89th of Frost, 119th of Steel
“If I’m to initiate you into the arcane, we must start from the very beginning. What do you know of magic other than what I’ve told you?”
Leliana shook her head, lips pursed in silence. Her father sat across from her on a rotting log, legs carefully crossed, seeming completely in his element as a teacher.
“I’m sorry, I--” she began but was quickly stopped by a way of his hand.
“Don’t apologize for not knowing something you could never be expected to know. You’ve done very well with everything considering your circumstances.”
There was a heavy silence then. She looked down at the hands folded in her lap and picked at a hangnail. He regarded her for a few long moments before proceeding.
“I need to be sure that you understand the dangers of what we will be doing. Initiation is a traumatizing experience. Siltori have a natural resistance to Threshold Sickness, but it is still a harrowing ordeal. I can only hope that the elven blood in your veins will make the transition easier for you, but there are no guarantees.”
She nodded slowly, eyes wide as she took it all in.
“Is it the same every time?”
“Not at all,” he admitted. “It depends not only on the magic you are being Initiated into, but also the individual. My experience with Transposition nearly cost me my life. Reaving had its own dangers but I felt more in control. Reaving is where we will start with you.”
“What do you need for me to do?”
“I need you to simply listen for now--to every word I’m going to tell you. Do you understand?” She nodded again. “No. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Let us begin your first lesson then, shall we?”
It was past midday now and they had stopped for a rest and lunch. The trail they’d been on wound up and around and back again through the wooded mountains like a serpent, climbing ever higher. The rest was welcome, but she felt energized by their new topic. Leliana had asked him for weeks about the arcane arts she had seen him use. It was, in fact, the main reason she was now free. Her natural curiosity was expected, and he knew she wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
“Reaving is a form of magic that uses the aether of the Self--you or I--to form a Pact with a weapon of your choosing. If you survive the Threshold Sickness, the Cardinal Rune that I will be drawing onto your skin will become a part of you. An extension of your own soul, if you will. This will allow you to manipulate your essence and form the Pact. Ultimately this allows you to summon the weapon at will to defend yourself.”
He held a hand out front of him. With a shimmer and brief swirl of light a long wicked looking dagger appeared in his fingers. Leliana leaned forward expectantly, reaching out to touch the blade. It felt real under her scrutinizing touch.
“It is real,” he said, seeing the question in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared though, it vanished. “You have been favoring the longsword during our training, and you seem to be coming along well enough. I would never encourage you to form a Pact with a weapon you’re unfamiliar with. If you decide you wish to be Initiated, you must use the sword you’ve been practicing with. Otherwise you surely will fail.”
“Why is that?”
“Reaving requires an immediate trial by combat, so to speak. You would battle me using that weapon, and you had best intend on winning.”
“How could I possibly beat you?”
“You won’t. That isn’t the point. Still, you have to try. If you don’t, the weapon will reject you which will take a toll on your soul. It would very likely be the death of you then and there.”
Lily pursed her lips. “I understand.”
“Are you comfortable enough with the blade I gave you?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
“How many weapons can you form a Pact with? Is it always so dangerous?” she questioned.
“The number of weapons depends on the skill of the mage. The more experience you gain, the more weapons you may form a Pact with. The first weapon is the only one that will kill you if you fail, though. It grows easier with time, but should still never be taken lightly.”
“I understand.”
“At first the Pact can be painful. Since the weapon is an extension of your soul, you can feel the impact of your opponent. It will physically harm you to fight with this weapon, at least at first. You must be careful how often you use the weapon and for how long. As you lose energy the weapon will degrade. If you push too far, you likely die.”
“There seems to be a lot of dying involved.”
“This is why I must know you understand the process and the consequences.” She started to nod again but the look on his face halted her.
“I understand.”
“Good. Moving on. Do you have any questions so far?”
“How long will the fight have to last?”
Arangyl rubbed his chin and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I can't answer that question. A lot of this depends on you. Like I said, it's never the same and that doesn't just mean the Initiation. Magics are fluid and every mage experiences them in a unique way. Each has a similar foundation, but everything else built on that foundation can be unique within the limits of the magic itself and the skills that a mage learns.”
“Do they all have to be blades of some kind, like my sword and your dagger?”
“Not at all,” he mused, and with another flourish produced a longbow across his knees. “Anything that you could consider a true weapon can form a Pact with the mage.”
“But you have to be proficient with the weapon?”
“Exactly. You don’t need to be a master by any means, but the greater your skill the easier the Pact is formed. The main danger, especially with your first fight, is that you absolutely must not drop your weapon. If you drop the weapon the Pact will fail, and with your Initiation that means death. If you aren’t comfortable with a weapon then it would be foolish to undergo the trial.”
Leliana was silent for a moment. She looked back down at her hands, flexing her fingers absently as if gauging herself. Finally she looked back up at her father who waited patiently. She noticed that the bow was now gone and wondered just how many weapons he could call on.
“I don’t think I’m confident enough for it quite yet. Soon, but not now. I’d like to practice more with this in mind.”
He smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the edges. There was a look of pride on his face that made her heart flutter and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“That is a wise choice. I’m happy that you are taking this seriously. We will keep practicing with your blade until you feel ready, and until then I will continue lecturing you as well.”
“Thank you father.”
The word still felt foreign on her tongue. It had hardly been a month since he had facilitated her freedom. Almost every night she would start awake, thinking it was all a dream and that she would be in her bed in the big house at Maxim’s estate. But each time she awoke to the coals of their fire burning low and her father’s comforting presence just a few feet away. She’d never felt so safe.
“We can continue the lesson on the move. We’ve had a rest, but we need to keep going.” He rose from his seat and held a hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. “Help me gather things up and let’s be off.”
The pack horse was tethered to a nearby tree, contentedly resting with his back hip cocked to one side. After they checked the bags and made sure the weight on his back was distributed properly, she untethered him and lead him down to the nearby creek for another long drink. Water was readily available so far for the most part, but they were pushing as far and fast as they could each day. They had to make sure the animal stayed hydrated and healthy, otherwise carrying their camp on their own backs would slow them down tremendously.
He'd explained that opening several long distance portals for more than one individual could have serious repercussions, and so they were travelling mostly on foot. They hadn't acquired a horse for her yet, so his mount had been promoted to their trusted beast of burden. Once the gelding had his fill, they set off once more down the faint mountain path. Leliana didn't mind the climb. The longer the trek, the further distance she could put between herself and her old life.
“If I’m to initiate you into the arcane, we must start from the very beginning. What do you know of magic other than what I’ve told you?”
Leliana shook her head, lips pursed in silence. Her father sat across from her on a rotting log, legs carefully crossed, seeming completely in his element as a teacher.
“I’m sorry, I--” she began but was quickly stopped by a way of his hand.
“Don’t apologize for not knowing something you could never be expected to know. You’ve done very well with everything considering your circumstances.”
There was a heavy silence then. She looked down at the hands folded in her lap and picked at a hangnail. He regarded her for a few long moments before proceeding.
“I need to be sure that you understand the dangers of what we will be doing. Initiation is a traumatizing experience. Siltori have a natural resistance to Threshold Sickness, but it is still a harrowing ordeal. I can only hope that the elven blood in your veins will make the transition easier for you, but there are no guarantees.”
She nodded slowly, eyes wide as she took it all in.
“Is it the same every time?”
“Not at all,” he admitted. “It depends not only on the magic you are being Initiated into, but also the individual. My experience with Transposition nearly cost me my life. Reaving had its own dangers but I felt more in control. Reaving is where we will start with you.”
“What do you need for me to do?”
“I need you to simply listen for now--to every word I’m going to tell you. Do you understand?” She nodded again. “No. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Let us begin your first lesson then, shall we?”
It was past midday now and they had stopped for a rest and lunch. The trail they’d been on wound up and around and back again through the wooded mountains like a serpent, climbing ever higher. The rest was welcome, but she felt energized by their new topic. Leliana had asked him for weeks about the arcane arts she had seen him use. It was, in fact, the main reason she was now free. Her natural curiosity was expected, and he knew she wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
“Reaving is a form of magic that uses the aether of the Self--you or I--to form a Pact with a weapon of your choosing. If you survive the Threshold Sickness, the Cardinal Rune that I will be drawing onto your skin will become a part of you. An extension of your own soul, if you will. This will allow you to manipulate your essence and form the Pact. Ultimately this allows you to summon the weapon at will to defend yourself.”
He held a hand out front of him. With a shimmer and brief swirl of light a long wicked looking dagger appeared in his fingers. Leliana leaned forward expectantly, reaching out to touch the blade. It felt real under her scrutinizing touch.
“It is real,” he said, seeing the question in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared though, it vanished. “You have been favoring the longsword during our training, and you seem to be coming along well enough. I would never encourage you to form a Pact with a weapon you’re unfamiliar with. If you decide you wish to be Initiated, you must use the sword you’ve been practicing with. Otherwise you surely will fail.”
“Why is that?”
“Reaving requires an immediate trial by combat, so to speak. You would battle me using that weapon, and you had best intend on winning.”
“How could I possibly beat you?”
“You won’t. That isn’t the point. Still, you have to try. If you don’t, the weapon will reject you which will take a toll on your soul. It would very likely be the death of you then and there.”
Lily pursed her lips. “I understand.”
“Are you comfortable enough with the blade I gave you?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
“How many weapons can you form a Pact with? Is it always so dangerous?” she questioned.
“The number of weapons depends on the skill of the mage. The more experience you gain, the more weapons you may form a Pact with. The first weapon is the only one that will kill you if you fail, though. It grows easier with time, but should still never be taken lightly.”
“I understand.”
“At first the Pact can be painful. Since the weapon is an extension of your soul, you can feel the impact of your opponent. It will physically harm you to fight with this weapon, at least at first. You must be careful how often you use the weapon and for how long. As you lose energy the weapon will degrade. If you push too far, you likely die.”
“There seems to be a lot of dying involved.”
“This is why I must know you understand the process and the consequences.” She started to nod again but the look on his face halted her.
“I understand.”
“Good. Moving on. Do you have any questions so far?”
“How long will the fight have to last?”
Arangyl rubbed his chin and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I can't answer that question. A lot of this depends on you. Like I said, it's never the same and that doesn't just mean the Initiation. Magics are fluid and every mage experiences them in a unique way. Each has a similar foundation, but everything else built on that foundation can be unique within the limits of the magic itself and the skills that a mage learns.”
“Do they all have to be blades of some kind, like my sword and your dagger?”
“Not at all,” he mused, and with another flourish produced a longbow across his knees. “Anything that you could consider a true weapon can form a Pact with the mage.”
“But you have to be proficient with the weapon?”
“Exactly. You don’t need to be a master by any means, but the greater your skill the easier the Pact is formed. The main danger, especially with your first fight, is that you absolutely must not drop your weapon. If you drop the weapon the Pact will fail, and with your Initiation that means death. If you aren’t comfortable with a weapon then it would be foolish to undergo the trial.”
Leliana was silent for a moment. She looked back down at her hands, flexing her fingers absently as if gauging herself. Finally she looked back up at her father who waited patiently. She noticed that the bow was now gone and wondered just how many weapons he could call on.
“I don’t think I’m confident enough for it quite yet. Soon, but not now. I’d like to practice more with this in mind.”
He smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the edges. There was a look of pride on his face that made her heart flutter and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“That is a wise choice. I’m happy that you are taking this seriously. We will keep practicing with your blade until you feel ready, and until then I will continue lecturing you as well.”
“Thank you father.”
The word still felt foreign on her tongue. It had hardly been a month since he had facilitated her freedom. Almost every night she would start awake, thinking it was all a dream and that she would be in her bed in the big house at Maxim’s estate. But each time she awoke to the coals of their fire burning low and her father’s comforting presence just a few feet away. She’d never felt so safe.
“We can continue the lesson on the move. We’ve had a rest, but we need to keep going.” He rose from his seat and held a hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. “Help me gather things up and let’s be off.”
The pack horse was tethered to a nearby tree, contentedly resting with his back hip cocked to one side. After they checked the bags and made sure the weight on his back was distributed properly, she untethered him and lead him down to the nearby creek for another long drink. Water was readily available so far for the most part, but they were pushing as far and fast as they could each day. They had to make sure the animal stayed hydrated and healthy, otherwise carrying their camp on their own backs would slow them down tremendously.
He'd explained that opening several long distance portals for more than one individual could have serious repercussions, and so they were travelling mostly on foot. They hadn't acquired a horse for her yet, so his mount had been promoted to their trusted beast of burden. Once the gelding had his fill, they set off once more down the faint mountain path. Leliana didn't mind the climb. The longer the trek, the further distance she could put between herself and her old life.
