Awakening, Quickening

Harlan's Thoughts pt 1

Harlan had studied magic from the time he was five years old; he had mastered his aura-sensing magic at the age of 3, before he was even able to walk, which he did with the aid of a prosthetic. But it had been years before he had been able to withstand the power of the Grebefal winds, even with his father supporting him. And he had never met his mother–she had died in childbirth. His father had a portrait of her which he kept in his study, where he offered it fresh flowers and food every day, lit candles, and left letters; Harlan wondered why he bothered. There was no aura in that portrait–it was just a flat expanse of waxy substance spread over fabric and surrounded by sticks of wood. It was one of the few things Uvin never explained to him–when asked why he did those things, he always just told Harlan "because it's your mother" in a soft, pain-filled voice. And Harlan could never bear to ask him for more.
Harlan remembered when he had first talked about his mother; he had been asking Uvin to read to him from the books of basic mana studies; "so many types of magic, in this world", Uvin would say. "and your mother was one of the rarest". She been a merchant's daughter; a tiny slip of a woman, as wild as the sea, who had a rare talent for water, and could move her father's ship across the waters when there was no wind. Uvin had fallen for her fiery spirit and delicate beauty and had given her his heart. "And then she gave me you," he would say.

Harlan shook his head. His mother was gone, and his father was with her now; he was sure Uvin was now happier than he had ever been in life, reunited with her. And Harlan still had questions. His magic had been formally trained by his father, who had been an instructor of the Blackwall College of Mana; Harlan still remembered how the basics of Mana had been drilled into him, how important it was to remember.
There was the Flame-of-life, known as aura, or soul. It could be drawn on for magic, used, and replenished from the living earth, the wind, or living water; and in a few rare instances, from both water and air, when there was a storm. Lightning was difficult to tame, but it could be done, and it was a powerful source of mana. And then there were the classes; Earth mages could move stones, carve them by hand, dig deep holes, and find gems and metals deep in the ground. Air-mages could sense things, learn things from the winds, draw lightning or use it, and speak mind-to-mind; Life-mages could make things grow, and create, heal, or mend things. Fire mages could use flame, mold and purify metal with their flames, cut stones, gems, and power some types of machines. Water mages could draw moisture out of things, move waves, bring clouds to the sky, or find water in the ground, and lift it to the surface. Many mages could manifest mana into forms; most could use simple ropes or cords. Some fighting mages formed armor, or even weapons from it.
Illusionists (a sort of sub-class of mages) could make simple, temporary images of any sort, but these were not real–they were merely for entertainment. And then there were the forbidden mages, the dark mages. Dark mages were ice mages, life-eating mages able to rejuvenate themselves by drawing out another's life force and absorbing it. They could freeze the dead and make them golems, undead servants; could corrupt and control living minds; and some, it was rumored, could even bring people's souls back to the land of the living. These arts were forbidden for good reason, and the agents of the emperor, in Blackwall, made sure to hunt down anyone who practiced these. Uvin had always been very stern about these; death magic was off limits; it always took a terrible toll on the user and their families.

Harlan was an air mage; he had a touch of water-mage too, from his mother and grandmother, whose primary elements had been water–which was extremely unusual for women of Blackwall, he knew. Harmony's arrival had shaken his belief that only men could be mages, though; she was clearly trained...perhaps other countries in Vacoelus had schools with female students? Atenwy, perhaps, or Celecanth? She could not possibly be from the Barantides Islands–they were very distinctive in appearance–as were the Etrea people of the desert. But she must have come from somewhere...and trained somewhere. After all, it was not totally unheard of for women to have strong enough mana affinities to use a little magic. His mother and grandmother had both had a little, the strong women that they were.

Harlan could not use water magic, though; no trained mage could use more than one element. Each element was at odds with the others, so to use more than one was unheard of–just as unheard of as a woman who was actually trained as a mage, and not simply a possessor of some natural skill in mana. And for that woman to be one so young as this Harmony...Harlan's thoughts kept drifting back to the fire-haired shadow he had seen through Granny's eyes. He longed to "see" her again, better this time, to hear her voice, ask her his questions. But he was also terribly afraid.

What if she discovered him? What if she outed his condition to the townsfolk? That would be the end of "Lord" Grebe. He would be laughed at in the streets, just another cripple trying to pretend to be a man, to be whole. It wasn't that he wanted the authority, or even the comforts of the castle; he preferred simplicity, and could lift himself and use cords of mana to move himself at will. He would have preferred to live as far away from the castle as possible and avoid the people; but he was deeply invested in Grebefal. Grebefal was his home–and his family's resting place. He wanted to live up to his family's legacy for as long as he could, to give himself time to find a worthy replacement, and teach them to care for the town of Grebefal, as his father had taught him. He cared about the people, because his father had cared; he would not shame Uvin, by denying or abandoning them. He could still hear Uvin's deep voice saying, "Those are our people, Harlan; each one is a new story, alight with life and hope. We mages are the shield that protects that light. When fierce winds blow, we will stand and keep that light from going out."

Harlan decided to just keep going back up the tower to try again; he had heard that Harmony would be coming to the castle on this day to request a permanent residence, showing her intent to stay in Grebefal. He felt oddly excited, as if he had arranged it himself; there had only been four places open, and he had gladly signed off on her requisition of one. He was also fairly sure which one it would be; only the castle wall property held any beneficial element to a mage, the source of mana nearby. This meant that she would be near–quite near. He was looking forward to studying her aura and her link to this 'elf' she had. He had Fyn help him up the tower, but he no longer needed her studying hand at the top; he had grown so accustomed to the power of the wind that he had learned to use it, to encircle his weak body with the mana of the wind and move himself with it, across to the wall seat. He raised his face to the warmth of the sun, and closed his eyes against the stinging wind; he poured his senses down the tower, through the wind, across the ground. There was the violet aura; the twin spots of her, shining in his senses. There was her son's bright light, like a white-hot spark. There was Granny's soft golden glow. He immediately requested Granny's assistance, impatient to 'see' again; Granny gave him permission at once. Through her eyes, he saw again the young woman, surrounded by the glow of her aura. He could tell she was speaking, but could not hear the words; he could see the mouth moving, the hands gesturing. She wore Grebefal clothes, now; and she had lost weight, from the first time he had seen her. Her son sat on her hip, clinging to her, and studying Granny's face with his piercing blue eyes. For a moment, Harlan almost felt as though he could touch the baby's mind, too...but that was ridiculous. The child wasn't even a year old. Then Granny's gaze turned towards the castle–ah. They were here.