The Soul Refiner Bk 01 Ch 04 06

Chapter 4

I awoke in the late morning, disoriented by my surroundings. I was laying on my own bedroll, in an empty room. The walls and floor were of fine make, but bare of furnishings or decorations, and showing signs of recent neglect. It took me a moment to realize that I must be within the home of the estate. My last waking memory was of collapsing in a stand of trees outdoors with Myta. She must have brought me in here. If she had, it was an indication that I'd been able to relieve the most severe of her symptoms. In the later stages of soul sickness, the afflicted lost any ability to take initiative.

I groaned, and sat up, stretching out my stiff muscles. There were some clattering noises in the next room, followed by the soft padding of bare feet, swiftly approaching. The redhead appeared, clearly having been summoned by the sounds of my waking. Without a word, she offered me a cup of cold, clean water, which I downed with great pleasure. Last night's trials had left me barely more refreshed than when I'd collapsed, and the chill fluid was bracing.

I took the opportunity to study my new ward, this being the first time that I'd seen her both conscious and aware. She knelt by my bedroll, face composed, eyes regarding me warily. Having seen her in her prime, at least her memories of it, her starved and sunken features were that much more appalling. Like the difference between seeing a random pile of rubble, and the ruins of your own home. Apparently she had taken some time to clean and care for herself, as much as she was able. Her clothes were brushed clean of debris from where I'd laid her in the grove of trees, and her face was washed. Frankly, I was amazed she had the energy for that in her condition, let alone bringing me in here. Her determination was impressive, to say the least.

"Thank you, Myta." my voice was a little rough with fatigue. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you know that name?" She rasped the question at me, her voice in far worse shape than my own. She clearly hadn't been speaking much, for quite some time. I raised an eyebrow at her question, and the unexpected anger in it.

"It is the name your aunt, Pedu, gave to me. Is there another you'd prefer?"

"Pedu?" she stared at me, her mouth moving silently for a few moments. I recognized to look of a person digging through old memories. "I remember... my mother spoke of her sister. Perhaps I met her as a child. I've not seen her in many years."

"You saw her yesterday, in fact. Though it's no surprise you don't remember. You've been very ill." I climbed slowly to my feet, taking a moment to examine her. Last night's exertions had certainly taken the edge off her condition. Much of the poisoned mana was drained, and her anima was showing less strain. Of course, that was only the most recent, superficial part of the damage. Her spirit still carried a great deal of silver, winding through her meridians. I was not quite sure what to think of that. She should have processed all the mana I'd given her by now.

Physically, she was in incredibly poor shape. Not only was she malnourished, her muscles were atrophied, and her organs functioning weakly. All standard symptoms of soul malaise, and all things that I could address. My mana continued to work within her, facilitating her recovery, but her body and spirit both required fuel.

"Come with me." I spoke as I headed for the door. My companion seemed not to hear me, lost in her own turmoil. From the extent of her illness, the revelation of her estranged aunt's intervention, or some other factor I couldn't say. It didn't matter, I could see her mind was racing nowhere. Nothing good would come of that sort of paralyzed confusion. I focused my will on the tether between us and she jerked in place as though slapped. I beckoned her with a jerk of my head, not really caring to repeat myself. Standing, she followed without a word, her eyes boring holes in my back.

I hadn't been here in a little while, but I oriented myself in the house with relative ease, then made my way to where I'd left my cart. Opening it up, I noted that the touched woman had been fairly neat in her search through my things. That was promising. I began pulling out the supplies I needed, straightening out what she had misplaced as I did so.

"Start gathering wood, and lay a small fire. We'll eat soon, and then talk." I watched Myta carefully, as she left to follow my instructions. Movements unsteady, she nonetheless set about her task with as much energy as she could muster. Seemingly fueling herself with some combination of ire, and sheer stubbornness. It was quite impressive to watch. I'd have been more worried about the damage it might do to her body, and its vastly depleted reserves, but that was part of what I was working to fix.

Within my heavy clay pot I gathered oats, nuts, herbs, and dried fruits; to which I added a generous portion of fermented milk. In my kettle, I combined a carefully selected assortment of herbs, to which I added water from the nearby well.

"Ignite the fire with your mana." I instructed Myta, after I judged that she'd gathered enough wood for now. The confused look she returned to me made me want to sigh. Waving away her unspoken question, I drew gently on her spirit through the link between us, igniting the fire with my finger. Her affinity for flame meant that almost no effort was required, but her gasp of shock was disheartening. What concerned even more than her unfamiliarity with such minor sorcery however, was how the flames were tipped with silver.

I cooked the porridge and tea, then shared them between us. The touched woman got the lion's share of the porridge, of course. Though I ensured she ate it very slowly. After we were done I spent some time just sorting through things in my mind.

"My name is Esur, and as I'm sure you've realized, I hold your bond now." I paused for a moment to see if she would jump in with any questions, but she merely looked at me with wary eyes. "Your aunt asked me to claim your bond, as I am a healer capable of dealing with your affliction. To be honest, owning you is a danger to me. But I have worked with Pedu for some time, and was inclined to aid her. You understand?"

Nodding, she responded, her voice clearly straining to speak even this much. "Why am I a danger to you?"

"Your affliction, is a soul sickness." I let that statement stand long enough for her to think through the implications. "Soul sorcerers may not be in as much danger here in Ramana as in many other kingdoms in the shattered lands, but we are still not looked on fondly. Without a noble patron, I can expect my life to take a dramatic turn for the worse if my skills become widely known. With a noble patron, I become a bird in a gilded cage. Not a life I relish.

"Having you travel with me, will draw attention. Attention I cannot afford. I am a traveling healer, and in no way should a humble herbalist be prosperous enough to afford a slave. Much less a slave as rare and striking as you. And you will increase my chances of being attacked on the road. Only those carrying valuable goods travel with servants or guards. So now I need to know, can you be of use to me?"

"I... will try." Myta's voice was smoother, but her tone was despondent. Perhaps even a shade resentful. "I can cook, clean, and carry burdens for you. Warm your bed, or perform whatever unskilled tasks you require."

"None of that is of great value to me." her face turned sullen at my words. "However, your heritage grants your spirit natural strength. And anyone can see you have been trained in combat. I will attempt to teach you some things, and if you are an able learner you might justify Pedu's efforts on your behalf."

"Yes master." She said nothing further as we gathered and cleaned the dishes. Her mood was... difficult to read, even for me. I thought she was torn somewhere between anger and despair. Where that anger was directed though, I couldn't say. It also bothered me that she valued her abilities so poorly, not even listing the survival and martial skills that I knew the Pure monks would have drilled into her. Clearly Myta's confidence was broken, and that was likely at the core of her sickness.

Considering the wound I'd uncovered in her dream, and what little I'd uncovered of her past, I wondered if the Pure monks might not have deliberately fostered her malaise. I couldn't imagine the reason for such an effort, but I knew those fanatics would stoop to any low in pursuit of their goals. Myta had come to them with an already damaged spirit, and I suspected that their treatment of her had only reinforced that damage. Then she'd been handed off to a brothel, which was hard enough to imagine. And her very first client was abusive and incompetent. Assuming that all that was coincidence stretched the bounds of credulity.

I had to admit, the idea that they had broken her spirit deliberately made me more invested in helping her. Few things would give me greater satisfaction than thumbing my nose at the Pure. If I could uncover their intentions, perhaps even undermine their plans, that would be a bonus. A mystery, a challenge, and a little petty revenge. Acquiring Myta was looking better and better the longer I thought on it.

Chapter 5

We packed up the cart, and then set out not too much later. I wanted to see if I could make my next regular stop before the end of the day. Showing Myta how I organized my supplies, and more importantly explaining why, took the longest amount of time. I was particular about the layout of my cart, but fortunately she proved to be a quick study. Easily connecting my reasoning with the practical application, and even asking relevant questions on some things that were placed according to my idiosyncrasies, rather than any practical reason. It was... far more promising than I had hoped for. When I told her as much, I thought she might burst into tears. Frankly I found that unnerving. I'd been told many times that even my most effusive praise landed like a deliberate insult.

I whistled for the goats, and we harnessed them up. Ita and Ina were more than ready to get on the road. They tended to be energetic in the spring, even late spring. I showed Myta how to drive the cart, which she had no experience with, then walked beside it as she drove. The girls were smart enough that they rarely required guidance, and this road was a good one to practice on. I also wanted to test how well my companion could multitask.

"What do you know of sorcery and mana?" I asked, as we got underway.

"Little enough. Mana is the energy that fuels our spirits. And sorcery is the art of using that energy." Her voice was still quiet, but almost back to the husky tones I'd heard in the visions of her past. There was now little sign that speaking with me was straining her. A clear indication that my mana was still working to heal her body.

"That is indeed the most superficial understanding. As you say, mana is the lifeblood of the spirit, but it is found everywhere in the world. It arises from everything, every substance and interaction, though generally only in small amounts. Sorcery harnesses that energy, and so in theory any thinking being can work sorcery. As we all produce mana, and our spirits are all fueled by it, one could even argue that every thinking being is already a sorcerer." I let her mull on that for a bit as we wound through a particularly steep set of hills.

"If we all use mana already, then a sorcerer is someone who does that on purpose." She finally said.

"Precisely," I was trying to suppress a smile now. "A sorcerer gathers up what mana they can, and bends it to their will to create a consciously intended effect. That is the definition of sorcerer, and sorcery, that is most commonly used by those who study mana." I could tell she wanted to ask about other definitions, but she held her tongue and I continued.

"Anima is a term you hear a little less often outside of scholarly circles. Anima is the stable part of your spirit. It is what allows you to channel mana, and protects your spirit from outside influence. The slave bond was first created to help reinforce the subject's anima from outside influence. Anyone who wanted to affect your anima now would need to overcome mine as well. The size, strength, and shape of a being's anima changes how much mana they can use. As well as how they can use it. This applies to sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike."

I kept up my instruction for a time, then left her alone for a while to digest the information. After lunch I quizzed her to determine what she'd retained, and answered the questions she'd come up with. My estimation of her was continuing to increase. Myta would never be a scholar, she had no real love of learning for its own sake. But, she had enough curiosity and intelligence to be eminently trainable. Our next steps would need to wait until we stopped to rest.

Just before nightfall we arrived at the camp that was our destination. It was somewhere between a hunting outpost and logging operation. The camp's founders had negotiated a treaty with the local forest god long ago. They received limited rights to harvest those plants and animals designated by the god, which made them much easier to hunt and gather. In return, the camp kept other humans from foraging here, and also provided a tithe of worship. A win for both parties, I thought, as it maintained the forest as a stable resource. Such deals were not uncommon in semi-wild areas like this, though many did not work out so well as this one, especially over the long term.

The palisade gate was closed by the time we reached it. That meant my chance to acquire a new tent today had passed. Unfortunate, but livable. I settled Myta inside the wagon with some extra blankets to wrap herself in. Her health was still too fragile to chance with something like a late spring chill or storm. I had an oiled canvas sheet that would keep most of the dew off me, and hold up to at least a light rain. I put it over my bedroll and blanket, settling in for my dreaming meditation.

When I emerged into my sanctum, my spirit was more at peace. While dark and angry, the clouds overhead were blessedly free of lightning. It seemed the poisoned mana I had taken from my ward's soul sickness had not pushed me back to the brink. That at least, was good news. The silver pool of my usable mana was dangerously low however, and a steady stream now flowed from it. Draining from me to fuel Myta's physical recovery, no doubt. I spent some time calming the clouds overhead. Not shedding the foul aspect out into the world as I'd needed to do previously, but slowly, steadily, purifying the mana. I washed the greed of the viridian contagion from my system, but then I encountered a more serious problem.

Cleansing even a portion of Myta's soul sickness had left me with a considerable portion of corrupted mana. As I attempted to soothe its aspect, I found that I simply couldn't. Normally I would clear my mind, and allow the calmness of my soul to settle whatever was disturbing my mana. But this wasn't my mana. It was hers, and I was simply holding it for her. Our souls were too close now, and her sickness too cohesive, for me to incorporate the mana myself. Clearly this was why my mana was retaining its aspect within her as well. To purify this mana, her sickness would need to be healed completely first. Until then I was stuck confining it. Worse, there was a great deal more of this mana that she was still holding. I could hardly afford to dedicate that much of my spirit.

With no other recourse coming to mind, I began to compress the tainted mana. Handling it felt unclean and dangerous, like gripping the blade of a rusty knife. I needed to forge the mana as densely as I could, without allowing it to solidify into anima. The divines only knew what having a shard of this inside of me would do. When I finished that nerve-wracking task I took a short rest, while verifying that new mana was beginning to flow into me again. Staring, at the black-red sliver of poison hanging in my internal sky.

When I'd had the chance to catch my breath, figuratively speaking at least, I began to walk along the stream of mana that was flowing away from me. Gray mist began to haze the air around me and a familiar feeling of cobwebs brushed over my skin. All of it much less oppressive than the last time I'd been here. Normally it would be much more difficult to find my way to another person's inner world. For most sorcerers it was all but impossible. But now, with the bond between us, and our mana flowing back and forth? It was as easy as taking a short walk.

I found my way to the center of Myta's spirit with ease. Though as formless as it was here, only the flow of mana let me know when I had reached it. I ignored the shadows lurking out in the fog this time, I had a different purpose tonight. The mana stream ended in a small pool, bubbling and steaming, tinged with a bright orange light, it had the appearance of molten metal almost. Strangely the fiery pool felt somehow welcoming, like a bright doorway promising shelter on a dark night. Kneeling beside the pool, I put my hand to its surface, careful not to disturb it. I'd no desire to frighten her, and a clumsy contact between souls could be deeply jarring.

"Myta, come to me." I bent my will to the words, and immediately she was before me, standing atop the pool of mana. Her eyes took in our surroundings without surprise or judgement. She was quite deeply asleep, and I needed to bring her to lucidity, without waking her. Taking her hand, I drew her off the pool, then turned her around to look at it instead. I wrapped my arms around her waist to keep her steady and grounded.

"Do you see that, Myta? This pool of liquid fire inside you is your mana. I'm going to teach you how to use it, but before I can, you need to focus on it, and focus on my voice. Can you do that? Good. Just focus." I kept up my dialogue until she began to stir. The feel of her starting to squirm in my grip was... distractingly pleasant. I found myself reflexively pinning her tighter against me, before I remembered why I was here. I released her then, and she turned to look at me.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the fire touched woman had a very defined sense of self. She appeared much as I'd seen her at her physical peak, during the visions of her training. She lacked most of her old scars and injuries, though the ritual scars on her forearms remained. Her hair was loose, falling to the middle of her back, and had a richer color than it currently did in the waking world. A little extra weight made her body just a little softer, her muscles a little less sharply defined. Apparently her self image did not include clothing, though I saw the faint outline of a polearm of some sort over her shoulder. That lack afforded me a very pleasant view.

"This place is familiar." Her voice was sweet and resonant, a little lower pitched than I had heard before.

"This is your inner world, the place your dreams emerge from. It is also where you harness your mana, and work to strengthen your soul." I gestured to the pool. "Before you can control your mana, you must define your inner world. I need you to form an image in your mind, a place where you feel at home, and then within that place, an object that represents the core of your being. The images can be whatever you wish, but they should come naturally to you. You must build them up in your mind, to the point that they feel real."

Nodding resolutely, she closed her eyes. I expected this to take quite some time. Most prospective sorcerers took weeks or months to lay the foundations of their inner world. To my shock however, the mist began receding within a few minutes. Ground appeared beneath my feet, covered with a mix of leaf litter, moss, and young grass. Mountains appeared, surrounded the valley in which I now stood. The last of the gray mist remained as a patchy, low lying fog. I almost choked when I realized that the landscape she was creating was a compliment to my own.