Rebirth (2)

Early one morning he escaped the eye of his mother as he always did, and began the hour long walk on his stubby child legs towards the edge of the steppes that lined his treasure land. He had two targets in his journey; the main one was the Voidland, in the hope he could find a mass stone. The other was a variety of common herbs that could be used to make a herbal bath that would be needed to transform his Arcana. Most of the herbs he was looking for were considered weeds by the farming populace around Ola, they were infuriating to get rid of and had no real benefit on their own. The farmers who delivered the wheat would often complain to Mal’s grandfather about how annoying the herbs could be, how strangleroot did just that, strangled the roots of the crops, and drainweed would actually drain the life from surrounding larger plants to feed itself. For some unknown reason the weed would never touch a smaller plant, which meant that grasses and smaller herbs thrived around it. With each spring massive bonfires would line the horizons, spewing clouds of pink and purple smoke into the air and burning up a weed that Mal needed dearly. He was just lucky the weeds were so resilient.

Step after step he ran down a well worn dirt path. The ground was rocky and rough under his soft feet, but he did not care. Pain was temporary, even if his new body was not used to it. He could ignore the pain of his feet getting a little cut and bruised if he found a good quality mass stone to bind. It would streamline everything he had to do to at least become competent again. He looked at the surrounding farmland and the forest nearby and frowned. He knew this area. It was not too far from the Citadels, and as a grandmaster of the art of Evocation he knew the regions surrounding the Citadels intimately. This place, the entire region of Regal Cliffs and its surroundings, he did not recognise from his memories even though he should have. It made him wonder how much time had passed since he was sent through the cycle and into the lives of his new parents. It could not have been a short time, the world had changed too much for that to be the case. The poor were still poor, and magic still dictated the path of the powerful, but the particulars had changed. Landmarks no longer existed where they should have, many names had changed, and even entire cities that should have been often spoken about because of their production of goods were simply not heard of. It made functioning hard for Mal, but it made his guise as an innocent toddler so much easier, because his knowledge of geography and basic parts of the common tongue were so lacking.

He had quickly defined a character for himself that would allow him a certain modicum of freedom as well as a relatively easy path towards his actual, original nature. This was an important step for him, because he needed his life to be as smooth as possible. The curse inflicted upon him was a great hex, but also an incredible opportunity. He had the chance to reshape his path, transforming his decent enough talent into perfection.

With each step towards the Voidlands, Mal felt his palms clam up. He was worried, but he was excited. There was something thrilling about him going to an unknown place with such a weak form. It was a risk he had not been able to take for a long time in his old life, and now that he had the chance again, he was relishing it.

In his old life, Mal had been a genius magi, someone who had climbed the ranks within the magical community at great speed. By the time he was forty he had completed his magical apprenticeship and, while not the youngest man to have ever completed his apprenticeship, he had been quick beyond measure. Some of his lecturers had said he was like a reincarnation of Dalveri, one of the greatest Evokers in history. It was why his most commonly used spell had been an augmentation of Dalveri’s rose, a rose of fire that was so cold that it could freeze the very life out of the people nearby. Mal had liked the elegance of the design, and the simplicity of the chant that he would need to construct it, so when he got the chance and the know-how he immediately augmented it so that the flame would no longer be bone-chillingly cold. Instead it would be a flame as hot as the surface of the sun.

Idly Mal brought his hands together and began running through the four hand motions required to summon his rose. Palms together, monocle, fists apart and then right hand across the body. He had repeated the actions so many times in his life, through his training all the way up to moments before his end that even now, in the body of a three year old child, the movements were as practiced as they had ever been. It had taken him a while, but he was completely settled in his new body. If he could only get his magic power back, then he would truly be back on form and capable of beginning his journey to cure himself of the blasted hex that had been placed upon him. Again and again he went through the motions as he bounced along and glanced at the surroundings. The forest quickly faded into rocky ground as he approached the edge of the Voidlands. Green faded into browns and quickly changed to blues and purples as the trees and bushes became thin spires of the violet coloured stone. There had always been something odd about the rocks, something unworldly, that had changed their colour and natural properties to make them more valuable to the magi than any other material. They were the basis of all great acts of magic, of any arcana, and the Voidland itself was the breeding ground for the purest form of the mass stone, Mal’s intended target. He could find a mass stone anywhere, but the mass stones of the Voidland were special. Magi kept their mass stones with them for the rest of their lives, it would show their arcana, their strength, and be a key piece in creating his casting totem. It was a pivotal piece of gear for his revival, and if he could get a mass stone from the Voidlands, his strength when he actually had a totem would be tens, if not hundreds of times stronger than without it. It was a necessity.

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