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74. Grace and Memory
🕑 Added 2020-08-08 16:23:55 +0000 UTCNote: there's a reference to family violence in this chapter. I've marked the relevant paragraph with ^^^ for those who may wish to skip over it.
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The bowl was polished mahogany, like the one that taught me the Healing Water spell, except shallower. The style felt similar though, like they’d been shaped by the same artist. The design on the inside was similar too. It depicted a snake’s body curving around the bowl’s rim, the head diving inwards towards the center. But unlike the Healing Water spell, the spell’s effects this time were nebulous.
I set the bowl carefully aside and set my mind to pondering. The rest of me went to work, feeding wood to the campfire and getting a pot of morning porridge started. I still had some cornmeal left over, and I decided to make corn cakes to go with it. They wouldn’t be donuts, but I figured Ikfael would like them.
A griddle would’ve been nice, but I had a flat stone that served. A little bit of fat on top, and soon enough the corn cakes were sizzling. I kept an eye on them, while my mind turned over recent events.
I didn’t know much about the stonewater serpent--just what Ikfael had told me, which was that the serpent had resided in the glen before Ikfael became self-aware as a spirit. That was about two hundred years ago from what I’d been able to gather.
Ever since then, once a year on the solstice, Ikfael attended while the serpent gazed at the night sky. And apparently, every once in a long while, the serpent left a reward in exchange for this duty. The exact nature of their exchange was a mystery to me--Ikfael wouldn’t talk about it--but Ikfael’s respect for the serpent was clear.
I wondered at what spell she’d gotten. Mine, I floundered trying to pin down its exact nature.
When was the last time Ollie/Eight felt anything similar? Yuki asked.
I turned my attention inward. Probably out camping, I thought. There’s something magical about a morning in the quiet woods, the mist rolling in through the trees and everything hushed. Helen and I used to wake up before the kids, we’d get the coffee started, and watch the sun rise.
And the time before then? Yuki asked.
“When Daniel was born,” I said aloud. “He’d given Helen some trouble, and I was just so damn grateful that he and she were all right.”
The time before that was Alex’s birth? Yuki asked.
I nodded. “That’s right. I’d been so scared of becoming a father, but as soon as I held her in my arms, I knew that we were meant to be together as a family.”
And before then? Yuki’s qi swirled; I could feel them absorbing the information, looking for patterns.
“It would’ve been my grandfather,” I said. “Back when I was a kid and the two of us went hunting.”
Yuki mulled over my words. There were no other times?
“Not with the same kind of intensity. That’s life-changing stuff--the things a person remembers for the rest of their life. Don’t you think so?”
Yes, Yuki said. But patterns can be both big and small. There are--what is the word--I felt them rummaging--there are oscillations. Yes, that’s right--there are oscillations. Not all phenomena are peak experiences.
“Well, if you put it like that--my first time on a film set, I realized it was a place I wanted to be and the crew were people I wanted to be with. It was just a lark at first, me helping out a friend, but as soon I stepped on set, I felt at home.”
Not the same as Family, Yuki said, observing my reactions.
“Not family, but also more than friends,” I said. “It was more like I recognized myself in them; that we shared something in common.”
Something meaningful, Yuki said, and the deeper the meaning, the greater the oscillation and the more peak the experience.
“Sure,” I said. “That makes sense. So, that leaves us with a spell that--”
--finds common ground between individual consciousnesses and binds them together for a short time--
“--but there’s a lot we still don’t know, including the effects on strangers and the long-term impacts.”
We will need to experiment, Yuki said.
“Nothing new there,” I said. And then I scrambled to rescue the corn cakes. Lost in thought, I’d neglected them and let them blacken.
###
Bad news: Ikfael wasn’t happy.
Good news: she provided the cornmeal for a second attempt at the corn cakes and those turned out much better, especially once I’d dusted them with maple sugar. As soon as I saw her eyes get big, I knew I had a winner. The secret was adding a hint of chilli pepper to the mix. The combination of sweet, savory, and spicy was addictive.
As Ikfael ate her second corn cake, I broached a sensitive subject. “So that spell the stonewater serpent left for me--”
The otter’s eyes narrowed, and she rotated the corn cake in her paws so she could nibble around the crisp edges before working her way into the soft interior.
“I was wondering what you thought of it--”
Ikfael closed her eyes to enjoy the corn cake without distraction. She worked her way through three more before sighing in pleasure. Then she sighed again, this time in reluctant acceptance. At least, that’s what I thought her body language conveyed.
“I’ve never seen that spell before,” she signed. “Where is the bowl?”
I retrieved it for her, and she examined the workmanship. Yuki picked up the subtle manipulation of qi from the otter. I felt it too, but not as clearly. There was also the scent of something familiar. I was trying to place it when Ikfael handed the bowl back.
“Have you examined the channels in the wood yet?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I...ah…I needed a little time to get a hold of myself.”
There was an awkward pause, like Ikfael didn’t know how to respond, which was weird, because it didn’t really need a response. All three of us had needed time to reflect; we’d just done it in our own ways.
“Should I examine the bowl with my energ--”
“Yes, do that,” Ikfael signed. “The spell requires...no, I will not say. It’s better if you learn for yourself.”
I looked at her a little longer, in case she changed her mind about giving me a hint. When that didn’t happen, I gathered qi and mana and let them seep into the bowl. My control had gotten better, and I was able to gently sweep through the bowl, finding the runnels etched into the wood. They weren’t physical, but instead made of qi, like the meridian runes in Antler-Sensei and the Anesthetic Stilettos.
A water rune was etched into one side of the bowl and a spirit rune on the opposite. Between them was a complicated series of loops, twirls, and arches connecting them. There was also concave depression at the center of the structure, a bowl within the bowl.
“What?” I said aloud. “How am I supposed to memorize all that? How does it even work?”
Let me see, let me see, Yuki said.
I did my best to approximate the shapes and convey them with my qi intent. “We’ll have to wait till tonight for you to get a better look,” I said.
Yuki had been working on tapping into my optic nerves, but the process of interpreting the information was more complicated than they’d anticipated. They had an easier time once the information was processed and stored though, and so my dreams and memories became the places where they learned how to see.
It was humbling actually. I’d always considered myself smart--it’s what got my self esteem through middle and high school; my intelligence helping me weather the discrimmination and prejudice growing up. I didn’t flaunt it--that was a good way to get beat up--but it became a source of secret pride being the smartest person in the room. But I was nothing compared to Yuki. They were a straight-up genius; soaking up knowledge and learning to deftly wield it like their life depended on it.
According to my Status, I had Intelligence 15. Where did Yuki sit? 18, 19, 20? I wouldn’t be surprised.
Yuki the Uekisheile, lichen, dawn
Talents: Qi Sensitive, Qi Plunderer, Rampant Sentience, One with Q, Multi-Threaded
Nascent: One in a Million, Ageless Hunter, Dream Worker, True Symbiote, ???
It’d been a while since I looked at Yuki’s Talents. They’d gained a new one recently, Multi-threaded, which let them think multiple thoughts in parallel. It was something they’d been practicing for a long time before they met me, but apparently I was the trigger for the Talent ripening. With me around, there were too many thoughts to think, too much information to process, and they’d had to learn the knack of it to keep up.
Of the Nascent Talents, I’d seen both One in a Million and Ageless Hunter before. Dream Worker was new, as was True Symbiote. Neither were a surprise though, and the Talents reflected where Yuki was investing their time and effort.
When I mentioned the Talents to them, Yuki’s curiosity piqued. We wish we could see our Status like you can see yours.
Me too. I’d even tried looking at my Status when our consciousnesses were merged, but the only changes were that my Occupied (Treaty) Condition disappeared and I gained an Enhanced (III) Condition in its place. My theory was that the two of us would’ve had to fully merge for Yuki’s Attributes and Talents to be reflected on my Status sheet.
Anyway, that was enough woolgathering. Focus--
--Ollie/Eight. Yuki snickered, completing the thought for me.
I rubbed the top of my head and smiled, embarrassed. Reminding myself to focus was a habit from my old life. “Yeah, yeah, I will, you little rascal.”
Ikfael’s eyebrows arched; her gaze questioning.
“Ah, sorry, not you. I was talking to Yuki. Um…I sense the runes for both water and spirit in the bowl. Should I insert my mana and see what happens?”
“Yes, but wait until I say so.” Ikfael dived into the pool and swam to the other side to pop out and run to the glen’s boundary. Then she waved to let me know it was safe to proceed.
I shook my head and poured mana into the two sides of the bowl. As expected, it transformed into water and spirit mana. The two energies then filled their respective sides of the larger composite rune until it shimmered like the sun on water. A minute later, the energy dissipated.
Ikfael swam back, and we consulted about what happened. Or, more accurately, the lack of anything happening.
“The spell needs more spirit than water,” Ikfael said, “so you will need to play with it to find the right balance. Also, you neglected the qi reservoir.”
“Is that what that depression at the bottom is for?” I asked.
“This is a more complicated spell than the ones you’ve used before. It needs both mana and qi.” Ikfael made herself comfortable and pulled a ball of water from the pool; making it hover in the air. She manipulated the ball until the light refracted through it and cast a rainbow on the stone between us.
“The sun’s light is whole and complete,” she said, “but when we look closer, we can see that it’s made of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. Silverlight is the same, except that it’s composed of mana, qi, body power, and other energies only greater powers can sense and manipulate. Each of those energies affects a stratum of our world, as well as the strata adjacent to it. But, if we are able to combine energies, then not only do we affect multiple strata, but the impact is also greater as we bring the silverlight closer to wholeness.”
“Ultimately,” Ikfael said, looking up at the sun, “we are all refractions of divinity.”
“And darklight?” I asked.
“Is divinity marred.” Ikfael dissipated the water into mist and let it be carried away by the wind. “Your lesson is finished. In exchange, I want more cakes tomorrow.”
###
Yuki and I took about half a day to figure out the right ratio of spirit and water mana. For the record, it was about 80% spirit and 20% water. My sense was that the qi and water mana acted as a kind of connective tissue, while the spirit mana did the bulk of the work.
We cheered when the energies finally clicked into place, and then we were dazed by the spell’s effects. Unfortunately, it only lasted for a minute. Or should that be fortunately? It’d be awfully easy to become this world’s equivalent of a stoner with this spell.
I was as groggy as only a kid who’d stayed up all night could be, but there was no way I’d sleep with a new spell to explore. So I meditated, and with Yuki’s help, recovered twelve points worth of mana over the next three hours. That’d be good for three casts of the yet-unnamed spell. The bowl was necessary each time, as the spell was too complicated to memorize quickly.
The first cast was on me and Yuki again, but this time we paid attention to check how the shortened duration affected the spell’s impact. The answer was that, while the intensity was the same, we found it easier afterward to shake off the effects. And, as it was the third time, we noticed that the sense of connection deepened compared to the first time. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.
The next experiment involved luring a stranger within range of the spell. Because the bowl was required to cast, I couldn’t do it at range, which meant I had to sneak up on the prospective critter. Fortunately, I had qi to spare, so I stripped naked and slipped into the woods with Camouflage and Scentless Hunter active.
At first, I targeted a squirrel, but I’d hunted so many in my previous life, I felt guilty about luring one into becoming friends. So I snuck up on a little songbird instead. The body and wings were black, but the feathers on the bird’s head were indigo. It’d popped out of a bush to look for tasty treats among the ground clutter.
Blue-Faced Warbler, animal
Talents: Sprightly Flyer, Honest Spirit
Nascent: ???, ???
The warbler checked the area for predators between pecks, and I shifted into the land to make sure we didn’t startle it. This way, our full consciousness could also observe the spell in action--a second, concurrent experiment.
The bowl glowed with golden light, and the warbler took to the air with a flutter of their--of his wings. The initial panic must’ve melted, but because he came back to the ground almost immediately. He glanced around curiously, and started to groom his wing feathers.
“Easy now,” we said aloud, letting Camouflage go. “Don’t be surprised. It’s just us.”
The bird hopped back, but he didn’t fly away. His head quirked, examining us with one eye and then the other, repeating until the spell’s duration ended. Then he jumped into the air and perched in a tree branch above us..
As a test, we yelled. The bird jumped, but he didn’t fly away. He stayed and watched us. So we danced. The dance was called the Twist--a naked Twist!--and our facial muscles shifted into a smile. Happiness burbled up from our heart. We noticed an ease to the union between Ollie/Eight and Yuki that had been missing before. Points of friction that were now lubricated.
Our integration was incomplete. We understood why, but it meant inefficiencies and redundancies. (Both excellent concepts!) But somehow, now, in the spell’s wake, we still managed to become whole.
It was strange. Mysterious. Confusing.
We laughed--the amusement arising out of the Ollie/Eight portion of our consciousness--and we found ourselves thinking, The world’s a terrifying place, but it’s full of grace too.
The thought reverberated through us. We raised our hand, and after a moment’s hesitation the warbler flew down to perch on our finger. We stared at our new friend and couldn’t imagine hurting him. To hurt him was to hurt ourselves.
Grace, it was as good a name as any for such a powerful spell.
###
The spell was too good to be true, so of course there were limitations. It worked just fine on small, harmless animals, but anything bigger--oh, for example, the size of a deer--bounded away after the spell ended.
Also, the effects on animals with strong predatory spirits were dulled. They wouldn’t attack, but after the spell ended, they’d either run or threaten me and then run. My hopes for adding Beastmaster to my resume were dashed. At least for now. But with practice, the impact and range improved, so maybe it could still happen one day.
And...hmm...repeated casts of Grace layered the spell’s effects. They built up, like a foundation, and I wondered if over time they could overcome a predator’s resistance. It would mean trapping the animal for as long as it took for the spell to work it’s magic though.
An idea began to germinate in the back of my mind.
###
When the idea sprouted, I was cooling off in the pool after my mixed martial arts practice. It’s what I’d taken to calling my attempts to find synergies between magic and martial skills. That afternoon, I practiced my spear forms while Camouflaged and also infusing mana into the waterfall’s mist, so that I could bend the water to my will and throw it at an imaginary foe’s eyes before Cold Snapping.
My muscles were sore and my brain jangly from the effort, but progress was made. That always made me happy. And, while in that happy place, my mind went on a little wander through the garden of my thoughts and came back with a wonderful, terrible idea.
Within me, Yuki’s attention spiked. Yes! We love it!
I must’ve said something, because Ikfael looked over from where she floated nearby. “What’s that?”
“What have Yuki and I been struggling with lately...the thing that’s frustrated us the most?”
“Everything?” Ikfael signed, smirking.
I laughed. “Yes and no. But mostly no. What I’m talking about is the thing we can’t get to work at all: Blink.”
Ikfael swung around, so that she was upright and looking directly at me. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“What if,” I said, licking my lips. “What if we catch a blynx? We catch it and tame it using Grace. Tame enough that it’s willing to take Yuki inside, at least long enough for us to learn how the spell works. We could probably do it without making friends--the key is getting Yuki inside, but it’d be simpler if the blynx cooperated.”
“You’re becoming awfully easy about using Yuki in this way.” Ikfael said.
I thought about the warbler. Yuki had wanted to know what it was like to fly, and the bird didn’t mind taking a portion of the uekisheile on a short flight. It was a weird experience for me, tagging along, feeling the gyrations without being able to see anything, but it was interesting none-the-less. And the warbler didn’t mind. He knew, thanks to Grace, that we didn’t intend any harm.
“Well,” I said. “The blynx is a dangerous animal. If we found one normally, we’d have to kill it. This would be an alternative to that. And besides, human history is full of efforts to tame animals. This would be just like that, except more efficient.”
Even now, the warbler roosted nearby. He’d made the glen his home, and if trouble came calling, he’d cry out in alarm.
“What about Billisha and Aluali?” Ikfael asked.
“What about them?”
“Wouldn’t it make sense to give them portions of Yuki too? So that you could watch over them wherever they went.”
The thought had occurred to me. After Otwei went back to Voorhei, we kept tabs on her whereabouts and plans. It wasn’t a big leap from there to wonder about how a dormant Yuki could also act as a silent alarm and defender for the people I cared about.
I originally intended to introduce Yuki to Billisha and Aluali when they turned eighteen, but that was the age of majority in my old world. Here, the process of becoming an adult started at ten and finished at fifteen. Many of the farmers in Voorhei were married by then!
Maybe ten was good enough? The thought rolled around in my head. Given the dangers of living in this world, it made sense. But there was an accompanying sense of unease. Not a month ago, I’d been deeply against the idea. Had our circumstances really changed so much to warrant this radical a change of heart?
I swam to the pool’s edge and pulled myself out of the water. I sat cross-legged and closed my eyes, becoming one with the land and merging with Yuki. We needed to think about this.
The idea was good and would help protect the Family. There was confidence in that thought. Our intention was to help and not hurt. Only those who threatened our Family were in danger.
But what if Billisha or Aluali said no. What then? Would we force ourselves upon them? For their own good?
They were children and didn’t necessarily know better. It was the place of those who were older to guide children.
But there were adults who were imperfect in their violence. Our consciousness froze. The word we originally sought was guidance, but somehow, in the translation between synapses, it became violence.
^^^
When did guidance become violence? When the children acted up after a long, frustrating day looking for work in a country where people thought less of one because of the color of their skin. Then the belt came off, and Miguel went running to hide in the closet, and it was up to Ollie/Eight to face down a father’s wrath. To take the licks and protect his younger brother.
^^^
Our heart rate rose. Our adrenal glands surged, dumping adrenaline into our bloodstream. There was no danger in the glen, only the memory of it, but that was enough to move our body towards fight, flight, or freeze.
We took a breath to restore calm. We exerted mild pressure on our endocrine system to ease the flow of chemicals. More breaths followed and a short meditation. We imagined our mind as a garden, peaceful and lush. Only, the peace was disturbed by a seedling forcing its way up, shoving the fertile earth aside to gain access to the light and air.
The seedling sprouted leaves and folded them across its body, like arms. Ah, when Ollie/Eight was an old man, he stood that way when his adult children told stories of their misadventures. It was a sign he was waiting for them to recognize the mistake they’d made.
One does not impose violence on children, even under the guise of guidance. Every being makes their own choices. We made a promise not to become a monster.
We fell out of the land, but this time it was because Yuki chose to step away and reflect on what they’d just experienced. Meanwhile, I looked down at my hands, deeply uneasy.
I let my thoughts wander back over the past couple of tendays. Yuki and I had become as close as two beings could, and I knew it would affect me. I just didn’t think...I just hoped that the intimacy wouldn’t overrule my good sense. So far, I’d been able to pull us back from the brink of making some terrible mistakes, but how long could I count on that?
We’d settled my fears, but the underlying issues remained. I knew Yuki didn’t intend any harm, but I also knew--from the inside--that instinct was hard to overcome. They were working on it. Even now, I felt their qi circling in intense deliberation.
I hoped it’d be enough. No, I needed to go beyond hoping. I needed strategies to help Yuki find the boundaries between right and wrong. They didn’t even have to be my versions of right and wrong. As long as Yuki’s actions were intentional and not driven by instinct, we’d be okay. Because I felt Yuki’s intentions. They just needed better ways to implement them than instinct.
So, more stories and memories. That’s how people learned best, and they seemed to work for Yuki too. And I’d continue as our combined conscience. I’d likely slip--it was probably inevitable--but my goal would be to make the mistakes as small as possible.
Yuki and I were inseparable. We’d make it work.
I cleared my throat; decision made. So, yes, I had this idea, but it was found somewhere along the slope to becoming a monster. It didn’t mean it was a bad idea. In fact, it was quite sensible taming a blynx in order to learn from it. I’d just have to be careful I didn’t slip and lose my humanity in the process.
