Time Well Spent

Knowing what she had done, the words of the Magus echoed irritatingly in his mind as he descended upon the forest that lay amongst the rock spires below.

“We have kept nothing. What was promised to you has been left in Glenharrow,” Fiachna had stated.

But it was not in good faith. It had not been what was agreed upon.

In a clearing that no one would have thought large enough for him to fit, he landed with only a slight rustle of wind.

Folding his wings he contemplatively surveyed the surroundings. After a pause he then moved into the woodline with a grace that belied his size. Only half a kilometer in he stopped, peering through a break in the trees.

The last vestiges of daylight broke through the valley’s edge from far above.

Then to his left a man stepped from nothing and greeted the Dragon.

“Royan," the man said. "It’s been a minute.”

“Caydren,” replied the Dragon. But Royan did not bother to look back in the man’s direction. Instead he remained focused on the tree break, but courteously stated. “It has been a minute, quite a few in fact.”

Caydren was dressed in a style of studded leather and chain armor that few had ever seen. Despite the age from which it came, it looked almost new. Stranger still though was its styling. It had a look and appearance that was far ahead of its time, many would even say beyond present day. And his weapons were no different.

Any Artisan would give up their most sacred possessions to know how to yield such craftmanship.

Taking a cue from Royan’s behavior Caydren moved to ground where he could observe what the Dragon was looking at. And through the trees he saw a little girl with red hair, likely no more than three or four years of age. The toddler sat on the ground less than a hundred meters to their front, and she did not look happy.

“Is that why I am here?” asked Caydren.

“Yes,” replied Royan.

“Please tell me I don’t have to fight her,” Caydren lamented wryly.

This got a reaction and Royan looked back.

Caydren knew annoyance on the face of a wyrm when he saw it. Putting his hands up in the air slightly in a plaintiff gesture, he offered a retort where none was needed. “You never know…”

Without comment Royan turned back to the little girl.

Caydren started to survey and scout their immediate surroundings. “So, the job is to keep her alive then,” he said out loud.

“Yes,” replied the Dragon.

“We’re in Glenharrow aren’t we?” asked Caydren.

Royan made no gesture to reply.

An expert of knowing when he was being ignored, Caydren turned back to Royan. “Yeah, it was a rhetorical question anyway. But, it would help to know who we are guarding her from.”

“Anyone,” replied Royan.

“You know that means everyone, right?” asked Caydren.

As if Caydren would understand without explanation, the Dragon simply stated, “She is the vessel which currently holds my ember, the essence of my connection to the aether.”

“Wait, what?” Caydren turned on his heel and slowly walked back to Royan. “Your what?” he asked confused.

Without looking at Caydren he explained. “My ember. It is the magical manifestation that is my connection to the aethereal world. It is the conduit through which my inherent magical abilities are channeled.”

Caydren had a blank look on his face. “We’ll pretend that I know what that means. But how does something like that happen?”

“It was given to her by the Magi,” replied the Dragon.

“Uh, and how did they get it?” asked Caydren.

“I loaned it to them,” he explained.

“Of course you did," replied Caydren sarcastically. "Why in the unknown fathoms would you do that?”

With a sigh the Dragon finally turned his attention to Caydren. “Magic is fading from this world and the culture of the Magi is fading with it. It was my hope to save them. In truth it still is. But by loaning them my ember they were able to construct an astral flume in the heart of the Cragsmoore. With that, they now have a conduit of their own. However, once the construction of the flume was complete, my ember was to be returned to me. Instead they put it in her.”

“Got it. Makes perfect sense,” Caydren stated dryly, trying not to roll his eyes. Then he asked, “Well, can’t you just take it back from her?”

“Not by force, not without killing her," replied Royan.

"Yeah, that would definitely be counter to the plan," Caydren said aloud.

"However, she can choose to give it to me. But that is not so simple. As she is extremely young, she likely cannot comprehend what I’d be asking for. Let alone understand how to give it," Royan paused for a moment. "In addition, she is a reticent.”

Caydren was nothing short of perplexed. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“A reticent,” Royan replied. “They are someone who has been scarred by enormous trauma and have become irrationally reluctant to relinquish anything they hold dear. For her, it was the loss of her father. Now, with the possession of my ember, she has the most intimate of connections with the aether. I am certain she can sense her father beyond.”

“Okay, I’m really trying to keep up here. But why in the world did the Magi choose to do this?” he asked.

“Selfishness. Spite. But ultimately it is because they think to sideline me in the coming war,” Royan said frustratingly.

“War? Great,” Caydren stated with mock enthusiasm, “Well, will their plan work? Will it sideline you?”

“No. But my participation in it will not be what anyone expects,” replied Royan.

Caydren contemplated for a moment. “What do any of the other Elders think of this?”

“They are all gone.” replied Royan. “I am the last of my kind in this world.”

“Ah,” Caydren realized. “You had mentioned the last time we spoke that the time of the Elders was nearing an end, but Ryesen as well?”

“Yes. She left with them,” Royan stated with some reluctance. “Seatherin convinced her and everyone else that it was time for us to leave. I disagreed and chose to stay.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t easy,” Caydren consoled.

“No, but they all understood,” Royan said with a hint of lament.

Caydren soaked it all in and turned to his friend. “So, I’m just taking a guess here. But without your ember, you can't use magic. Can you?”

“No.” Royan replied.

“Okay, then how am I here?” Caydren asked confused.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Royan sighed. “My ability to manipulate time is based on my understanding of it. It has nothing to do with magic.”

“Wait, please. My head hurts enough already,” Caydren said holding up his hands. “I'm sorry, I remember. Doesn't run on magic. Got it." He sighed, "Let’s just not get back into a discussion of time dilation again. But I still got questions though.”

“And?” asked Royan.

“First off, what is our next move?” he asked.

“We must get her to Cullhaven,” Royan stated flatly.

“Uh, huh. And are you expecting me to go convince the reluctant four year old to just come with us?” retorted Caydren.

“No, I suspect that is why I am here,” stated the elderly elvish woman as she stepped from nowhere.

“Oh thank the maker!” Caydren said with too much enthusiasm to be genuine. “Morna, it’s been too long.”

She replied, “Caydren, normally a thousand years separate us, yet I have never found it far enough.”

______________________________________________

More than a mountain range away the Magus descended the grand flight of the In-spire alone.

As Conlan watched from below, he could only think of one reason she had gone up to the Agora Forum by herself. The thought left him hollow.

Looking to the late evening sky though, he could see nothing.

So, he turned back to the leader of the Magi, moving further down the spiral, and it only seemed poetic. For in his heart Conlan knew that the path she had just taken, only led one way.

Progressing towards the base of the In-spire, the Magus faded in and out of view whenever she passed between the colonnades that held the structure above. From his perspective, Conlan’s political superior was increasingly obscured by column after column as the gaps between each seemingly grew smaller and smaller. At the base of the In-spire, far below the Agora, the stairway turned towards the main concourse. From there, where Conlan stood, the pattern of column spacing seemed to tighten around her, as if the world above was closing in.

It saddened him to think of it that way, but much had changed in recent years.

Throughout Conlan’s life, the In-spire, the Agora, the Citadel Arcana, the members of the Forum, none of it had ever left him in anything but awe. Now, the structures that housed the knowledge of his culture and its politics seemed vastly oppressing.

The world had evolved, moved on, and they hadn’t.

Conlan wasn’t sure any of it was ever meant to. The Agora being the perfect example, it was likely one of the oldest structures on Aura, and despite its age it remained an architectural marvel. No one could deny this, not even when it seemed the time for which it had been created was fading from existence.

The Agora was a massive elevated amphitheater that sat upon an enormous plinth that had been carved from an outcropping on the side of the Cragsmoore.

Dormant now for more than a millennia, the Cragsmoor remained one of the largest, and most certainly oldest volcano in the world. It dwarfed every other massif in the range of the Ar’Dens, extending many kilometers above the layers of the scald and its root extending an unknown distance into the thermal oceans far below.

Centuries prior to the first descendants of the Magi having set foot on the mountain it had begun its final slumber. But despite its fading geological power, the life of the Cragsmoore was far from over, and the power it would project into the future would shape the world in ways no eruption ever could.

For it was upon the slopes of the Old Mountain that humanity had been given the capability to reach into the aether and access the arcane. But as this gift was given, humanity was warned about the burden of accountability that came with it.

The words spoken by the last Elders of Aura became the founding tenets for humanities first mages.

More than a thousand years ago, a being who called himself Seatherin was the first of his kind to share in their wisdom. “Never underestimate what is being given today. If you do, it will consume you. Because the age-old adage that Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely, is not a falsehood.”

Seatherin was followed by six others in his company.

Hormat spoke next. “It is an ominous warning of which all should be wary. Nonetheless, it should not be a statement of forbiddance.”

Then Royan, “No. To run away from power, is to only abandon it to others. Instead, dare to risk.”

He was followed by Ryesen, the first female Elder to speak. “Dare to pick up the mantle and temper what you are given. And with that temperance remain ever mindful.”

Another female, Beithioc, “Stay wary and cautious though, beware the lures that power has. It is not always bold.”

Nathair, the last female, “No, it is not. In fact, it is the most dangerous when it is subtle.”

The last Elder finally joined in, a male, but the youngest of the group, Fingal, “Too often a path to damnation is blazed with the best of intentions. But this pitfall can be avoided.”

Hormat, “To do this however, one has to understand that free-will comes at the cost of self-governance.”

Nathair, “Free-will and self-governance are inherent to one another, but they are not one and the same.”

Beithioc, “One is capability.”

Royan, “The other is responsibility.”

Ryesen, “Both must be held to accountability.”

Seatherin, “As simple as it sounds, history has proven this is no easy task.”

Fingal, “But it is possible to maintain a proper course through good stewardship.”

“If you do this,” stated Royan, “you and your kind will enjoy a freedom unknown to most.”

And they had.

For more than a thousand years the Magi had been proper stewards of the Arcane.

And for a thousand years every initiate of the Magi was taught how to peer into the past and witness that moment. To listen to last of the Elders and their words of wisdom. But the greatest value in hearing what was said, was found in the repeated contemplation of their importance.

Conlan was known as The Pendant of the Magi. He earned this title and rank for being the exemplar of who could explain and argue the importance of the wisdom they had been given. Something that was most certainly not lost on him now. As he let go of this reverie, he saw his Magus approach and the importance of the words given by the Elders were more important now than they had ever been.

Fiachna was the youngest Magi to ever hold the title of Magus. Her technical capabilities, skill and knowledge, were quite impressive, but it did not hurt that she was naturally talented in most areas. But the allure for most was not tied to her prowess of the arts, instead it was her drive. Fiachna was a passionate, ambitious and zealous woman that was empowered to greater heights due to her most potent attribute, charisma. She knew how to read a crowd and motivate them with a fervor that few knew.

Unfortunately what was driving her these days was becoming infectious in others. For it was a frustration, a frustration that had turned into a hate and anger for an opposing culture. A culture who many felt was crushing their own. As a result, a war was brewing between the people of the Aegis and the Solonaire.

______________________________________________

If one could witness the world of Aura from afar, they would see a planet consisting mostly of a cloud cover known as the Fume. A layer of cumulus so thick that it housed an ecosystem unto itself. Creatures lived amongst the clouds, never touching the surface beneath it, like shoals of fish in an ocean made of air. But then there were the actual oceans, a boiling mass of water far beneath the skies above, simply called the Scald.

The scald was an immense thermal ocean heated by the planet's overabundance of geothermal energy, but it was almost always hidden beneath the cover of the fume. Only in the coldest winters would the surface of the distant abyss be seen from high above. But whenever the sky tides subsided in this fashion, it was normally for no more than a few days or weeks at most. Visible or not though, like many other worlds, it was the oceans that drew the boundaries that divided up the real-estate.

Because, dotted across the world, in the form of mountain peaks and immense plateaus, a multitude of safe havens poked into the upper atmosphere. Regions of isolated mountain peaks and spires were collectively called Tors. While the larger collection of visible ranges where known as Grand Massifs. Larger than these were the continental plateaus known as the Brumelands, which were the largest land masses on all of Aura.

The sparse high ranging peaks belonged to the Aegis, while the vast plateaus belonged to the Solonaire. The unclaimable expanse of the fume covering the distance between lands had always been referred to as the Wastes.

But in recent years, ways to stake claim of the emptiness in-between had taken shape. And this is where the trouble had started.

Fiachna, Conlan and thousands of others were the people of the Aegis, the denizens of the Ar’Dens and many other ranges around the world. And it was from the Aegis that the Magi had almost always drawn their numbers. But far to the west, beyond the vast range of massifs, mountain spires and oasis peaks, the immense fertile plateaus belonging to the Solonaire sat just above the reach of the scald. The brumelands, enormously exposed portions of Aura’s continental crust, thrust many kilometers above the world’s largely unseen oceans.

Instead of open rifts where the fume filled the gaps between land masses, there were just thousands of square kilometers, nothing but open air and fertile soil. Gentle rolling hills and verdant plains contrasted against thick forests and freshwater lakes. And then there were the cities. Not the hamlets of cliffside bastions of the Aegis or mountain fortresses of the Magi, instead it was a sprawl of architecture where building after building sat next to one another with streets running between them.

In the brumelands the Solonaire had chosen a different path than what the Magi had taken. Instead of the flourishing power of magic, they encouraged something else to take hold. For them the most tacit methods of growth and power were math, chemistry, physics and engineering. Through the developments of science, the Solonaire competed against the Aegis by simply building.

It was innocuous at first.

But it all started with the management of the fume.

The fume was something that everyone on Aura had to contend with. However, in the brumelands it had always delivered a greater impact with its cycles and seasons. The reason for this was simple.

The top of the fume was known as the Firmament and it rose and fell like the tides of an ocean. With the brumelands only a few hundred meters above the fume the firmament would frequently encroach a distance inland. Like the shore of a sea, the cliff edges of the plateaus were like a beach. At times the beach belonged to the land, the rest of the time it belonged to the ocean. Wherever this would occurred on the plateaus, it became known as the Fringe Marches. Whenever the fume occupied the fringe marches, they became uninhabitable. So, people weren’t allowed to settle there.

That is, not until the invention of the Fog Wards.

For years people had migrated between the regions and cultures of the Aegis and the Solonaire. They had intermingled, intermarried, shared ideas and ultimately coexisted without conflict. But the peace was largely successful due to the infrequency of such events. For travel between lands was no simple task. It required flight.

Until the Magi came into existence, the only way to travel between regions was by raising one of Aura’s largest avian breeds from birth and training them to be ridden. There were many breeds of birds that were large enough to achieve this, but all of them were predators. Turning one into a steed without becoming prey was no easy task. Nonetheless, over the centuries many birds had been used in this method. But no matter how refined the raising and training techniques became, such efforts did not always achieve success. And the investment was always expensive, as the time it took was all consuming.

Even after it could be said that a bird was trained, the act of flying a steed was always dangerous. Due to a proven success rate though, the Augur Shrike became the preferred bird of choice. They were a dangerously aggressive breed, even after being domesticated. But due to their intellectual capacity they could be conditioned and trained to a degree that bonded rider and beast.

When the Magi came to be, one would have thought this would have ended the practice. For they had the means to fly via sorcery, but there were far more practical methods of travel through magic. Teleportation became the tool of choice over long distances, especially when transporting multiple people. But the thing was, to teleport somewhere, you had to have been there before. You couldn’t simply teleport to someplace you had never been. Because you would have no knowledge of where you were going, and teleportation required intimate knowledge to succeed. And so flight remained an important factor for the purpose of scouting, but flying long distances via magic was taxing to even the most talented of Magi and transporting anyone with you, was even more so.

In the end, it became the Magi who kept the art of birdsmanship alive. Because eventually the scouts of the Magi, known as Spell Lancers, became the integral means to reaching any point in Aura. To this day they are hands down the most capable of avian riders, yet they are so much more.

Trained to live in the wilds and be self sufficient, Spell Lancers are known to range for months in search of new areas of the world. They are taught both clairsentience and divination to give them the ability to communicate with others over vast distances. They are heavily schooled in both navigation and cartography, making them arguably some of the best map makers in the world. And because they may not always be welcomed to where they travel, they are trained to be capable combatants and tacticians. This of course threatened anyone who did not trust the Magi. Because any location a Spell Lancer travels to, it was possible for them to open a portal out of the aether and bring others from where they had been to where they were now.

Their arrival could become a preamble to an invasion.

But this was rare. The Magi instead had a long history of openly sharing knowledge in the name of peace. Nonetheless, there were those in the world who maintained power by keeping their subordinates more ignorant than the superiors. A sharing of knowledge could educate people, and thus tip the scales and threaten that control. Wars had happened as a result. But once again, this was rare. Most kingdoms welcomed Spell Lancers and made them an integral element to traveling about Aura.

This included travel into the brumelands.

And it was there that things eventually changed.

Because as much as Spell Lancers brought knowledge and influence to others, the Spell Lancers themselves were educated and influenced by those they met. Inevitably there were Spell Lancers who developed a greater affinity for something other than the life of the Magi. Often choosing to leave the ranks of the Spell Lancers to settle down wherever, with whomever they had fallen in love with.

Whenever this happened, they didn’t simply stop being a Magi. The knowledge they had, remained. Eventually portions of that knowledge would be shared with others. Amongst the Solonaire, the knowledge of the Magi went into less aethereal things.

The Solonaire had expansive universities and other epicenters of learning, but their culture focused on the development of methods and tools that simplified the complexity of things to far more manageable processes. Instead of requiring an institution of repetitive training that honed a person’s discipline to new heights to accomplish a task, the Solonaire found ways to develop tools that made the miraculous into the mundane.

As scouts, Spell Lancers were taught how to find haven where there seemingly was none. Because far out into the wastes a rider’s steed could grow tired and require rest, but no land may be in sight. This however did not mean that land was not nearby, it could just simply be inaccessible. At any moment safe haven was likely only a few hundred meters below the fume, but at such a distance it was inhospitable to the creature that typically lived their life above it. So, Spell Lancers were taught a sorcery that allowed them to detect the terrain without even seeing it. But they were also given spells that allowed them to disperse the fume, even if only for a while. Once safely landed on solid rock, a disciplined Spell Lancer could meditate for many hours, all the while holding the fume at bay. In this state they could gain a little rest for themselves, but more importantly it would provide their steed all the time it would need to fully recover.

At some point, a Magi who had left the ranks of Spell Lancers settled somewhere in the brumelands on the edge of the fringe marches. On more than one occasion the expatriate used their knowledge to journey for one reason or other into the firmament during the sky tide. For years the locals watched him repeatedly push back the fume of the fringe. He was even known to have taken people to the plateau's edge so that they could gaze over the cliffs into the scald below, a feature of the world most had never seen.

As he pushed back the fume time and time again he was of course asked how it was done. He would always do his best to explain it and eventually someone truly grasped what he was saying. And then they realized a way to take the efforts he would start and hand them off to something else. Through this process of invention, fog wards were created.

The fringe marches were no more.

This was of course the first notable adaptation of technology from the Solonaire and the sorcery of the Magi, but it certainly wasn’t the last. Eventually such marvels as airships came into existence. Vessels that could transport hundreds of people from region to region, reaching anywhere in the world.

What a Spell Lancer could offer had become limiting by comparison. Plus it took years of training just to become a Magi and even more to become a Spell Lancer. Soon machines that could do the same job were often built in months. A Spell Lancer was human. Humans required rest, machines did not.

The one element that kept Spell Lancers pertinent was that teleportation was instantaneous. Despite many attempts, no machine had been designed or built yet to achieve such a task. But many felt, including the Magi, it was only a matter of time.

Over the past two hundred years a myriad of technological revolutions had taken place. As a result, a cultural competition was happening. A contest that the Solonaire were winning, and many things belonging to the Magi were being lost. Key amongst it were the people, the numbers of the Magi had never been so low.

Part of this was due to the difficulty of comprehension of the aethereal plane. Some people had a natural affinity for it, but most did not. Those that didn’t had to work hard to establish a connection. When easier paths became apparent, most people took them. Technology had that effect. As people’s attitudes and beliefs migrated more and more into the world of the Solonaire, the people of the Aegis became less and less.

But as an acolyte, Fiachna and others discovered tangible moments where the aether was revealed to you and comprehension just simply took place. Points of epiphanies they were called. But where it became the most apparent was when they studied creatures who had an inborn connection to the Aether. Eventually what this aspect was, was asked of Royan. After much debate he explained that all creatures had an essence that gave them a connection to the aethereal plane. But almost all creatures that had the strongest connection were those that had been on this world from the start.

In comparison to everything else, humans were a much more recent addition to Aura. Their affinity was far more repressed, but it was most definitely there. It was how the Magi came to be. Fiachna and others realized however if they could increase the “points of epiphanies” to a higher rate of occurrence, the Magi could be saved.

Royan, the last of the Dragon Elders explained how this could be done. A deal was struck.

______________________________________________

Fiachna walked up to Conlan and could sense his consternation.

“You do not approve,” she said more as a statement than a question.

“No,” Conlan said plainly. “Despite your interpretation of the pact we made, the loophole you have leveraged here is far from the spirit of the agreement. It will put us all in danger.”

Fiachna replied, “You know that even with the creation of the Astral Flume, a conduit where our people can more easily achieve a connection to the aethereal plane, will not guarantee our return to dominance.”

“Is that what this is about? Dominance?” asked Conlan accusingly.

With a tone of superiority Fiachna stated, “There has been an injustice done to the people of the Aegis. We have been robbed of our culture. It isn’t simply being given back to us. It will have to be taken. Leaving Royan in play would jeopardize that. But by committing to the plans we have laid out, we will show everyone that we offer a better path to a fuller life.”

“Seriously?” Conlan asked incredulously. “You think that by going to war with the Solonaire we will create that path? War is nothing but a path of destruction.”

As a statement of defiance to everything that Conlan was arguing, Fiachna replied, “The Cragsmoore will become a beacon to which all of the Aegis can flock. They will obtain the power that is their birthright. And it is only with that birthright that we will shed ourselves of the invisible yoke that technology has unjustly put upon us.”

Conlan did his best to stare down Fiachna, “Magus, you speak of justice and power but I think you forget. The antipathy of justice, is just power.”

______________________________________________

In an ancient citadel deep out in the wastes of Aura, Royan gently set the little red headed girl on the ground. Moments later both Caydren and Morna stepped into existence from nothing.

“And all this time I thought it was magic that brought us to you,” commented Caydren. “And just because at some point in the past I have actually been here, you can bring us here at will?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about time dilation?” asked Royan.

“You're right. I don’t,” replied Caydren.

“Well, there is still something that we must all talk about,” started Royan.

The little girl could almost sense what the Dragon was going to say and gave him a challenging look.

"Oh, I like her," stated Morna.

Before continuing Royan gave them all a smirk that only a wyrm could offer. "What no one understands yet is, with her being a reticent, it also gives her great potential to be a catalyst. And what that will spark will be dependent on how we raise, educate and care for this little one. So, it has become our task to protect her until she can choose what it is she will do with what she has been given."

With that purpose, the others nodded in agreement.

Royan then stated wistfully. "And to do that it will require the endeavor of understanding time in a fashion, that I don’t think I have ever properly explored.”

“And what is that?” asked Caydren.

“The importance of choosing who you spend time with,” stated Royan.

“Her name is Aven by the way,” informed Morna.

“Yes, Aven,” said Royan.

As the future began to unfold, Aven looked about where she was and beamed with wonder.