Realms of Glomora: A Magic Lesson
This is an early draft of a Glomora novel I started a couple of years ago. It features an early version of my main protagonist, Veran Bloodstalker. The story functions as a brief explanation of my magic system, as well as the mythology behind my original fantasy world. I hope you enjoy it.
Veran, Vortus, and
Kamara were near the Zeral-Vitar border. They had been traveling Zeral for
several days and had encountered some challenges, but now they were finally
about to pass through the border into Vitar, and hopefully make it to castle
Blackfire. They had gotten off the main road and made camp several hundred feet
within a small forest so they would not draw suspicious eyes. Evening was
drawing near, the sky blemished with pink and stains of yellow. Veran had
started a fire and the smell of woodsmoke filled the air.
Veran glanced up from his work. Kamara was staring
intently at the flames, her face drawn. Veran wondered what had happened to
this girl. Yes, the encounter with the vampires probably had shaken her, but he
could tell something had happened to her before Vortus had found her. Something
terrible that made her so quiet. She had not spoken a single word to Veran. He
wondered if the fact that he used to be a vampire irked her and made her wary
of him. He couldn’t blame her. The scar of the vampire mark was still on his
wrist, which was why he took such great pains to hide it. No one trusted him
when they found out what he used to be, as if he still carried the taint of
vampire blood on him. No one trusted him, save Vortus.
Vortus came from where he had tied up the horses over to
Kamara. Veran watched him.
“Kamara.”
The girl looked up at him.
“It’s time for your first lesson,” Vortus said.
A gleam caught her eyes. Vortus inclined his head towards
where Veran tended the flames. “Come,” he said.
Kamara looked at Veran who smiled. Her gaze fell away and
Veran felt a pang in his heart. She did not rise. Vortus considered her for a
moment then squatted down in front of her.
“Very well,” the mage said. “Your first lesson is this: I
am your teacher, and you will obey my instruction. When I say, 'follow me,' you
will follow me. When I say, 'listen' you will listen. When I say 'trust me' you will trust me.”
Kamara’s eyes were fixed on the ground. Veran could sense
her nervousness.
“Kamara. Look at me.”
Those brilliant blue eyes looked up at the wizard.
Vortus’s voice was gentle, yet firm. “Trust me. And do not fear Veran. He is a
good man. He has already proven himself many times over. He will not harm you,
nor will he let harm come to you.” The fire popped and crackled. Kamara glanced
at Veran for an instant then looked back at Vortus.
Vortus held out a hand. “Have I led you astray yet,
child? Have I given you any reason to doubt me?”
She shook her head. Vortus smiled. “Then come. Magic does
not learn itself.”
He lifted her up and they walked over to the fire. Veran
smiled again at the girl. She did not smile in return, but her gaze was less
afraid, less anxious.
Vortus sat and he beckoned her to do the same. As they
did so, Veran asked, “Are you sure you want me in the vicinity? The art of
mages and wizards seems a secret thing that one such as myself should not have
access to learn. Perhaps I should make myself scarce.”
Vortus shook his head. “Don’t bother. There’s no harm in
you listening. In fact, it may even be beneficial. Besides, you wouldn’t be
able to do it.” He grinned. “You have absolutely no talent for it.”
Veran scowled. “Fine then,” he said crossing his arms.
“Then I will listen.”
“Do so.” Vortus leaned towards Kamara, fixing her with
his gaze. “Are you ready to learn, my student?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “Magic can only be performed through speech.
If you do not speak, you cannot wield it. And I know you can speak. So, I will
ask again, are you ready?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good, then we can begin. First,
you need to know that there are different types of magic in this world. Beyond
this world, there may be more, but we are not going to try and make your head
explode on the first day.”
Kamara’s eyes widened.
“That was a joke. In any case, magic is a power that can
allow its wielder to utilize the world around him or herself to different ends.
However, not all of this magic is good. First, you have Abyssal Magic.” His
tone grew serious. “This is the magic of witches and warlocks, vampires and
those who possess wicked hearts. Those who utilize this magic commune with
demons and the darkness of the Netherworld. Within this magic is great power,
but also a great cost.”
Veran remembered Rebekah. Her dark arts and the wonders
she showed him. How attractive the things she did were, and how enchanted he
was by them. But he knew the cost, and he knew all too well what Vortus was
about to tell Kamara.
“Those who use Abyssal Magic,” Vortus continued, “without
repentance or the turning away of it, damn their souls forever. It is a short
cut for those who cannot wield True Magic and who have foul desires. There have
even been those with the talent of wielding True Magic who have turned to the
dark arts in the hopes their power would increase tenfold. Kamara, you must
promise me now that you will never give into the dark arts.”
She nodded. “I promise, Master.”
He smiled. “Good. Then on to lighter subjects. True Magic
surrounds us all. It is the Power by which Luoja created the world. Child, what
do you know of Luoja?”
She shook her head. “Not much. I thought He was just a
legend and that the other gods were the ones who really existed.”
Vortus sighed. “As it has become in recent centuries.
More and more forget Luoja every day, and the gods whom He created take His
place, even though they too have long abandoned Glomora. Let me enlighten you
then to the True God, for from Him comes the True Magic.
“When nothing existed, Luoja did. Through His words Luoja
spoke into being light and the world of Glara. With the cadence of His voice he
created the mountains, the forests, and the seas, and filled them with every
beautiful creature imaginable. He filled the skies with the stars, the sun, and
the moon. And then he created the Tahu, His first children. From a great oak
was born Kooja, a goddess of wild and untamed beauty, and over the realm of the
earth did Luoja give her domain. From the sea was born the god Merenainen,
fierce and powerful as the waves that crashed on the shore. The seas was where
he ruled. From the sun came Her’Kulta, wielder of flame and light, and in the
domain of the sky he shared with Ildris who was brought forth from the moon.
These four gods were the first children of Luoja and in them He greatly
delighted.
“Then Luoja spoke again, and gave to each star a name.
And from these stars were created the angels, not as powerful as the gods, but
beautiful and great in number. In the great heavenly places they dwelled with
wings of ivory and ebony, male and female, filling the skies with dazzling
lights. Luoja was overjoyed with what He created.
“Then finally, though the earth was filled with beasts
and birds and other wonderful creatures, he decided to populate it with man,
created from the earth and given the essence of life itself. And so the first
humans began to populate and fill all of Glara, unto the very ends of the
earth.”
Veran smiled. His friend had become intoxicated with his
own story. The mage was smiling, and probably didn’t even realize it. Kamara
was rapt with awe at his story, but Veran noticed that it appeared that she
wanted to say something.
Vortus noticed. “What is it, child?”
Kamara blinked, realizing she must of given herself away.
“Um…”
“Go ahead and ask your question. One does not learn
without curiosity.”
“Well…” Kamara’s voice was soft. “What about the elves?
You talked about the gods and the beasts and man, but where did elves come from
then?”
“Ah, well, I was getting to that. And this is where, even
for me, that the story becomes muddled. You see, though Glara was good and
pure, darkness entered the world. And the source is largely unknown, even for
those of us who follow Luoja and His ways. Demons, goblins, vampires, and all
other sorts of foul things entered the world and started doing terrible things
to Glara and to the humans who inhabited it. Luoja sent His angels to defend
man and to kill the monsters. However, the numbers of the foul creatures were
great, and the numbers of humans were few. Eventually, there were angels who
chose mortality over their place in the heavens in order to fully defend
against the darkness. They shed their wings and alighted to earth with Luoja’s
blessing, and these were the first elves. They fought alongside the humans and
subdued the creatures to the best of their ability. But the world was tainted,
and the world had fallen into shadow. Glara was no longer perfect and holy. But
the elves dwelled there with man. The elves bound with one another as husband
and wife and populated just as the humans did. And, though it was rare, there
were elves who took on human brides, and humans who took on elven brides, so
now today even you might have elven blood running through your veins.”
Kamara looked down at her hands, as if what he said was
most likely true. Then she looked up at Vortus.
“What about dwarves? Where did they come from? And
dragons? Dragons are real, aren’t they?” Kamara asked.
Veran howled with laughter. “Vortus, I think you have
more of a curious student on your hands than you think. Now you will never be
able to quench all of her questions.”
Kamara blushed and lowered her eyes. But Vortus only
smiled. “All in due time, Kamara. You will know much in good time. But let’s
get back to magic, because we went on a tangent.
“Now that you know about Luoja, you know how all the
world, nay, how all the universe was created. Luoja gave His breath to the
world, therefore everything retains some kind of magical essence. The trees,
the rocks, the water. All of it has an essence of magic to it. And since Luoja
crafted all of these things with words, these things can too be controlled by
words.”
He held out a hand. “D'juga.”
From the ground under a tree, a cluster of spiderwort flowers pulled themselves
from the ground and flew into his hands. “Ti var milinen.”
The flowers began to shrivel and blacken in his hand as
something was pulled from the flowers. Droplets of water is what they were,
until, floating a few inches above his palm, he held an orb of water. The
flowers died in a dried husk, which he let fall from his hands to the ground.
He nodded to Kamara. “Here, take it,” he said, handing over the orb of water.
She looked skeptical, her startling blue eyes wide and
wondering, but she took the orb of water. She looked at it for a long while.
“It feels so…strange,” she said.
Vortus gave a wicked smirk. The orb of water burst like a
grape and splashed water on Kamara. She squealed and Vortus and Veran roared
with laughter. Kamara looked at her soak clothes and Vortus waved his hand.
“It’s alright, it’s alright. Watch. Fildus, mi parna.”
Suddenly, a hot wind blew over Kamara, tousling her hair.
Within a few moments her clothes were completely dry and the wind died.
“There,” he said. His eyes glittered. “Magic.”
The girl looked at Vortus for a moment, A slow smile
spread across her face. Veran blinked in surprise. It was the first time he had
seen her smile.
“That was amazing,” she said. Then she looked at the
dried stems and black petals of the spiderwort. “But you killed the flowers.”
“They would die eventually,” Vortus said. “And they were
used to illustrate a point. I used magic to pull out the moisture from the
plants and collect into water” He picked them up and tossed them into the fire.
Kamara stared as they were burned in the flames. “But
they were so pretty.”
Veran spoke. “My turn for a lesson. Kamara, there are
many beautiful things in this world, but not all of them are good.” He gazed at
the fire. “Some beautiful things eventually burn. Just like the vampires I
hunt.” Rebekah came to mind, but he shook the thought away.
Kamara considered him for a moment. Vortus cleared his
throat.
“Well then, that was your first magic lesson. Now for your homework.” Vortus reached into his satchel and pulled out a book with leather binding and pages as yellowed as an old man’s teeth. He handed it to her. “This is a tome on the Old Language--the language that Luoja used to speak existence into being, the language of magic. By learning the language, you will start to learn how to perform and control magic. Your first step forward is simply to read this book from cover to cover.”
Kamara looked dubious at the book. She flipped it open,
and turned through some of the pages. From where Veran stood, he could see that
it was filled with complicated words in a strange script.
“But…” Kamara began.
Vortus blinked. “Go on.”
“I can’t read,” she mumbled, embarrassed. Veran wasn’t
surprised. If Vortus had found her on the streets of a city, the details of which he still hadn’t divulged to the vampire hunter, then it was most likely
that she was illiterate.
“Well, then,” Vortus said squatting before her. She
looked at him. “That’s just something we’re going to have to fix, aren’t we?”
He smiled.
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