30th of Vhalar 721
It didn’t take as long getting lost from the point she’d left the caverns, to backtrack her way to them. Monk bore them both swiftly to that destination, and they were able to make it before nightfall. Once they arrived at their gorge in the middle of the Hotlands (apparently), they found the cavern where Demda had holed up for so many nights. There weren’t many words shared between them on the way, or as they set up their shelter within the cave. It wasn’t until they finally sat down to a meal outside of the cave, in the approach of dusk’s chill, that they had words.
Demda thought it imprudent to start a fire, so they didn’t. She didn’t want to get the attention of either raiders or the Hotlands military. But Demda did offer her companion a slice of mole cactus, along with a few drams of water left in one of the lighter waterskins she had on her.
Majaea took the water and mole cactus and ate them in a clumsy way. Perhaps she was still acclimating to her true form, but Demda still saw much of the desert wolf in her. She tried to shake off that impression, but seeing her there it was hard to separate the two in her mind. After Majaea had finished off the cactus, Demda ventured to ask her, ”Does it hurt when you transform?” It seemed a relevant question.
Majaea stopped at the moment and stared at her for a trill or so. Then she shrugged, as she took a drink of water. He tilted the skin back and drank deeply of the last few drams. Then she handed the skin back to Demda. ”It does, at first. For magi as experienced as me, it gets far less painful as the magic grows in you.”
Demda nodded, and took a piece of the mole cactus herself, mixed with some dried seeds she’d picked earlier. Majaea stared at her from across the rock circle they’d set up. ”You see, the Rosanna, as you called it? It was my self-totem…” Then Majaea went on to tell the story to Demda, of how she’d been betrayed by a fellow magi who sought to sell her out to the Tower of Flesh. He’d been her lover, and a former member of her cadre of Hotlands magi, before the Tower of Flesh corrupted him with the promise of wealth, power, and nels. As Demda listened, she reflected that it sounded very much like the story she’d heard from the treasure hunters she worked with last arc. She nodded along with every part of her story.
When Majaea was done telling the tale, Demda sighed. ”I know what it’s like to be betrayed by one you trust. So…”
Majaea cut her off, ”As does every woman in this fallen world, at one point or another. There’s no sure sign of privilege than a lack of abuse in your past.”
Demda paused and then nodded at Majaea. ”I’ve been trying to learn to defend myself, with the sword. My teacher…”
”Probably a man.” Majaea ventured, quite boldly. Demda frowned.
”Why must it have been a man? I mean you’re correct, but… Women can use weapons as well. In fact they should.”
Majaea shook her head, mirth showing on her features and eyes, ”A weapon can even the playing field, but the flesh of men, on average, is stronger than we women. There are exceptions, of course, but such is a sad fact that we often are at their mercy in a contest of strength.”
The sorceress shrugged, ”The people of Nashaki fear sorceresses in particular among magi because it grants a liberating power from powers that they understand. Wealth of nations, forces of arms, the strength of flesh and steel. All of it flies against the might of magic, and the will to wield magic is stronger than that which wields steel.” Majaea nodded to herself more than anyone, ”Strength of steel and flesh, the will to wield it, rules by men for men. Typically, we women must turn elsewhere for our own advantage. That is why the people of Nashaki teach their people to hate magic.”
There was a silence between them for a time, but then Majaea looked up, ”I’m indebted to you, for finding this ‘Rosanna’ and reuniting it with me.”
Demda looked up at her, ”What did you do to that big man out there? You dried him out like a husk… Was that magic or…?”
Majaea nodded, ”The magic I practice, one of them. It allows me to feed upon the lifeforce of my enemies. This is what gave me power enough to enact the transformation back into my ‘self-totem’.”
”Self-totem?”
The sorceress smiled at the Nashaki woman’s ignorance, ”That is what we call the shape we possessed upon initiation into the magic. It normally remains with us forever, but I was cut off, by the treachery of my former lover. He used another form of magic to disrupt my transformation, and the totem was lost.”
Demda nodded, though she didn’t fully understand what any of this meant. She only knew that she was growing more intrigued by the idea of this magic by the moment. Changing shapes, and into other life forms seemed to be a very useful ability. One that could certainly turn the tide in the struggle for survival.
”I can teach you.” Majaea said, as if sensing her curiosity and desire to learn more.
Demda looked up from the camp, her eyes wide, ”You can learn? I always thought magi were born, not made?”
Majaea laughed, ”No, we are not born. It’s a dangerous proposition, but a mage is forged in initiation, but the process… Is painful. You would have to be strong enough to endure it.”
They spoke more on the details of Majaea’s magic, Becoming, and increasingly the nomad became more intrigued. Until at last she was convinced that she wanted this power for herself. Demda had already made up her mind. This was the subject of her vision journey into the desert. She wanted to see it through. ”You will teach me, won’t you?”
Majaea gave her an inscrutable look, as if assessing her companion, ”It isn’t without risk. Are you sure? I mean, I’m obliged to you enough that I would be willing… and we could begin to rebuild my old mage clan… Perhaps.”
Demda insisted, and Majaea relented rather easily. It was settled. So, Majaea said little as they went to the process of bringing Demda into the fold of her arcane lineage.
The first order of business was a grisly one. But first, Majaea required Demda to form a sort of adhesive, in order o hold the items for the totem they’d forge together before dedicating ether to it. Under the light of the moons, they worked steadily. A fire was needed in order to turn the juice of the mole cactus into a serviceable paste that would hold components together. A bit of hair from Demda was cut from her head, enough to form a braided twine that would become a bracelet. She took a copper nel from Demda, that would serve as the base of the jewelry. Finally, came the grisly part. She required three of the sovereign substances as they were called. Lifeforce, structure, and visage. They already had visage in the form of hair, Majaea assured her. Lifeforce was easy, but the structure was often and always the most painful.
”Which finger of which hand shall we do… hmm… I think the right index.” So saying, she took Demda’s hand in hers, rubbing it gently as if to soften the blow that was to come. Then, she took the camp knife and began slicing off the tip of Demda’s index finger.
Demda’s teeth clenched, and she bit down on her own lip, drawing blood. As blood flowed from the wound, Majaea held it over the boiling adhesive they had, adding it to the mix. She held fast to the hand as Demda writhed in place, shocked at the sudden removal of her fingertip.
The process of removing the bone from the tip of the finger was hard to watch, but Demda was determined to take in every sensation and sight. She watched as Majaea carved the bone from the fingertip, and then smeared blood onto the copper coin of the bracelet that would become her self-totem.
They bandaged her finger as well as they could, given their relative lack of supplies. Just a fiber twine was used to cut off the blood flow, but still, a trickle flowed from it. Breaks elapsed, but eventually, Majaea spoke, ”It is done, the totem has been dedicated with what we call ‘ether’. It is the arcane lifeforce that permeates much of Idalos. It allows us to accomplish our feats of impossibility. Now…”
She wrapped the bracelet around Demda’s wrist, holding onto her hand which still felt the shock and pain of having part of it removed. The other handheld onto her wrist, where the bracelet was wrapped. Then, Demda felt the strangest sensation she’d ever done.
It was like every part of her was melting. Her tongue released a number of flavors, like every meal she’d had in her life, was experienced at once. Her body felt every sensation, every touch, and attack she’d suffered. Her eyes were perhaps the most affected. She saw shapes on the wind, beasts, and creatures she’d only heard tell of in tales from far away, some she recognized, others that were more chimeric. They formed on the air like an illusion of sorts before her eyes. Yet she knew she couldn’t trust her senses entirely. It was all part of the ritual of Becoming, as far as she could tell.
A few bits into this process, the bracelet that held a portion of her soul melted into her wrist and became part of her once more. The tip of her finger regrew, ejecting the twine that kept it from bleeding. Demda’s eyes grew wide as she saw that, wondering if it was another trick of the senses brought on by initiation.
Finally, overcome with the glut of sensations, Demda lay low on the ground. For a few moments, she felt normal again. Almost as herself. But there was something else, something undefinable inside her that eluded her almost.
”Now that you’ve survived… I’m surprised. Most don’t.”
”What?!”
”Now now, you’re fine. It’s time for you to learn more about this gift. We’ve much work to do.” Majaea reached out a hand, to help Demda up. She took the hand and rose to her feet. Within moments, the fire was smothered by sand that they had on hand to dump on it, and the area went dark.
