not long for it but learning about that subject was relegated to a curiosity and to a hurdle he would overcome and emerge stronger than he would have been.

“Tomorrow at noon it is, then. Near Sirsulay, you say? I’ll look for you there. In case you need me I’ll be waiting right here,” he jovially commented. He assumed due to the boy’s fidgeting manner that he wanted to leave as soon as possible, probably to get some complex preparations readied. Being an assistant to an actual mage, the mere thought of it excited him like few people would have expected. He relished the opportunity much like a squire relishes his knowing through it he will become that very knight, hopefully surpassing his lord’s skill through his training.

I will finally get to see it done in a true wizard’s environment! Tomorrow will be my awakening as a wizard, the Universe has conspired to grant me this right and I will not fail it, I will not fail myself. As I realized the immensity of this coming day one thing became clear, I needed to remember every detail tomorrow, every gesture, every word, every cue, I will see this mage… his self-narrating thought trailed off as he remembered he still had only the vaguest of ideas of what the boy wanted to cast.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” he cried once again, “What kind of spell will you cast tomorrow? Oh! Also, what should I call you?” He cut-off what could have been a long stream of such questions, only to widen his eyes slightly in surprise, his usual hierarchy of people with respect to their age was not working as expected, this level of deference was usually reserved to someone in his parent’s circles. Magic did always have a way of subverting his mind, perhaps that is what drew him to that unknowingly forbidden fruit in the heart of Ead’Nith’s Central Library.

[INDK]

Damon liked the answer he got from the librarian. True, the boy would have rather had seen some more visible signs of eagerness and a willingness to leave right now, but the answer he’d received was acceptable. Now, Damon tried to conceal his own joy at getting a willing assistant who had made no mention of remuneration, but a broad smile was too readily apparent on his face.

“My name is Glen Lambert,” he said, figuring it was easier for him to adopt the pseudonym than to offer up a long explanation about how he was sure he was the legendary Damon Kaosi, even though he lacked any memories about the life he’d lived in the past. “I’m here from Lornius, and tomorrow I will be casting a transfiguration spell based on song magic. I don’t have the exact notes, I have the words, but the notes matter more, you know. If you come with me to Sirsulay, you can help me figure out the notes that go to the song.”

Damon already possessed an elaborate description, replete with diagrams, on how to find the right notes for transfiguration spells. However, the boy had been easily bored with the process, given how intricate it was. Every sound wave had a slightly different frequency, and those frequencies determined everything around the singer. In transfiguration spells, where natural and magical elements both had to align themselves correctly, one wrong note could cause a spell to fail. Or worse, the caster could inadvertently sing a spell that caused more harm than good.

Since he was aware of the risks, Damon did not want to go about the spell halfheartedly. However, he was a bit lazy, and his lack of experience in the craft made him feel that having any kind of a magician as an assistant could only be an asset. The boy’s experiences with song magic were limited to only one spell, and that was one that he had already had written out for him. It had been a bit of a test of his singing voice, but not nearly as testing on his magical theory. His inexperience had practically necessitated that the Librarian come with him.

“Anyways, it is going to be a long trip, and I want to get organized this night. We can stay in an inn somewhere in the town when it gets too cold, but that means we’re going to have to start moving,” Damon continued. In truth, he wasn’t sure where Sirsulay was, other than the fact it was north of them. However, the boy didn’t want to wait a long time, especially because his newfound assistant might be particularly capricious. “If you head out with me today, we’ll plan everything tonight in the town, over drinks or something.”

The boy figured that would be a good enough offer. He had already promised adventure and now he was offering a free meal and stay at an inn as well. Damon himself would have never refused an offer like that.

“You should probably check out a book on directions to Sirsulay,” Damon concluded. “But then let’s be going.”

(feel free to bunny Damon moving)

[Horizon's End]

Glen Lambert, thought the librarian, the name is oddly fitting. He could not say why but something about it made him say, yes, that’s him. It was sort of surprising he wanted to leave now; a bit suspicious even considering how long he had known the boy. Rationality told him to say no but any one who knew him well would know the answer would be a resounding yes. The promise of learning was just too great, he was addicted to it. Besides that the immature part of him was curious to find out what exactly the boy had meant by “drinks”.

Thalassos chuckled before answering, it was a habit he had begun picking up from Salyn, “No need, Glen, I remember the map of Salvar better than I do the back of my hand. Which is a weird expression because who would ever learn the back of their hand? It’s always there, there’s no need to do it,” he coughed briefly realizing the fool he had made of himself, the name had demystified the boy leading to a much laxer speech pattern.

“I do need to get my traveling equipment, please wait a second while I get it,” and without waiting for a response he almost glided to his room. He picked up his staff, a sturdy coat, and a few supplies he had begun saving for his other trip. He also quickly penned a note to his fellow staff warning them of his absence, he would have grabbed one of his books but that would have been pointless; they were all somewhere much safer and more accessible. Rushing outside, to the inside of the library, he came face to face with what seemed like an impatient Glen.

“Well, there’s no time to waste. Let’s go.” The excitement was now palpable in his voice. He realized how disjointed his actions seemed, how unconnected and impulsive he was acting but he could hardly control himself. This was to him a warm-up, a chance to prove himself before the grand journey, this was a short jaunt, nothing more. It promised an experience of magic, however, before the other one.

He led the way out of the library, opening the thick oaken door and taking a last comforting glimpse inside to the arrays of books, the wooden décor, the comfortable chairs, it was his home. He mouthed a goodbye before turning to the present challenge. The sun was strong, as far as he knew, as strong as a Salvar sun got, and the Aeratic Spine seemed to be keeping the clouds away which worked perfectly for him. He felt the balmy breeze brush through him, seemingly warm yet biting to a non-native as he motioned for Glen to follow him North-bound.

Tired of the silence Thalassos asked, “So, Glen Lambert, how is it a young man such as yourself is doing such complicated magic? I mean, I’ve heard of such things but it is still an odd occurrence.” He ended with a peculiar colloquialism of his dialect, as his tongue loosened he fell into the speech he had used among friends in Ead’Nith, a much older Salvic which most current speakers would have difficulty with.

And so the young librarian’s journey began on a sunny Salvic day. The clouds had parted for his departure in a sure augury of what he was to achieve, Thalassos Earessar, Salvar’s Wizard. Hm…that sounds like a good title, Thalassos thought in a way that interrupted his narration, Salvar’s Wizard, hm…not bad.

[INDK]

Damon had waited impatiently for his traveling partner to return with equipment, but the boy had made good use of the time while he had waited. Given that he would need a bag to carry the books he’d taken from the library, the boy had nicked a small satchel from a reader who was poring over the newest issue of a magazine called Fiefdom. He’d also made it a point to learn a bit more about Sirsulay, looking on a small atlas that was on the librarian’s main desk.

“So it’s up near the top,” the boy thought to himself. “At the real tip of the north.” Damon hadn’t wanted to admit to his newfound companion that he knew nothing of Salvic geography and so it was good that he’d figured out just how long a distance it was. It would have been embarrassing for him had he thought that it would take less than a half hour only to find that it was a six hour journey.

As it was, Damon knew they would have to find some means of transport quicker than their feet. Salvar was wider than it was long, but that didn’t change the fact that traveling in the cold was particularly grueling. Even now in the summertime, when the nights lasted for less than a few hours travelers never traveled for more than three straight hours without rest. If they wanted to be in Sirsulay by noon tomorrow, they would either have to brave incredible cold, or walk very quickly.

Soon, the librarian reappeared, and the two made their departure from the library. It was at this point, Damon realized that his assistant had never formally introduced himself. “Either that,” Damon thought, “or he said it and I didn’t remember.” Regardless, the boy was going to have to ask again, unless he could get the librarian to mention it somehow. If they were talking, Damon figured that the name might come up somehow in conversation.

However, it seemed that his partner wanted to ask about other things, most particularly Damon’s least favorite subject; magic. “I had to read through all those books now he wants me to talk about it?” the boy thought incredulously, genuinely curious about how someone could be that incredibly interested in the theory of magic. “What’s he want to know, about fractal density or sound harmonics or any of those other things that Razlin wanted to talk about too much?”

Still, Damon wanted to maintain his pretense about being a skilled mage. “I’ve learned this stuff since I was a child,” he said, making up an answer as he spoke. It was not out of a desire for deception that he lied, but simply because he wanted to avoid answering a very complicated question about his reincarnation. Undoubtedly, anyone as interested in magic as this librarian would ask questions ad nauseum about any magic as strong as that. It would have been embarrassing for Damon to have admitted he didn’t know. “The Lamberts are a mage clan in Corone. We study the Raiaeran song magic. I’ve just spent more time on it, so I’m more experienced now.”

It was a short answer, but Damon figured it was neither curt nor begged follow up questions. However, the boy figured that he still would need to change the subject, lest it fall again on something boring.

“We should find a tavern somewhere,” he said. “That way we can see if we can’t hire someone to give us a ride most of the way. Where is the nearest place for that around here?”

(You feel free to bunny as well)

[Horizon's End]

As the talk of magic began anew it was almost comical how quickly the Salvic citizen began to nod along sagely but obviously naïvely. He could almost convince himself he had read of the exploits of the Lambert’s, almost for his memory would not have failed him if he had; maybe he had heard of it, yes, maybe, that could be it. He did not have an eidetic memory after all, even his book memory wasn’t like that; it was like a library where the books went into storage. That was his visualization of it; intellectually he reasoned it was likely much more abstract.

Glen’s suggestion had been a good one, though, to get to Siruslay by tomorrow they would need some faster means of transport. Not quite luckily Thalassos knew one of the nearest taverns where most of the locals gathered, “Nearest place is around 10 minutes away, I’ll get you there, it’s a nice place.” He was about to say the name but he wasn’t sure how well the boy might react, he had an odd accent, who knew what religions he followed and a tavern called The Church of the Serial Cliché. He had come to learn it was the kind of place which could not exist save so far from the city’s center.

“I have to admit I’ve never been to Corone, never really been outside Salvar though I hope to someday. It’s pretty amazing to have made this kind of journey, though. You must have come through Alerar, too. Amazing.” Glen was like Salyn, like Hikari, well traveled, yet he was so young.

Before he knew it they were there and grinning weakly at the tavern’s name he motioned the boy to enter. Hopefully their conversation would pickup inside the place, he was a serious worker but he was young and did like to unwind every now and then which was why, “’ey there, Thalassos, what’s that you got there? A father already? Which one’s the mother?” followed by a moist guffaw.

He felt the need to groan, that was Oldin, of course, somewhat drunk already. Other people weren’t but somehow he should have expected this, the poor man must have recently lost everything due to the assassination of his boss, Parliament wasn’t as stable as it once had been. It had happened three days ago and guiltily he, remembered, his excitement for his adventure had made him forget his friends. Sneaking a violently mortified look at his companion, Thalassos quickly turned back to his friend.

“Oldin, friend, how are you? How’ve you been doing? Everything alri—,” he was rudely cut-off by his friend.

“Don’t be worrying about me with your funny little words, librarian, I’m good. Not sad no more, found a new job, a better one,” Oldin said smiling, that very librarian realized to others the speech might have sounded more normal but most people’s speech, drunk or not, sounded like that to him.

“I’m glad,” was all he could say. The other man was too wrapped up in celebrating and doubtfully heard him but it did not matter.

He noticed Glen had already sat down but he was unable to get a good read in those black eyes, “Sorry about that, Glen. So, about that ride… I would say our best bet lies with that man by the door. The one in that oddly secluded corner by the broken lamp, his name’s Jenath, the thing is he really doesn’t like me all that much, seems to have a thing against us intellectuals,” he laughed at that last thought, he’d found something to open the boy up a little.

[INDK]

Damon smiled. The tavern was the first place he’d been to on this trip to Salvar where he’d felt somewhat comfortable. Though he had previously had a bit of trouble at a Church of the Eternal Sway, this trip had caused Damon to wonder if Salvar wasn’t a place of nothing more than books and snow. This tavern suggested another part of Salvar. The people were mostly gathered around fires and many of them smelled of sweat that was days old, but it reminded the boy of places he’d been to in Lornius where he had been able to regale the patrons with fictionalized tales of his valor.

Here, the boy would have been content to do the same thing, had it not been for the task at hand. He had ignored the small talk about moving through Alerar and Corone to arrive in Salvar, instead opting to explain the process of quickening to his new found apprentice at a later time when he needed to validate his magic. Now, for one reason or another (Damon suspected it was most likely his impressive entrance) the boy had no reason to fear his legitimacy as a leader of their expedition.

“I’ll take care of getting us a ride then,” the boy said. He pulled up his pants a bit to make him seem a bit more impressive, and lowered his voice a bit so that he might seem a few years older. Sauntering over towards the man in the corner, he may have looked almost comical, had people with his blank black eyes been a common sight in Salvar.

“Kahn I help you?” Jenath asked. The man eyed Damon suspiciously, putting down his glass of whiskey so as to examine the boy better. “I dohn’t get mehny of your kind heahr.”

“Seen any of my kind before?” Damon replied, feigning callousness with the question. “I’m not really from around here… at least not any more, but I need a ride to Sirsulay.”

“Vhen?” Jenath asked, taking an equally cool attitude to that of Damon’s. There was no hostility between them, but their actions could have been easily misinterpreted had it been a different setting.

“As soon as you can go,” came a curt retort from the boy.

An almost obstinate smile appeared on Jenath’s face. “If you want to go now, it’ll cost estra”

“Whatever it is, I’ll pay it. Just get ready to go now.” Damon retorted.

As Jenath beamed widely, Damon realized that he had made a mistake. He began to feel his ears turning red with embarrassment, and his librarian assistant looking on and snickering. “Now I’m going to get overcharged,” Damon thought. “He thinks I’m desperate now.”

“I go get rehdy, then,” Jenath said. “It vill be fivty gold.”

Damon nodded. At least the price wasn’t too bad. “I’ll meet you out by the front when you’re ready.”

“Fivteen minutes,” Jenath replied.

With that, the boy went back over to his assistant, figuring that he might now just have to demonstrate a magic trick or too just to make sure he didn’t look too foolish. “Either that or he might just think I’m rich…” the boy thought, trying to console himself.

As he approached Thalassos, Damon said nothing of the cost, merely barking out a succinct summary of what had happened. "It'll be fifteen minutes. Get ready. We'll talk about our plans for the spell till then."

[Horizon's End]

All dialogue by Damon was written by him.
It was funny, he had to admit, that the boy had so arduously argued for a quick departure without even the attempt to lower prices. More unbelievable is what Jenath had charged, it was outrageous and an obvious ploy to get out of giving them a ride. 50 gold pieces? That’s half my life savings for a single ride and somehow Glen said yes. The Lamberts truly must be a mighty clan to let money loose so freely. His thoughts were awed and yet somewhat amused, the fact that Glen could afford this and that the boy would agree to this vying for mental dominance.

He was still shocked at the price, though, it was not like Jenath had a quality service; it was not very nice. 50 gold pieces. It was a hard swallow since he felt extremely guilty letting the other foot such a bill but he could do little else, he was not about to hand over a quarter of what he had saved. He knew he was not the richest of men, a librarian’s wages were not as high as they were in Ead’Nith, the keepers of knowledge here were much less respected.

As Glen came back he felt the need to say something, though, “Glen, are you sure about this? Jenath’s trying to cheat you, I’m sure you could get him down to 5 gold pieces. Look at him,” he whispered, “he can’t even believe this is happening.”

Glen paused for a moment. "I don't really care," he said, after what seemed like a moment of thought. "I make that much money all the time. I'm a mage and this is an important spell."

Thalassos nodded, the pieces fit, he supposed. Being able to leave so quickly was seemingly vital and the fact that any price was worth it piqued his interest all the more though he did find one thing odd, “If that’s what you want, Glen. So about this spell, why is it so important? What plans do we need to make?”

"This spell will allow me to defeat vampires at night," the young mage replied. "That way I can liberate Surat to the north. However, like you probably know, song magic requires notes to be precise. The air has to be vibrating at the right frequencies."

Thalassos did not, in fact, know that even the air had to be so meticulously taken into account; it seemed like the more he figured out the more complicated things became. He nodded along anyway, “Yes, that stands to reason…,” he mumbled before remembering something he had read but not necessarily understood, “the harmonies have to create a similarity to allow for an associative element. " Seeing as how he didn't want potentially make a bigger fool of himself he quickly changed the subject, "Why Surat, though, that’s quite a distance from Corone?”

The boy bit his lip before answering that question. "I have friends there," he replied somewhat curtly. "That's how I speak Salvic." He took a peice of paper from the bar and began to scribble a bit of a diagram. "The energy for the spell will come from calories, since the primary aspect of this spell is transfiguration. The song allows for tap magic to pass through the air at just the right angle to hit my skin properly. The song, if sung right, will also cause my skin to begin to react with the elements around..."

Glen droned off as he lost himself in the diagram, the voice trailed off oblivious to the librarian’s disbelief. He had read of spellforms, attempted them futilely but now he was actually part of practical discussions; it was a little scary but more exhilarating than anything. He snuck a discreet peek at the diagram which quickly turned into an intent stare. Waveforms and notes seemed matched up in some way, and Thalassos could manage little more than an awkward silence which he had to break himself after it became apparent the other was too wrapped up in his diagramming.

“So, what do you need to do? It seems to me like you have everything figured out.”

[INDK]

All Thalassos dialogue written by him

“Do the math,” Damon replied, snapping out of his concentration. He had been trying to remember everything he’d learned about song magic, between the basics Sevviel had explained to him and what had been contained in the Slayer Songbook. “The mathematics is a bit complicated, and I need to worry about a few other things.”

The boy passed his paper over to the librarian. In truth, he could have figured out the mathematics. Sevviel had explained to him in large detail about how to properly calculate the air displacement that song magic required. However the fact was that Damon just didn’t want to do it. To boot, the boy wasn’t particularly confident about it. He knew how costly mistakes could be, and was a bit nervous about making another one. Given how he’d ended up being made to overpay for a simple cart ride, it just wasn’t his day for mathematics. With everything else he had to worry about, the boy didn’t really have the application for it.

However, it seemed that the librarian wasn’t going to have any of the same problems concentrating as Damon. Instead of complaining like most Althanians would, the Salvarian stidied at diagrams once more before looking up. "Alright but what do you need me to do, do? Add some numbers, calculate them?"

Damon frowned visibly. There was a bit of impatience in the librarian’s voice, as if the explanation was hardly obvious. “I need to know the rate of air displacement for the different frequencies,” the boy replied, his voice betraying a little bit of irritability. “I know the words I’m going to need to use to get my body in line, but the air is the complicated part… I thought I explained this to you.” He blinked, his blank black eyes certainly less emotive than most, but the sudden burst of hostility was none the less apparent.

The librarian swallowed. He looked a bit queasy before he gave Damon a resolute nod. "Give me the frequencies and the composition of the air at Sirsulay," the librarian managed, seemingly as if he needed to convince himself that he could do what Damon wanted.

“I don’t have the composition on me,” Damon said with a sigh. He blinked, wondering if the librarian still believed that he was capable. “I guess we’ll have to worry about it later. Do we have anything with us to measure the air?”

Damon knew the reply he would get would not be flattering, and his suspicions were soon confirmed. "How did you expect to do the math then?" the librarian asked incredulously. "I suppose we could have consulted some of the books at the library but I..." He stopped for a minute, as if he had just realized something obvious. Damon tried not to smile, but it was apparent he had been vindicated when the librarian resumed speaking with a considerably more sheepish tone. "Nevermind, all I need is the precise frequencies or some means of deriving them."

“I thought you could have just used the air around here. I didn’t think it’d be that different in Sirsulay,” Damon replied. “But anyways, I already wrote down all the frequencies.” The boy handed his table over and then went to grab a drink. He didn’t really want to have to talk to his partner all that much more, especially after what had just transpired had felt like an argument to him. Damon was just going to handle the situation now as he imagined any mature person would have done, he would leave Thalassos to the mathematics while he went off to have a drink.

He made his way over to the bartender and asked for a drink. There was no one else in line, so he got it quickly.

“Surprised ya got Thalassos out of the library,” the bartender said as he poured Damon a quick glass of ale.

Damon nodded. “Why?” he asked sarcastically. “He seems so charming.”

“He's never been on an adventure before out of town,” the bartender replied.

Damon’s eyes opened wide. “Oh,” the boy muttered, as if surprised that anyone would want to spend that much time in a library. More importantly, Damon wondered how he had managed to get the librarian out from the office. “And his name is Thalassos,” the boy thought, glad that he wouldn’t have to ask the librarian for it.

“Ya family?” the bartender asked, as if trying to make conversation.

Damon shook his head, downed his glass and then headed out to check on the wagon. He saw Jenath working on cleaning off the wheels. The horses had yet to be tacked up, and the boy couldn’t help but wonder if it would take a bit longer than had originally been promised.

“Will we be in time?” Damon asked, with a voice that suggested that he only wanted one answer.

“It vill be as you vant,” Jenath replied.

“It better be,” Damon retorted. “I’m going to stay out here and wait until its done.”

Oddly enough, that got the Salvarian working much harder, and they were finished within a few minutes. Damon smiled. It was odd how fast these things worked when there was an incentive.

“Go get Thalassos,” Damon commanded. Jenath, happy to be getting fifty pieces of gold, obliged.

[Horizon's End]

He did enjoy a challenge, he reminded himself, and now, studying the equations he had to tell himself that a few more times before he could concentrate. He knew the equations, or, rather, had read them once though he had never practiced them; they had seemed too esoteric. They were not as complicated as some of the things he had done but judging by Glen’s wording an error would cost the poor boy dearly.

This made him hesitant, he would have been willing to risk himself but he absolutely hated doing actions which could hurt others, this came in contrast to his inability to give up which emerged victorious. He could do this. He could. He began tentatively, reaching out to a text he had read and writing down the air’s composition at Sirsulay quickly checking the book which had held the equations. That was the easy part.

The part which had made him look somewhat foolish, he couldn’t dwell on that, these equations would take some getting used to. The first thing he did was the example calculation which appeared in the book, comparing answers he realized he had forgotten to add the constants of integration, shooting a nervous look at the mage’s back, who seemed to be enjoying his drink, he imagined him disintegrating as the magic failed. No, I can fix this mistake now, he exclaimed inwardly.

Not too shockingly the next sample he experimented with came much more smoothly, the third a breeze. It became a formula with two parameters, the air and the frequency. As hard as deriving that formula might have been for the purposes of calculating it was irrelevant. Thalassos was quite good by most standards at doing routine calculations, the way his mind worked he rarely added wrongly or differentiated incorrectly; problems arose from incorrect handling of the data most of the time and now that the system was in place he breezed through the actual problem at hand.

He did them twice and found no discrepancies, but just to be sure he redid a random sample from first principles and found one. He was glad he was so thorough until he realized he had, again, made a mistake in his manipulation which when corrected agreed with his previous results. He had done it, his first success. He lamented that it was not his own nor truly a success until it worked but he had finally conquered an aspect of magic. One I can’t use, he rued. Shaking his head slightly he banished the thought, Salyn said it would take some time.

Looking up from his work he saw Glen discussing something with the bartender, he couldn’t help but be a little jealous, it was unlikely the boy in front of him had gotten magic at such a young age, at that age magic wasn’t even a reality for him. Thalassos saw this as just another example of how unfair life sometimes was, his siblings were renowned, he was not, they were highly proficient in their crafts, he was a good librarian, then he came outside and saw a world where the impossible was probable. And now he was happy about solving a numerical riddle.

His reverie was broken by that odious Jenath, “Ve are going, bookvorm. Don’t look so sad, vith the price your friend paid I vill give you a estra smoot ride.” With that they both left and met up with the lucky mage.

“I finished, Glen.” He said somewhat dispiritedly. He had rarely felt the weight of his averageness in a world of heroes but a day had ups and downs, and at that moment, as he entered the ratchety wagon and the ride began with a loud something from their gracious driver, at that moment it was most definitely a down.

[INDK]

“Thanks for finishing it,” Damon replied. He didn’t really notice the sadness in his assistant now, or the boy would have managed a few extra kind words. “I’ll take a look at it now, and if you want, you can read some books- except my Slayer Songbook of course. The spells in there wouldn’t work for you anyways, they’re specially constructed.”

Of course, Damon didn’t really understand what it was about the spells in that book that had made them so significant. All he knew was that no one was able to learn them, unless they learned them alongside Damon and with his blessing. It was something that Sevviel had taught him. Numerous spells, even ones that esteemed Turlin bards could not perform on themselves, came easily to Damon. The quickening spell that transported him quickly through the earth was a perfect example of that. It had been written down by Damon and though Sevviel had tried it, she had been largely unable to make it work.

Now, they were off in a carriage to perform another spell that would likely have no effect on anyone but Damon. The boy couldn’t help but to feel a bit eager about it. It gave him a bit of a smug sensibility. In many ways, he knew he wasn’t the equal of the former Damon Kaosi, the one who had been General of Raiaera and liberated Eluriand. However, the boy took solace in the similarities they did have. Being able to use the Slayer Songbook was a particularly welcome. Once this day was done, Damon would have taught himself to do something that his former self had never managed, though it would have been with Thalassos’ help. Being able to control starlight just as easily as sunlight would add to the boy’s prestige.

With that, Damon opened up the book he’d taken from the library about Salvar’s Prodigal Son, none other than himself. He understood why it was that he was referred to like that, despite being born in Surat, Damon’s heart had always been in Raiaera. Now, they boy was ambivalent as to whether or not he would amend that, but the thought of being unloved in Salvar stung a bit.

The boy absorbed himself into the book. The carriage provided a good reading environment. It was made of wood and solid enough to block out most of the winds, with a plane glass window in the back that allowed some bursts of sunlight in. It was clearly the vessel of a scholar or a dignitary. Sightseeing wouldn’t be particularly good, all the window allowed was for the travelers to see the path directly behind them. The window in the front only offered a view of the driver and the horses up there.

None of that mattered to Damon. He would have taken whatever ride had been convenient given his anxiousness to get started. As he pored over history about his previous childhood in Surat he found it particularly hard to concentrate. It was quite rare that he would get that excited. Normally, even when most other kinds of books had bored him, Damon would still appreciate a bit of reading about himself.

“Seems here I was well trained in the traditional stake axe,” the boy thought as he scanned carefully through the pages, trying to glean out the information in the book that Sevviel hadn’t already told him.

[Horizon's End]

The horrid ride was further worsened by his view, he guessed the cart must be a commoner’s transport mechanism; it was rubbish compared to the carriages one could find within his old home. It did not matter, though, he would help and that was that. The earliest part of their journey was a quiet one, perhaps uncomfortable to some but it suited his state of mind. He needed to ponder, to work his way through the emotions he was feeling. Unbeknownst to him until less than three years ago most people could not do this, emotions came and went as a matter of course. For Thalasssos, however, by reaching through the complex bramble of causes and consequences he was able to find where things started and why.

The mental library was the source he had realized, he was not entirely sure as to the workings of it and he felt he was reading his life when he became introspective. It was not a book he could usually find nor see but it was, in many ways, beyond sight and more profound than any other book. Very rarely he could ‘flip’ a page beyond the latest one and get a strong sensation that there was written his future, likewise by going back he often found that his birth was not even nearly the first page though what lay before he could not say. This time the book came easy, his dark mood likely aiding its arrival, he was able to metaphorically read through it relatively quickly. Things were happening more quickly than normal, he knew something was off but not what. It worried him though he found his depression fleeting, every thought pulled him out until he was able to reason it away.

He had resolved his slight anguish, taking not a negligible time but Glen was caught up in one of his books. The worry persisted, he had learned to distrust things going too smoothly but there was nothing he could do about this kind of feeling, it was not a state of mind, it was an intuition, those like all mortal men he was forced to bear out. Outside the breathtaking scenery of Salvar never ceased to amaze him, certainly he had read books of lush forests, of imposing ocean views but this concise, austere and unpretentious landscape had a simplicity that was greater than all the complexities he could fathom.

A noise disrupted the rolling sound of the wheels, the regular hoof beats of their horses became interspersed with a quicker yet still regular pounding. His worry slid to fear as he caught a glimpse of a black stallion riding behind them, the horse was catching up and though he could not see them he heard two others further ahead. The carriage jolted forward careening against something, horses neighed, fear heightened and Thalassos’s mind could barely cope. He had never been in a proper action scenario, he had read countless ones, of course, but never had he been in dire physical danger. Never. Unlike what seemed the majority of the populace his life had been a quiet one and now in the turmoil he could not have hear Glen speak even if the cacophony died down.

At one point, he could not say when, he was thrown clear out of the carriage. Pain, intense pain accompanied his fall, he felt his left arm was being run through a lightning storm of intense jolts. He could really put weight on it, he thought he heard a familiar scream, perhaps some pleading not too far away and then an eerily comforting warmth sprinkled his face breaking him out of the numbness the cold had begun to impose. He heard laughter and a final, piercing scream that chilled him more than the cold.

Opening his eyes, which had not even realized were closed, he saw mayhem, three brutish riders lay hunched over what he knew was Jenath’s corpse. Wiping his face with his hand he could avoiding dreading the dulled crimson which inevitably came. This was too much. This was their end but he had not even begun, Glen he couldn’t even see but there was hardly a chance the boy could defeat these three warriors. This cannot be the end, the book still had pages left, he pleaded to no one, the book still had pages left…