The three days after the stampede seemed to be all about making sure Ashyn wouldn’t die from infections in the Water Pens. Many times throughout the day Eigron would visit him, smear more of the green ichor upon his lacerated abdomen, chant a few words, and stare at him with hate-filled eyes. There was always something else too. Eigron had a pent up nervousness about him. He was always looking over his shoulder as if he were going to be attacked at any moment.
When he would leave, Rizen would assist with the mending flesh, making sure that the muscles healed correctly so that they wouldn’t bunch or spasm in any harmful ways.
Ashyn noted that both of their Creative magics felt very similar, and yet he knew not to mention it to the gaur, or risk angering the bull.
Brodea came to see him once a day, usually in conjunction with Eigron, and he made sure to look at her with as much malice as he could muster. To his surprise, the First Councilor did not look at him with disdain as she had in the past, but almost with a sense of accomplishment.
Over the course of those three days, there were many new patrols. They were constantly watched by all manner of Ferhym from hunters to druids to actual Councilors. Brodea wasn’t taking any chances anymore. She was looking for anything that might show the use of his gift was rekindled. She clearly believed he was responsible for the stampede.
At those times when the elves were present, Ashyn was amazed to see the simpleton creature act that the gaur put on. Cowed and almost oblivious to its penned up state, Rizen appeared docile, domesticated really, and it paid off. The elves believed he was nothing, and he was ignored completely by almost everyone.
Everyone but the First Councilor. Brodea wasn’t as lax around the bull. She watched Rizen carefully, as if she knew the truth. She recognized the game that he played, but had no proof to bring to light.
Now, with days of no longer being tortured, Ashyn’s mind fully cleared from the haze of pain, and he saw how much of a threat Brodea truly represented. Her presence forced obedience from her subordinates. She was naturally charismatic, and possessed strong leadership skills. Yet, there was a vindictive streak to her. One her daughter clearly adopted. This vengeful nature, Ashyn soon understood, would never let her stop her quest to defeat wizards, unless she was given strong reason to stop.
Ashyn was well fed, which helped gather his returning strength. He stretched his muscles and moved around his pen more, memorizing the layout of his surroundings, and the areas he could see.
He was sorry to watch his neighbors stare at him with hatred and longing, but he believed Brodea’s warning against sharing. He settled for their hatred. It meant their continued survival.
He talked to Macky every day, catching up on the last decade he missed in Czynsk. Macky told him everything that happened after he left the hospice. Of course the topic, as it had when they were children, inevitably fell to Avrimae. It pained Ashyn to see his friend so in love with the woman, only to know that it could never be reciprocated.
What surprised Ashyn, though he didn’t mention it, was how Macky left Uriel out of much of the conversations they shared. Uriel had been Macky’s best friend, and though Ashyn knew that Avrimae had inevitably come between the two of them, he thought Macky would have spoken more of the better days.
Macky also provided service for the people in the pens every day, and Ashyn found himself listening in. Macky gave his people hope. Something Xexial said the boy would never do. Macky made the transformation from sheep to shepherd.
The priest also confirmed that no one knew of Julietta at all. Ashyn would have found that strange, but Jenhiro already notified him that Julietta was with the druids. It would be obvious that she was an unknown quantity, the druid Ferhym were even more reclusive then their average Ferhym brethren.
In that time, Ashyn conversed frequently with his cellmate on all manner of things. Strategies going forward. Optimism in not surrendering to hopelessness. The gaur often questioned him on the motives of humans. Like the gaur were a strange species to Ashyn, humans were a great unknown to Rizen as well. So Ashyn did his best to put humanity in a proper light. Telling everything they had accomplished, but not shying away from their moments of ugliness as well.
That open rapport had unlocked something in the silent gaur. My people are not violent as you saw with me, Rizen began suddenly on the third day at the water’s edge.
Ashyn, his mind on his plan looked up in surprise, Excuse me?
The gaur are goat-herders. A snort followed, and Ashyn didn’t know if it was one of disdain, or in acceptance that Rizen was sharing this with him. We hail from the Broken Teeth Mountains.
Ashyn glanced in what he thought was the direction of the range. He had looked at the mountains often as a child in Czynsk. He was taught that they were the home of the Dakhym, Dark Elves, but he never imagined that within the mountains themselves was a race of peaceful shepherds.
You saw me at my worst, Totem-Brother. I was lost. My herd was gone, my spirit damned. I never thought before that I would be capable of hurting anyone, but the idea of losing my spirit’s ability to return to the cycle… His mental voice drifted.
The gaur shared a brief look with him before directing it back to stare longingly at the water. I know some of the values of what you call the Maker. They are much different than our own. Our entire existence is based on the philosophy that our spirit does not die and go to a heaven when the vessel of our flesh does, but that it is natural energy that returns to the Cycle of Energy where we find a new host when another gaur is born in this world. We are reincarnated.
Ashyn nodded in understanding. So for that time that your vessel couldn’t be destroyed…
I couldn’t return to the cycle. It doomed me. It broke my mind. My people, because of our beliefs, are all intrinsically connected you see. We are all family because we are shared energy. The death of my herd, while crushing, I could accept because I knew they were one with the cycle, and that one day they would all be reborn. But my unlife… it was maddening to know that I was forever apart from them. Brahma is our great shepherd of the cycle. We are ‘his’ herd. And I thought for certain I was exiled from the herd forever. A terrible fate for any gaur, but something infinitely worse for a Shaman.
Why?
Rizen stirred the putrid waters in a slow spiral with a thick finger. Because I am a caretaker of my people. I am a caretaker of their energy. The elements you have seen me manipulate comes from energy.
Magic. Ashyn agreed.
Again Rizen snorted, but Ashyn knew this was no agreement. You may call it such, but I have heard of this magic. A shaman pulls from energy. He rapped hard against his broad chest. Our energy.
Understanding was revealed in Ashyn’s eyes. Your soul?
Rizen nodded. We borrow from the Spirits. They give to us their energy, we use of it. When I call the elements, or when I knit your flesh I am asking for the spirit energy of my fallen people, and then I place that energy upon my own spirit to do it. It has to hold up to the rigors I am asking of the others after all.
All of his life Ashyn was raised under a single defining belief. Magic came from only two fonts, Creation and Destruction. Everyone who used magic, inherently pulled from the wells of Creation, while only those specially trained could tap into the Nether and harness Destruction. What the Shaman was telling him was stunning, and yet it made a certain amount of sense, given his knowledge of feedback. Rizen claimed that the strength of one’s spirit measured the amount of influence they had over elements and nature. This different philosophy gave Ashyn a new appreciation for magic.
Like Macky, whose mindset with the Jasian Enclave was ingrained into one way of thinking, Ashyn too found it hard to stray from his training. A decade of teaching was difficult to shake, but it was enlightening.
Do you desire to know more of my people? the gaur asked after a long silence.
Ashyn nodded, and said I would.
We are a caste society. Our lives chosen for us the moment we are brought to this world. Our Pundit, the head shaman, would read the newborn’s spirit and declare what assignment we have as we grow in life.
Parentage? Ashyn asked.
Rizen replied immediately, Irrelevant. The Shaman chooses caste, and the newborn goes. We are all family, all of the same energy, remember?
The wizard nodded.
There is only one stipulation to this rule. The Shaman. For our herds, there can only be two Shamans: The Pundit and the Pan. A Pundit may go many winters never seeing a Pan at birth, or may find a Pan after just elevating to Pundit status themselves. Even if a Pan died, another may be born the very next day. It is always the will of Brahma and never easy to define.
Ashyn was always amazed at how many cultures shared similar philosophies without ever realizing it. The gaurs’ Shaman balance was much like a wizards’ master and apprentice.
It did raise a question though. What happens if a Pan becomes Pundit while the other Pundit is still alive?
That Pundit often becomes revered as Paragon. They are the wise elder that the Pundit could go to in times of need, yet they no longer perform the role of Shaman or possess a totem. They become a proud and celebrated elder. Still, a Paragon is capable of using energy, and if the Pundit were to perish before the Pan was ready to fulfill the role of Pundit, it isn’t uncommon for the Paragon to fulfill the role until the Pan was ready.
The Shaman is the spiritual advisor of the herd leader, called the Bos Gaurus, and they are the religious preacher to the people.
So in a way you are one part me, and one part Macky? Ashyn reasoned aloud.
The wizard watched as Rizen’s gaze swept to the frail man now giving a sermons about the Maker in the neighboring pen. That is an accurate, if somewhat crude assessment, the gaur noted, but yes.
Rizen fell silent then, his education on the gaur finished for the day. Ashyn knew that it must have taken a lot for Rizen to even say that much. It was no difficulty to see how insular his culture was. That had taken a large measure of trust. It was a huge step for the two of them. Ashyn was glad he had not ended Rizen’s life when he had the chance.
That night Ashyn decided repay that trust and explain to Rizen what his elaborate plan was and how he arrived at it.
From Brodea’s reaction three days prior, Ashyn had to assume that Jenhiro was successful in liberating Avrimae. The fact that Brodea never mentioned it, made him certain that if Avrimae had been recaptured or killed, the First Councilor would have used it against him.
Deciding to hold nothing back, he told Rizen of his connection to the silver-eyed elf. Ashyn confided with his cellmate that he used to talk to the Exemplar in visions, and he was waiting to hear from her now. It was part of the agreement he made with Jenhiro.
Rizen turned out to be adaptable to the idea. He didn’t make any argument against his claims or accuse him conspiring with the enemy. He just accepted Ashyn’s words. The gaur was a remarkable sounding board for ideas, including on how Ashyn might regain his connection to magic.
Ashyn figured that his use of magic right now was sporadic at best, worthless at worst. But he knew the only time he was fully in control of magic was when he held the totem. Ashyn figured if he could get a hold of the totem again, he would be reconnected with his magic, even if it was a temporary solution.
Rizen, much to Ashyn’s surprise, never objected to any of his plan. The Shaman only stated that he trusted his totem-brother to make the right choices, and to be aware of how disastrous all of it could be if it went the wrong way. Ashyn agreed with the gaur completely. It would only be a matter of days before Brodea was ready for the next phase of his torture, and he knew that she would use everyone against him.
In the end, Ashyn knew that regardless of what happened once he was placed before the tome, there were only two real outcomes. Strangely, he felt contented with both.
The few for the many, he told Rizen after the explanation of his plan. I am not worth the lives of all those that will suffer if I don’t give Brodea what she wants. Worse, I will endanger more lives if I do give her what she wants. I have become the few. My life is a small sacrifice, if it means protecting all those that would be hurt because of me.
The gaur didn’t answer him. Finally, he let out a snort and pulled his fingers from the murky waters. Ashyn wasn’t sure if that was a snort of agreement, or resentment. The young wizard pulled his fingers from the pool of refuse, folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. His mind was made up.
No more people would die because of him. Either he would free them, or he was going to die trying.
~ ~ ~
Neither Ashyn nor Rizen ever looked up to see the lone figure of a Ferhym watching the duo curiously night after night from the council chambers. She watched on in silence as they buried their fingers in the disgusting and fetid waters, pondering what could be going through the mind of Ashyn Rune.