Ten of Swords (Draft Only)

Chapter 11

"Yormaund," whispered the sweet voice of an angel. She was the grand wolf of chaos and power. Through her body flowed the raw energies of light and fire. While most would be dissolved by it, she was its master. Her form peaked in through the white-gold doorway as a gentle smile graced her lips. "My husband."

The words sent a shiver through his body when he heard her speak them. He could still not believe that he was married to Fenn'a, the third great sage. She was dressed in fine robes of crimson that flowed with layers of delicate fabric which invoked images of the blaze which roared with her. He was dressed more modestly in an earthy green which spoke more to his humble background. Her head was shaved clean, as was the practice of the sages, while as a scholar Yormaund's hair had been kept long.

When he realised that he had been silently staring at her from his place at the desk, Yormaund blinked his eyes and stumbled over his words. "Yes, my love?"

"Tybbiil set fire to the treant again. Would you mind summoning some weather to put it out?" Fenn smiled at him with what was turning out to be mild annoyance at his delayed reaction.

Realising that she had come seeking something and not simply to grace him with her presence, he stood quickly and hurried past her, calling out to the children. Unfortunately, Fenn herself wasn't able to put out such a fire. Her magic was chaos and destruction, and would only serve to make the flames burn brighter. Meanwhile, her husband was a practitioner of the magic in-between.

Aetherial magic, as it was sometimes called, was a kind of magic only possible in the old world. It allowed one to pull things from other places or create invisible tethers between things. It was the foundation of the saren tell spell, and even in elven myth it was a rare kind of magic to be skilled with. Yormaund was hardly a master, but he knew enough to pull storm clouds from other places and create simple portals.

"Tybbiil!" He called out.

The young girl laughed at the poor burning creature screamed and flailed about helplessly. It was an unpleasant sight, but as death did not yet exist it did not fill any of them with such dread and horror as one might expect. Yormaund gestured to the sky with both hands, and with his movements and the sound of his voice he called rain to him from some place far away. The rich magical energy which surrounded them meant that the use of a foci, such as the crystal head of a staff, was not necessary to condense and utilise said energy to form the spell.

Sheets of rain fell down upon the poor treant, which crumpled to the grown and raised its arms to the clouds in gratitude. It was but a minor creature that sat at one of the lowest rungs of the hierarchy. With no need for food there was no such thing as a food chain. Only the powerful and the powerless.

Tybbiil groaned, disappointed at the premature end to her game.

"What has your mother told you about setting fire to her garden?" Yormaund scolded the young girl, scooping her up in his arms and taking her away as the rain soaked into their robes. The girl jutted out her lower jaw and looked into the gathering of plant-creatures and rooted animals.

"It's boring so I don't care," she asserted. "I'm finished with learning for now and I have nothing to do!"

Yormaund sighed, rubbing the child's back gently in a mix of nurturing instinct and the hope of calming her down. There was too much nervous energy around her, like a prickling of the air.

Their home was a grand structure, carved from white stone that had been brought over one piece at a time. The primary structure was surrounded by staircases that could be climbed or walked though depending on if one chose to be in their physical or spiritual state. All living things existed as neither entirely physical nor entirely incorporeal. More intelligent creatures, such as the ancient elves or Alle, had some measure of control over if they were more of one or the other at any given time. This allowed them to walk through walls and other structures, but not other living things. Gravity still pulled them toward the earth, but as the ground itself was teeming with life they could not fall through it if they chose to become less physical.