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Matabar. Chapter 18 - Old Book
🕑 Added 2025-01-18 18:18:00 +0000 UTCOut of habit, Ardi bit the tip of his tongue as he finished writing the equation on the blackboard. Then he turned to Teacher Tenebry. She rose from her seat, adjusted her light dress, and approached the student, chalk in hand.
For a moment, she examined Ardi’s solution to the problem in silence before she sighed and underlined several lines.
“This is a simple equation, student Egobar. With just one unknown. Why did you decide to express half of the problem with a second unknown and then create a system out of it that you solved with a function?”
Ardi shrugged, smiled, and spread his arms out, chalk dust smeared up to his elbows.
“It looks prettier this way,” he replied. “Besides, you said to spend ten minutes solving it, and there’s not much here to solve for a full ten minutes.”
Tenebry sighed and shook her head. At that moment, she resembled a swallow perched on a windowsill, carrying with it the first rays of summer sunlight. She was both black and white, graceful, and in a way, very strict, yet kind.
“And how shall I grade you for this exam, student Egobar?”
Ardi, still wearing a somewhat smug smile, held up ten fingers.
“A perfect score?” Tenebry snorted before returning to her desk, where she opened a thick book. Flipping through a dozen full pages, she read, “Six months ago, you couldn’t even solve a simple equation, and now you’re using methods two years ahead of your course. If you hadn’t been standing in front of me the whole time, I would have thought you were cheating and called teacher Kolski in to search you.”
“I don’t have any cheat sheets,” Ardi explained honestly.
Tenebry gave him a skeptical look before flipping to the last page of the ledger, where the student rankings were recorded. It was a comprehensive table that detailed all of a student’s accomplishments and their rankings. It would end up turning into a rather clever number, calculated the same across the entire Empire, so that students wouldn’t be tied to their hometowns after graduation and could apply to colleges, institutes, or even universities anywhere in the country.
If their grades were high enough, of course. And if the bureaucracy worked properly... This education system was still something new in the Empire.
“So, what do we have here: geography and history, nine. Chemistry and basic physical laws, eight points. Reading and etiquette, tens across the board, which is surprising considering the fact that it’s only been a month since I had to make an effort to understand your speech. Music, three points. Student Egobar, are you unable to hit the piano keys with your fingers?”
Ardi clenched and unclenched his fist. It had only been a few weeks since he’d started using utensils competently.
“Handwriting, six,” the teacher continued. Ardi flinched slightly. Unlike numbers, spelling rules were much harder for him. Remembering all those exceptions that had neither rhyme nor reason, and then exceptions to those exceptions that depended on... Sleeping Spirits! If not for Anna, he probably still wouldn’t be able to speak properly. “In other words, considering all these criteria, you’re one of the top ten students in our school. What are you planning to do after graduation?”
Ardi shrugged again. There were still four or so years of school ahead of him — he would surely find something by then. He hadn’t really thought about it yet. He liked working on the Polskih farm, where Anna’s father always gave him different chores to do. But lately, he was mostly joining the cowboys on the plains where the herds grazed. He would bring them food, medicine, and other necessities.
In the spring, the cowboys would leave with the herds and return to town in shifts to rest while their replacements took care of the grazing. A few weeks in town, and then they would be back at it, kicking up dust on the roads and disappearing over the horizon.
“Alright,” Tenebry sighed, then with a sharp but restrained movement, she marked the highest score in the book and began filling out the final summary. As Ardi would discover the following week, the math teacher also served as the class curator. “But still, where did you learn the high school curriculum?”
“Anna’s brother visited a few months ago,” Ardi admitted without hesitation. “He brought textbooks from courses he’d already completed.”
“Anna’s brother? The one studying at the Delpas State College?”
Of course Tenebry knew whom he was talking about. After all, she had been teaching at the school for many years, and many of the older siblings of the current students had once been her students as well.
“Yes,” the student nodded.
“And what? He just left them with you?” Tenebry arched her eyebrows, making her face resemble that of a fox. “College textbooks aren’t cheap.”
“Not for me,” Ardi corrected. “For Anna. I just write down things that interest me from time to time. Or tackle some challenging problems.”
“Why?”
Ardi shrugged yet again. He couldn’t have explained it properly even if he’d wanted to. He had simply loved solving puzzles since childhood. The time he’d spent with Skusty and Atta’nha, all of them challenging each other with tricky problems... Well, it had been his favorite pastime.
“It was interesting,” Ardi answered simply.
Tenebry looked at him, then sighed, closed the ledger, and stood up from the table. They were alone in the classroom — exams were taken on an individual schedule, strictly one-on-one. It was believed that this way, students would have fewer opportunities to cheat, and the teacher could evaluate them without being influenced by the success of other students.
At least that’s what Anna’s mother believed. Madame Polskih, back when she could still walk normally — she had broken her legs in an accident involving a stubborn horse — had used to teach Imperial History at the school.
“If Delpas had a license to teach Star Magic to those in your... um... situation...”
“Half-bloods,” Ardi suggested calmly.
“That’s not very polite, student Egobar,” Tenebry replied sternly. “Even if you call yourself that.”
“Tell Kenbish about politeness,” Ardi countered.
“Student Kenbish, despite his sharp mind, unfortunately cannot boast the same about his many relatives. Besides, they’re not locals.”
Ardi remained silent. He had his own opinion on the matter, but he had kept it to himself for the past six months. As Shali had used to say, “The less you talk, the better you sleep.” Whatever that meant.
After a pause, the teacher continued, “Have you considered trying to get into a school that offers magical studies and has a license to work with racial minorities? With your record, it could be quite plausible.”
“The closest of those schools is by the Azure Sea,” Ardi spread his arms out. “Besides, Matabar aren’t on the list of races eligible for scholarships. And paying fifty exes per semester...”
Ardi just smirked. One hundred exes for one school year? He’d probably never see that kind of money in his life. Working on the Polskih farm earned him three exes a month, two and a half of which he gave to Kelly — he simply couldn’t stand to live under someone else’s roof without contributing to the household.
“The Sheriff could arrange a bank loan and-” Tenebry began, but fell silent upon seeing the indifferent expression on Ardi’s face. He wouldn’t take money from his mother’s husband. Yes, in the last six months, they had managed to find common ground, but that only meant that Ardi no longer saw Kelly as a threat to the family. Nothing more. “You’re twelve now, right?”
“Thirteen,” Ardi corrected her. “Like Erti, I was born in winter.”
“Thirteen,” Tenebry repeated, shaking her head. “The best age to begin the study of Star Magic. Any earlier, and without the guidance of experienced mentors, and you’d only be hurting yourself. On top of that, with every year that you waited to start after that, you’d end up accomplishing less in the long run.”
Outside, birds were singing, welcoming summer and saying goodbye to spring. The classroom was a bit stuffy, and even the wide-open windows didn’t help. Only the teacher’s face cast a heavy shadow.
“You tried to become a Star Mage once,” Ardi guessed.
Tenebry gave him a reserved smile.
“The Empire would lose an excellent specialist in you, student Egobar,” her voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly. “But with such success, you could become an engineer or even a doctor, though I don’t know how you’ll fare next year when the general biology course begins.”
Ardi had lived among humans long enough to understand that Tenebry wasn’t really talking to him, but rather to herself.
“Anyway, you have four more years to figure that out, student Egobar,” Tenebry snapped back to reality. “I’ve kept you here far too long. Leave. Enjoy your well-deserved vacation and summer.”
“And the same to you, Teacher Tenebry,” Ardi bowed slightly before grabbing his bag, stuffing the report into it, and dashing out the door.
He practically flew down the corridor, occasionally tipping his hat to the rare teacher or student he passed. The former reminded him that he shouldn’t run in the school, while the latter... If they were locals, they returned the gesture; if they were outsiders, they pretended not to notice him.
After the incident six months ago, when Kenbish and his brothers had caught him and Anna off guard, rumors had spread around the town. These had been fueled by the brothers’ stories that a terrible monster had snatched Anna and disappeared in a blizzard. They’d claimed it was all witchcraft and magic. But after the priest had declared that he had found no trace of Star Magic on Ardi, and the sheriff had thoroughly interrogated the redheads — resulting in the older brothers spending a week in the hospital — the rumors had died down, replaced by whispers.
Those who still remembered the history of their land simply added it to the folklore, while the others... just accepted that a not-quite-human was living among them.
Of course, not everything had gone smoothly, and there were the occasional unpleasant incidents. For example, a cowboy had once refused to take food from Ardi, or that time they had refused to sell him anything in a shop. And then there was the chemistry teacher, who’d made it a point to never call him to the blackboard or speak to him directly, even though she was a local. But Ardi didn’t blame her.
Her son had died in the fire caused by the Shanti’Ra, and now the old woman harbored a grudge against all “non-humans.”
Also, other students at the school, led by the red-haired Kenbish, would sometimes try to say something nasty or hurtful to him, but Ardi would either let it pass or smile broadly at them in return. That was usually enough to keep the troublemakers quiet for at least a week.
All in all, his life was quite peaceful and steady.
Lately, Ardi had even started sleeping on a bed he had built himself instead of on the floor, on a pile of furs. He hadn’t had the money to order furniture from a carpenter, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to take money from Kelly. Skusty would probably have called this “chaff for brains.” That was how the squirrel had often referred to certain kinds of foolishness. Well, even if it was all stupidity instead of pride, Ardi wasn’t going to change his ways.
His days typically consisted of mornings at Kelly’s, including short talks with his brother, then school, then work on the Polskih farm, evening lessons with Anna and, when the others came to visit, with Neviy, his brother, and Faruh as well. Olga had used to join them, but overtime, she’d started hanging out with Kenbish and his group more and more.
Eventually, Neviy, who was something of an unofficial leader of their group, had stopped inviting her, and she hadn’t insisted on being included.
“So, how did it go?” Ah, there they were.
Over the past six months, the brothers had grown a little taller, and they had also packed on some muscle, becoming sturdier overall. Faruh, however, didn’t seem to be in any hurry to catch up. Ardi himself was growing much slower now than he had back in the Alсade. He had just passed one hundred and eighty centimeters, which, by human standards, made him exceptionally tall for a boy his age, but according to his grandfather, Ardi was destined to remain a “shorty.”
In time, Matabar could grow up to be two meters and twenty centimeters tall, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for him. It was probably for the best — he wouldn’t have to duck every time he walked through a door, like his father. However, in their old age, a Matabar’s height did start to diminish, as could be seen from the example of his grandfather. Maybe some extra centimeters could’ve mitigated that.
“I got a perfect score,” Ardi boasted.
“Great!” Anna exclaimed.
Ardi immediately shrank back and pulled his cap down over his eyes.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he muttered.
“Of course you could have!” Anna protested. She was wearing a light white dress, with a wide belt that had a shiny buckle on it. High, brown boots and a straw hat completed the look. Over the past six months, she had begun to look somehow... different, though Ardi still didn’t quite understand what had changed. “You’re already solving my brother’s problems sometimes, and I still can’t quite manage that even with your explanations, and-”
“Okay, that’s enough!” Neviy pleaded. “You’re turning this into another one of your... your... Faruh, old friend, help me out here.”
“You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out,” the boy turned away.
“Brother?”
Kevin remained silent, as always. He usually spoke when he thought no one could hear him, and, by the Sleeping Spirits, Ardi could count the exceptions to that rule on one hand.
“Would you like to explain what you meant by that, Neviy?” Anna frowned.
He pretended not to have heard her and turned to Ardi. “Are you going to change?”
Ardi looked himself over. He had been the last to take the exams, and everyone else had already changed out of their school uniforms into regular clothes.
“I’ve got my clothes with me,” Ardi said, opening his bag and pulling out simple linen trousers and a gray shirt with transparent buttons. “I’ll change at the lake!”
“Great! Then let’s hurry before the older guys take the piers! Last time, we had to wait an hour just to go diving.”
“Boys,” Anna sniffed. “You’d better hit the books so you don’t fail again at the end of the year and-”
“Oh, come on,” Faruh waved her off. “Today is the last day of exams! We deserve a break. Besides, we all have work later. Let us relax properly for once.”
Anna rolled her eyes, which, as Ardi had learned, had no specific meaning and could have different connotations in different situations. It was a very complicated human gesture that he still hadn’t mastered.
Ardi was about to back Faruh up when he noticed something glinting on the ground. He bent down, picked it up, and was surprised to find that it was the key his grandfather had given him six months ago. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he was taking off his clothes.
“You guys go ahead,” Ardi muttered, pocketing the key. “I’ll catch up later.”
“Are you sure?” Neviy finished arguing with Anna and rubbed his bruised side. “If the older kids show up before you get there, you might not get to swim.”
“Yeah,” was all Ardi replied, then he smiled at Anna and, slinging his bag over his shoulder, ran toward the town’s edge.
He just barely caught Anna’s concerned voice behind him:
“What’s gotten into him so suddenly?”
And Neviy’s sigh in response:
“Suddenly?”
The rest of their conversation was lost in the noise of the dancing wind. It chased the clouds across the sky, breaking up the gray cover that had blanketed the plain for the last few months. People were out and about on the streets, enjoying the warmer weather. No longer were they only moving in short dashes between buildings, trying to shield themselves from the piercing winds and snow of the long winter and harsh spring from before. And if they had a bit of free time, they even strolled with friends and acquaintances and chatted about this and that.
The postman was sharing news and gossip from the Metropolis, cowboys were visiting the saloon, sometimes starting fights that the sheriff and his deputies had to break up. The town’s only blacksmith was grumbling about the endless stream of orders for horseshoes, and the butcher was already counting the profits from all the new cattle coming in. Only the farmers were discussing various upcoming problems: the division of grazing lands due to that very same influx of cattle, diseases, parasites, and other misfortunes that could greatly impact the livestock and, consequently, their profits.
Ardi would occasionally greet someone, sometimes even doffing his cap to them, but more often than not, he tried to pretend he wasn’t there, and Evergale responded in kind. In the past six years, the town had nearly doubled in size, with most of the new settlers coming from the south, where attitudes toward other races were quite peculiar due to their near absence. If those geography lessons were to be believed, anyway.
Heading past the repair shop, Ardi emerged onto a wide dirt road. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air brought there by the departing spring, the hunter bent down and removed his boots. Relishing the feeling of the still cool, moist soil against his bare feet, he wriggled his toes into the earth. In the sky, a mountain eagle, returning from its hunt, let out a cry. Ardi waved at it and ran on.
For the past six months, he hadn’t forgotten to exercise in the mornings, as Guta had taught him, even if he’d had to make do with a sandbag instead of a stone. And of course, the farm work had kept him busy with running and carrying various things, not to mention the hard work in the stables. It wasn’t too difficult physically, but simply tricky because the domestic animals didn’t really understand the language of the wild beasts.
Ardi, who’d turned his face toward the sun’s rays, and would sometimes stop to savor the scents of the Alсade’s expanse, found himself standing at the edge of a well-known clearing an hour later. The snow had long since melted, and the river, once a raging torrent, had calmed down, though its waters had risen almost to the edge of the rocky bank.
The grass and flowers, now untended, reached almost to his knees, while wild ivy clung eagerly to the walls of the Ranger’s house, some of which had caved in. Ardi approached the porch and, running his fingers along the rotting beams, picked at the peeling paint before blowing it off his palm, sending the flecks flying into the gusts of wind.
“Hello,” he whispered in Fae. “My home.”
The dilapidated building responded with a barely audible sigh before sinking back into a deep slumber. Maybe someday, life would buzz within its walls once again, fires would burn bright, and the chimneys would puff out gray smoke...
The once well-trodden paths hadn’t yet succumbed to the relentless advance of the Alсade’s flora, so Ardi didn’t have to wade through overgrown grass. The barn, just as it had six months ago, greeted its visitor calmly, and perhaps even pridefully. Unlike the house, its walls hadn’t sagged, the grass and ivy hadn’t crossed the invisible boundary that protected the structure, and even the recent flood had scattered rocks along the shore but had left the barn untouched.
Ardi touched the heavy lock, not noticing a single speck of rust there, and even the hinges didn’t creak, as if someone had carefully oiled them every month. Only the boards groaned mournfully when a strong gust of wind made them shudder.
The key slid easily into the lock and turned with a barely audible click. The massive clasp opened and Ardi, catching the falling lock, was surprised by its weight.
Grunting, Ardi set it down on the floor, then straightened up and, out of habit, sniffed the air before opening the door. Dust hit his face like a slap. The hunter sneezed, grimaced, but after waiting for the wind to clear the air, he stepped inside. With no windows and all its cracks sealed with mortar, the barn had long been deprived of sunlight. The reign of darkness had been preserved for many years here, jealously guarding its territory and keeping out unwanted guests who might reveal its secrets to the outside world.
Ardi didn’t see a single spider weaving a web in the corners. There were no traces of wood-boring beetles feasting on their favorite treat. There was no moisture, no grass or flowers sprouting through the floorboards, no mold, only dust. But even that, as soon as the door had been opened, had fled with the enthusiasm of a wrongly convicted prisoner who had been granted a last-minute pardon.
“Well...” The hunter mused.
The sun’s rays, rebelling against this dominion of darkness for the first time in years, illuminated only a few objects. There were no tools, no shelves, no crates, or anything else typical of a simple barn. There was only a long stick leaning against the wall, which Ardi recognized as a cracked, charred and broken staff.
He approached it and ran his hand over its worn symbols and markings. The wood crumbled beneath his fingers, and it seemed like with just a little more effort from him, the staff would follow the dust’s example and scatter to the wind, vanishing into the Alсade’s expanse.
Beside the staff, what had initially appeared to be a tube for maps or documents revealed itself to be a rotting, crumbling scabbard upon closer inspection. The leather binding had rotted away and the varnish had peeled off, falling to the ground in black flakes. The hunter bent down to inspect the hilt. It was broken and twisted, long since corroded by rust.
The hunter reached out, but quickly pulled back. He had heard many stories of cursed artifacts from Atta’nha, not to mention the legends his grandfather had told him in his childhood. But even if one assumed that these were just old objects without a drop of magic in them, they were certainly nearing their end. And Ardi didn’t want to accidentally break them, cut himself, or get pricked only to spend the next week or two brewing potions and concoctions for himself.
It was strange that his grandfather had given him the key to this place. Maybe he’d meant to imply that the staff and the sword could be sold to a museum to make some money.
“Unlikely,” Ardi mused aloud. “Grandfather wouldn’t sell a family heirloom.”
And there was no doubt in his mind that what lay before him were indeed family heirlooms. Knowing his father’s temperament, he wouldn’t have agreed to keep someone else’s staff and sword on his land, even if they had belonged to King Ectassus himself — a person whose existence Ardi highly doubted.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, Ardi sighed and turned to leave when he suddenly stumbled over something. Looking down in surprise, he found a barely perceptible knot on the floor. On this perfectly smooth, planed floor, where each board was so tightly fitted that it would be almost impossible for even a thin hair to slip between them.
Frowning, the hunter crouched down and ran his hand over the knot. It was too small to be noticed accidentally, but too large to have been spared the carpenter’s plane.
Ardi first turned his body so that he could dart out the door if necessary, then pressed on the knot, but... nothing happened. Except that he scratched his finger.
“Ouch,” the boy hissed, about to curse lightly, when a few drops of his blood fell on the floorboards.
The floor came to life, and before Ardi could even process what was happening, a section of the boards in front of him sank down and slid aside, revealing a small cache. Inside, on a worn cloth, lay several ancient notebooks, some still with their covers, some without, a few rings, only one of which was intact, a tiny scroll the size of a finger, and a thick book.
And a candle, too. Only it wasn’t made of animal fat, paraffin, oil, or even cheap wax. Despite that, Ardi had no doubt that it was indeed a candle. It was a bulbous clay bowl resembling a doll’s cauldron, so why did he have no doubts about its true nature?
“What the...”
Ardi reached out and touched the orange flame. The flame that was blazing inside the bowl even though it had no visible source.
“It’s real,” Ardi concluded, pulling his finger back from the fire.
Glancing around, as if to confirm that he was indeed alone, Ardi reached into the cache and pulled out the book. He was ready to react to any kind of danger. A trap, a flash of light, or even the sudden appearance of a troll, but... nothing happened. There was only the mournful creaking of planks and the whistling wind that raced through the mountains.
After the book, the hunter fished out the remaining items from the cache, and as soon as the last object — a ring — left the confines of its hiding place, the floorboards came to life again, quickly returning to their original place, while the knot, turning to wood dust, drifted away on the wind.
“I could really use your advice right now, she-wolf,” Ardi muttered regretfully.
But the wonders didn’t end there.
Setting the candle down on the floor, he laid out the rings before him, and as soon as he did so, four of the five dissolved into a formless, metallic liquid, which briefly took the shape of stars before evaporating with a soft hiss, leaving behind acrid clouds of colored smoke.
Only the last ring remained intact.
“Alright,” Ardi said simply.
He picked up the scroll carefully, but couldn’t make out the writing on it — whether it was an unknown language or some kind of cipher, who could say. Then it was the turn of several journals, or at least what seemed to be journals. Unfortunately, just like with the scroll, Ardi couldn’t decipher a single word of them. And in each journal, not only did the symbols differ, but so did the handwriting as well. Whatever had been stored here had belonged to more than one person.
“Maybe you’ll be nice,” Ardi whispered hopefully, addressing the large, hefty book.
With its swollen pages and partially broken spine, it was much thicker than any textbook he’d ever seen, even the tomes Anna’s brother had brought back with him at times.
Ardi hesitated, then opened the book, ending up in the middle of it, and he found himself staring at a symbol. It resembled a six-pointed star, but was drawn in such a way that the inner space of it was not a polygon, but a circle filled with countless tiny letters or runes. The lines that formed the interlocking triangles that made up the star were not straight, but wavy, and within them, threads of mysterious symbols were also woven.
And around the page, surrounding the strange star symbol, there were dense paragraphs of text written in very small but neat handwriting . Sometimes, between the lines, different versions of the “star” symbol appeared, only enlarged. Occasionally, they would be replaced by lines — both straight and wavy — and sometimes, they’d be replaced by whole sections of the symbol. It was as if someone had randomly highlighted a whole section of the “star” for some reason.
Ardi looked closely and, to his great surprise, found that he could understand the text... almost — the handwriting was much sloppier than in the books and scrolls of Atta’nha.
“The Fae language,” the hunter whispered and began to read.
“For a month now, I’ve been trying to improve a simple Fire Flash seal. I think it’s too wasteful to use a ray from each of the red and green Stars...”
At those last words, Ardi almost closed the book. If this book was what he thought it was, possessing such knowledge without a license and the title of Imperial Mage would land one in the mines at best, and in the noose at worst. Imperial law strictly prohibited the uncontrolled spread of magical knowledge. They were so ruthless about it that if an unregistered copy of a textbook was found in a suspect’s home, their entire family would be arrested and their home set on fire.
Teacher Parnas had explained that Star Magic held “s-t-r-a-t-e-g-i-c” significance for all nations, on both the western and eastern continents. And every government, despite significant advances in technology and the emergence of new types of weapons, still zealously guarded its magical secrets.
“The only problem here is that all works on Star Magic in the Empire,” Ardi muttered to himself, “are written and printed only in the language of humans. It’s forbidden to publish them in the languages of the Firstborn Races.”
And on top of all that, the Sidhe and the Fae didn’t need Star Magic, which made it all the more confusing. They used the magic of words. As did the other Firstborn Races, though not as deeply and freely. Even so, the orcs with their shamans or the dwarves with their stone casters possessed knowledge that was thousands of years old. Yes, if you believed Teacher Parnas, the Firstborn Races often sent the most capable members of their communities out to learn the art of human magic, but even they studied it in the language of the Empire...
“Fine,” Ardi reassured himself. “It’s as Skusty would say: when dealing with a problem, find the fangs first, then worry about the tail.”
In other words, start at the beginning.
Calming his racing heart, Ardi opened the book to its very first page.
“To be honest, I don’t even know who I’m writing this for. None of the Aean’Hane will ever agree with my arguments that we should study human magic to understand its strengths and weaknesses. Their pride won’t allow it. And the ordinary Speakers are too focused on their mentors’ every word to consider deviating from the old teachings.
And really, I’ve never written anything before, so I have no idea how treatises, or as humans call them, magic textbooks, are supposed to be composed. I was taught by the Aean’Hane of my clan, as he was taught by the one before him, and so on... Well, you get the idea... Probably...
Forgive me, whoever you are, if I sometimes lose focus or jump from one topic to another. Teaching is not my calling, but we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.
Maybe as I finish this meandering introduction while biting into one of Remi’s pastries, I’ll finally get to the point. Especially since it’s time for us to leave...
And one more thing — good luck to you, my unknown student. I hope the knowledge you gain here... If you can even gain it... Well, I hope it brings you some benefit.
With that, I bow out and leave you with my thoughts on Star Magic.”
The text abruptly cut off there, followed by a new page with bold letters:
“Chapter One, or Where to Begin.”
Ardi exhaled and briefly tore his gaze away from the book. Only hours ago, he had discussed the possibility of studying Star Magic with one of his teachers, knowing full well that this path would be inaccessible to him forever. And all the while, there had been a book in their barn, a forbidden one, certainly, but still containing the very knowledge he craved.
The hunter loved magic. Maybe that was why, on that fateful day, many years ago, Ergar had agreed to let his student visit the she-wolf. He’d probably realized that the path of a true hunter didn’t particularly interest the young Matabar.
Ardi looked at the shadows of the trees. He still had almost four hours before his shift at the farm began. He could still make it in time. And as for the lake, he could find an excuse for his absence tomorrow...
“First of all, my dear disciple, I want you to understand one simple thing. No matter what humans or our brothers and sisters say, magic, if it’s true magic, is always the same. Whether you call yourself Aean’Hane or Archmage, it won’t change your essence in the slightest, just as water in a river, in glaciers, and in clouds remains water, even though it may take different forms.
So, studying Star Magic doesn’t mean you’re deviating from the ways of your ancestors; you’re simply exploring one of the forms of the art left to us by the gods of the past.
If you’ve already studied the magic of words and Names, or, may the spirits bless you, summoned the power of words, you understand the complexity of the Speaker’s path. Even your teacher, the modest... let’s leave names out of this. So. Even I, who, according to the Queen of Winter, possess one of the greatest gifts among the Aean’Hane, spent decades studying words, and nearly a century mastering a True Name. And by the time I could cast my first spell without risking the destruction of myself or my village, I was already covered in gray hair and wrinkles.
Yes, the Speakers’ magic is powerful and — unlike Star Magic — as malleable as clay, but it also requires tremendous mental effort and years of training. That’s why humans were forced to find their own way to magic — because their lives are so short that only a few of them, rare prodigies born once every few centuries, managed to tread the path of the Speakers.
As for Star Magic, yes, unlike the malleability of clay, it’s more like iron ore. You can forge something unique from it, but more often than not, you just pour it into a mold and...
You’re probably quite confused right now, but I did warn you that I might get sidetracked and...
Well.
Let’s start with the basics. The magic of the Speakers, like Star Magic, draws power from the Ley Lines. When we use magic, we change the reality around us, and the greater the change, the more energy is required from the Ley Lines, and the longer the changes last. But sooner or later, reality will return to its original state, and the magic will return to the Ley Lines. Of course, there are ways to extend the effect of a change for an almost indefinite period of time, but that’s too complex a topic for this small book.”
Ardi chuckled at that. If this was a “small” book, what did the author consider a “large” one?
“Now, onto the main difference.
Speakers use the energy of the Ley directly, through the Names of the entities they invoke. Star Magic, on the other hand, creates a kind of Ley storage within the mage. Humans call them Stars. In theory, there can be an infinite number of such stars, but as I’m writing this book, the most powerful of the human mages, Archmage Taveriy, who resides on the islands, possesses only his seventh star. But don’t be fooled.
Humans wouldn’t be humans if they didn’t strive to complicate everything around them.
Besides the stars themselves, and the ones known in my time are: red, green, blue, yellow, pink, black, and gray, each of them can have up to nine rays as well. So, becoming a mage with four stars is a great achievement for a magic wielder of the young Empire...”
The Empire had existed for almost five hundred years by now, so the author of this text had obviously lived a long time ago.
“...but someone with only one or two rays in each of them is far less of a threat than a mage with two stars but more than five rays in each. I think that’s why the government is discussing the mandatory regalia law... but I digress again.
So, the Speaker uses the energy of the Ley directly, while the Star Mage gathers it within themselves. The difference seems small at first, but when you delve deeper, it’s colossal. And that ends my simple introduction for you. Further pondering the difference between the two forms of magic serves no practical purpose, and ink has become expensive... so let’s move on.
Now let’s turn to the more trivial. If you want to study Star Magic, you need to form your first one — the Red Star. This usually takes several years. This may seem similar to the art of the Aean’Hane, but that’s only a surface-level similarity.
Here’s what you’ll need:
- A power crystal from a creature poisoned by the Ley.
With the Empire’s mines popping up everywhere,
these are becoming more common.
The green crystal is best,
but if you don’t have one, a red one will do.
By the way, if you can get your hands on a large amount of human money,
you can buy a Ley crystal.
That will work too.
The higher the purity, the better.
- The ability to clear your mind.
If you and your Aean’Hane have not yet begun to study the magic of words,
it is best to put this book aside until
you have learned to clear your mind well enough to hear the whispers of the trees.
- Be prepared for a challenging process.
Once you start condensing the Star,
you can’t stop, or it could have
irreversible consequences.
So, I would advise you to prepare thoroughly
before you begin.
These are the three pillars upon which all of Star Magic rests. And if not all of it, then its foundations do, at least. Now I’m going to give you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. I suggest that you first make sure you understand them, grasp every word and meaning, memorize them completely, and only then begin your training. You’ll only have one chance to condense that star and its rays. Here, you must maintain a perfect balance — believe in your abilities, but don’t overestimate yourself.
If you don’t believe in yourself, you’ll stop at just a few rays. If you overestimate yourself, you won’t make the star at all.
By the way, did I mention this already?
If you stumble during the creation of a Star, mess up the process in any way, you’ll destroy that Star and forever lose the ability to create it. This applies to every Star. If you mess up the Red one, you’ll never become a Star Mage. If you mess up the Green one, you’ll be stuck with one Star forever because you can’t move on to the Blue one.
But don’t be afraid. I’ll be with you.
Shall we begin?”
