“Thanks for the reminder,” Ancel said dryly.
Ryne smiled. He didn’t want to scare his ward, but the boy had to know what he faced. “Think of what is about to happen as a test. In fact, it is a test. Back when they were more with comparable power, maybe one in a thousand would pass after gaining their first Etching. Within every test, there is a part of you that you must cling to. Your will. Your spirit. Perseverance.”
“Like The Disciplines,” Ancel said. “Bravery, prevailing, overcoming. Strength by conquering your weakness.”
“Exactly. Now,” Ryne continued, “I’m sure the first day you saw my Etchings and yours, you thought of tattoos or artwork. Well, to put it simply, that is what they are. They depict things that exist or have existed. Why do you think that is?”
Ancel’s brows drew together in a studious frown. He squinted, emerald eyes shifting from side to side as he searched for an answer. Then his face lit up. “For the same reason a Forging won’t work without a base. There needs to be something there, something tangible for the essences to draw upon.”
“Good. Imagine if you could dredge up every experience you ever had, and everything you learned at any time you wanted into something physical. For sake of understanding, the Etchings are memories. Memories collected by the netherlings since the day of their creation. Combined with Prima, you call upon those memories, those drawings to summon what’s there. The constructs come forth in the form of energy, a solid, or a liquid.”
“The Streams, the Forms, and the Flows,” Ancel whispered in awe.
“Yes. Unlike the one Galiana or you made, these are sentient, each possessing a measure of intelligence.”
“They’re alive?”
“Well, not exactly. If you want to consider that they’re made of Prima which is inhabited by living beings, then technically, you could say yes,” Ryne said. “But really, they are not. They can communicate with you and are aware of what’s happening, but for the most part, they’re just memories that can make use of stored knowledge and respond to circumstances. They contain no sela, no essences of life and death.”
Teaching Ancel brought back memories of the first day Damal had used the Tenets to summon a Hengen from the Etchings on his arm. Bigger than a barn, the beast had unfurled its leathery wings and exhaled heat and cold as it screeched. The conflicting temperatures and the stench of its breath convinced him it was real, even if all of its kind was supposed to be long dead. Damal commanded the creature to fly. Dust kicked up from the ground when the Hengen took off. Ryne recalled his first lesson had been to find a way to defeat the beast.
“Did you ever fight against the gods?”
The question caught Ryne by surprise, but he answered as quickly as he could, keeping his expression flat. “No. Those battles were before my time, but the ones who taught me certainly did.”
Ancel appeared to deflate at his admission but then quickly perked up. “Did they ever tell you how they defeated Amuni and the other gods?”
“As usual you’re seeking to dive into the ocean before you know the water’s depth or how rough the sea is. The only thing going too fast ever gained a warrior is death. Each thing in its place and time. Before we even broach the subject of the gods, Hydae, or any other beast or man you might face, first comes your test and the Tenets.”
“I-”
“In this, I will not be moved.” Ryne reined in his annoyance. The same aspects that made Ancel a more than worthy student also lent to his impatience.
For the briefest of moments, Ancel’s shoulders slumped, and then he exhaled and gave a nod.
“Good.” Ryne straightened, preparing himself for what was to come. He inhaled, relishing the perfumed aromas feathering the breeze, the animal droppings staining the air, and nature’s cries and calls. They became one with the picture of beauty all around him. “Now, the first part of what you must learn is that it makes no difference how you recite the Tenets. They can be done mentally or orally. The importance is your connection to Mater. Although different, remember the essences outside are made from Prima. Connect to them and to Prima within your Etchings. What is outside must join with what exists inside in harmony.”
Ryne opened himself to Prima. In a torrent, the essences flooded him. He gritted his teeth against the euphoric feeling. It was like being a part of the tiniest nuances of the world, and then opening up to see the entire Omniverse. He could tell where tiny feelers from miniscule insects brushed his arms, the movement of sweat as it began to ease up his pores before his Etchings absorbed the liquids as part of the Flows. The sun beating down became one with him as he gobbled up the light and heat it offered. His feet absorbed bits of the earth.
“This is Light’s Tenet. Light to balance shade. Light to show honor. Honor to show mercy.”
At the same time, he thrust the power of light and heat into the Etching of the Guardians on his chest. He chose one among them.
A white luminance shot up into the air several feet from Ryne. Hand upraised to shield his eyes, Ancel stumbled away, his mouth wide, fear in his eyes.
The bar of radiance resolved into a life-like replica of Damal, his colossal figure spanning up the cliff face behind them, at least four times Ryne’s height. Essences of the Streams, primarily heat and light mixed with touches of shade, encompassed his body. Transparent at first, they coalesced and became solid. Within moments, the construct of Damal was clothed in leather armor covered with Etchings. The identical way Ryne remembered him before Damal left for his final battle in Jenoah.
“Brother,” Damal said, golden eyes shining, voice a rumble. “You called?”
“Yes.” Ryne smiled as he nodded toward Ancel. “I have brought you a student. Ancel, this is a sentient, all that remains of my brother Damal, one of the first Eztezians.”
Damal’s countenance glowed. He cocked his head to one side, and then stared out toward the kinai orchard. “You brought a student, and an old friend.”
Brows drawing together, Ryne squinted in the same direction. He scowled. How the woman had managed to deceive him was a mystery. Old anger bubbled to the surface. Fists clenched, he strode toward Galiana.
Chapter 34
Galiana spun to the feel of power emanating from behind her. Reminiscent of a flood drowning an open plain, it washed over her. Even the animals grazing from the kinai fruit appeared to experience it. Their plaintive cries filled the air. Several herds trotted away.
“What-!” Mirza exclaimed.
She opened her Matersense to a surge of essences stronger than any she’d ever experienced. More powerful than when Ancel had drawn power from the Chainin. They also were different to the ones outside of the Entosis: less malevolent, calm, almost comforting.
A transparent dome of energy encompassed the area where she’d left Ryne watching over Ancel. Within its borders, she made out a titanic construct of a man stretching at least thirty feet. Dark hair in long braids hung down past his shoulders. Golden eyes dominated his face. He was staring at Ancel. Shrouded by the dome, the construct’s features seemed familiar.
She attempted to draw on the essences around her, to attack the dome, but nothing happened. It wasn’t that she was blocked. The essences simply did not respond to her call. Clenching her fist, she strained her mind, willing them to do as she commanded.
Nothing.
“They won’t respond to you here, not if you intend to harm one of their own.”
A shimmer resolved into Ryne, Etchings aglow, striding toward her.
“Wha-What is that thing?” Mirza asked. “And what’s it doing to Ancel.”
“Teaching him how to use his Etchings,” Ryne answered. “He will be fine. I assure you. Mirza, if you don’t mind, continue picking the kinai. Ancel will need some when his session is finished.” He peered toward her, expression grim, eyes unflinching. “Galiana, if you will …” He gestured beyond the orchard’s red blooms.