Part 1 – The First Year
Chapter 1 – Knocking on her door…
June 18, 201
1:13 PM (Korgraise Mean Time)
A young woman of twenty-one years sits in her house on Greenhollow road in Glascran, Galeland.
Her left hand is lightly bruised. We see that she is immersed in the events of the novel gripped in her hands. A novel regarding an individual named after his father, set in a world less dark than her own.
In a few moments her life will be changed irreversibly.
A conspicuous car was purring down Greenhollow road.
*.*.*
The woman’s name was Atra Lethia. Just as she turned to the next page, there was a knock at the door.
Being quite jumpy after the past month’s events, and more importantly, being a skilled Earth-Seer, she immediately stopped what she was doing, and stood up slowly. Not again.
Whispering under her breath, she lightly stamped the tip of her delicate sockless foot on the carpet, sending a circularly polarized traverse wave into the matter beneath her feet.
It pinged out, and as fragments of the sound bounced back inwards, reflected by denser substances, it gave Ms. Lethia a map of the world beneath and around her. Geomancy.
She sensed the architecture of her abode, heard its grainy texture.
As the last of the vibrations trickled back and were absorbed by her soles, she got a glimpse of the two men on the doorstep. Average builds. The one on the right seemed to be weighed down by heavy armour. The one on the left was swaying back and forth lightly, favouring his left leg in a way reminiscent of people who know how to hold themselves in a gunfight.
Atra estimated mid-twenties and late-thirties by their stances respectively.
Atra reached over to the nearest draw and slipped a tuning fork into her pocket, she slipped into socks and shoes lithely as she approached the door silently. It knocked again, imperceptibly more forcefully.
A bird crowed outside.
Impulsively, Atra swung the door open roughly 85 degrees; she could easily slam it shut with a swipe of her foot, even if it broke a few toes. (The toes of the business men, not her own.)
The men wore dark suits.
While the brown haired and secretly armoured one just stood there, phone in hand, suitcase at his side,
the raven-black eyed, yellow haired marksman barged into a conversation about buying ‘insurance insurance’.
The geomanceress humoured the marksman for a while as she analysed his accent.
She’d have tentatively said his birth tongue was Lornish, although the way he said insurance ‘inchurance’ led her to believe that his magic tutelage consisted of learning North East Amerigen sorcerer slang and being naturally good at throwing ball lightning. Some of his traits were inconsistent with this and she assumed he travelled a lot, correctly as it turned out.
How could this young woman tell? You could say she had an interesting education. Lots of theory. No practical. Also, hadn’t been allowed to get out, much. Ever.
Atra replied softly, making sure he couldn’t hear the slight twist in her Galish accent that would give away her discipline, while tapping her foot again lightly, sending a pulse into the ground again, to give herself more details about the man’s gun (that was sure to be hidden on his person), so as to ascertain it’s make and if it had any manifest enchantments.
Ah, Quill and Lace was its brand; the Wild Calla, 18 bullets loaded in a weirdly massive cylinder. Three menacing barrels. A spell disguised the gun as the briefcase the older man worse, based on the conflicting senses of sight and sonar. Atra trusted her sense of earth far more than her eyesight.
The gun was loaded, and the safety was off.
Analyses complete, she returned to focus to the conversation at hand. The marksman was talking about how silly it was that people wanted to ‘inchure’ their ‘inchurance inchurance’, that it was redundant as ‘inchurance inchurance’ already covered itself.
She interrupted him by saying “Cut it.” In the common spell dialect. The spell was risky, being outside of her discipline of earthen magic, and thus more likely to cause damage to her soul (almost always fatally) if miss-cast.
She made this risk because it allowed her to do something geomancers couldn’t.
The man stopped, and at the same time Atra’s little spell cut a spring in the marksman’s Wild Calla devoted to the hammer and firing pins, effectively breaking the gun.
“I know why you are here.” Continued Atra confidently. Her voice sounded confident. She didn’t quite feel it.
Atra spoke in sibilant tones that awaited physical meaning. Talking about something as abstract as understanding the reason for a person’s presence confused the language of magic.
It had been created to be order; to reshape the world.
But still she fed it effuse soul energy and hoped it would have the desired effect. In the past few weeks she had discovered that speaking in a magician’s languages lent a certain degree of credibility and convincingness to whatever it was she had to say.
It seemed to work well enough, or the Marksman’s intentions were as jovial and innocuous as they sounded.
Triple barrelled gun…
“Ah, so you know what we are. But the reason for us coming? Surely not.”
The discretely armoured man silently pocketed his phone, then produced an official looking certificate from his ordinary briefcase and handed it to the marksman, who’d put his gun away with the air of a blatant professional.
“My name is Leo Quill, and my associate here is known simply as Ted. We represent an ‘organisation’ that could make good use of your capabilities.”
Atra sighed before replying. “Just like the last three ‘organisations’ who came knocking on my door.” She quipped sarcastically. “But none of the other representatives came in a business suit, I’ll give you that.” As she spoke, she pictured the Mohawk’s and cobweb tattoos’ of the last ne’er-do-well that knocked on her door.
“One of them didn’t even knock. She just let off a few rounds. But you bunch seem more civilised. Not armed to the teeth, are ye?” Although Atra stood still, it was as if the two men were tied to chairs while she circled them.
Her voice held power.
“I haven’t seen a Wild Calla in years,” Now that was a bluff. The only guns she had seen in her life were Mathkr dart guns and nigh-operational shotguns in the hands of said ne’er-do-wells.
“There’s only four in the world!” Exclaimed the business man, shocked.
“You can’t have been around that long…”
Atra cloaked a giggle with a cough, then plucked the single piece of paper from the mans hand ; he held it with white knuckles. “Let’s see what you have to say.” She smirked forcefully.
It had six crests on it. Under six different coloured shields and bests a long tan ribbon flowed. On the ribbon a quote, vow or motto was transcribed in six different languages.
TUENDI POPULI, Gardai G’crim Proidh.
Both meant “Protecting the People”, which was the fourth quote listed. Atra couldn’t identify the other languages for sure, but they probably had the same meaning.
Paling slightly, she skimmed over the document.
To : Atra Lettian
…Humbly proposed… …benchmark setting facilities… …well trained… hope you will accept…
Sincerely, Dalnius Lightwinder
“We weren’t chure about the spelling of your surname, the gang member we interviewed had a pretty thick accent…” Leo said (a little ironically) as Atra hid behind the document.
“It’s Lethia.” She corrected, the mentally kicked herself.
What happened to balancing the power of your by-names? She thought.
If one name took precedence then it gained power over you. “But that’s just a name I chose on the spot, inspired by Sarrow and his,” Atra shuddered mid-sentence. “wraiths…” Not true. But not bad.
“Black death indeed…” Leo replied, both translating, and seeming to question her sanity.
Ted began sorting through his briefcase distractedly.
You can’t have known what I’ve been thought, she thought. “I prefer Beth.” She said quickly. “Beth… Arkwright.”
She was making a name on the spot. It was pretty neat thought. Not quite ordinary, but not too strange.
You wanted it to hold, but not to outshine. At least, that’s what it said in the naming book she stole before she escaped.
Dalnius.
“I’ll do it… Join the MPA.” She said. The ‘Mortal Protection Agency’ she thought.
Led by Dalnius the reborn. A demigod.
Atra Lethia had been taught about the Dalnius during her education. His known strengths and weaknesses. His villainous actions. Him especially, because he was the arch nemesis of the man her captors were led by.
Her old captors were a faction of Geomancers called the Nihilists. Geomancy was a discipline focused around earth-scrying, but had accrued a number of other minor disciplines over thousands of years.
A shapeshifter named ‘Gasten’ was their leader and a sworn enemy of Dalnius.
Leo seemed to stand a little taller and smiled.
She wondered if she was making a mistake.
Atra had learned what mundane life was quickly after she escaped, and felt a tangible sense of wellbeing at just being able to relax.
But at the same time…
Atra wanted to discover more about the world of magic that she had been taught about her whole life by captives who could have twisted any and all truths.
She wanted to see the world of magic first hand… At least for a while.
The MPA claimed that its agents had a lot of control over what work they took on. “More like hundreds of freelancers hired by the same client.” Said Leo. “Less focused around one discipline of magic like other factions. Less potent, but well rounded. Pyromancers, Hydromancers, Aeromancers, Sagismancers, Conjurers, Sorcerers, Warlocks.”
“But no Geomancers?” Atra enquired.
Leo shook his head.
Atra smiled back at Leo. “Well, there is one now.”
“Come this way then.” The marksman said briskly and walked over to the white limousine out front. It had an opalescent paint job, and a symmetrical crimson eagle silhouette was painted on the bonnet. This seemed rather Amerigeni to Atra in retrospection.
*.*.*
1:46 PM (KMT)
Ted dropped Atra off inside an underground carpark. She had a list of things to do, and was led away by a bevy of who appeared to be drably dressed accountants. They ushered her into the depths of boredom.
Three hours of paperwork later, Atra’s hand was sore from writing her new signature.
She checked the time. 4:39 PM.
More time passed.
Leo reappeared from between the mountains of ink and pale fibre sheets and said there was just one more thing to be done. “You have to be tested. It’s a simple test. Just showing off your discipline, really.”
He guided Atra onto the top of the building. “The testing site is a little far away thought.”
It took Atra a moment to realise they were standing near a helicopter pad, complete with helicopter.
“We are going to fly?” She asked, voice a little weak. She hadn’t had to speak in a while, just write and watch nameless people tow in more paper.
“It will be very brief; this helicopter is rather fast.” Leo said hurriedly.
“Looking forward to the fresh air…” Atra said even more quietly.
A ring tone emitted from Leo’s pocket, who waved and made to leave.
Ted frowned slightly.
“Bye…”
Helicopter, Plane and Boat rides don’t mix with Geomancers. They separate one from the earth and cut of their strongest sense. Atra got a splitting headache the moment she was lifted off the ground.
Ted could, apparently, fly helicopters. Atra zoned out through most of it, and admittedly she slept the rest of the way. She couldn’t remember what she had dreamt upon waking, but it was vivid at the time.
*.*.*
8:20 PM (United Hellenique Sea Time) / 6:20 (KMT)
Atra was wakened when they landed. Not by Ted, but the sense of being reunited with the earth.
She was in an unfamiliar place; a small C shaped island covered in thick layers of ash under the grass, trees and buildings.
The ocean was bluer than you would believe.
Atra got out slowly, and without embarrassment, lay on the ground. The air was dry. The grass tickled her fair-tanned arms and she turned hear against the ground to see it, the slight irritation washed away as she reconnected to the land. The grass was illustriously yellow, and the island had a violent past.
Like a battle of the gods…
Atra couldn’t see that far back or forwards, having never reached that level of training.
Yet she could still tell that the island had been ravaged and pock marked beneath the ashen surface.
Parts of the island had been uncovered by the riskless, but they hadn’t scratched the surface.
“Good evening, mademoiselle.” Said an unfamiliar voice. Atra whirled around, suddenly alert.
A man in another, less uniform, business suit stood a few metres away.
He was facing the ocean, but quickly turned his attention to her. This man had olive skin, dark hair and haunting grey eyes.
He had a purely Hellenique accent, in birth and magic.
“Uh… Hi” Atra said, getting to her feet as the man walked closer.
“Miss Arkwright, I presume?” He asked serenely. Atra nodded, and they shook hands. “You may call me Dalnius.” Oh.
She examined the man properly. He looked to be about twenty, somewhat younger than she had expected. The way he moved thought… He could have been any age… 70, 5… Something was definitely strange about the way he held himself. As was befitting of a demigod.
Atra composed herself. “Before I take this test, can I ask a few questions?”
Dalnius smiled amicably. “Of course, but don’t take too long.” Was the reply.
Atra felt like he’d put her on the spot then… Somehow she managed to ask something sensible. “Where are we?”
The immortal glanced at the sea again, his grey eyes very reflective, and dismayingly distant. “I was going to ask you to figure that out, is there anything else you wanted to know?”
Atra swallowed dryly. “Is it your desire for the world to fall to ruin at the hands of the Riskless by pollution or warfare?” She queried firmly.
The question didn’t seem to surprise him. “Ah,” he began. “I supposed you were raised by the Geomancers… How to explain…”
Atra watched him closely. She’d know if he was lying. Humans have ‘tells’, unlike Gorgons, she thought.
“The goals of myself and the MPA are comparable to the police and covert agencies of the Riskless governments; we stop magical terrorism and crimes in its many forms. My chosen purpose clashes with the Nihilists… Because your old captors want to end the world.” He smiled at her grimly. “It’s in the name.”
Atra’s eyes widened. He was telling the truth.
Nihilist was one word she had known, but never been taught the meaning of.
“I presume you weren’t given those details… But if your training with the Geomancers had advanced sufficiently, they would have taught you a certain branch of magic: future seeing.” Dalnius said.
Atra nodded, that bit she knew.
She sat down on the grass once more, stunned, her legs felt drained of will.
But her eyes were alight with curiosity.
“Gasten was the first to tap into Geomancy that way, several lives after Prometheus supposedly gifted mankind with fire and words of power.” Dalnius explained as he gazed into Atra’s amethyst eyes.
“We were both born then I believe; both of us with one deity parent. Demi-gods, I suppose.
Our actions inspired stories like the one of Jason and the Argonauts. We saved the world from monsters and deities and other magicians that have since died, faded, been banished or left Terthe of their own free will…”
“But I digress: Neither of us immune to age, we die of it, if not sooner. Then we reincarnate in an unending cycle. To my understanding, Gasten and I retain a fraction of our memories… Most fade during our childhood, culled by the infant’s mind, others are scarring… The rest are old words of power.”
Atra absently drew lines in the sand as she listened, captivated.
“When Gasten became sufficiently skilled as a Geomancer, he made the mistake of scrying the fate of our world Terthe… I don’t believe that any vision of the future is constant… But he does. Gasten saw Terthe torn asunder by pollution as the purity and many armistices of humanity eroded.”
Dalnius let out a slow pained breath. “He desires to destroy the world before things get that bad.”
The moon had risen, it was silver and scintillated over a now grey ocean.
Dalnius looked up at the stars, and Atra could have sworn she saw him blushing in the moon light.
“Thank you… I haven’t been able to tell that story in a while…” He said slowly.
Atra stood up, her legs complained, crackling with pain as the blood flowed back into them.
“What is the rest of my task Mr. Light- Dalnius?” She asked.
“Where are we?” He said simply.
Atra didn’t have to think about it very long.
“A small, historically volcanic island with ruins in the middle of the Hellenic sea? This has to be Nethus.” She said, ending with a note of uncertainty.
He nodded, then continued. “I need to you to find the entrance of a temple nearby.”
Atra blinked in surprise. “We are standing on it.”
Dalnius’s gazed wandered lingeringly across the horizon again, as if he thought he’d never see it again after tonight. He fixed a pallid smile on his face.
“That is convenient.”
The third part of Atra’s test was clearing a pathway to the temple, which was rather easy. Her body had soaked up a highly detailed image of the earth below while she was listening to Dalnius, and she only had to spell-rattle a few boulders remotely with her tuning fork. This caused the ash and dirt covering the entrance to collapse inwards, layering the floor of the temples long entrance with half a foot of ash.
Dalnius assured Atra he’d be fine walking on it.
‘Easier than walking through it.’, he said. It didn’t seem like he was joking.
Testing completed, Dalnius took Atra’s hand with exquisite courtesy, told her to take care, and requested that she fare well in her endeavours.
Dalnius apologized for having arranged their meeting without earlier notification.
He nodded once, and then stepped into the shadows of the ruins and slowly disappeared into the darkness.
Atra sensed him walking deeper into the extended cavity of pumice, ash and ancient architecture where something ominous resided. Something requiring the attention of an immortal.
All the while, Atra stared down at the silver shield shaped badge he had placed in her hand, as the helicopter started up and sent her long hair whipping the side of her face.
Atra’s stomach growled hungrily, and while part of her hoped Ted had brought something other than paperwork with him. (Something edible.) The other part of her that could sustain itself solely on the thrill of adventure seemed quite content.
Atra pinned the badge to her jacket, smiling. She was an Emissary of the MPA. This was the beginning.
Chapter 1 – Knocking on her door…
June 18, 201
1:13 PM (Korgraise Mean Time)
A young woman of twenty-one years sits in her house on Greenhollow road in Glascran, Galeland.
Her left hand is lightly bruised. We see that she is immersed in the events of the novel gripped in her hands. A novel regarding an individual named after his father, set in a world less dark than her own.
In a few moments her life will be changed irreversibly.
A conspicuous car was purring down Greenhollow road.
*.*.*
The woman’s name was Atra Lethia. Just as she turned to the next page, there was a knock at the door.
Being quite jumpy after the past month’s events, and more importantly, being a skilled Earth-Seer, she immediately stopped what she was doing, and stood up slowly. Not again.
Whispering under her breath, she lightly stamped the tip of her delicate sockless foot on the carpet, sending a circularly polarized traverse wave into the matter beneath her feet.
It pinged out, and as fragments of the sound bounced back inwards, reflected by denser substances, it gave Ms. Lethia a map of the world beneath and around her. Geomancy.
She sensed the architecture of her abode, heard its grainy texture.
As the last of the vibrations trickled back and were absorbed by her soles, she got a glimpse of the two men on the doorstep. Average builds. The one on the right seemed to be weighed down by heavy armour. The one on the left was swaying back and forth lightly, favouring his left leg in a way reminiscent of people who know how to hold themselves in a gunfight.
Atra estimated mid-twenties and late-thirties by their stances respectively.
Atra reached over to the nearest draw and slipped a tuning fork into her pocket, she slipped into socks and shoes lithely as she approached the door silently. It knocked again, imperceptibly more forcefully.
A bird crowed outside.
Impulsively, Atra swung the door open roughly 85 degrees; she could easily slam it shut with a swipe of her foot, even if it broke a few toes. (The toes of the business men, not her own.)
The men wore dark suits.
While the brown haired and secretly armoured one just stood there, phone in hand, suitcase at his side,
the raven-black eyed, yellow haired marksman barged into a conversation about buying ‘insurance insurance’.
The geomanceress humoured the marksman for a while as she analysed his accent.
She’d have tentatively said his birth tongue was Lornish, although the way he said insurance ‘inchurance’ led her to believe that his magic tutelage consisted of learning North East Amerigen sorcerer slang and being naturally good at throwing ball lightning. Some of his traits were inconsistent with this and she assumed he travelled a lot, correctly as it turned out.
How could this young woman tell? You could say she had an interesting education. Lots of theory. No practical. Also, hadn’t been allowed to get out, much. Ever.
Atra replied softly, making sure he couldn’t hear the slight twist in her Galish accent that would give away her discipline, while tapping her foot again lightly, sending a pulse into the ground again, to give herself more details about the man’s gun (that was sure to be hidden on his person), so as to ascertain it’s make and if it had any manifest enchantments.
Ah, Quill and Lace was its brand; the Wild Calla, 18 bullets loaded in a weirdly massive cylinder. Three menacing barrels. A spell disguised the gun as the briefcase the older man worse, based on the conflicting senses of sight and sonar. Atra trusted her sense of earth far more than her eyesight.
The gun was loaded, and the safety was off.
Analyses complete, she returned to focus to the conversation at hand. The marksman was talking about how silly it was that people wanted to ‘inchure’ their ‘inchurance inchurance’, that it was redundant as ‘inchurance inchurance’ already covered itself.
She interrupted him by saying “Cut it.” In the common spell dialect. The spell was risky, being outside of her discipline of earthen magic, and thus more likely to cause damage to her soul (almost always fatally) if miss-cast.
She made this risk because it allowed her to do something geomancers couldn’t.
The man stopped, and at the same time Atra’s little spell cut a spring in the marksman’s Wild Calla devoted to the hammer and firing pins, effectively breaking the gun.
“I know why you are here.” Continued Atra confidently. Her voice sounded confident. She didn’t quite feel it.
Atra spoke in sibilant tones that awaited physical meaning. Talking about something as abstract as understanding the reason for a person’s presence confused the language of magic.
It had been created to be order; to reshape the world.
But still she fed it effuse soul energy and hoped it would have the desired effect. In the past few weeks she had discovered that speaking in a magician’s languages lent a certain degree of credibility and convincingness to whatever it was she had to say.
It seemed to work well enough, or the Marksman’s intentions were as jovial and innocuous as they sounded.
Triple barrelled gun…
“Ah, so you know what we are. But the reason for us coming? Surely not.”
The discretely armoured man silently pocketed his phone, then produced an official looking certificate from his ordinary briefcase and handed it to the marksman, who’d put his gun away with the air of a blatant professional.
“My name is Leo Quill, and my associate here is known simply as Ted. We represent an ‘organisation’ that could make good use of your capabilities.”
Atra sighed before replying. “Just like the last three ‘organisations’ who came knocking on my door.” She quipped sarcastically. “But none of the other representatives came in a business suit, I’ll give you that.” As she spoke, she pictured the Mohawk’s and cobweb tattoos’ of the last ne’er-do-well that knocked on her door.
“One of them didn’t even knock. She just let off a few rounds. But you bunch seem more civilised. Not armed to the teeth, are ye?” Although Atra stood still, it was as if the two men were tied to chairs while she circled them.
Her voice held power.
“I haven’t seen a Wild Calla in years,” Now that was a bluff. The only guns she had seen in her life were Mathkr dart guns and nigh-operational shotguns in the hands of said ne’er-do-wells.
“There’s only four in the world!” Exclaimed the business man, shocked.
“You can’t have been around that long…”
Atra cloaked a giggle with a cough, then plucked the single piece of paper from the mans hand ; he held it with white knuckles. “Let’s see what you have to say.” She smirked forcefully.
It had six crests on it. Under six different coloured shields and bests a long tan ribbon flowed. On the ribbon a quote, vow or motto was transcribed in six different languages.
TUENDI POPULI, Gardai G’crim Proidh.
Both meant “Protecting the People”, which was the fourth quote listed. Atra couldn’t identify the other languages for sure, but they probably had the same meaning.
Paling slightly, she skimmed over the document.
To : Atra Lettian
…Humbly proposed… …benchmark setting facilities… …well trained… hope you will accept…
Sincerely, Dalnius Lightwinder
“We weren’t chure about the spelling of your surname, the gang member we interviewed had a pretty thick accent…” Leo said (a little ironically) as Atra hid behind the document.
“It’s Lethia.” She corrected, the mentally kicked herself.
What happened to balancing the power of your by-names? She thought.
If one name took precedence then it gained power over you. “But that’s just a name I chose on the spot, inspired by Sarrow and his,” Atra shuddered mid-sentence. “wraiths…” Not true. But not bad.
“Black death indeed…” Leo replied, both translating, and seeming to question her sanity.
Ted began sorting through his briefcase distractedly.
You can’t have known what I’ve been thought, she thought. “I prefer Beth.” She said quickly. “Beth… Arkwright.”
She was making a name on the spot. It was pretty neat thought. Not quite ordinary, but not too strange.
You wanted it to hold, but not to outshine. At least, that’s what it said in the naming book she stole before she escaped.
Dalnius.
“I’ll do it… Join the MPA.” She said. The ‘Mortal Protection Agency’ she thought.
Led by Dalnius the reborn. A demigod.
Atra Lethia had been taught about the Dalnius during her education. His known strengths and weaknesses. His villainous actions. Him especially, because he was the arch nemesis of the man her captors were led by.
Her old captors were a faction of Geomancers called the Nihilists. Geomancy was a discipline focused around earth-scrying, but had accrued a number of other minor disciplines over thousands of years.
A shapeshifter named ‘Gasten’ was their leader and a sworn enemy of Dalnius.
Leo seemed to stand a little taller and smiled.
She wondered if she was making a mistake.
Atra had learned what mundane life was quickly after she escaped, and felt a tangible sense of wellbeing at just being able to relax.
But at the same time…
Atra wanted to discover more about the world of magic that she had been taught about her whole life by captives who could have twisted any and all truths.
She wanted to see the world of magic first hand… At least for a while.
The MPA claimed that its agents had a lot of control over what work they took on. “More like hundreds of freelancers hired by the same client.” Said Leo. “Less focused around one discipline of magic like other factions. Less potent, but well rounded. Pyromancers, Hydromancers, Aeromancers, Sagismancers, Conjurers, Sorcerers, Warlocks.”
“But no Geomancers?” Atra enquired.
Leo shook his head.
Atra smiled back at Leo. “Well, there is one now.”
“Come this way then.” The marksman said briskly and walked over to the white limousine out front. It had an opalescent paint job, and a symmetrical crimson eagle silhouette was painted on the bonnet. This seemed rather Amerigeni to Atra in retrospection.
*.*.*
1:46 PM (KMT)
Ted dropped Atra off inside an underground carpark. She had a list of things to do, and was led away by a bevy of who appeared to be drably dressed accountants. They ushered her into the depths of boredom.
Three hours of paperwork later, Atra’s hand was sore from writing her new signature.
She checked the time. 4:39 PM.
More time passed.
Leo reappeared from between the mountains of ink and pale fibre sheets and said there was just one more thing to be done. “You have to be tested. It’s a simple test. Just showing off your discipline, really.”
He guided Atra onto the top of the building. “The testing site is a little far away thought.”
It took Atra a moment to realise they were standing near a helicopter pad, complete with helicopter.
“We are going to fly?” She asked, voice a little weak. She hadn’t had to speak in a while, just write and watch nameless people tow in more paper.
“It will be very brief; this helicopter is rather fast.” Leo said hurriedly.
“Looking forward to the fresh air…” Atra said even more quietly.
A ring tone emitted from Leo’s pocket, who waved and made to leave.
Ted frowned slightly.
“Bye…”
Helicopter, Plane and Boat rides don’t mix with Geomancers. They separate one from the earth and cut of their strongest sense. Atra got a splitting headache the moment she was lifted off the ground.
Ted could, apparently, fly helicopters. Atra zoned out through most of it, and admittedly she slept the rest of the way. She couldn’t remember what she had dreamt upon waking, but it was vivid at the time.
*.*.*
8:20 PM (United Hellenique Sea Time) / 6:20 (KMT)
Atra was wakened when they landed. Not by Ted, but the sense of being reunited with the earth.
She was in an unfamiliar place; a small C shaped island covered in thick layers of ash under the grass, trees and buildings.
The ocean was bluer than you would believe.
Atra got out slowly, and without embarrassment, lay on the ground. The air was dry. The grass tickled her fair-tanned arms and she turned hear against the ground to see it, the slight irritation washed away as she reconnected to the land. The grass was illustriously yellow, and the island had a violent past.
Like a battle of the gods…
Atra couldn’t see that far back or forwards, having never reached that level of training.
Yet she could still tell that the island had been ravaged and pock marked beneath the ashen surface.
Parts of the island had been uncovered by the riskless, but they hadn’t scratched the surface.
“Good evening, mademoiselle.” Said an unfamiliar voice. Atra whirled around, suddenly alert.
A man in another, less uniform, business suit stood a few metres away.
He was facing the ocean, but quickly turned his attention to her. This man had olive skin, dark hair and haunting grey eyes.
He had a purely Hellenique accent, in birth and magic.
“Uh… Hi” Atra said, getting to her feet as the man walked closer.
“Miss Arkwright, I presume?” He asked serenely. Atra nodded, and they shook hands. “You may call me Dalnius.” Oh.
She examined the man properly. He looked to be about twenty, somewhat younger than she had expected. The way he moved thought… He could have been any age… 70, 5… Something was definitely strange about the way he held himself. As was befitting of a demigod.
Atra composed herself. “Before I take this test, can I ask a few questions?”
Dalnius smiled amicably. “Of course, but don’t take too long.” Was the reply.
Atra felt like he’d put her on the spot then… Somehow she managed to ask something sensible. “Where are we?”
The immortal glanced at the sea again, his grey eyes very reflective, and dismayingly distant. “I was going to ask you to figure that out, is there anything else you wanted to know?”
Atra swallowed dryly. “Is it your desire for the world to fall to ruin at the hands of the Riskless by pollution or warfare?” She queried firmly.
The question didn’t seem to surprise him. “Ah,” he began. “I supposed you were raised by the Geomancers… How to explain…”
Atra watched him closely. She’d know if he was lying. Humans have ‘tells’, unlike Gorgons, she thought.
“The goals of myself and the MPA are comparable to the police and covert agencies of the Riskless governments; we stop magical terrorism and crimes in its many forms. My chosen purpose clashes with the Nihilists… Because your old captors want to end the world.” He smiled at her grimly. “It’s in the name.”
Atra’s eyes widened. He was telling the truth.
Nihilist was one word she had known, but never been taught the meaning of.
“I presume you weren’t given those details… But if your training with the Geomancers had advanced sufficiently, they would have taught you a certain branch of magic: future seeing.” Dalnius said.
Atra nodded, that bit she knew.
She sat down on the grass once more, stunned, her legs felt drained of will.
But her eyes were alight with curiosity.
“Gasten was the first to tap into Geomancy that way, several lives after Prometheus supposedly gifted mankind with fire and words of power.” Dalnius explained as he gazed into Atra’s amethyst eyes.
“We were both born then I believe; both of us with one deity parent. Demi-gods, I suppose.
Our actions inspired stories like the one of Jason and the Argonauts. We saved the world from monsters and deities and other magicians that have since died, faded, been banished or left Terthe of their own free will…”
“But I digress: Neither of us immune to age, we die of it, if not sooner. Then we reincarnate in an unending cycle. To my understanding, Gasten and I retain a fraction of our memories… Most fade during our childhood, culled by the infant’s mind, others are scarring… The rest are old words of power.”
Atra absently drew lines in the sand as she listened, captivated.
“When Gasten became sufficiently skilled as a Geomancer, he made the mistake of scrying the fate of our world Terthe… I don’t believe that any vision of the future is constant… But he does. Gasten saw Terthe torn asunder by pollution as the purity and many armistices of humanity eroded.”
Dalnius let out a slow pained breath. “He desires to destroy the world before things get that bad.”
The moon had risen, it was silver and scintillated over a now grey ocean.
Dalnius looked up at the stars, and Atra could have sworn she saw him blushing in the moon light.
“Thank you… I haven’t been able to tell that story in a while…” He said slowly.
Atra stood up, her legs complained, crackling with pain as the blood flowed back into them.
“What is the rest of my task Mr. Light- Dalnius?” She asked.
“Where are we?” He said simply.
Atra didn’t have to think about it very long.
“A small, historically volcanic island with ruins in the middle of the Hellenic sea? This has to be Nethus.” She said, ending with a note of uncertainty.
He nodded, then continued. “I need to you to find the entrance of a temple nearby.”
Atra blinked in surprise. “We are standing on it.”
Dalnius’s gazed wandered lingeringly across the horizon again, as if he thought he’d never see it again after tonight. He fixed a pallid smile on his face.
“That is convenient.”
The third part of Atra’s test was clearing a pathway to the temple, which was rather easy. Her body had soaked up a highly detailed image of the earth below while she was listening to Dalnius, and she only had to spell-rattle a few boulders remotely with her tuning fork. This caused the ash and dirt covering the entrance to collapse inwards, layering the floor of the temples long entrance with half a foot of ash.
Dalnius assured Atra he’d be fine walking on it.
‘Easier than walking through it.’, he said. It didn’t seem like he was joking.
Testing completed, Dalnius took Atra’s hand with exquisite courtesy, told her to take care, and requested that she fare well in her endeavours.
Dalnius apologized for having arranged their meeting without earlier notification.
He nodded once, and then stepped into the shadows of the ruins and slowly disappeared into the darkness.
Atra sensed him walking deeper into the extended cavity of pumice, ash and ancient architecture where something ominous resided. Something requiring the attention of an immortal.
All the while, Atra stared down at the silver shield shaped badge he had placed in her hand, as the helicopter started up and sent her long hair whipping the side of her face.
Atra’s stomach growled hungrily, and while part of her hoped Ted had brought something other than paperwork with him. (Something edible.) The other part of her that could sustain itself solely on the thrill of adventure seemed quite content.
Atra pinned the badge to her jacket, smiling. She was an Emissary of the MPA. This was the beginning.
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