Most stories of people begin at birth, but this story begins long before the world of Idalos ever got to meet Sabbath Maeterstom.
~ The Mother and the Father ~
It was a cool Ashan day for the trip. Rebecca had gone to Desnind to gather fallen branches and twigs many times before. Her father had a "great deal" as he called it with a merchant friend of his, and an equally "great deal" with the Guild of Raw Materials at home. She rarely gave it much thought though, as for her it was just another excuse to get out of the city and breath the fresh air of the countryside. She'd always felt stifled living with her father and brother so far past her teen years. According to her father, there just weren't any suitors that deserved having his "great business" handed down to them. She couldn't help but laugh to herself. They got by, but they were by no means wealthy. Nearly all of the money made by the business directly paid for their ability to continue having the business. Their home in the Gleam was nearly an after thought for Vesuvius, her father. He just wanted his business to be successful, so he'd be remembered. What about her though? She'd done nothing meaningful in her life. No business. No children. No grand adventures out in the world. So here she was, going out again, for her father, for his business, for his profit... well, better than being stuck at home like Vernon her brother.
The caravan set out that day, like any other day. They made their way to Desnind and got the supplies, like any other trip. The journey back, though, was to be unlike any Rebecca had dealt with before.
It was approaching twilight as the caravan made its way past the Creep. It was always best to go past at night, when the sun's light didn't make the plants so energetic. They never saw them coming. The sounds of a struggle broke out towards the back of the caravan, as the hired mercenaries fought with an unseen foe. Having no training in combat, all Rebecca could do was try to make herself small in her wagon and hope for the best. She pushed herself into the twigs and tried to pull some of the burlap over her head, listening to the sounds of dying men all around her.
It didn't take long before quiet had descended upon her. Was it the Creep? Had monsters made their way to their caravan to murder them all? She didn't know. Then she heard it. Footsteps, making their way towards where she was hiding. A gruff voice said, "You know, if you're going to hide, you're going to need either a bigger cover, or a smaller dress." She looked down, and sure enough she hadn't thought about her dress, sticking out from underneath the burlap. She replied, "Well, thank you for your very generous suggestion, the next time I'm hiding for my life I'll try to keep that in mind." As she said this, she poked her head out. Whoever or whatever this stranger was, it didn't seem like it was going to stab her or eat her or do whatever it had done to the rest of the people that she'd started the day with.
What she was not expecting, among the many, many possibilities she'd prepared herself for, was a fairly attractive, young to middle aged man... no, not quite a man, a Sev'ryn by the look of him. Probably not a changeling... well hopefully not... he watched her closely as she stared at him.
"You know, you can just ask if you have any questions miss," he said with a grin. She responded, "Alright. First question: who are you? Second question: are you here to kill me? Third question..." He laughed and interrupted, "Right, hold on. First, I'm no one in particular, just in the right place at the right time. Secondly, I'm not here to kill you, I'd have done that by now if that was my business. Your group happened to come through an area I was working in, the details of which, if you don't mind, I'll keep to myself." He held up his hand, motioning to the men on the ground behind him. The mercenary guards, and the other members of the caravan had clearly fought to the death. "When I came upon this mess, these bandits and your men, I'd take it, had pretty much already done themselves in," the stranger said.
Well, at least the mercenaries did what they were paid to do, she thought. But how would she get home? It was night, and she was still getting through the Creep. She'd be dead before morning more than likely. He was still looking her over, no doubt judging her in his mind at what a mess of a state she'd look like. She decided to be forward, "As you've pointed out, all my men are dead, but I still need to get back to Quacia. Would you help me get there?" The man scowled, slightly, at the mention of the city. Did he not like Quacia? Was he, in fact, a changeling like she'd thought initially? Was she still going to die?! These thoughts flew through her mind so quickly that she got dizzy and fainted straight away.
When she awoke, she was in motion. She was in the back of her carriage, with the stranger driving it. From what she could see, the Creep was farther behind them now. He was taking her back to Quacia... and she was alive! She said, "Thank you." He waved his hand in the air towards her dismissively, "How could I turn down a damsel in distress?"
This was the beginning of a very short lived, two day romance, that led to another beginning, and another ending.
And so it went, that Rebecca made it back to the city of Quacia safely. Though safe would be a relative term, as her brother Vernon was not who she remembered.
Upon her return to the family home, Rebecca noticed strange men in the house talking with her brother. “Yes, the will clearly stated that in the event of my father’s demise that all property, including the business, goes to me,” Vernon could be heard saying. “Yes, Mr. Maeterstom, that’s all well and good, but just because the caravan is late does not mean your father has passed,” said one of the men. This all seemed strange to Rebecca, considering that she had come directly from the caravan, it seemed very unlikely anyone would know of it.
She made a decision. “It is true. My father is dead. He was lost on the Caravan trip to bandits near the Creep,” she said. Vernon looked over at her in shock, “My dear sister, you’re well, thank the Wounded God!” He had a shiftiness to his eyes though, something she’d never noticed before. The strangers surrounding Vernon all seemed to be agreeing on something, nodding, and handing some papers towards Vernon. “As long as we have two blood kin to vouch for the deceased, we can move ahead with this right away Mr. Maeterstom.” Vernon grinned broadly. “Wonderful gentlemen, I wouldn’t want my father’s business to suffer due to red tape. It was his life’s work after all,” Vernon said.
Rebecca looked between the group of men and Vernon, and headed to her room. This was all too much for her. What was supposed to be a routine trip to Desnind turning into a blood bath, losing her father, and meeting the man of her dreams, all at once? Who was he? Was he a dream? A silly question, of course, he had driven her back to the city, but now he was gone. What would she do?
A month later, Rebecca began to understand exactly what she’d be doing as she found herself retching into a bucket for the 5th morning in a row. Everyone knew the signs. Strange cravings, morning sickness, bloating, and yet no fever or other signs of illness. She was pregnant. She was going to have her dream man’s baby… but wait, that would make it a Sev’ryn wouldn’t it? She thought to herself. A half Sev’ryn? She didn’t know what it would be, exactly, she just knew she’d love it. After all, it was a part of him. The only part she got to keep.
She didn’t want to tell anyone though, it was a strange pregnancy with no easy answers. If someone pressed her, perhaps she could say one of the bandits had their way with her… she wasn’t sure. She decided she’d talk to Vernon, her only family, about what to do.
Vernon knew exactly what to do, “You’ll stay in the house. You won’t go anywhere until you have it, and no one will see you. When you have the child we can pretend it’s from a distant relative and that you’ve offered to take care of it for them.” This all seemed like a good idea to her, so she went along with it. The next day, Vernon offered her some medicine from a physician that was a friend of his. It would help make the pregnancy easy for her, he said. She realized just how little she knew brother. Things had been tense between them since father had passed, but here he was, being so thoughtful and taking care of things for her. She’d have to pay him back one day.
That day would never come. The medicine Vernon gave to Rebecca was none other than pure Nightshade poison. A deadly substance that, given repeatedly, assures death. Vernon’s friend told him it should work quickly and look like her body had just given up. They could blame it on his father’s death and grief finally overcoming her, only they couldn’t account for what happened next.
At first the spirit wasn’t sure. There was so much noise around the child. So many humans, and so few plants. At least up where the child was… but deep below, so many! Strange. It was used to being underground as a plant, after all it had been a potato when the plague struck, when Lisirra had destroyed the beautiful land Moseke’s humans lived on. It had been a potato in a little pot that a human was keeping as a pet. As far as it knew, this was unusual for humans. Typically they would simply grow its kind and consume them, and so it figured, it must be special. During those early days, many spirits would try to help the lost human souls find peace and sanity in their deaths, and when Moseke started to bring the human souls back to life, the spirits bonded with them.
That’s what I want to do, thought the spirit. This child, this half-Sev’ryn child, needs me, it thought further. Truth be told, it had tried to get other half-bloods to bond with it, but whether they couldn’t sense it or didn’t want it, they refused. But this child, the baby, it called to the spirit. It had been suffused with a poison, nightshade, which caused it to call out for help. And so, this spirit decided, it would help him. The potato spirit approached the grand, beautiful mother of all, Moseke, and asked her to bless the lost Sev’ryn blood of the child, and to allow the spirit to bond with it and keep it safe out in the world, away from the grace of the Mother. Moseke, moved by the gesture of such a humble spirit asking to save an unborn child of Sev’ryn blood, granted its mark to the child, and permission to bond with it, but with a word of caution. One day, the child could choose for itself if it wanted to be bonded to the spirit, as in Sev’ryn society there is always choice. That the child could also choose to align with and follow Her, or not, as was Her way. The spirit rejoiced and from that moment forth, protected the young babe in the womb.
Unintentionally, the protection spread to the mother. While Vernon poisoned her with nightshade everyday, she was as healthy as ever. He couldn’t understand it. Perhaps he’d been lied to, perhaps it wasn’t really nightshade, but anything else would be too obvious, so he kept at it and hoped it would be enough to eventually put her down.
Sadly, on the day of Sabbath’s birth, with the protection of both his Ose-bori and the Mark of Sevrath removed from her, his mother did pass on. The uncle, now without any family but the child, decided he’d keep him around, this strange miracle baby, since it didn’t directly threaten his claim on the business. Yes, he'd keep the child around as long as it was convenient.
Sabbath had survived his first ordeal, merely being born, and looked upon the world with fresh eyes. A world of lights and color, sounds and smells, the familiar darkness and warmth of his mother was gone. This is common to all babies of course, but this was no ordinary baby… or so Vernon reasoned. After all, it hadn’t died from being repeatedly poisoned while in its mother’s womb and, he further reasoned, had somehow kept his mother alive that whole time. He couldn’t quite figure out the how, but he’d put it to use in some way down the road. He was a businessman. He wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this.
So it went, with Vernon as his caretaker, along with a very boring, yet caring enough, wet nurse, Sabbath crawled along through his early years without all that much happening. Sure, he’d occasionally be given different poisons by Vernon, which just happened to get left out in the house for the inquisitive young child to find, each time the Mark of Sevrath boosting his own resistance just enough to get by without harm, but what child doesn’t put everything they find in their mouth and miraculously survive? And when Vernon would take Sabbath to mass to give blood, no great magics would swirl about, angels descending from on high to sing of this amazing child, rather a faint, boring, green light would shine from the sacrificial wound healing itself by the next day. Again, nothing particularly miraculous there… well, nothing he could make money with. Perhaps he’d been wrong to keep the child… of course when Sabbath smiled at his uncle, in the way very young children do, with all that innocence and light, unconditional love and acceptance… well, perhaps how he was a miracle would come out as he aged, he figured. Unbeknownst to Vernon, Sabbath was an entirely different kind of miracle than he was expecting. He was the cure for one of the oldest maladies in the world… a hardened heart.
The cure was working. Vernon had stopped placing random poisons around the house. The wet nurse had long since stopped being needed. This was an ambulant child, and could find its own food and water, and most of the time toilet, though let’s be honest not always. Sabbath didn’t always understand that his body needed to make waste. His friend’s didn’t after all, and he figured he was more like his friend than not. They both liked dark places, quiet places, places where they could hide and peek and grow in peace. He’d often play games of hide and hide with his friend, which culminated afterwords with them excitedly telling each other where they hid, and for how long, before they’d decided they couldn’t be apart any longer. Not surprisingly, it was the friend that came looking for Sabbath first every time. He’d been watching over the young half-Sev’ryn for too long at this point to be apart without worrying. Worry, it was such a strange emotion for Poe. Poe, a name he’d never expected to have, but one he was happy to have been granted. When Poe had initially asked to save Sabbath, it wasn’t out of worry, just love and hope. Now he... he? When had he become a he? Poe couldn’t even remember. Sabbath just always reflected his own gender only the spirit. He didn’t mind, in fact it only made him feel stronger. The more Sabbath defined him, the more he was real… the more, well, the more he was more.
Sabbath continued to amaze Poe, and confuse Vernon, mostly due to all the talking Sabbath was doing with his invisible friend. He was definitely half human, with an insatiable curiosity that would often get him in awkward situations. He was always looking for places to hide, even when not playing with Poe, which sometimes meant he’d be hiding in a room when grown ups would come in and start having “very serious talks” or so they’d tell him if or when they’d catch him. His uncle in particular would seem greatly annoyed if Sabbath was around during these times. Sabbath was undeterred and completely oblivious to his Uncle’s anger. He was just too naive, too innocent, and too belligerently curious to be bothered with something like approval or the frustration of adults.
Eventually Vernon decided that a free roaming Sabbath all hours of the day and night was just too much, and hired a tutor-nanny for the boy to teach him during the day and watch him at night. While he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of an unwatched stranger in his house, it beat Sabbath hurting himself or learning of things he shouldn’t. Vernon still hadn’t realized he cared about the child, rationalizing it was all for some great opportunity in the future, but care he did.
Vernon accepted a free tutor from the Theocratum. The new tutor-nanny was just a teen themselves, but good enough to keep Sabbath from restlessly exploring. The tutor taught Sabbath about Quacia, about the Wounded God and its majesty, about the scary monsters outside of the city and the evils of the Vicemen. Finally it made sense to Sabbath why they would bleed into the ground sometimes. It was to heal this poor being that was hurting down there. Vernon had always just said it was their duty, and to just accept it. Sabbath didn’t want anyone to be hurting like that, and while he healed very quickly from wounds, his child mind sympathized with one not being so lucky.
Over the years the tutor-nanny stopped teaching anything new and mostly acted as a baby-sitter for the young Sabbath, keeping him out of mischief. Around Sabbath’s 9th birthday, Vernon decided it was time for him to learn the family business and brought him to the workshop proper. It was here Sabbath learned the processes of woodworking: taking twigs and branches and turning them into jewelry. Pendants, brooches, and even rings, made of wood! It was exciting to Sabbath. There was a quality to the wood that intrigued him. When he touched the wood, it felt like… home. Like something right fell into place in his heart that he hadn’t known was wrong. He asked where the wood was from, and Vernon told him it was from a city called Desnind far to the east.
Desnind. He had to know about Desnind. He asked the workers about this mysterious city, but they knew very little. His uncle, surprisingly, knew very little as well, other than about the specifics of the arrangement he had with a gentlemen there to gather these tiny scraps of wood. Tiny scraps, he wondered. What could his uncle mean? This was more wood than he’d ever seen before. Vernon had forgotten for a moment he was talking with a child, one that had never set foot outside the city, and explained that wood came from trees. Giant, lumbering, terrifying things of brown and green. As Vernon put it, “When they aren’t trying to kill you, they’re quite impressive, some would even say beautiful.”
Sabbath knew what he needed to do. His young child mind had decided, as often young child minds do, that he knew his life’s calling. To go to this Desnind. To see these trees. It called to him. He called to it. Poe watched and worried and hoped, for the time was approaching when Sabbath would be making a choice… one that could have dire consequences for our dear potato spirit.
~ Choice and Consequence ~
It had been a few years since Sabbath had made his grand childhood decision to go to the distant city of Desnind and seek out his fate amongst the trees. His uncle still had yet to grant him permission to go to this strange place, but he knew that the businesses caravans went there twice a year to get supplies. Around his birthday was when they sent the most people, since apparently that was the time of year when the most free fallen branches would be on the ground. This year he’d be turning 16, and while his uncle had let him work with the wood in the workshop, something he had a naturally affinity for, it just wasn’t enough.
He had to go to Desnind. This was the year he was going to do it. He’d already figured out his plans. He’d sneak into the caravan, dressed as a worker, and get to Desnind without anyone knowing. He would tell his uncle that he was going to be spending the week at his friend Zarik’s place for his birthday. Zarik never left home, since his dad was a bit clingy. Vernon wouldn’t contact the Gleam’s resident torturer to inquire after his son or him, he was too intimidated by the man. Yes, he thought, the perfect plan.
The night of the big operation came. Operation Get In the Carriage Without Anyone Noticing You, the name was a work in progress. All those years of playing hide and hide, and with Poe on the lookout in his own way, he easily snuck onto the carriage without anyone noticing him. Perhaps the name was good after all! He shrunk himself down, making himself as small as possible in the corner of the carriage. He had a weird sense of deja vu that he couldn’t quite place as he did it, as if he’d done this before.
With a whinny and a shake, the horses pulling the carriage started out. He was really doing it! He was finally going to fulfill his long held dream, vision, quest, whatever it was, it was awesome! He felt like he could fly, as the wings of his teenage rebellion spread out behind him. All those years of being good and doing as he was told melted away, freeing the inquisitive explorer locked away inside.
Gadunk-a-dunk. The carriage had rolled over the bumps in Condemnation, meaning he was now out of the city. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t in Quacia. He waited a little longer, but then he just had to see. He had to know. He peeked his head out from his hiding spot and saw, looming in the distance, the city of Quacia. It’s broken bricks, towering citadels, and mighty gates. He’d never really thought of it like this before, but it looked kind of sick. Then again, the Wounded God did live below it, and he was hurting all the time… it made sense.
Gadunk-a-dunk. The carriage tilted a bit hitting a rough patch of road, panicking Sabbath just enough for him to duck back into his hiding spot. He’d have plenty of time to look upon Quacia on their way back, first he needed to get to Desnind. He sat in the dark and the quiet and wondered where Poe was. Usually his friend was always around, a comforting presence to say the least, but Sabbath could tell he wasn’t there. Perhaps he was playing a game of hide and hide and just hadn’t said anything, or perhaps he was just sleeping, what Sabbath usually called it when Poe just was. Too excited to dwell on it, Sabbath nodded off in his dark hiding spot, dreaming of Desnind and his imagination ran wild with ideas of giant wooden creatures called trees.
Poe watched from above the carriage. He was both excited and nervous about this trip. He’d bonded strongly with Sabbath over the years, but the choice of whether he’d accept him as a proper Sev’ryn bonded Ose-bori… that was out of his hands. Moreso, if Sabbath would accept Moseke as the great Mother of his race… it would be nerve wracking if he knew what nerves were! He had already decided himself, though, that regardless of Sabbath’s choice, he would watch over him for the rest of his life. He loved him, he’d loved him since he was a baby in the womb, and he’d never let him go.
Gadunk-a-dunk. Sabbath woke from peaceful dreams, dreams Poe often visited upon him, of being in the ground, tucked away in the soil, growing towards a light, a warmth, feeling the rain upon his leaves. The wagon had stopped, and that light in his dream was around him. It was day… and the wagon driver was looking at him in a very perplexed way. “You’re… not supposed to be in there,” he said. Luckily, this was the same man that always brought the delivery to the workshop, and Sabbath had met him a number of times over the years. The man shook his head, “If you tell Vernon about this, he’ll have my hide, you know that right?” Sabbath smiled his big, innocent smile, and said, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Vinny shook his head again and sighed deeply. Sabbath took that to mean he now had a new coconspirator and looked outside of the wagon. What beheld him took his breath away. Trees. That’s the only thing he could think they must be. Towering, glorious, brown and green, twisting and branching… branches! How could they be that big? And in the air? Just reaching out from these majestic, beautiful things. Trees! He wanted to run at them and started out of the wagon when Vinny held him back. “Listen kid, while you’re here you’re going to be one of my workers, ok? You’re not going to do anything weird, and then we’re going back to Quacia. Got it?”
“Of course of course, sure, whatever you say!” Sabbath replied, “I just need to go to the… well to relieve myself. Can I go over there and do that?” He pointed towards some large bushes and a tree’s base. Vinny nodded and let him go. Sabbath calmly walked, jogged, ran, sprinted not so calmly at all towards the tree and bushes. He ran around out of view of his new “boss” by the tree and did the only sensible thing he could think of: he hugged the tree.
A blast of raw something ran through him. Emotion? Power? Magic? What could he call it? The sense of being home when he touched the twig was nothing to this. It was like his blood was singing and nature was the conductor. He was alive, really alive! He felt the wind in the branches overhead, the security of the roots in the ground deep below. He knew it in every fiber of his being, this was him, he was it, it was him… and it was glorious!
And with that, he fainted straight away. Like mother like son.
When he woke up, he was confused for a minute, not sure where he was.
Gadunk-a-dunk. NOOOOOO! He thrust his body up and looked around. He was on the wagon, and that looming, dead, wounded city was coming into view. How could he have possibly slept that long? How could he have missed his chance to… chance to what? He’d made it. He’d touched that tree. Home. He had found it. He knew now. “Awake huh. A fat lot of help you were. Next time you’re going to stow away, at least help with the haul would ya?” Vinny said.
The next time. Sabbath beamed in the dark. “Yeah, next time… for sure!” Sabbath replied. There’d be a next time… and it would be…
Vinny was good to his word, and didn’t say anything to Vernon about the useless stow away. Sabbath was determined to make his way back to Desnind, it no longer being a child dream, but now a fully fledged young adult dream, which is clearly, and totally different.
Unfortunately, the caravan only went twice a year, so he’d have to wait until spring. It was going to be difficult, but there was something new that he could feel now. Something he’d always felt, but didn’t have a word for. Roots. There were roots to this city. The buildings were the decayed trunks, and the broken parapets what used to be branches. But the roots were still alive. He asked Poe about this, and Poe did his best impression of yes, I’ve tried to tell you this before that he could do. Poe didn’t communicate with words after all, he impressed upon Sabbath feelings, or in dreams, visions.
Sabbath had to learn more. He’d heard of a place below the city called Plenty before, that it was where food came from, but it was apparently off limits to people that weren’t in the Guild of Agriculture. Well, he’d just have to join that then right? That couldn’t be that hard.
He was wrong. Apparently it was a huge amount of work! The full bureaucracy of Quacia seemed intent on not letting some random kid from the Gleam join them. Something about workers down there being property and his Uncle not having any of that. Frustrating to say the least, he had to figure out a way down there… to the roots, to the plants. He could sense them down there in the dark now, now that he knew what he was feeling. If he couldn’t get back to Desnind for a half a year, he’d at least check out Plenty.
He knew better than to go down there without permission though. Quacia was not the most forgiving of cities at the best of times, and invading the food supply would probably end up with him visiting his friend Zarik’s father for some not so friendly conversation about why he was going down there. Also, since he’d visited Desnind, the birthmark on his chest had started to throb, oddly, in a non-painful way, but when he thought of going down to Plenty it would stop. Almost like it too was directing him to find a way down there. But how?
A month or so passed as he considered what to do, then, almost like magic, an opportunity arose. A member of the Guild of Agriculture posted in the Gleam that he was looking for volunteers for a new program the Guild was doing in Plenty. Anyone could apply, and if successful, would become important members of the Guild. It was a foregone conclusion that this was his ticket in. He immediately went to the Guild and applied. He signed a paper with a lot of words on it, something something experiment, something something possible loss of life, blah blah only at your own peril, really unimportant details that he skimmed right over, signed and handed over to the official with a great big smile.
What could possibly go wrong?
It had been a week, and he still hadn’t heard back from the Guild of Agriculture. Damn, maybe they’d already found someone else, he thought. But he was so sure it was his way in. He sighed, polishing his latest work. He’d gotten pretty ok at woodworking at this point. He could make complex pieces out of several twigs, making them twine together in ways other artisans found… well strange to say the least. For the more superstitious of them, it seemed like magic. The way they’d affix to each other, almost like they grew together into the jewelry that Sabbath was crafting. He’d typically make the same items, bracelets or circlets, sometimes necklaces. He favored circular, braided designs, always thinking of the overlapping, beautiful branches in Desnind.
A man he hadn’t seen before entered into the workshop. This was fairly common, but this man made a line straight for him. “Sabbath Maeterstom?” the man asked. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you today sir?” Sabbath responded. The man continued, “I have an application here from you, for the Guild’s… opening. I’m here to collect you.” Sabbath promptly fell off his chair. Recovering himself, he nodded excitedly and motioned for the man to lead the way. After looking over the clumsy boy, he rolled his eyes. Walking out of the workshop, he made his way with Sabbath in tow, down the streets of Quacia. They made their way to a building Sabbath hadn’t gone in before, in which were a large set of steps leading down. The man led them deeper into the earth. This must be it, Sabbath thought. He was finally going to get to see Plenty. As they rounded a bend in the tunnel he saw it, a giant cavern filled with an eerie red light, the same that lit the streets at night, and below vast fields of mushrooms, cave wheat, and other assorted plants. It wasn’t trees, but still, it was impressive.
The man stopped at the bottom of the steps and pointed at a small building off to the right down a path. “You’ll need to go there. Ask for Melyorn. He’ll guide the rest of this process,” he said, with one final look over the kid. He shook his head slightly and headed back up the stairs, one more body for fertilizer, he thought. Of course Sabbath didn’t know this, and happily made his way to his future.
Melyorn was not happy. This new plan by the administration to have him use his talents like this grated on him. This wasn’t how it should be done. There was a process. There was selection. There was tradition! But they’d told him, either he’d get results with this, or they’d have to figure out a different way. One that, more than likely, would be even more gruesome. He wanted to avoid that, since, unlike them, he wasn’t a stone cold killer. Though he certainly felt like he was complicit if nothing else. He could see Braden with a new candidate. A young one this time, Wounded God preserve us. Didn’t they have age requirements? Didn’t people read? It clearly stated this was next to suicidal. So far he’d only gotten the most desperate of the desperate, but this kid coming his way was clean and clearly healthy. Obviously not from the Heaps or worse. Could he really go through with this?
A knock at the door, Melyorn opened it. “Excuse me sir, I was told this was the place to go?” Sabbath said, “Are you Melyorn?”
He sighed, “Yes, I am. And are you…” he looked at a sheet, “Sabbath Maeterstom?” The boy nodded to him. No, he couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry to tell you, but the position has been filled,” he lied.
Sabbath looked crestfallen, “But, but I’ve come all this way, that can’t be right. Are you sure? I have to do this. I need to work in Plenty, it’s my life’s purpose!” He might be exaggerating a bit, but he wanted to impress upon this man, this Melyorn how important it was to him.
Melyorn noticed something odd about Sabbath then. Not his pining, teen angst dream, but something… off. His spark sensed it too, a wiff of ether. He got closer and said, “Perhaps… we can figure something out.” He reached his hand out to where he could sense the wiff coming from, the boy’s chest. Placing his hand there a jolt of pure ether shot through his hand, warming it, and making it feel comfortable, accepted, home.
Sabbath looked down at the man’s hand, back to the man’s face, back to his hand, “Uh… is this that kind of interview sir?”
Melyorn reacted by immediately pulling his hand back and said, “No, no of course not. I just... felt something… it doesn’t matter, I’ve decided that you can try out for the position. It’ll still be dangerous, as the papers you signed stated, which I’m sure you completely ignored, but… I think you might do.”
Sabbath grinned from ear to ear. “What do I need to do?” he asked.
Melyorn motioned outside of the building and Sabbath followed. They went around to the back of the building where some mounds in the ground were. Perhaps something had recently been planted here. Melyorn started to give off a weird pressure, making some strange gestures with his hands, when suddenly the very earth itself next to the mound split open.
“Holy Wounded God!” Sabbath exclaimed. Melyorn chuckled, it was always the same when people saw magic for the first time. He said, “Well, here’s your first task. Hop in that hole there.”
Sabbath was not particularly thrilled at the idea, but was also not particularly threatened. He had, after all, dreamt of being in the ground for his entire life, and now he was going to do that, it was kind of fun. He nodded to Melyorn and hopped in the hole. It was deeper than he thought and he could feel the pressure of landing on his ankles, much deeper. He looked up at the hole, and Melyorn. “Now, you just need to get out,” he said, nonchalantly, and made a few more gestures.
The hole above him closed, and the earth closed in around him, pressing against him from every direction. Well, this was unexpected. He wasn’t sure what to do, and so as it happened he curled up in the fetal position, holding a small amount of air for him to breath.
He’d been down there a long time. Melyorn paced back and forth. Had he been wrong? He thought whatever that ether was coming from his chest would protect him… but why was it taking so long? Had he killed another one? The spark he’d infused into the soil hadn’t returned yet, so that was a good sign… but still.
He couldn’t wait any longer, maybe if he got the kid out now maybe someone could still help him. Yes, he couldn’t have this on his conscience. He’d get the kid out and do his best to save him. He walked over to the spot he buried him and looked down. That’s when he noticed it. A small set of leaves, of a plant… is that… a potato plant? But they didn’t grow down here in Plenty. They always had to be imported, for a root vegetable, ironically, not enough light down here for them. Yet there they are. Potato leaves, and one, blossoming. He reached down to touch it, and his hand went clear through the ether image. He was wrong. It was a success!
“You know, not doing what you’ve been told is not a good start to this position,” Melyorn chided. He motioned with his hands and the earth around Sabbath opened enough to see the boy’s face. A face clearly in rapture. “Ok, that’s enough of that, yes yes, magic is wonderous, get out of the hole boy,” Melyorn said as he gestured and the earth brought Sabbath up plopping him unceremoniously onto the surface.
“But, but please just a little longer, I feel like I was about to figure out something… glorious,” Sabbath said, a very familiar look on his face to the older mage. Malyorn could remember when he’d gotten the spark, it had that effect on him too. He thought he’d figured out the secrets to the cosmos, or some rubbish. Really he was just really, really high at that moment. The effect of a spark interacting with a soul for the first time, a doubling of consciousness. Of course it was different for some people, and certainly for some sparks, so it was kind of right that his new pupil would have a similar experience.
“Well, you’ve survived the trial. Hereafter, you are my apprentice and pupil. You are hereby, with the power vested in me, a member of the Guild of Agriculture, and more specifically, a mage of the Guild of Agriculture. You will learn of the very important job you have here now, and of what responsibilities and privileges come with that shortly,” Melyorn said. He continued, “You will abandon your family name, as a mage has no family. You will abandon any other plans or projects you have and devote yourself to the city and it’s growth and well being. This was all in your paperwork of course.”
Of course, Sabbath thought. Of course.
*Queue Eye of the Tiger*
Over the next year and a half, Sabbath trained under his new mentor and learned the basics of Defiance magic. For a magic so named, he found the label strangely inaccurate. He wasn’t defying anything. It was wonderfully cooperative. Every day he’d get to talk to the elements, the way he always talked with Poe. They didn’t speak with words, but feelings and visions. It was natural for him. Of course, the most natural of all was his relationship with earth, he could talk to rocks and soil all day. They always had the best stories.
Malyorn took note of this. He had made the right call. There was something about Sabbath, some sort of rarified ether, that enhanced his capacities in some way. He wasn’t just some ordinary human of Quacia. The boy could do things with magic he hadn’t ever thought of. Certainly, he didn’t have the raw power Malyorn possessed, not even close, but he’d do such small, intricate things, it was truly impressive. He shouldn’t be able to Dance at this level, Malyorn thought, but what else could he call these little sculptures Sabbath could make so easily?
As the two of them bonded, and Malyorn interrogated him, he discovered Sabbath’s desire to go back to Desnind one day. That it was home for him. Since Sabbath lived with Malyorn for his training and work, Malyorn had seen Sabbath with his shirt of on several occasions and noticed a strange mark on his chest. When he asked about it Sabbath couldn’t say anything other than recalling the throbbing before he’d started his work in Plenty, and how it had stopped once he became a mage. After all, Sabbath didn’t consider his near magical woodworking to be anything special, didn’t know about the poisoning he’d lived through as an unborn babe and a young child. He could only really speak about Poe, which Malyorn did eventually guess was a familiar. They weren’t impossible, but he’d never heard of a potato spirit, or one that was bonded from birth.
Sabbath was a mystery to him. Sabbath was a mystery to himself. But, he was a good student, too good. Everything came too easily to him, magically. He wasn’t the brightest when it came to book studies, but not dull either. Clearly just not very educated, he took to history and religion in particular. But magically... it was like breathing to him. Malyorn wasn’t sure if it was just because of Sabbath’s experience with Poe, or if there was something else there. Some greater destiny… but regardless, for now, he’d just take full advantage of it for the sake of Quacia. More than anything else, he was just glad to have a living apprentice after all the failures leading up to him.
Sabbath might be the miracle the city had needed for so long, he was certainly that for Malyorn.
