(Well, aros, looks like you picked the right day to start reading.
)
Part the Fifty-Seventh
In which: An archmage is found.
The party looks at each other, no one quite sure where to begin. Naturally, it is Anvil who speaks up. “We have come from Dar Pykos, a city-state in the Darine Confederacy--"
“I am aware of Dar Pykos,” the Miyen Kai replies. His voice is cool and melodious. He speaks in serene tones, which would be soothing were they not quite so odd.
“Are you also aware of the Mages Academy in Dar Pykos?” Anvil asks.
“I am aware such a place exists,” says the Miyen Kai, “but I know little beyond that.”
“The Mages’ Academy is in search of a new Chancellor. They have asked us to present invitations to the four most powerful wizards in the Halmae, to come to Dar Pykos to perhaps become the new Chancellor.” Anvil holds forth one of their invitations.
The Miyen Kai holds out his hand for it. But to Anvil’s surprise, before he can pass the invitation on, it rises out of his hand, and moves through the air to the Miyen Kai’s. The Miyen Kai breaks the seal and inspects the invitation.
Thatch’s eyebrows raise, impressed by this casual display of magic. Lira is less easily impressed.
A still, silent mage hand, she thinks.
Show off.
The Miyen Kai opens the scroll and silently reads it. “Interesting,” he muses. “Very interesting. I thank you for this.”
“Then you will come?” Anvil asks.
“That is hard to say,” the Miyen Kai responds. “Right now, my calling must keep me here with my people.”
“Do you expect that to change?”
“It may. It would be my hope to banish this blight from the Miyen lands, but whether or not that goal may be attained, I cannot foresee.”
“Um, yeah, about that blight…” Thatch says. Everyone looks at him. “Well, um, I was just wondering if we could, you know, see it?”
“That can be arranged,” the Miyen Kai says. “But perhaps it should wait until later. I can see from your faces that you have many questions about me.”
That is, perhaps, the greatest understatement the party has ever heard.
“Tell us of yourself,” Anvil says. “Where you are from. How you came here. Where you learned this proficiency with the arcane arts.”
The Miyen Kai smiles. “Perhaps you should tell me what you have heard, that I may know what gaps must be filled in.”
The party tells the Miyen Kai what they have heard of him, from the rumors of a powerful force among the elves heard as far away as Dar Pykos, to the specific tales of the Miyen themselves, of the prophecy and the pit of darkness that spawned the shadow creatures.
The Miyen Kai nods as he listens. Finally, he gets a faraway look. “It is difficult to say where I was before I was called here. I have no… memories. Only an awareness of places, people. I do not know how I knew what I was, or how I knew
that I was, or how I knew that the Miyen were in danger. But I did know, and I came here. As prophesied.”
No one knows what to say to that.
“So… where exactly were you before you came here?” Eva asks.
“I do not know. But I begin to suspect that I have always been here. At one with the Weave.”
“The Weave?” Lira asks.
“The Weave. What you call ‘arcane’ power. The tapestry of reality, whose threads may be moved about by those with the power.”
“Wow!” Hue says. “I never thought of it like that.”
Neither had I, Lira thinks. She doesn’t usually bother to distinguish between abilities granted by Ehkt divinely or arcanely. After all, if the gods did not create arcane magic, surely it would not exist? The Miyen Kai’s phraseology makes her wonder.
“We have heard of this prophecy,” Anvil continues, clearly uninterested in what the Miyen Kai has to say about the nature of arcane magic. “What is its exact nature? May we see it?”
“Of course.” The Miyen Kai turns to TodoTinkeni. “Bring me the Speakings of the Voice.” She hurries off and returns quickly, carrying a short stick. Lengths of knotted rope hang from the stick, like a beaded curtain. This is the elven equivalent of a book.
The Miyen Kai presents the stick to Reyu. She scans it quickly. It is largely a series of aphorisms, ranging from one topic to the next. Suddenly, however, the tone changes. Reyu reads aloud, doing her best to translate from the elven:
“I see a day/time shall arise/appear that is darkest to Miyen, and the health of the Miyen shall wane. And in this day/time, a figure/entity shall arise/appear, and she/it shall bring/create salvation to Miyen. She/it shall restore the health of Miyen, for through/from her/it shall be brought/created new hope/life.”
Anvil nods. “Indeed.”
Thatch looks at the Miyen Kai, dubious. “Um, aren’t there a lot of references to ‘she’ in there for a prophecy about you? No offense,” he adds, noting everyone’s horrified glances at him.
“It is the nature of the language,” Reyu explains. “The non-gendered pronoun is the same as the female pronoun, and the female pronoun is the general form.”
“Oh,” says Thatch, not really understanding.
“So, what are these shadow creatures, exactly?” Lira asks. “We have faced creatures that may be similar…” She describes their encounter at the Mages’ Academy.
The Miyen Kai shakes his head. “I do not know if they are related creatures, but they do not sound similar. These creatures are more like beasts. Like wild boars. The wounds they inflict, though grievous, do heal. And they are certainly susceptible to the Weave. At least, they are susceptible to my power. Perhaps, if you stay long enough, you will get a chance to see them yourself.”
“Really?” Thatch says, with perhaps a trifle too much eagerness in his voice.
“When will they next appear?” Anvil asks.
“I do not know. It can be days, even weeks between appearances. But I know when they are coming. I can feel it.”
Again, no one is sure what to say. The Miyen Kai remains, smiling serenely at them in silence.
“Well,” he says, finally, “if you have no further questions, I must return to my meditation. Join us for dinner this evening. Then I shall take you to see the darkness, and you may decide if you wish to wait and see these shadow creatures for yourselves.”
The party agrees. The Miyen Kai has TodoTinkeni see to teepees for the party, that they may rest and refresh themselves. He then excuses himself, and retires to his tent. The party, with much to discuss, retires to theirs.