The next strength was similar to the first and seed to war with the previous in a weird symbiosis that seed to war with each other; the body to the previous strengths ghost. It was the third strength that left him in fear. This was the strangest form he'd ever seen. It was a form that defied his understanding. It was nothing he'd ever seen and while there was nothing of it that evinced power or fear, there was a depth to it that reminded him of the depths of an ocean, the roots of a mountain, the vastness of the sky, or the absoluteness of the void. It was the strangest sense of strength he'd ever felt before. But it was a strength that left him nervous; not for what this person was now, but for what he could be… no… that's not right… it's… it's… endurance? No… it's… Hoular found himself struggling to define the sense of what he was feeling but couldn't understand it at all. It was one of the strangest feelings he'd ever sensed.
Having waited long enough for politeness, Hoular offered another more firm greeting but felt nothing in reply. His wait continued and finally his patience ended. Enough. He has not replied. Let us dig deeper!
Despite the impatience of his thoughts, he did not allow it to control his actions, and delved ever so carefully into the mind. If this individual was a clanner hiding his strength, he would likely have defenses against the mind and it would only be wise to make sure he did not trigger such defenses.
Sending a small tendril forward first, he began to delve into the mind, brushing ever deeper and more firmly. The tendril would return little, revealing almost nothing, but it would trigger defenses and the damage to him would be minimal, and if he was fast enough, absent.
As he delved deeper and ever more violently, no defense ford and Hoular soon found himself relieved and willing to indulge his curiosity. Recalling his tendril, he dove completely into the mind and began to dig through its thought's and mories, setting up a false mont in a dreamlike state. Hmm… first… na?
Joe… McConnell… a ghost of sound whispered back to him.
Hoular blinked in so surprise. Oh! Joe McConnell. Ha! Always a pleasurable surprise when work and curiosity et. Intrigued, Hoular grinned as he delved deeper in Joe's thoughts, seeking any power or special magic techniques this McConnell would likely have.
What are your clan's secret techniques? Hoular questioned Joe.
Confusion was the only reply.
What secret power or technique do you have?
Secret? I have no secret power or technique.
Hoular's eyes widened at that last response, shock shuddering through his soul. While mind mages were not truth tellers as the priests of Mimir were, mind mages still had extraordinary capabilities when it ca to delving the thoughts of sapients. Thinking carefully, Hoular carefully created his next question.
How do you have your power?
Two answers replied simultaneously, powering over one another in a rush of thought and sound. Practice… Level… every… your… day… jobs.
Hoular's eyes flinched as he frowned from the echo of power thudding through his spirit and mind. Automatically, he took in a deep breath to steady himself and ease the pain. Despite the pain, he easily ignored it and continued his interrogation. Interesting. Practice every day and level your jobs? That last seems obvious, but how does the forr help? It seems…
How do you practice every day? Hoular asked in excitent.
What returned to him was not an answer so much as a rush of ideas, thoughts, and imagery all encapsulating the idea of so form of bodily movent repeated endlessly, daily. So of them incorporated weaponry and others were simply hand and fist. A physical combatant? With that ntal skill? Hoular found himself growing both more intrigued and more confused. Hoular retreated to simple ntal imagery as this Joe seed quite capable of ntal abstraction, which was quite surprising to him, especially as this man seed to be a physical combatant, not ntally trained as a mind mage, let alone into the more esoteric taphysical arts.
Practice every day. How much?
Joe seed to catch on to Hoular's shift of communication, his response becoming much more rapid and encompassing and not overlapping. A asured reply of two ideas linked, simultaneous, but separate. Not much. A lot. Only half a bell. The rest of your life.
Hoular felt his eyelids actually flutter at his response, his ditation almost breaking. Such effort did not seem worthwhile, especially from what he'd seen in the ideas of the combat that had been sent. Although, maybe what he'd seen was impressive as Hoular wasn't a physical combatant. Deciding that this practice was not suited to Hoular, he did not pursue too much more deeply, although he did ask Joe to send him all his knowledge on these 'martial arts,' as Joe called them.
Joe obliged quickly enough, sending forth form after form from dozens upon dozens of different martial arts. Soon, Hoular found himself overwheld by that specificity of the forms. The amount of knowledge given was not overbearing for Hoular. He was a mind mage, after all, although it was still an impressive amount of knowledge for any not a mind mage. No, the true difficulty was the explicit specificity that Joe demanded. Joe would offer a form which he would demand in response from Hoular, and when he replied with what he'd gleaned from Joe's teaching, Joe rebuked him soundly, pointing out tiny flaws in the position or movent. Again and again Joe corrected him, and Hoular soon found himself exhausted and ultimately not caring. This information he'd sought only as a ans to sell or pass on to others, but if it was this difficult, Hoular had little reason to pursue it and quickly reset the mory construct to interrupt Joe's almost compulsive like need to get Hoular's movents perfect.
If you co across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Hoular considered which question to ask next when he felt a sweep of exhaustion flush through him, starting from his heart and radiating outward in waves. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He was fine, but his ti would soon run out, and he considered simply ending the session to try again the next day before he rembered how infuriating Gunlan Galgandar was. Sighing, he turned back to his task. It would be easy enough to satisfy his employer with what he sought and he could leave the unpleasant company of Gunlan all the quicker and enjoy his pursuit of the curiosity of Joe McConnell far from Gunlan. Settling his thoughts, he returned to his interrogation, now at the behest of his employer.
Who are you?
Joe McConnell.
The simplicity of the reply stunned Hoular, and he found himself a bit uncertain of how to reply. He has not connection? No family? He is not… a part of soone else? What …
Hoular stifled his frustration and tried again. Who is your clan?
I… My… The… have… family… ancient… no… na… clan… clan… is… of… McConnell… my family is McConnell. Three simultaneous answers echoed once again, increasing Hoular's weakness and headache.
Groaning, Hoular released his pain, calming his heart, but silently cursed in frustration. How does a simple man like this hurt so much! It took a few monts to subdue his headache and return to equilibrium, but he found it not too difficult and began once again.
Who is your clan?
The answer this ti was much more coherent and deliberate. I have no clan, not as your people call it. Our people do not use clans.
Hoular pondered that revelation for a bit before deciding the na ant nothing and if this Joe wanted to argue semantics, he would just ask the question in the way Joe wanted.
Who are your people?
What ca back was overwhelming. A clan so vast and a people so nurous that it left Hoular gasping with so fear. He saw imagery of millions upon millions. He saw the clan crest in colors of red white and blue made up of so kind of stripes and stars. He saw strange devices and communication that left him bewildered. Alchemical materials, magical artifacts, wealth, music, plays, education, and power shuddered throughout all the imagery in a kaleidoscope of the strange and overwhelming. Hoular found himself breathing lightly, a panicked shudder keeping his breathing light as his next question escaped him before he could stop himself.
What is your people's power?
This was always a good question to ask. Often, ideas would slip through even as the individual would, by this ti, struggle to clamp their thoughts tight to protect their clan. No matter how hard they tried, though, so thoughts would slip through, and almost always, the thought was of the most powerful mber of the clan with so story or personal experience of the mont associated. This made it easy for Hoular to judge what kind of people he was dealing with.
Joe seed to hide nothing. Golems and magical artifacts of overwhelming power and size ripped through the sea, ground, and air at ridiculous speeds with even flashes of golems capable of invading the void. Their speed and size was only a minor aspect of their power as when they began to engage their weaponry, their power shook him to his core. But what terrified him even more was that not a single one showed close combat. Every one of them released devastating arrows of such powerful magical capabilities that they were magical artifacts in and of themselves. The power they displayed was terrifying and awe inspiring. So from massive sea born golems shaped like ships, others from strange arrow like flying birds, others from massive wheeled wagons that tore across the ground at ridiculous speeds and destroyed trees and buildings in their paths. Still others seed to pierce into the very heavens themselves before raining down upon the cities to destroy them in a single strike.
And oh, what cities were these. Massive structures of almost complete glass towering into the skies far higher than he'd ever seen a building ever before. Only one building, he knew of, could co close to the grandeur he saw: the ho of the Ancient of this cradle. But there were entire cities like this, almost as if such wealth was aningless, or even simple. The entire plane seed to be dotted with these overwhelming cities. And the number of people! He'd thought himself tropolitan, but he now realized he'd never truly seen a city before. He was downright provincial. By this ti, Hoular's panicked breathing had beco hyperventilation as the imagery and power assaulted his thoughts.
Where…
Hoular cut his thoughts off, fear and awe having long since engaged his survival instinct and he began desperately trying to retreat from this conversation, but the reply shocked him more than all other thoughts before.
A pale blue marble, beautiful and covered in more water than Hoular ever thought a plane could contain; a single grey moon orbiting the blue marble. Hoular stared at it for a few monts, confused and not understanding before the imagery began to pull away and he quickly realized what was truly shocking.
You… you live in Absence! Your plane is in Absence! Impossible! This cannot…
Hoular cut himself short, shock flashing through him so quickly that it left him stunned. But even in that mont, when the realization hit and he blurted out his reply, the mory construct shuddered. The Joe he'd given awareness too seed to waver, both in thought and in sudden awareness. Then, suddenly, the entirety of Joe's spirit and mind hardened in a way Hoular had only felt one ti before. Will! He has Will!?! Terror overwheld his shock and he began claw for freedom, his power imdiately tearing at the ntal construct surrounding him. His power left scratches and small furrows in the wall, and he turned to face Joe in absolute fear, hand raising.
No! I didn't…
The small piece of Joe that was aware flickered out of existence, and suddenly the entire construct collapsed, empty space within the room compressing to nothingness.
* * *
Reviews
All reviews (0)