It was after the sun had set, drifting low, past the horizon when Aris and Liam walked into the fields near Tor’s dwelling. The cottage had been his since reaching adulthood a few yiars earlier. However, the Mayor had only agreeing to the transfer of ownership once his first cyclath had ended, at 27 yiars old, instead of the 19 summers that his family accepted.
Tor was a Parsimmion, his mother had married into the family, no longer a Getri like Aris and her parents. The Parsimmion’s followed the way of the Church of the Everliving Flame. It was the only major religion in Ar’rin, if you ignored what people said about the wizards.
Like many families that grew crops, the Parsimmions’ worshipped the Sky Shepard, a godling that ascended into the sky and brought light to the Wold. This was unusual in the West of Ar’rin, as most of the people that called themselves the Riverfolk held close to their beliefs in Danika and her elvish offspring, the first immortal race.
The elves that ruled from nearby Greenwood were not immortal, they were long-lived, but aged and died like other folk. Aris had met a few when she traveled, they claimed to be more than a dozen cyclaths old. They believed in a universal harmony that flowed from The Pattern, a set of mysterious rules established by a mythical being.
There was a light burning outside of Tor’s dwelling, it was still shining brightly, which meant that someone had tended to the flame within the last few hours. They tended to dim after six hours but would stay lit for around twelve hours before winking out.
“He still might be home,” Liam spoke as Aris darted ahead with a smile on her face.
She spun around as she reached the well-trodden stone path that weaved across the soft blue-green grass outside the dwelling. “Do you remember when you spent a whole winter here a few yiars back?!” She exclaimed before reading his face and responding with a sullen, “Oh, you wouldn’t…”
Liam tried to muster a smile as the fragmented memories returned to his mind. He had become ill with a severe fever while staying with the Parsimmions three yiars ago. Aris had been a close companion that year, before and after he recovered. “Yes I remember, it smelled of wonderful old woods and the earth, like everything around the Parsimmions farms.”
“Well they are Sky Shepard followers,” Aris remarked, emphasizing the naming of the god by making her voice sound deep and reverent. They both smiled as they recalled many times making fun of the strange and archaic practices of the church’s anointed.
They walked to the door and Aris opened it to find the cottage empty, but smelling exactly as they remembered with one slight change, the fireplace was not lit, and the scent of the sacred incense was absent. The followers of the Church often used incense to augment the burning of wood for spiritual reasons.
“Tor isn’t burning the incense anymore?” Liam inquired as they stepped into the place, a rush of memories filling both their minds.
“Swore off the ritual last summer until his father accepts that Tor is destined to be a ranger, not a farmer. Drives his mother mad,” was the reply as Aris smirked and headed towards the table at the center of Tor’s home. “He was here not long ago though, and he wasn’t alone.”
Liam followed her signals and noted that several seating places were dragged out from the walls, indicating that Tor had company before he left. All the normal hunting gear was missing from the pegs in the wall, and as Liam scanned he noted that the ceiling portal was still open.
“The ceiling wasn’t closed up, he is going to be back soon. It’s not a hunting trip,” he said indicating the empty pegs and pointing towards the sun-hole where they allowed the morning rays to wake them.
It was a fascinating custom and Liam was far more enamored with the lore of the Church than Aris was, he appreciated the ingenuity in the placement of the polished metals that circled the tops of the walls of their dwellings, allowing light to bend in the home, keeping it well lit without the need for multiple windows.
Glitters flared up atop the staff in Liam’s hands, ‘Ah your kinfolk is a worshipper of the Bruchonic Church! Most unexpected, but fortunate!’
“It’s not that fortunate, Glitters,” replied Aris eyeing the wisp of greenlight suspiciously.
“He served in the time of Old Balinor’s rule, Aris. Glitters will have more reverence for the church than we do up here along the Greenwood.”
“Well I guess that makes sense, milord sage,” she chuckled bowing towards Liam.
Liam returned her bow with a glare, a slight smile twisting at the edge of his lips. “If Glitters knew Perekoss, he might have met Bruchon, you’d better be careful what you say, or you could be cursed with darkness.”
Aris looked towards Glitters and inquired, “Did you know him? And can you tell how long it has been since Tor was here? I mean magick and all.”
‘I never spoke to Bruchon, but he was present when I was a newly summoned spirit. I can show you what occurred here. It is possible to summon an echo through a simple scrying spell if you would like.’
The two companions looked at each other and then exclaimed “Yes!” They became excited as the realization that the spirit could perform actual magick filled their minds with wonder.
Glitters-under-the-stars flew out of the staff and landed upon the table at the center of the cottage, a small cloud of glittering dust was thrown in all directions as the wisp landed and began weaving a spell.
‘Do you know how the Pattern was created Liam?’
“Yes, the old verse says:” replied Liam, as he began to recite an old ballad he had memorized:
Firstborn was Dark.
Followed by his sister Light.
Then came Shadow
and he played them
…against one another
After some time came the twins,
Life and Death.
Heralding the end of the beginning,
The last to arrive was Chains.
He bound them all in The Pattern.
And ever after all of their creations
Followed the Rules made by Chains.
‘That is a very specific telling, but yes, essentially The Pattern was created by a godlike being that the myths named Chains. Danika, Arkon, and all the godlings wielded power, that we called Magick today, to shape the Wold…’
“And as long as Wizards follow the Pattern they can wield that power too,” Liam finished.
‘Yes! Very impressive Liam, you have studied well. So I am gathering the echo of what occurred and sending it to your mind as if you were present. Creating a memory essentially,’ explained the wisp.
Aris closed her eyes tight, waiting to experience the magick. Liam watched the wisp spinning around the room, landing in various spots with a similar cloud of glittering dust. In the dust, he began to see the shapes of people.
Tor. Merlitz. Emrys!
“Your father Aris, he was here, with Merl. And Tor,” announced Liam.
“Did you get the memory fir-“ Aris began as she opened her eyes and saw the faint outline of the men seated before them.
‘The Spell is not yet complete,’ said Glitters, ‘I have to ensure I have connected to each of them to create a full echo. How long do you want the memory to be Liam and Aris? Just this conversation?’
“Yes,” replied Liam. “I don’t want to intrude on Tor’s life, just understand what they discussed.”
‘Understood.’
As the memory flowed into their minds a feeling of eerie remembrance crept up their spines. They now recalled the conversation that had happened earlier, they could recall the conversation as if they had experienced it in a dream.
Then the sensation faded, but the memory remained.
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